#i will now promptly erase this piece from my memory

[squelchbug]

chillaxin’

[flightfoot]

Perspective From Another Timeline

Thanks to my betas @steelblaidd and Izzybusy!

I ADORE @buggachat new Bakery Enemies AU. This idea just kept on swirling through my head, I had to write it! This is set between parts 13 and 14, so after Adrien meets Alya and Nino but before Marinette starts sympathizing with him. AO3

---------

“You okay?”

Alya shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve weathered worse than that - we both have.”

Nino grinned at her. “True that.”

Alya smiled at him fondly, remembering Heroes Day. It was a bittersweet memory, with her having been turned against Nino and them both being akumatized. 

But they had fought to protect each other as best they could. She’d seen Prime Queen’s footage, how Carapace had struggled to get her to fight against Dark Cupid’s magic, how he’d only given into despair after she’d given into akumatization. 

“What did that blast do to us?” Nino wondered. “Everyone else the akuma blasted just disappeared. Why’re we still here?”

Alya’s brow furrowed. “I dunno… hold on, let me check to see whether any new info on the akuma’s been uploaded.”

Pulling out her phone, she tapped on the Akuma News Alert app.

An error message popped up, telling her that she had no internet connection.

Puzzled, Alya checked her phone’s other settings. 

No wifi - no wifi even recognized, much less connectable - no cell service, no connection to the outside world at all.

She glanced over at Nino. “Hey, you got any signal?”

Taking out his own phone, he quickly checked his connection. He shook his head. “Not a single bar.”

Frowning, Alya looked around. “Maybe all the cell towers were taken out?”

Everything looked intact though, no sign of any destruction at all.

Something else caught Alya’s eye. “Hey Nino, what time should it be?”

Nino blinked. “Well I mean lunch just started so it should be a little past noon-”

He glanced around, noticing the long shadows and the pinkish-orange of the evening sky.

“-which it clearly is not anymore,” he concluded.

Great. “Guess Ladybug and Chat Noir must’ve taken a while to defeat the akuma,” she said, putting her phone away. “Hopefully my parents aren’t too worried. They like me to text them just after an akuma attack, but right now…?” she gestured to her pocket.

“My folks aren’t as worried,” Nino said. “But they still expect me back home before the sun goes down. They’ll be getting nervous soon.”

Alya let out a small sigh. “So much for playing Super Penguino together.”

“Hmmm…” Nino’s eyes gleamed. “You know… it’s not night just yet. And I’m sure my parents would understand if I was a few minutes late because I grabbed a bite to eat.”

Grabbed a bite to eat? What was Nino hinting at…?

Alya looked around at their location more closely.

Wait… that blast seemed to have carried them to that one park, the one near-

Alya grinned. “I think my parents will forgive me for not calling in if I bring them fresh-baked treats from the best bakery in Paris.”

---

*ring ring*

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the store. 

Instantly Alya felt her shoulders loosen up, releasing tension she didn’t even know she’d had. There was just something so warm and comforting about the bakery.

Of course, a lot of that was due to the people running it. Good luck finding more friendly, caring people than Marinette’s parents. Sabine often checked up on anyone who seemed to be struggling or upset (and ready to protect them if they were - Alya had seen the video of the time a TV crew decided to invade Marinette’s privacy), and Tom was basically a giant teddy bear in human form.

But neither of them were manning the counter today.

Instead a young woman stared back at them.

A very familiar-looking young woman. 

“Marinette?” Alya asked cautiously.

The woman stared at her for a minute. “Alya?” she finally asked. “What happened to you?” She paled. “Did a new supervillain attack? Is that why you and Nino are younger?”

Huh. Weirdly scared reaction from Marinette. They’d all gotten used to supervillains by now. She’d expect an older Marinette to take them in stride even more than the current Marinette.

Hm… an older Marinette, a different time of day, and Marinette not seeming to know about the latest akuma attack? 

“Marinette… what year is it?” 

Marinette blinked for a moment. Her eyes widened.

Seemed Marinette understood what she was getting at.

She told Alya the date.

Her hunch was right. “We’re in the future,” Alya breathed.

A wicked grin slowly spread over her face. 

Five years was a long time. A lot of things could have happened. A lot of information could’ve come to light.

Like Hawkmoth’s identity.

Or more information on the Miraculous.

But most importantly right now-

She leaned in close to Marinette, making sure to keep her voice down, just in case someone else was around in the back. “So did you ever get together with a certain blond-haired, green-eyed model?”

“Uh… what?” Marinette asked, looking puzzled.

Alya snapped her fingers. “Adrien. Did you and Adrien finally get together? Ooooh, if you did you’ve GOTTA tell me how the confession went! Or, no, wait, don’t tell me, I want to get the deets at the time. Just let me know how long I’ve got to wait, girl!”

Marinette just stared at her, slack-jawed. “Adrien… like ADRIEN AGRESTE?!” she said, her volume rising with every word.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up. “Um… yes…?”

She’d thought that Marinette would be glowing about finally getting together with her crush, or dejected about still not being able to spit out what she wanted to say to him, downcast over him rejecting her, or maybe even infuriated because he mistreated her and they subsequently broke up.

(The last one was VERY unlikely though. After the Felix debacle, she’d learned to have a bit more faith in Adrien’s good nature.)

Shock at the concept of dating him? Not something she’d anticipated.

Footsteps echoed from behind Marinette.

So one of Marinette’s parents must’ve been in the back-

Adrien popped his head around the corner.

Seemed both he AND Marinette had aged well. 

Not that Adrien looked all that different. Taller, definitely, maybe with slightly messier hair and… were those earrings? They looked good on him.

“Hey dude!” Nino waved at his best friend. “What’s up?”

“Uh…” Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck.

“WOW those outfits really take the years off, huh?” Marinette said loudly, shoving them out the door. “Make you look smaller than usual. Well we better go talk about plans later okaybye-”

She promptly slammed the door behind them, physically pushing them away from the bakery.

After Marinette had dragged them a good distance away, Alya finally got over her shock, turning around and glaring at her. “What was that about?!” she asked Marinette indignantly, hands on her hips. “You know me, I wasn’t going to spill anything to him. That’s why I was talking so quietly! Why’d you have to do that?!”

Nino frowned, seeming more concerned than annoyed. “Adrien looked really hurt by that. Not cool.”

“There’s nothing to spill!” Marinette protested, gesticulating wildly. “I only met him for the first time two days ago!”

*record scratch*

Two-

Two DAYS ago?!

Ok, hold up.

“Adrien joined our collège class the day after I did! He sits in front of you in class! What’re you TALKING about?!”

“Uh… no…?” Marinette tilted her head to the side, befuddled. “I think I would remember that, even if it was a few years back.” 

Alya let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, no kidding. He would be uh, difficult for you to forget. Heck, even if your memory was erased, you’ve got so much stuff revolving around him, I couldn’t see that lasting long.”

Marinette blushed. “Why do you think I have a crush on him?! He’s HAWKMOTH’S SON!”

“WHAT?!” Alya and Nino yelled in unison.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth a couple years ago,” Marinette explained, pulling out her phone.

A moment later she held it up, showing a blog post from the Ladyblog.

Oooh, that’s a nice graphical design. I’ll have to look into updating my site, Alya thought.

Turning her attention to the picture, she squinted. “Hey, can you enlarge the photo?” She asked.

Marinette complied, enlarging it and turning her phone sideways, letting it fill the entire screen. 

Gabriel Agreste being led away in handcuffs by the police, with Ladybug and Chat Noir in the background. Ladybug looked satisfied, with maybe a twinge of melancholy, but Chat Noir…

He stared vacantly ahead, seemingly not focused on anyone or anything, a smile on his face - but the most forced one she’d ever seen.

“What’s wrong with Chat Noir?” 

Marinette frowned, looking troubled. “I don’t know. He seemed really, really upset when Hawkmoth was defeated. It was a tough battle, bad enough that neither of them have returned since, but that doesn’t explain why-”

She trailed off, lost in thought. 

A moment later she looked up, meeting Alya’s eyes.

Immediately she waved her hands around, trying to ward off… something. “I- I mean, that’s what I read on the Ladyblog and what I could piece together from video footage, it’s not like I was there, NOPE. I was huddled in my room the entire time. Not like I have any insight into what Chat Noir was acting like during the battle, not beyond what any other civilian would know! That would be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!” she let out a few forced guffaws.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up.

O...Kay…?

Maybe Marinette had been following Ladybug and Chat Noir during the final battle and hadn’t wanted anyone to know? She’d wondered whether Marinette might have a thing for Chat Noir, but her crush on Adrien dwarfed any feelings she might have had for him. Plus it’s not like Marinette would actually know Chat Noir, unlike Adrien.

Thinking about Adrien…

“He must’ve been devastated,” she murmured. Marinette looked at her questioningly. “Adrien, I mean,” Alya clarified. “Having your father turn out to be a terrorist? I can’t even imagine.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “Not you TOO,” she said, her voice muffled.

Nino slowly started edging his way behind Marinette.

“What’s your problem with Adrien?” Alya asked. “Did he do something?”

Marinette glanced away. “Not… exactly… I just… I’m afraid that it might all be an act. That he might’ve been helping Hawkmoth secretly, and… and even if he wasn’t before, that he might just be biding his time, waiting until he figures out who Ladybug and Chat Noir and then BAM!” she slammed her fist down on her other hand. “He takes them out, steals all the Miraculous, frees his father and rules Paris FOREVER!”

Alya reached out towards Marinette tentatively. She collapsed into Alya’s arms. 

Hugging her tightly, she sang a soft nonsense song, rubbing small circles in Marinette’s back. 

She’d done this a few other times since she’d met Marinette, though she’d never thought she’d do it underneath these circumstances.

Whatever these circumstances actually were.

Did everyone have amnesia or…?

“Do you have any big memory gaps?” Alya asked once Marinette’s breathing had calmed down. “Especially from five years ago?” 

Marinette shook her head. 

She’d shelve that theory for now then. More likely it was…

“An alternate timeline, huh?” Alya said.

Marinette looked up at her questioningly.

“That’s what I think this is,” Alya explained. “I WAS thinking that maybe there’d been some sort of mass amnesia, but if you don’t have any memory gaps - and trust me girl, with how involved you were with Adrien, there WOULD be memory gaps - that seems unlikely. I’m betting this is some sort of alternate universe, one where Adrien never got to go to school.”

“I still don’t get why you think there’s something between me and Adrien!” Marinette said. “I mean sure, he’s pretty, but did I really fall for him just for that?” 

Alya shook her head. “Actually, you hated him at first. Chloe’d been bragging about how he was her friend, and with that on top of you catching him trying to remove the gum Chloe’d planted on your seat and mistaking it for him PLANTING the gum… well… both of us just assumed he was a spoiled rich bully, just like Chloe. Luckily that turned out not to be the case.”

“How’d that misunderstanding get cleared up?” Marinette asked. “And how did your Marinette jump from that to crushing on him?”

Alya grinned. Marinette had ranted about this moment to her SO. MANY. TIMES.

“School let out later that day. It was raining and Marinette had forgotten her umbrella, so she hung back a moment, long enough for Adrien to approach her. At first she looked away from him, not wanting to acknowledge his greeting. But then he told you - told her I mean - that he hadn’t done it, promised that he’d just been trying to take it off with such sincerity that she had no choice but to believe it. He opened up to her, even though she’d been shunning him just moments ago. And finally he gave her his umbrella, just because he could. Because it was the kind thing to do. She’s been a goner ever since.”

The Marinette in her arms looked away. “I can see why she might have developed a crush on him. But I still dunno whether I trust him.”

“I don’t know whether I have anything that could convince you on that,” Alya admitted, “especially since this is probably a different timeline, and for all I know he could be evil here. Just make sure that you’re judging him on his own merits, okay? Not who he’s associated with. Not his fault he has so many crappy people in his life.”

“I’ll… take it under consideration,” Marinette said reluctantly. 

Marinette looked from side to side. “Where’d Nino go?”

“Oh, he snuck back into the bakery several minutes ago.”

“WHAT?!”

---

Nino opened the door to the bakery, letting out a small sigh of relief. He really wanted to check in on his best friend, and judging by Marinette’s behavior, she wasn’t exactly keen on him or Alya chatting with Adrien.

Thinking back on what he’d just heard, he frowned. 

He wished he could say that he’d never have suspected that Gabriel was Hawkmoth.

That he didn’t think Adrien’s old man could ever be capable of such evil.

But he knew better.

The guy threatened to withdraw Adrien from school and isolate him from everyone else at the drop of a hat, paid little attention to his son when he was at home, and was a very negative influence on his life in general. He might have been grieving, but… so was Adrien. He needed the only parent he had left.

And instead Gabriel had chosen to respond by becoming a supervillain and terrorizing Paris, endangering his own son in the process.

He really wished he’d gotten to hit Hawkmoth with his turtle shield more. At least he got to relish the smack he got in.

“You’re back!” 

Nino looked towards the voice.

Adrien walked closer to him, a tentative grin on his face. “I didn’t think you’d return so soon!”

“I had to come back to talk to my best friend,” Nino said.

“Best friend?” Adrien asked, blank-faced.

Oh, right. According to Marinette, Adrien hadn’t joined their class. She hadn’t even met Adrien until recently. 

Had some sort of memory-wiping akuma attacked? Wouldn’t have been the first time. 

“Do you know who I am?” Nino asked, pointing at himself.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… well I know you’re friends with the Ladyblogger and Marinette, and… sorry, that’s it.”

He looked really apologetic, like a dog who’d ripped up a bunch of toilet paper and acted guilty about it once caught.

Hm. If it had been a memory-erasing akuma, maybe he could jog Adrien’s memory…?

And even if it wasn’t, he wanted to let Adrien know that someplace, somewhere, people cared about him. If Marinette’s reaction to him was any indication, he’d need that reassurance. Being looked at with suspicion, having people run from you just because of who your dad was, thinking that you might’ve been involved in his crimes… he couldn’t imagine.

“You joined our class the day after Hawkmoth first attacked,” Nino told him, pulling out his phone.

Adrien shook his head, looking confused. “Uh… no? I wanted to, I REALLY wanted to go to school, but Father-”

He cut himself off, looking away.

“Marinette said the same thing,” Nino told him. “That you hadn’t enrolled in our class, that she’d only met you recently. I don't know what that’s about, whether everyone’s memories were wiped, or an akuma messed with the past, or what.”

Come on, come on, where was it- ah!

He clicked on a photo, one taken a few months ago, holding his phone up so his friend could get a better look.

Adrien squinted for a moment. His eyes widened. “That’s-!”

Nino nodded. “Our class photo. The official one, anyway.” He chuckled. “I liked our unofficial ones better.” Swiping to the side, he showed the new ones the class had taken at the park. 

Adrien’s jaw dropped more with every new photo. He let out an involuntary bark of laughter at the one of himself, Nino, Kim, and Juleka posing. “I- I always wanted to mess around like that at photoshoots,” Adrien said. His voice trembled slightly. “But I wouldn’t be able to get away with it. And that’s mostly fun when you can share it with friends, at least share the picture, and I- I couldn’t. Chloe wouldn’t have appreciated it, and L-”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Luka?” Nino asked. 

He didn’t know why Adrien would know Luka and not anybody else, but he seemed the most likely option.

“Uh…” Adrien scratched the back of his neck, looking away.

Hm, he’d have to see if he had- ah!

“You played in Kitty Section too, with Luka, Rose, Ivan, and Juleka.” Nino explained, clicking on the video. 

Adrien’s hands shook as Nino handed him the phone, watching the mini-concert.

“I- I was allowed to- I got to-” Adrien’s voice quavered. 

“Not at first.” Nino grimaced, remembering how bummed Adrien had sounded when he called him. “Your old man said that Agrestes were soloists, and that we were all bad influences.”

“HE was the bad influence,” Adrien said. A current of anger, of venom ran through his voice that Nino had never heard before. 

“Well I already knew that, even before finding out he was Hawkmoth,” Nino said, making a face. “Dude needed to chill out.”

Adrien snorted. “If he had any ‘chill’ he wouldn’t have decided that becoming a supervillain was the best way to heal my mother.”

Oh.

So THAT was why Gabriel had done it.

He’d just thought it was standard ‘I’m an asshole and want to rule the world while being a jackass to everyone in my life’ behavior.

(He still wasn’t going to rule out that being a factor.)

Nino put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder sympathetically. “At least he’s gone now and you’re free, right?”

“Right,” Adrien said. He didn’t meet Nino’s eyes.

“Not you TOO,” Marinette had said, burying her face in her hands.

As if she found it exasperating that Alya sympathized with Adrien. As if she had expected differently. 

Those worries she’d voiced as Nino had been tiptoeing away, about Adrien helping Hawkmoth, about him lying in wait, biding his time… Marinette probably wasn’t the only one to have that concern. And with Adrien’s face being as well-known as it was...

“You AREN’T free, are you?” Nino asked, eyes wide.

Adrien sighed. “I was as surprised as everyone else when I found out who Hawkmoth was. That someone who’s caused that much harm, that much trauma to this city, lived in my own house.” He clenched his fists, digging into his jean’s fabric. “I could barely believe it… no… I didn’t WANT to believe it.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I- I only remember snippets from right after his arrest. The police chief talking to me. Riding back to the station. It’s all a blur. Everything felt like I was processing it underwater. It was all so blurry and muffled. Even- even then, though, I could feel everyone’s accusing stares.” “I understand why, don’t get me wrong,” he cut in hurriedly. “Who wouldn’t be suspicious of the son of the terrorist who’s been making everyone’s life miserable for the past four years?” Adrien almost panted with exertion, his eyes wild. “And- and it was happening in my own house! Underneath my nose! I should have KNOWN! I could’ve stopped this!” 

Reaching out, Nino pulled his friend into a hug. 

Adrien stiffened for a moment, before melting into his embrace.

“It’s his fault, not yours,” Nino murmured. “Remember that, dude. He was the adult. He was your parent. Your ONLY remaining parent. I’ve met the guy. And I’ve heard you talk about what he’s like. If you had investigated more?” Nino shuddered, thinking about the disproportionate punishments the bastard had enacted. “And knowing he was HAWKMOTH on top of that? I’m kinda glad you didn’t. Yeah, maybe you could’ve ended things sooner. Or maybe he would’ve hurt you more before you had the chance. I’m just glad you survived.”

“I-” Adrien’s throat sounded tight. “I’m- I’m glad I survived too.”

They stood there for a moment, Nino feeling Adrien’s breath go in-and-out, his heartbeat racing, until it gradually started to slow.

*ring ring*

Adrien and Nino broke up their hug just as Marinette burst through the door, Alya on her heels. She skidded to a halt in front of Adrien - but not quite in time, sending her careening towards the floor.

She never made contact.

“Woah!” Adrien shouted, catching her in his arms.

Nino detected a hint of pink to Marinette’s cheeks before she abruptly sprang to her feet.

“So, uh,” Marinette said awkwardly. “I’m guessing Nino talked to you about some stuff. I mean, of course he talked to you about stuff, because that’s what talking is about. What- what I mean is, what were you two talking about?”

“I wanted to show him how much we care about him,” Nino told her. “Especially since with this… amnesia?”

“I think it’s an alternate timeline,” Alya said. 

“Especially since in this timeline,” Nino continued, “it really doesn’t seem like he had anyone.”

“I had a couple other friends,” Adrien told him quietly, giving a melancholic smile. “But I lost contact with them right after Hawkmoth’s defeat.”

Noticing Nino’s frown, he hastily added, “they didn’t abandon me or anything! They were online friends. One moved somewhere without internet reception, and the other... we never knew each other’s names. But we talked all the time. We chatted, laughed, defeated villains together…”

“In the video games we played, of course!” he added after a moment. He chuckled fondly. “We played as a team. Together, we were unstoppable, no matter what our opponent threw at us.”

Adrien swallowed. “But in the aftermath of Hawkmoth’s defeat, with all the turmoil, with everything that happened… I lost my means of contacting her. I- I don’t know whether I’ll ever get to see her again.”

“We’d promised to meet up after Hawkmoth’s defeat,” Adrien said. His voice cracked. “That- that once it was safer in Paris, we’d finally tell our names.”

His eyes dropped to the ground. “Instead, we lost each other. Maybe for good.”

“I know what that’s like,” Marinette said. She sounded strangely distant. “I had a friend like that too. I cared about him. A lot. Maybe… maybe even as more than a friend.” She said the last part haltingly, as if she’d only just admitted it to herself. “He- he wanted to know who I was. For me to know who he was. But- but I couldn’t do that. Not in Hawkmoth’s Paris. I already cared for him so much it ached. If I was closer to him than that- if I’d accepted his rose- I’m- I’m afraid Hawkmoth might’ve used the strength of those feelings against me. That I could’ve gotten akumatized, or he might’ve, and if we knew who each other was, knew WHERE the other one was… I just… I couldn’t accept that we might be sent to hurt each other.”

“We talked while the final battle was raging,” she continued. “He seemed really upset, more angry than I’ve ever seen him before, but… also kind of sad. I wanted to know what was wrong, but there wasn’t really time to press him. And after that battle he just… disappeared. I knew there was going to be some sort of disruption, but- but I’d thought we’d have more time to talk beforehand, that we’d be able to exchange new contact information. We were cut off before we had the chance.”

“I- I think of him every day,” she said quietly. “Wondering how he’s doing. He was always so positive, no matter what life threw at us. I hope that wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he hasn’t lost that positivity, that optimism, the ability to see the best in the world and in others.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to know you cared for him so much,” Adrien said, giving her a warm smile.

Marinette blinked, giving herself a small shake. She turned to Alya. “I dunno whether you’ll remember any of this after the Ladybug in your time restores anything, but on the off-chance you do, is there anything you need to know?”

“Oh!” Alya pulled up some footage. “You told me who Hawkmoth was, but what about Mayura?”

“Mayura?” 

“Who?”

Alya snapped her fingers. “You know, the Peacock Miraculous wielder, the one summoning the sentimonsters! Did she not exist in this universe?”

She pulled up part of the fight against Mayura, the sentimonster Ladybug, and Hawkmoth.

The video ended, she took another glance at Marinette and Adrien.

Marinette seemed to be in shock, staring straight ahead.

Adrien frowned, thinking. “I’d wondered for a long time how Father managed to hide his supervillain activities from Nathalie, considering she was around him most of the time. I thought maybe she was just really good at never asking questions.”

He grimaced. “Looking at that? I’m betting she didn’t ask questions because she already knew the answers.”

“You think Mayura’s Nathalie?” Alya questioned.

He nodded. “Unless something’s different in your universe. My father doesn’t have a lot of associates, and the way he acted around Mayura there, how he was willing to pass up a chance to fight Ladybug for her Miraculous in exchange for catching her… the only people I can think of who he’d do that for are my mother and Nathalie, and mom…” he trailed off.

“I- I didn’t even think about that,” Marinette said guiltily. “I remember reading something about Gabriel having a secretary, but I didn’t think about her much beyond that.”

“Maybe you could ask this universe’s Alya to post something on the Ladyblog, telling Ladybug and Chat Noir she has a lead on who Mayura is?” Alya said. “I mean, I know they haven’t shown up in ages, but maybe that’s just because they haven’t had reason to.”

Marinette winced. “I… really don’t think that’s it… plus Ladybug and Chat Noir never said that someone was helping Hawkmoth. Mayura never appeared, at least in public. I don’t know what we can do about this right now, especially without proof. Maybe if Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared, but…”

She sounded doubtful. Alya was beginning to think that the final battle was even worse than Marinette had alluded to.

She hesitated a moment, before turning to Adrien. “I- I think I owe you an apology. I thought you might’ve been helping Hawkmoth, but… well… I was just judging you by who your dad was. You’ve been nothing but sweet and kind.”

Adrien smiled at her, though it was slightly strained. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. A lot of people in this city have suffered at Hawkmoth’s hands. I don’t blame them for being scared, or angry at any reminders of him.”

“That doesn’t make it RIGHT,” Marinette said heatedly.

Nino nodded. “Dude just because something’s done to you it doesn’t mean it’s justified, or that it shouldn’t be made better. Like with your old man forbidding parties. I didn’t let that stop me from bribing your bodyguard into letting me and the other guys throw a party at your place for you!”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It kinda escalated though. I think half the guys at Paris were partying in your room by the end!”

Alya gave Nino a sideways look. “And ONLY the guys because they ditched us girls while we were planting trees with a lame excuse. Seriously if you’d said you wanted to throw a party for Adrien while his dad was away, you could’ve just told us!”

Nino winced. “Yeah, my bad. At least we got to have fun there for a while before the akuma attack.”

“Akuma attack?” Adrien asked, eyes wide. “But I thought you said Father was gone!”

“He was- OOOOOOOH.”

“Yeeaaaah I don’t think he was actually gone,” Alya said. “You threw a ‘secret’ party in Hawkmoth’s house, WHILE he was still at home.”

Adrien gaped at Nino. “How’re you not DEAD?!”

Nino chuckled. “Lucky I guess?”

*twinkle twinkle*

A familiar red mass flew towards Alya and Nino.

Adrien’s eyes widened. 

“Behind the portrait!” he blurted out, just as the two of them were enveloped by the ladybugs, spiriting them off to whence they came.

It was silent for a moment.

“Do you think they heard?” Adrien asked Marinette.

“I hope so,” she said, looking off in the direction the ladybugs flew.

She turned to him. “I was planning on setting up some hang out time with Alya and Nino later this week. If you’re not busy… would you like to join?”

His smile told her everything she needed to know.

[theeslytherinslut]

The Perpetual Freak (1/?)

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Marauders x reader

Warnings: Mention of bullying,

Word Count: 2,063

The Beginning

“Twitch,

Just 4 days now--like I need to tell you, likely been counting down the days all bloody Holiday, haven’t you? We’ll be there Sept 1st at 10 on the dot, we should make it to King’s Cross by 11 that way. Be ready this time, won’t you? I think Padfoot just might actually hex your grandmother if he has to make small talk with her again, but can you blame him? Anyway, we’ll be there at 10. Don’t forget Jinx this time. I don’t fancy being attacked once he breaks out of your grandmother’s house.

P.S Sirius said he’ll be on his best behavior--does that make you nervous too?

See you soon,

Prongs (& Padfoot)

The letter lay in the same spot on your cracked cherrywood desk since you received it. Though short and to the point, you’d reread it many times, hoping somehow the more you read it, the faster the day would come.

Holidays were hell. Being a muggle-born, there was always a bit of an adjustment period after coming home from Hogwarts for a break--an adjustment period usually aided by parents and family--however, this could not have been further from the truth for you.

“Y/N!” As if on cue, your Grandmother's angry call shot up the stairs. Cringing, you held your breath as you walked down the stairs into the kitchen. She stood with her blue gingham apron covered in flour, as well as most of the floor and countertop.

“If this bloody bird scratches my window one-more-time,” she said the words through clenched teeth, glaring at you from across the room. Her stacked icy grey curls bobbled on her head as she shouted, her fist pressed against her hip. “I’ll have to drown it in the creek.”

Your Snowy Owl, Jinx, sat outside the baby-blue curtained window, his big orange eyes peering at you innocently through the glass.

Piecing together the situation, you’d guessed Jinx had arrived suddenly during your grandmother’s baking and had startled her, causing her to spill much of the contents of her bowl.

Suppressing a smile at the mess, you walked over to the window and opened it. Jinx’s peppered wings stretched out briefly before you felt his talons brush against your collarbone, and he perched onto your shoulder.

“Sorry, Grandmother,” you mumbled, catching your cousin smirking at you. A blush of anger lit up your face, and you made to disappear back into your room before anything got ugly; you’d gone all Holiday without a vicious row, and you weren’t about to start one just before you walked out the door.

“When does that school of yours start again, anyway? Aren’t you normally gone by now? Blakely’s school has already started, he’s been working so hard,” she doted, smoothing his hair as he ate his cereal, milk dribbling from his lips and onto the table. “We could all use a little peace and quiet around here, frankly.” she sniffed.

Jinx gave an annoyed hoot and ruffled his feathers unpleasantly as your grandmother glared at him from across the room.

“Train leaves September 1st at 11am like it always does. I’ll be leaving within the hour,” you said, struggling to control your voice.

“Train? There are enough of you--you, people, for an entire train?” Blakely said, dropping his spoon in his bowl, splattering more milk onto the table, evidently thoroughly shocked.

“Yes, oddly enough, it seems I’m not the only freak in England,” you said, using the word he often threw at you.

“Maybe not the only one, but definitely the biggest,” he said quietly, glaring up at you from his cereal. Grandmother, however, pretended as though she didn’t hear, merely clanged dishes loudly together as she turned back towards the sink.

“One day, I’ll hex you so terribly you’ll be lucky if someone calls you something so kind as freak,” you pushed the thought into his head and promptly stormed out of the kitchen, though savoring the terrified shock on his face.

“She-she did it again!” Blakely called, color draining his face. But you were already halfway up the staircase with Jinx balancing on your shoulder before her angry screech reached you.

You’d almost always been an utter freak in their eyes, and it all started when you were only a baby.

Your mother died while giving birth to you, and your father was never in the picture, so there was no one but your Grandmother to take you in; no one but you to blame for it all. You were, after all, the product of your mother’s insolence--having fallen pregnant at 15 by a man whom she’d never spoken of. And further, you were the reason she’d died; she wouldn’t have bled out if you hadn’t been conceived. To your Grandmother, it was as if you were the cause of every problem she had in life, a walking reminder of where it all went wrong--and she made sure you knew it.

Terrible as things already were, nothing was to be helped by the events that were to unfold. As the story had been told to you, you were a little over a year old, crying incessantly in your crib. You’d evidently been exceptionally whiny that day, crying non-stop, refusing to be consoled, and just when she’d for the first time seriously considered doing you in, you stopped. Relieved yet confused, your grandmother had come in to check on you.

“I’m hungry.”

She had heard the words clear as day, in a voice she didn’t recognize, but the words sounded funny. The voice almost echoed, somehow managing to sound crystal clear but miles away at the same time. Sure she was simply going mad from a lack of sleep, she stood rooted to her spot in shock.

“Did you hear me, Grandmother? I said I’m hungry.”

Seeing your bright Y/E/C eyes boring up into hers, she let out an ear-splitting scream when you grinned as recognition dawned on her face.

Obviously, no Muggle doctor could give any sort of explanation or help. At most, they’d give one of the two of you some kind of a crazy pill and a suggestion of seeing a family counselor.

Soon after, tragedy struck your grandmother’s side once more, and you were landed with a cousin, Blakely. Blakely, however, seemed to adopt a mindset closer to your grandmother’s about it all and would no sooner take a shine to you than get friendly with the rabies-infected alley cat.

But as the years went on, things began to get even stranger.

At the age of 3, your wailing cries caused all the lightbulbs around you to pop inexplicably (costing your grandmother a fortune, as she so loved to remind you).

At 5, you’d managed to levitate a ball Blakely was taunting you with out of his hands and into yours.

However, at age 9 is when it became harder to keep a secret; at age 9 is when your grandmother began truly resenting you.

Being a self-ascribed ‘freak,’ bullying was something you were no stranger to. A comment here, a hair tug there. However, this had been a particularly extreme case. Kylie Kippely and her best friends had backed you into a corner, each shooting off snarky comments at your scared state, and when that wasn’t enough, they began throwing things--anything they could get their hands on--cans, papers, pencils, erasers. All the while yelling how everyone would be much better off without such a freak in their midst, about how all their parents were scared to even send them to school anymore after your last incident.

Then, they began running out of rubbish and started picking up rocks instead. Before a single rock could leave their hands, however, the mulch around you began to shake, then chips slowly started rising into the air behind them. As your face went from scared to full of awe, they turned around to see what you were looking at and simultaneously dropped everything in their hands. The mulch then began pelting at all of them, causing everyone around you to scream and disperse, all batting away the pieces of mulch pelting at their running backsides.

Grandmother had pulled you out of the school before you could receive any other punishment, and from that moment on, you’d been stuck in the house with her.

With no outlet, with nothing but growing rage and resentment inside of you, things began to spiral even worse.

Just when Grandmother began researching distant reform schools, however, you received your Hogwarts letter, and everything made sense.

All the strange things you could do, all the bizarre things you made happen, had an explanation. Sure the explanation was that you were, in fact, a freak--but you weren’t the only freak. There was a whole school’s worth of freaks just like you--well, almost just like you.

Though paper cranes soared around you and magic burst from the tip of hundreds of wands, through your time at Hogwarts, you found you did have one unique gift: it was evidently called Telepathic Impression, a branch of complex magic known as Legillimens--no one else could push thoughts into other people’s heads like you could, not naturally anyway. Nobody could ask a question silently and have the Professor answer for all to hear. After you’d interjected into McGonagall’s head during your first Transfiguration class, she’d had you go straight off to Dumbledore’s office. After a brief discussion, it was found you possessed natural Legilimency skills--something that had only been seen once before. He’d been absolutely transfixed when you told him the first instance had been at the ripe age of 1, in fluent advanced English no less.

You smiled fondly at the memory of his laugh of delight as you’d repeated, ‘Did you hear me, Grandmother? I said I’m hungry.'

Never before had you told that story in any sort of positive light, never got a positive reaction either. Dumbledore had been absolutely enthralled with you from then on.

He had carefully explained the practice of Legilimency, how the mind was a layered thing and could not be ‘read’ simply, like a book. He’d explained how everyone learned it to some advantage of theirs, how no two Legilimens were the same.

After several years of private lessons, it seemed all you’d ever be able to do with your gift was push thoughts, images, and sounds of your own into other’s minds--but this was an incredible feat in itself, a private gift of yours. However, just the year before, it was found that with effort, you could twist the thought to become persuasive, convince the person the thought was their own, and to complete the idea you’d given them. During the first lesson which you found you could do so, you’d been practicing with Dumbledore. Though he was giving no effort at all to resist, you’d silently suggested his tea was abysmal and that he knock it off his desk in disgust. With a twitch of his wrist, the cup shattered onto the floor, shocking you both into silence. It was after this Dumbledore had insisted you promise to never use it for evil, never ever use it with ill intentions--for as a Legilimens himself, he would know. You quickly agreed, of course; you’d never once had the thought to use it with ill motives--aside from maybe having Blakely go for a nice long dip in the creek in the dead of January, but that was a fantasy you kept for yourself to get you through Holidays like these.

Shaking your head of past childhood memories, you turned to your trunk to make sure you did indeed have everything all packed up and ready. You didn’t want to stay a second longer than necessary.

Spotting your cloaks pushed into the depths of your closet, you plucked them from the dark and folded them into your trunk. It wasn’t a moment too soon either, because right as you closed the lid, you heard the boisterous arrival of your best friends as they pulled in the winding driveway driving the enchanted car James’ parents had lent him. You heard an enthusiastic barking whoop and smiled as Sirius’ bright eyes and smile filled your mind.

Your stomach bubbling with excitement, you hastily put Jinx in his cage as he looked around in interest. Picking up his cage, you bounded down the stairs to meet them.

[xaharadesert]

Returned Memories - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Main 6) x MC

A/N: This one is for @lunriphus, and has been sitting in my inbox for months, so I am so sorry. I also can’t believe I forgot about it because I was super excited to write it! The MC’s memories returning has always been one of my favourite “what ifs”, but it’s a little hard to write about because everyone’s MC has a different backstory. I’ve left it pretty vague, but of course some of the character’s have more canon relationship backstories than others, so each set of headcanons is pretty unique! Requests are open :) I’m writing this without my glasses on again, so please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes

Also: I don’t mean to be insensitive to people who have amnesia is real life— if anything within this post seems rude or ignorant, please let me know! I will fix it immediately!

❤️Julian❤️

Neither of you quite understood how exactly you got your memories back, but it wasn’t exactly the biggest concern

You finally knew who you were (are?), and you could finally make the connections that your brain had been on the verge of for so long

Julian was an excellent partner to have by your side while you navigated the differences and similarities between who you used to be and who you were now

You two had known each other to some degree before, but there was no pressure from him to be the way you used to be; he was happy for you because you seemed happier, not because he would gain anything from you recovering your memories

Some nights the two of you would stay up for hours, simply talking over some of your old shared memories, helping you connect the pieces

He was always wary of headaches— he knew that with magic involved he wouldn’t be able to do much to help you if things took a turn for the worse, so he was prepared to scoop you up and sprint over to wherever it was Asra was currently hiding out

Julian was careful not to push too hard if you were struggling to remember something you felt you should— he would be the first to remind you that these things take time, and that living in the present was more important than recalling the past

The only part of this he’s slightly bitter about is the fact that you can now remember and bring up any of the embarrassing things he did when you two first met (but he could never bring himself to stop you from mentioning them because he knew how important your memories were)

🧡Portia🧡

When you announced to her that you remembered something from your past she asked no questions, she was simply ecstatic

She knew that your missing memories could be hard on you, and there were occasions where she felt pointlessly guilty that she hadn’t known you before because she so badly wanted to give you the information you desired

So knowing that you were on the road to recovering bits of your past life? She might just have been even more excited than you!

She loves hearing you talk about anything you remember, from funny little stories to dark secrets— she feels like she gets to learn something new about you at the same time you’re discovering it, and it brings the two of you even closer

Portia is especially great at grounding you to the present

While it’s wonderful that you’re remembering your past life and everyone and everything in it, Portia could only ever be a part of your new life

Even if you started to recover more unwanted, dark memories, she would be right there to remind you that the past is the past, and as long as you’re with her, you can take or leave as much or as little of it as you want

💛Lucio💛

Finding out your memories were returning garnered an… interesting response from Lucio

He seemed conflicted, to say the least— he was happy about your excitement at recovering a part of yourself that you had previously considered gone forever, and he was glad that you could remember all of the amazing parties he used to throw, but…

What else, exactly, did you remember about him?

Did you remember him as a tyrant? A warlord? A petty imbecile, too incompetent to rule over Vesuvia?

As ignorant as he seemed to be toward mass criticism, he wasn’t as stupid as people thought— he knew that the snide comments he would still occasionally overhear weren’t isolated incidents

He knew that you loved him as the two of you were in the present; but he was terrified of what you had thought of him in the past

Lucio knew that he was capable of changing, as he had grown as a person immensely after meeting you, but would your old opinions overshadow your belief in him?

He would want to be as supportive as possible, but his doubts would plague his mind every time you would share an old recovered memory with him

This time in your relationship would be hard, without question— you would be rediscovering your past self, and Lucio would be attempting to repress his insecurities

Communication would be key in moving forward in a healthy relationship, discussing and working through any issues that may arise alongside your memories and his worries

💚Muriel💚

He would be happy for you, and proud of how much you’ve grown as a person because of it

While he didn’t know you very well before you had died (only seeing you in passing when you were with Asra), he would be very supportive of you doing what you must to regain your lost memories

He was also the first one to suggest that you spend a bit more time with Asra and others that you had known before, willing to put up with a bit more social interaction than usual if it’s for your benefit

While he isn’t one to use magic to help with your memories, if he can use his limited abilities to recreate something you vaguely remember from your past, he’d do it in a heartbeat

He couldn’t keep up much of a conversation about your past, but he would listen to you ramble on about anything you can recall for as long as you’d like

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had been a larger part of your previous life— would you remember him as much as you would remember everything else, or would his curse cause even more problems?

As sad as he was that he hadn’t gotten to know you sooner, a small part of him was glad he would never have to learn the answer to that question

💙Asra💙

It’s everything he had been hoping for for the past three years

After the initial panic he had at the thought of needing to erase your memories again if the headaches started to plague you again, he promptly burst into tears

Don’t misunderstand the situation, he would love you unconditionally with or without your memories of your past together, but knowing that you were slowly starting to recover bits of who you used to be overwhelmed him with emotion

He had felt like he had failed you when he managed to bring your body back, but not the entirely of your mind

Now, that guilt seemed to slowly be seeping away, leaving him more every time you brought up something from your past that you previously hadn’t been able to remember

He would love to spend all of his time talking about the past with you, helping you remember and basking in nostalgia

The burden of your shared past was no longer his to carry alone, and he finally had the chance to apologize for your final argument together, something that he had thought he would never be able to properly move forward from

💜Nadia💜

She’s thrilled that your regaining a part of yourself previously thought to be lost forever

Having had her own memory problems regarding her life in Vesuvia prior to her enchanted sleep, she had always empathized with your plight

Knowing that you were beginning to recover, she was overjoyed, although a minuscule, unwanted voice in the back of her mind quietly echoed feelings of jealousy

She wanted you to have a past to hold onto in times of strife, and although the two of you had never met prior to her entering your shop on that fateful night, she hoped you would perhaps be able to recall her effects as Countess

Nadia loved that you were regaining your memories, but she wished she could do the same— regardless, she would support you in every way possible, applying the knowledge she had gained while attempting to recover her own memories to help you further remember your own

Forgive her if she seemed a bit aloof occasionally during your conversations about the past; she doesn’t mean to seem unsupportive in any way, but she does struggle with her own emotions regarding the matter once in a while

She’s very open about these feelings, though— Nadia values honestly over honeyed lies, and she would never be hypocritical about sharing her emotions in your relationship

[fumingspice]

i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: “I just wanted a happy ending.” “I’m drunk in love with you.” “If you quote a Taylor Swift or Fleetwood Mac song one more time I’ll slap you.”

Warnings: slightly drunk delia, angsty, mentions of ill mental health. happy ending

A/N: I don’t even know. I think I’m just projecting at this rate. I wrote this instead of doing another of my five history essays due for Friday so if my teacher kills me in my sleep you know why <3

and when you can’t sleep at night; you hear my stolen lullaby.

Madison Montgomery grunted in frustration. Then again when she was ignored the first time.

You kept your head in your book, knowing she was desperate for attention.

“Lord almighty,” Madison groaned dramatically, sitting against the arm of the couch and then throwing herself back over your lap. Visibly irritated by the fact that you still handed looked up from your book she almost shouted; “Oh, how I wish someone would acknowledge my presence.”

You met at her eyes for a split second and returned them promptly to the book.

“That’s it,” she muttered. Madison gripped the book from your hand and threw it across the room. You clenched your hands into fists, doing your best to maintain your calm composure. That’s who you were in the coven. The calm one. “Look at me when I’m goddamn talking to you!”

Your eyes darted up to meet Madison’s steel glare. “What the fuck is the matter with you, Y/N?” she exclaimed.

You genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t yell at me, Montgomery,” you replied, biting your tongue hard.

Madison had no patience for playing games when she found something serious. Which although wasn’t often, it was almost always about something as superficial as a wrong glance at dinner. “You’ve been giving Cordy the cold shoulder for the past three months. I want to know what’s going on.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Madison threw her hands up at you. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m kidding I don’t actually care.”

“Typical,” you muttered. You gave a wave of your hand and your book came flying from the other side of the room. Madison turned around in one swift movement and punched the book square, sending in hurtling to the ground.

“I’m being sarcastic, you dumb fucking bitch!” She yelled. If you weren’t so pissed right now you would probably have been impressed with her reflexes.

“What do you fucking want, Madison? You’ve getting on my tits every fucking day for the entire week,” you started yelling unintentionally. “So, what is it? What exactly do you want me to fucking say? Do you want me to fucking tell you- yet again- that Cordelia has a fucking boyfriend? You want me to reiterate it to you that I can’t fucking look at her in any other way?”

Madison smirked, knowing she was getting you exactly where she wanted you. “It’s not my fault that you couldn’t keep your shit together after you broke up with her. The least you could do is grow a pair of balls and be happy for her.”

You felt your face go red with anger. “Are you fucking insane?! Do you actually hear yourself right now? Madison, I told you fucking everything! I told you it was a mutal decision. I told you that it was the last fucking decision that I fucking wanted to make!” You screamed. The anger had been building up for weeks, and sweet jesus did the release feel good.

It was late at night and you knew that if any girls weren’t asleep they would be hearing exactly what you had to say. Cordelia wasn’t in the building after all. You could say anything you liked.

“I fucking love her, Madison. Every time I see her smile at that knock-off Lindsey Buckingham I want to rip his fucking face off! I know you can’t see that because the boy you brought back from the dead chose your best friend over you and then strangled you to death!”

That’s where your words got Madison.

Within a second, you found your hand striking your face hard.

Composure was the last thing on your mind now as your fist went straight for Madison’s nose. A crack and screamed followed as the blonde launched herself at you.

A scrap insued, knocking each other into furniture, punching, kicking. You fell to the ground as Madison’s boot was launched into your stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. You pushed yourself off the floor and kneed her in the crotch, sending her down to the ground with you on top of her. Your fists had found a mind of their own as they gave blows to her face, chest and stomach.

Your body was thrown from Madison’s, pinned to the wall by some invisible force. Madison crawled from the floor and punched you hard in the stomach. Then the face. You could feel blood dripping from your nose and mouth when the force dropped you on the ground. Madison sulked off, seemingly satisfied as you curled yourself into a ball.

Tears fell slowly from your eyes for the first time in months. You’d finally released every pent up piece of energy that you had held in and there was nothing left in your walls to keep you together. Madison had taken a physcial and verbal fist to everything keeping you together.

It was true; the decision to break up was mutal. Although, it seemed slightly more mutual for Cordelia. You whined too much, you thought, for her to be happy as your friend. Now, months since, you found yourself in a false mask of calmness and serenity about the situation.

The tears were almost temporary as you lay facing the ceiling. Blood dried on your cheeks making your skin feel tight but you didn’t care to move. You almost fell asleep until the front door unlocked at some ungodly hour in the morning. You didn’t care who it was nor did you care to move at this rate.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. The lines of blood on your face struck nasty images from long ago of blood on your limbs. You had recovered now. You were strong and you knew in your heart of hearts that you would never allow yourself to ever feel worthless again. You weren’t disposable. You are not disposable. You were a beautiful soul in a soaring tide, although struggling to see that.

Familiar footsteps clacked down the hall into the parlour. 

"Jesus Christ, Y/N?" Cordelia's voice sent a pang of dread coursing through your body.

"Leave me alone, Delia," you groaned, your body still ached for Madison's assault.

Cordelia fell to her knees beside you. "Oh, sweetheart what happened?" There was a pleading in her voice as she lifted the top half of your body onto her lap. She dabbed your blood with her sleeve.

You could smell the alcohol off her.

"Can you stand up for me?" She asked, helping you to your feet. She brought you to the kitchen and began tending to the mess that was your face. "Please, Y/N. Tell me what happened."

You brushed her off and tried to leave to go to your bedroom. With a flick of her wrist, Cordelia brought furniture to block the entrance.

"You're not leaving here until you tell me exactly what happened, young lady."

You chuckled meanly. "You're fucking kidding me." You turned to face her. "Madison beat the shit out of me."

Cordelia's face dropped in disbelief. "Why?"

"I'm still trying to fucking figure that out!" You shouted. Cordelia's face flinched. 

There was a silence that you hadn't felt with her in a long time, shortly interupted by Zoe walking into the kitchen.

"Cordelia, go to bed," she said. She was going to bring the calm, apparently. "I'll take care of Y/N. I think I know what happened."

"Well, then could you please explain that to me?" Delia asked defensively. Zoe motioned for her to leave.

Zoe approached you slowly and took one look at your face. "Your nose is broken," she muttered. "I know a spell, it'll hurt like a bitch but it'll save the process."

You shrugged and let her do her thing, regretting it almost immeditely as your shrieked in pain.

"Cordelia still loves you, Y/N. I don't know how you haven't seen that yet," she told you, pressing a wet towel to your nose.

"She sure as hell has a weird way of showing it," you replied. All the talk about Cordelia for the first time in months was hitting you like a truck. You dealt with things by ignoring it and although it probably wasn't efficient. It still worked.

Zoe glared at you. "She broke up with Sylvester. I can sense it," she told you. "She misses you more than anything in the world."

Tears threatened to make themselves known once more. "I can't keep doing this, Zoe. I can't keep thinking there's another chance when there's just not."

Zoe tugged you into a warm hug. "Please talk to her, Y/N. Maybe it'll do more good than not."

You nodded in agreement and heaved yourself up the stairs. Cordelia's bedroom door faced you as you mustered up the courage to knock. You could almost hear the echos of memories you shared in her room.

"Police Officer knock," the girls often joked that you had. The door opened itself and you walked in.

"Cordelia?" You spoke, glancing around her room. You could see her outline laying across the bed, a glass of scotch in hand.

Cordelia poked her head up as you walked to the bed. She had clearly been crying.

"I'm sorry I yelled, Delia," you said softly. Her reached under yours and the pain hit you hard.

"It's okay, Y/N. But can you please just be honest with me? What on Earth happened down there?" 

Tears ran down both of your faces as you explained everything. Every word of your altercation with Madison, everything that happened, everything that you had felt over the past few months. Cordelia pressed her forehead against yours and you cried harder. How could her lips be so close yet so far away?

"Why have you been drinking lately? You barely touched it before?" You asked innocently. Cordelia pursed her lips.

"I missed that warmth," she choked. "I missed that warmth that I only ever felt when I was with you."

Her words shot daggers of guilt through you.

"No matter what I tried, no drink could ever match the feeling of being drunk in love with you," she sighed. "Time was taking its sweet time erasing you, so I thought I could do it myself. The drinks. The power. The men. Nothing got close to you."

You placed your hand over hers and squeezed it. "This is so, so stupid, Delia."

The Supreme nodded. "I know. All I ever wanted was a happy ending. I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to marry you and adopt a child. I don't even know why I'm saying that I did want that. I do want that."

You dropped your head back. "Cordelia, I would give anything to call myself yours again but I cannot go through the heartbreak of losing you again."

Cordelia paused, you saw the reflection of your hurt in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I knew you didn't want it. I didn't want it. I just thought I was doing the best for you."

"This entire time I've felt like an open wound, Delia."

There was another silence.

"Y/N, what would I need to prove to you for another chance? One more shot to make this work. I want that chance to grow old with you," she said. The Supreme was begging for you at this point.

"Cordelia, I want you to understand that if it doesn't work out this time then I'm done."

Cordelia nodded solemly, her whiskey brown eyes darted to your lips. "Can I?"

You pressed your lips to hers before she could finish speaking, your soul ravaging for that piece of Cordelia that you had hungered for.

You found it in her lips. Finding yourselves giggling. Tears of relief, joy, happiness fell onto each other's skin like drops of nectar from the Gods. All was right when you were with her.

Warm lips, warm skin. Your hands weren't cold when you were with her. 

Your lips danced together in rings of bliss as she enloped into you, it was like a battle of nature.

Cordelia broke away, her body shifting slightly under yours as her eyes sobered.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask. Even placing your cheek on her hand gave you relief.

"I don't want to wait anymore," she whispered. She breathed in sharply as she motioned for you to get off her. You complied and sat on the bed, watch as she walked over to the dresser and pull something out of a box at the bottom of a pile of paperwork.

You grinned, tears flowing down as she presented you with what she'd dug out.

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice hopeful. You clasped your hand to your mouth and nodded hard.

The next morning at breakfast, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to Madison. 

Not after what she did.

At least, not until you noticed her smirking in victory at the sight of the engagment ring on your finger.

taglist: @sarahp-stan @jumpoffabridge-t @sarahpaulsonsoftie @definitelynot-a-writer @bottom4delia @delias-bitch-craft @creepingwolfberry​ @thesapphictimelady​

[gryffindors-weasley]

Finding A Light

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ron was left broken in the aftermath of the wizarding war. In an attempt to build a better life, he feels he may have unknowingly met someone who could put those pieces back together.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, fluff

A/N: Remus is very much alive in this series! This will be more than one part, I hope you enjoy!

Ron Weasley was a man of few words when presented the daunting task of expressing his emotions, preferring to stuff them down and deal with the consequences later. He never outright says what he’s feeling unless it’s pried from him, and in those times it’s usually expressed through anger. He isn’t great with his words either, so it didn’t come as a surprise to Harry and Hermione to see him so closed off after the war had concluded its disastrous rampage.

It was a battle that anyone and everyone involved was more than likely to never forget, the losses and hardships engraved in their minds as a permanent reminder should their memory allow it as they age. Some had come out on the other side more fortunate than others. Some had handled it far better than others. Ron was not one of those people.

His long awaited ambitions on becoming an Auror were rapidly diminished and pushed to the very back of his mind for a good while. He had wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic beyond that very day, thought that maybe if he hadn’t used it, it wouldn’t remind him of his tragedies. That maybe that part of his life would be forgotten in time if he tried hard enough. So, his wand, his robes, his Hogwarts letters and what was left of his sentimental wizarding memorabilia were hastily shoved into a cardboard box, taped shut and stuffed away to collect dust. Out of sight out of mind was his reasoning, though it didn’t quite work out that way.

The loss of his childhood home paired with the devastating loss of one of his older brothers had been a weight too heavy to bear, pressing down on his chest with each day that passed. He nearly lost two of his closest friends amidst the chaos the Dark Lord left in his wake. Such a lifetime of pain and loss was something he never anticipated to experience all by the young age of eighteen, and it left him feeling like a mere shell of the person he once used to be. As if the years of extraordinary magical endeavors prior to that day were completely erased and replaced with utter heartache.

It took him four years to bring himself out of the pit he found himself stuck in and find some semblance of strength, if only for his mother, and he wanted to build a better life for himself. One without so much sorrow written into his story. He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing so, knowing a return to a normal life simply wouldn’t be feasible. Not that his life had ever been considered normal per say.

The emotional scars were something that would never go away, he understood that, but he didn’t think he could go another day having the same mundane routine night and day. He felt ready for more.

Now, at the age of twenty-two coming up on twenty-three, he found himself returning to Hogwarts with hopes to become a professor. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when he arrived, sick to his stomach with nerves as he stopped and stood in the middle of the newly constructed stone bridge. His letter crinkled under the pressure of his tightly clenched hand, luggage in the other, eager students curving their stride to avoid running into him. The castle was more grand than he’d remembered it to be, perhaps they’d made it bigger to house more young witches and wizards, perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, against his instincts, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue forward before he convinced himself to turn around and apparate home.

He quickly found that things had been kept fairly the same as he roamed the grand halls in curiosity, as similar to the school he’d grown up in as it could be. The wondrous ceiling of enchanted candles in the Great Hall was a detail that briefly gave him watery eyes; the varying hues of reds, oranges and yellows coloring the Gryffindor common room, down to the house flags pridefully ornamenting the new quidditch pitch. He found himself turning to express his awe to Harry or Hermione on more than one occasion, but was only met with the unfamiliar faces of new students. His shoulders would slump as he exhaled a deep sigh.

It had taken him nearly two months to fully adjust to his newfound routine, to come to terms with the memories that flashed in his mind of their own volition. Whether they be good or bad, they had a habit of making themselves known at the worst of times. Over the course of that time period crumpled pieces of parchment had accumulated around the desk in his room, unsent letters to his mother of his wishes to return home. All of which were written hastily in either frustration or tears, or a mixture of the two. And of the ones he had sent, they were promptly returned with enchanted letters vocally telling him with the utmost of love and sternness that he will be staying, he needs this. Those letters kept him going on those days.

Amongst those days and nights it was strange not having his two best friends there, loneliness still having its hold on him.

Remus Lupin had made his return all the more welcome though, himself and McGonagall being two of the only familiar faces that he’d truly connected with. He felt it was an honor to be taken under his wing and trained, he always had been Ron’s favorite instructor of Defense Against The Dark Arts. He’d even go so far as to say he’s the best if he was being honest.

Regardless, despite his own personal conflicts, he was beginning to feel more comfortable residing there than he had ever thought he would. It was as if the nagging rain cloud dumping over his head was starting to dissipate for the time being.

“You did very good today, Ron,” Lupin says once his final class of the day has left, “the teaching of boggarts is never easy I’ll say, and if I recall correctly it wasn’t your favorite lesson.”

Ron chuckles at the thought, pushing his chair in when he stood. “Not particularly. I still have a nightmare or two about that bloody spider.”

Lupin laughs, nodding at the pleasant memory. Things fall quiet for a few moments as Ron moves to sling his bag over his shoulder. “Off you go, Mr. Weasley, enjoy your weekend,” he urges, grabbing Ron’s attention again before he gets too far. “Here’s your weekly report. You’re becoming a fine up and coming professor I’d say. I have no doubt that I will be leaving my classroom in the best possible care.”

Ron nods with a soft laugh, cheeks flushing a pale crimson at the reassurance as he takes the parchment from him, tucking it into his bag to be read later. “Thank you, Professor Lupin, really. It means a lot to hear.”

He smiles appreciatively before making his way across the long classroom, stopping in his tracks. He takes a breath to gather his thoughts before spinning on his heel to face him again, returning to the desk he sat at. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

He offers Ron a smile upon seeing the clear hesitancy written all over his face. Ron gulps, fumbling with the strap of his bag that rested on his shoulder. He could practically see the gears turning in the ginger boy’s head if such a thing existed. “Was it…was it hard coming back here? After the war, I mean.”

Lupin huffs out a soft laugh at the sudden ask of such a deep question, though he can’t say he was surprised. “I was waiting for this question to arise,” he says, lifting a hand to stop Ron from apologizing. “To give a short answer, yes. It took great thought. To give a long answer, one you may not like but I’m sure you already know, there will always be bad days after experiencing such trauma. It is not easy being born into a life where magic is real and not just a trick of the eye. While it can be wonderful it also brings with it a great deal of damage.”

Ron nods as he listens to his words, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Despite all of it, Hogwarts is a place that can be good just as much as it can be bad. You just have to take it in your stride. You’re stronger than you think, Ron. If you really want to be here, I believe it is worth it to try.”

Ron exhales deeply, taking a moment to process his insightful words, a certain wisdom he appreciated. It left him feeling considerably lighter than he had before, like he was a bit more hopeful of a better experience here. “Thank you.”

That’s all he can manage to say.

The blue eyed man in front of him nods. “Go on now, you’ve had a long day, Weasley.”

—

Ron found himself to be rather excited for this weekend. It would be his first time making a trip to Hogsmeade in nearly five years, though he’d been putting it off because the experience wasn’t quite the same when doing it alone. Third years buzzed around him with the excitement of their newfound privileges and independence, bouncing from shop to shop to fully take in all that it had to offer.

He, however, walked at a leisurely pace amongst the students bustling around him, taking a moment to fully appreciate everything he hadn’t seen for so long. Catching details that otherwise went unnoticed like the chipping pink paint on the curved windowsills of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and the happy young couples residing inside. The vibrant green moss that formed inbetween the crumbling cracks of the old cobblestone walkways. However, the sight of Zonko’s Joke Shop made his heart lurch in his chest the moment he saw it.

He averted his gaze immediately, swallowing thickly as he tugged at his shirt collar that suddenly felt a little too constricting. It had been Fred and George’s favorite shop to frequent, always buying new things to add to their inventory of pranks. But now that one half of the pair was missing it wasn’t such a fond memory anymore, moreso a taunting one.

The sound of a couple students joyously greeting with a chorus of ‘Hi Mr. Weasley!’ pulled him from his thoughts and he was quick to smile, giving them a half wave as they had already begun to walk away. He let his hand fall back to his side, huffing out a sigh as he continued to walk along the path towards the one place he looked forward to the most, Honeydukes.

The little bell overhead alerted his entrance as he opened the door, the air noticeably sweeter than outside. He found himself smiling as his gaze bounced around the near unchanged shop, any candy you could possibly think of lining almost every brightly painted wall. Though not every single one is a desireable find, he learned that one the hard way. He almost didn’t know where to begin, much like how he felt the first time he ever entered the place, and every time after that for that matter. So he perused the shop, something he’s never done by himself.

His eyes landed on familiar chocolates, and he was quick to grab a box for Hermione because he knows they’re her favorite. Despite such knowledge she still adamantly denies having a sweet tooth to this day. To go along with that, he snags one of the last chocolate frogs for Harry.

It was a fond memory when he thought of it, a tradition they’d had as young students. He’s still got the cards he’d collected from each frog, they were tucked away in that box filled with other things. Maybe when he returned home he’d have the courage to reopen it.

He continues to look around for a bit more, finding himself wishing he had the same sense of enjoyment and innocence as some of the younger students held. For they were fortunate enough to narrowly miss being involved with such negative events. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t looming over his head anymore, to let himself enjoy this very moment. So, he tried his best to clear his mind and bring himself back to his current situation in the middle of an aisle filled with hard candies.

When he had turned the corner of said aisle he collided with something, someone to be more specific, the box clutched in his hands opening on impact and sending the assortment of sweets clattering to the ground with the addition of others. The chocolate frog had fell from its decorative box and hopped out of sight before he could process it.

“I’m so sorry!” A soft voice sounds in front of him, a warm hand enveloping his wrist.

“It’s okay…” Ron trails off when he matches the voice to its owner, blinking slowly as his mouth hangs slightly agape. He found himself staring at the girl, he was quite sure he’d never seen someone so alluring, so captivating. He didn’t know if he could manage to stop gawking. “I-it’s okay.”

His cheeks redden when he realized he’s repeated himself, the fiery heat of embarrassment burning from the very tips of his ears down to his neck, leaving his pale skin flushed. You too came to the realization that you were still gripping his arm, quickly dropping it as you laughed softly to stave off any awkward silence. He averts his eyes momentarily, needing a moment to regain his composure and not make a complete fool of himself in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though he’s quite sure he already has.

“I told Mr. Flume it shouldn’t be quite so cramped in here, but he never seems to listen,” you laugh, looking at the smattering of sweets scattered around the two of them. Ron was focused less on the mishap and more on the way you smiled brightly at him, knowing his cheeks were undoubtedly the same shade as his hair. “Give me just one moment, please!”

He nods just a little too late as you rush off around another corner and out of sight, leaving him to stand there awkwardly as students in the vicinity stared at the mess sprawled at his feet. Shortly, you indeed did come back, a new box of chocolates and what was now the last chocolate frog in your hands. You thrusted them in his direction with a warm smile, one that made his heart flip in his chest. “Take these, it’s on the house.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that,” Ron rushes.

“Please, it was my mistake. I insist.”

He laughs softly, nodding after a moment. “At least let me help you clean up?”

You nod up at him with a laugh of your own, “deal.”

He tries not to think about the way your fingers brush over his as they pick up chocolates from the checkered floor, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. And he tried not to think about the way you’d had his stomach twisting in knots as if he was a thirteen year old again experiencing his first crush.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He scrambled to think of a response, seemingly forgetting his own name momentarily. It hadn’t gotten any better when you looked up at him politely as if waiting for a response. “I’m Ron…Ron Weasley.”

He could’ve kicked himself for being so awkward, knowing him stumbling over his words couldn’t possibly give off any sort of appeal. He brushed his hands off with a sigh as he stood to his feet. Though you didn’t seem to mind his nerves as you brushed your hands off on your jeans.

“Nice to meet you, Ron. I only wished it were on better circumstances.” The pale blush on your face deepened a shade.

“That’s quite alright,” he says with an airy laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It was nice meeting you too.”

That same silence took up the absence in conversation again as Ron tried desperately to think of something to say, not quite ready for the interaction to be over. You beat him to it.

“I hope to see you around here again, maybe without the mess,” you say with a soft smile, “and don’t forget your chocolates.”

He was confused for a moment, too caught up in the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him, or the way your hair fell around your face before following where you’d been pointing. “Oh! Y-yeah…thank you,” He grabbed his sweets in his shaky hands, feeling rather bold suddenly, “I’ll see you around then, Y/n.”

He was sure your words were only friendly, something you probably said often as a kind gesture. Probably not because you actually wanted to see him again. But he let himself think otherwise if only for a moment.

You simply nod, your grin widening a fraction, “bye Ron.”

—

Ron’s lifted spirits did not go unnoticed, not by Mrs. McGonagall who made it a point to bring it up at dinner later that evening. He could tell she picked up on it, could tell by the very way she’d glanced at him frequently. Though he wasn’t sure he was hiding it very well. He pretended not to notice, focusing his gaze on the rows of tables occupied by dozens upon dozens of students seated at them, the hardwood adorned with some of the best food he’s ever eaten. Second only to his mother.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so cheery, Mr. Weasley?” She finally asks, and he sighs at the question.

“Not particularly,” he responds using her wording, glancing at her as a smile pulls at the left corner of his mouth. He watches as she raises a skeptical brow; he knows what’s coming.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a number of years, Ronald. I know when you’re lying,” she says with a soft laugh, though she doesn’t pry.

Ron chuckles down at his plate as he shakes his head, pushing his food around as he thought about her. The way she smiled at him, so brightly the corners of her eyes crinkled. It still felt as though those butterflies were still fluttering around in his stomach. He quickly found himself wanting to hear your voice again, or hear your laughter—

“I’ve met a wonderful person today, that’s all,” he blurts, looking to his side.

She gave him a fond yet knowing smile, nodding her head. “I know the look of young love when I see it.”

“I’m not in love, Mrs. McGonagall,” he urges almost immediately, cheeks reddening once more at her preposterous conclusion, “I’ve only just met her today.”

“If you insist, my dear.”

“I do insist.” He tries to be sure of himself despite his inability to get you off his mind, but he hides his smile behind his goblet as he takes a sip.

Later that night he went to bed with something other than sorrow clouding his thoughts, instead feeling rather optimistic about the week ahead. Or maybe it was the plans he’d had at the end of it that had him so eager, time feeling agonizingly slow. It was definitely that. He couldn’t wait to see you next Saturday.

—

[tetrahedrals]

hello hello i read the nona excerpt and promptly fell ass-backwards into the pit of locked tomb feelings. time for RAMPANT SPECULATION !!!!

(spoilers for GTN and HTN)

- I have no idea who Nona is, but she doesn’t seem much like Harrow or Gideon. It takes so little to make her happy. Its going to be Really sad if she turns out to be G/H, and its just some small lost piece of them relishing the experience of having a childhood (something they obviously never got at the Ninth House).

- Speaking of TRAUMA, I actually really hope Nona isn’t Gideon at all. At the end of HTN, Gideon has just had a metric fuckton of massively shitty revelations dropped on her: namely that she owes her existence to a conspiracy of dead assholes. Like out of the four (4!!) adults who had a hand in her conception, not a single one of them ever gave a solitary fuck about her wellbeing. (I feel like Gideon/Pyrrha might have if given a chance? but they also fully pushed that baby out an airlock so like, not exactly parent-of-the-year material there either.) John seems willing to at least try now that he knows about her, but given what she has just learned about him that’s probably not much of a consolation. At any rate, the narrative doesn’t really give her (or us) time to process any of it, because there’s some wild shit happening and she has to get out of the River. But all her dreams about her mom/origin, the whole narrative she’d built for herself that helped her survive the Ninth- gone! The person she sacrificed her life for- not only gone, but also erased her from her memory. The last thing she sees is the Body, who she explicitly describes as being there to save Harrow. Like from her POV, this is just yet another shitty dead person who doesn’t give a fuck about her. That’s bleak man!!! That’s some rough stuff to be dealing with!! 

So I don’t really want to see happy-amnesia-child-Gideon in NTN: I want see a Gideon who is finally coming to terms with exactly how fucked up her life has been and is fucking PISSED about it.

My main critique of GTN (and part of why I prefer HTN), is that Gideon as a narrator can come off as a bit flippant, especially in the early part of the book when she’s still at the Ninth. A lot of terrible stuff is happening to her- locked in a freezing cell w/ no food for days, abused and manipulated by pretty much everyone, surrounded by adults who don’t give a shit about her, not to even get in to what’s going on between her and Harrow (full disclosure: their relationship was kind of a hard sell for me in this book!). But she never seems scared or even particularly upset by any of it, and since she’s the Narrator, that means that I as the reader don’t know how seriously I should be taking it. Maybe it’s not a big deal that she’s been abused her whole life? She doesn’t seem to think so? Is all of this just set-dressing so the book can establish her as some kind of Snarky Badass, too tough and cool to be fazed by years and years of child abuse? That seems like a weird message to be pushing, but then you get to Canaan House and the whole tone changes: she does start taking things seriously, suddenly it matters to her what happens to these people. And because of that, at the end she makes this incredible, heroic sacrifice. Only to wake up and find that that sacrifice has been rejected.

I would love to see a Gideon in NTN who isn’t particularly heroic or selfless, who is allowed to have feelings about the specific ways in which the people in her life have repeatedly failed her, instead of just papering over that trauma with snarky humor and bad puns and her devotion to Harrow. 

[trustsalvatorewriting]

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter twelve

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2,288

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

❝ what does one do with life when one expected to be dead ❞

"HOW DOES IT FEEL? To be alive, after all these years." Kol asked, eyes barely meeting Aniya's as they sat on a park bench. They had agreed to spend the day watching for strangers, any person that wouldn't mind having a sprinkle of amnesia in their lives. After a while the silence had gone deafening, and Kol decided to speak.

    Aniya looked back at him, somewhat shocked that he had bothered to ask about her condition. She shifted in her seat. "Truth be told, I do not know what to do with the life I hold in my hands. It's as if someone has handed me the moon."

    "Didn't you ask for this? To be immortal?"

    "No. My father did." She said, looking down at her hands. She and Vihaan had questioned his beliefs once, and only once. It was the day that their father held their hands over a fire, and asked who would save them if not the gods. "And what of you? How did Esther create the spell that turned you into vampires?"

    "She didn't create it. She found it, after Henrik was attacked by the wolves one night." He'd said it so casually, it might have gone over the average person's head; but Aniya had known him all his life. "Mother dearest murdered my ability to practice magic that night. About a decade ago, she stuck me in the body of a witch, but I was promptly killed by Finn shortly thereafter. Such a shame. The body was quite handsome."

    He paused, then added, "Of course, not quite as handsome as me. But it did do the job."

    She lifted an eyebrow slightly. "You would give your immortality to be a witch again?"

    "You may have given your life for immortality, but I never wanted this. I was perfectly fine dying at the fine age of thirty years old," He sent her a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to the humans walking in front of them. Across the street, an old man and his wife, wrinkly and discolored, hair the color of salt and pepper.

    "It is a wonder how humans learned to live so long. Perhaps my father wouldn't have forced us to into those rituals if he knew humans could become so... weathered."

    Kol laughed then, and Aniya found herself smiling at the newspaper Kol had set down on their laps. After a moment, he asked, "You truly can't read?"

    "I've learned a bit," She admitted. Henry had helped her, using a few pictures books he'd created and never published. Elijah had repeatedly offered her private tutors, but the situation had never been ideal. Even compelled humans would ask questions eventually, and there was something discomforting about allowing a stranger to see her weaknesses. She'd been a gifted witch once, a prodigy; and she had lost to something as simple as American tongue. "I do miss runes though."

    "You'd be the only one," Kol responded. She narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance, and he simply shot her a smile. He turned his attention to the humans. "So, we've sat here long enough. Who will we put out of their misery and erase twenty years worth of memories?"

    "How about one of the weathered ones?" She suggested. "They've been alive quite long. Surely they won't miss a decade or two."

    Aniya had given eighteen years of her life to a set of rituals. Given her life for the sake of her parents. A few memories in exchange for a taste of her old life -- it was a small price to pay. Regardless, humans were never meant to live so long. They were in pain now, surely. Growing weak and inching closer to Death with each passing moment. To walk the streets and see the youth, see all they had lost.

    Perhaps she would be putting them out of their misery. Granting them the ability to forget all they would never have again.

    She stood from the bench and made her way towards an elderly man only a few feet away. Kol leaned back and watched the girl smile brightly, encapsulating the man in a short conversation about passing birds.

    "I can't remember the last time I'd seen a creature so beautiful." She knelt down, though the bird hopped a few steps away. Her brown eyes dimmed for a moment, and Kol felt a heavy weight on his chest as he watched the little bird move away from her. As if it were repulsed.

    "Yes," the old man nodded in agreement. His voice was aged, in a way that even Kol found himself pitying him. "Your generation is so glued to those phones. Rarely even feed the birds anymore."

    "My generation," Aniya squinted her eyes. She was very much his elder, and Henry had tried to show her how to use a phone only a few days ago. Unfortunately, the very concept had gone over her head. "Yes. I agree. My brother, though, he used to care dearly for these creatures. Often found him climbing trees and feeding them leftover scraps."

    She spoke fondly of her brother. It was hard not to. No one had a heart quite as big as his. No one dared to. The world was never made for one as beautiful as him, and yet there she stood, desperate to gain her strength and revive him.

    "What was his name?"

    Aniya hesitated. Her mother had always said names carried power. "Victor. My name is Annie."

    "It suits you," He commented. The man's blue eyes sparkled with kindness, and she felt her stomach drop. "I hope he takes care of you."

    "You needn't worry. My brother was quite the protector," She shrugged off his comment, eyes quickly shifting to the street in front of her. She pushed herself off the ground and focused her eyes on a nearby lamppost. "And what of you? Do you have family? People that care for you?"

    "My wife, Betty. She cared dearly for me," The old man chuckled. He pulled out a small leather rectangle, and Aniya lifted an eyebrow at the gesture. Carefully, he unfolded it and revealed a black and white photo of a young couple. A blonde woman with molded curls and a young man beside him, in a perfectly tailored suit.

    The man slipped the photo out and turned it around. At the bottom right corner was a jumble of letters. Aniya leaned forward to see the lettering, and after a few moments, the man said, "Betty and Edwin. Our wedding in the fifties."

    Aniya's faced soured and she looked away, as if she'd just tasted something terrible. From across the street, Kol lifted an eyebrow. She took a breath.  "Where is she now?"

    "Died of long cancer twenty years ago. I miss her everyday." He said, his voice tainted with nostalgia. Aniya bit the inside of her cheek, a pit in her chest crawling up her throat. Edwin carefully tucked the photo back into his wallet.

    "And you love her to this day? Your love for her, it never died?"

    "In my experience, love never dies."

    "How do you love someone you're sure you'll never have again? How can you bring yourself to love something so unbearable?" Surely he would give in. Surely he could bring himself to forget her. How much she would give in return for amnesia. In another world, she might've belonged to Henry and Henry alone.

    Edwin shrugged. "I'll see her again. It's only a matter of time."

    It was then that she felt something snap. A switch in her mind, flipped, and exchanged for something much colder. Ice rushed through her veins as she stared at the man, and her mind was made up.

    Kol would one day see his Davina once more. Edwin would see Betty, and the world would continue to spin, as she stood paralyzed and alone. Even Henry would leave her eventually. She had only one insurance, one promise that would never leave her: Vihaan.

    "I truly am sorry." Aniya placed a hand on the man's shoulder and whispered a spell beneath her breath. The man's eyes glazed over, and static ran through her veins. She took a step back and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the sense of euphoria that overwhelmed her. "Raise your left hand."

    He obliged.

    "Drop it. Raise your right hand."

    He obliged. She had control of him.

    "Give me your wallet. Go to Lafayette Cemetary and ask for Keres." The man, stripped of his willpower and sense of self-control, handed her the small leather object and walked away in a daze. Aniya swallowed and shoved the rectangle into her pocket. To her left, she felt a slight breeze, and Kol stood by her side.

    Kol watched the man wander away, a brow lifted as Aniya gulped. "You hesitated."

"I'm ripping away an innocent man's free will because we made the mistake of getting married. My apologies if I'm not all that ecstatic about our situation," Aniya muttered. She huffed, shutting her eyes tightly as she turned on her heel.

"Well, lucky for you, we only need two more. I found a poor bastard in the cemetery last night. I'm sure no one will notice he's gone," Kol announces proudly, hot on Aniya's trail as she walked away from him.

"We shouldn't be preying on the innocent, Kol. Especially not men who are mourning their loved ones!"

Kol huffed and sped in front of her, raising his hands to stop her from crossing him. She sent him a warning look, and he sighed. "This one deserves death. Trust me."

She had been given no reason to trust him. In the weeks since she had come back, not once had Kol given her proof that he was worthy of it. Frankly, he's gone lengths to prove the opposite; but somehow, as she stared into his aged, tired eyes, she found herself wanting to believe him.

And so, she nodded, for once giving into his antics. "All right. I suppose we'll just have to find a few more and send them to Keres. I'm sure it won't be that much trouble."

    Regardless, she couldn't seem to ignore the heaviness of her chest — the guilt she carried, knowing she had just sent a man to be stripped of his free will. Her parents had tried desperately to rip her of these emotions, trained her to see human lives as game pieces. Ones that she would have to dispose of once they no longer suited her. Her father had told her to embrace the electricity that ran through her veins when she practiced dark magic, but what was meant to surge of power had become nothing but a parasite. This power had turned her into nothing but a monster.

    "Kol?"

    "Yes?"

    "What did your siblings and father exchange for immortality?"

    He stopped walking then, his feet glued to the sidewalk. For a moment, his amusement faded, but it was quickly hidden away with a smirk. It occurred to Aniya that she might have hit a nerve. "I'm a vampire, darling. Haven't you caught up on the mythology yet? Watched a few scenes from Twilight? I've heard Robert Pattinson is quite dashing."

    "Well, yes, but I'd like to see the truth. I'm not sure how much of that I'm going to find in pop culture." She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step toward him, looking up at his aged, tired eyes. "Show me."

    "You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you," He murmured. He sighed then, leaning back against a nearby lamppost.  Aniya came closer as he shut his eyes, and black veins crawled from beneath his eyes down to his cheeks. His eyes opened, revealing a pair of blackened irises and red, irritated scieras. Kol bared his teeth, displaying his sharpened fangs. When Aniya didn't flinch, the monstrous features crawled back into hiding, and Kol's curious face remained.

    Then, she smiled, almost satisfied with her discovery.

    "Was there any particular reason you wanted to see that, or were you just exhausted from staring at my gorgeous face for so long?"

    "Is this typically how you flirt with women in the twenty-first century?"

    Kol shrugged then, straightening his back and heading back in the direction of the Abattoir. Jealousy seemed to spike at Aniya's chest, as she walked a few paces behind him. How wonderful it must have been to be loved by something that hates all else. To be loved by what was perceived to be a monster.

   She pulled the wallet out of her pocket, running her fingers over the faded photograph. She wondered to herself what might have happened if the Hollow has awoken Vihaan, as opposed to her. He might have been stronger. More willing to sacrifice the lives of several humans in exchange for the life he once had; but then, she wondered if he would have been more willing to give up on a marriage that had so clearly died. He would have been willing to sacrifice it all to ensure that she was back on Earth.

    "I'd like to have this mission finished by the end of the night," Aniya revealed, her fingers tugging at the ring around her neck. "We'll find the nearest elderly person, and send them to the cemetery. You'll have your memories returned by midnight, and I'll have the evening to myself."

    "You're going to see your human."

    "Is that so bad?"

    He hesitated. "I suppose not."

[husbandograveyard]

I think it's the first time I drop something in your ask box ?🤔 Anyway, congrats on the 300 followers! 🥳🎉🎉 So, I had a very hard time choosing a prompt👀 But here we are! Can i ask prompt 23 for Rosinante (Yeah I know, I'm a girl full of surprise 👀)with a fem! reader? You can put it in a Modern!Au setting if it's easier for you ❤ Luv u sweetheart 🥺

Hi babe! I went with in series, to give the softest clown a little in series love, he hardly gets enough love as it is! Due to the nature of the prompt, the story is a little angsty, but no worries, I can spoil a little that the ending is going to be good! I hope you like it and that it satisfies your wonderful Lusinante heart a bit! Much love!

Don’t ever leave again - Donquixote Rosinante (Corazon) x Reader 

Cliche with bae prompt #23: “Tell me why you did it” “because I love you”  Character: Rosinante - Word Count: 1.8k hurt/comfort - angsty with happy ending  ? 

You were in love. Madly in love. Deeply in love. It wasn’t the easiest of relationships. It was all secret. But it didn’t matter to you, because you had never been this happy. 

You couldn’t even remember how you got close to Donquixote Rosinante. You certainly went out of your way to avoid his flamboyant brother. But something in his silence drew you closer. And before you knew, you had discovered his secret, and not long after that, you had uncovered his heart as well. 

The relationship was strange, sneaking around all the time, Devil fruit activated bubbles of silence in order to whisper words of affection. He preferred visiting you in your house, so he could ensure no one would follow him. He never stayed the night, never really stayed long. He never really explained what exactly was going on. Why all the sneaking around had to happen. But you knew the family could be dangerous and refrained from asking too many questions. He had told you himself: the less you know, the less danger you will be in. 

Often times you felt like it would be better to break it off, to let him go. But the mere thought of never being able to see him anymore, him never hugging you to his chest anymore, no more running your fingers through his soft blonde locks, no more kissing as if you were both desperate for the love you never got to experience outside the bond the two of you shared, just crushed your very soul. You’d never be able to leave him. 

So when he came to your house in the middle of the night, urging you to pack your bags, you complied almost immediately. You were going to run away together. Away from his crazy brother and away from all the madness, all the secrecy. You could finally take the next step in your relationship, maybe even settle down together. It was a hectic night, but you fell asleep on the little boat he was using fairly quickly, completely ready for a new start. 

It took you a couple of days to arrive on the island. Rosinante had already picked out and prepared a little house. He had been planning this escape for months it seemed. He had explained very little on the way, being even more quiet than he usually was. He was probably just still very much on the lookout for danger. Even you knew that his brother’s influence was reaching pretty far, his network only growing every single day. 

The best moment came when the both of you finally went to sleep in the house. The comfort of an actual bed, the very first time you could actually sleep in the arms of your boyfriend, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and his soft breaths as you cuddled close, made you fall asleep almost instantly. You had never been happier in your life. 

So you were incredibly surprised to wake up without that presence. Had he gotten up earlier to do something? You listened if you could hear him stumbling around the house but to no avail. He could’ve easily used his devil fruit to sneak around quietly though, so you didn’t think too much of it as you got dressed and made your way downstairs. 

He was nowhere to be seen. Only a letter on the dinner table. You immediately recognized his clear, but messy handwriting. 

Dear y/n. 

I hope you can forgive me for doing this to you, but if you cannot, I will understand. I will never know, because you will never see me again. My brother was growing suspicious and I cannot let my cover be found out just yet. 

I moved you for your own safety. This is a nice island, nice people. I left you some money and food. Start a new life here. Do not seek me out. I beg of you. Our relationship was never meant to be. Besides, you could not love me if you knew all about me. Forget me, start anew. That’s going to make you truly happy. 

Burn this letter after reading, erase all traces and memories of me. It’s for the better. 

- Rosi 

You read the letter over and over and over and over, crying harder every time more of its meaning got through to you. He left you. All alone, away from everything you knew and was never coming back. He never even said he loved you. Your heart was broken, crushed, the pieces shattered, and right now. It felt like it could never be fixed again. 

You managed to adapt to life on the island relatively well. Rosinante had not lied: it was a very nice and welcoming place. In no time you had a job in a small grocery store, helping the elderly couple that owned it with picking up the heavier supplies and selling stuff all around. It was a nice life, and you were generally well accepted in the community. The initial pain of your one true love leaving you behind had subsided, but his absence created a hole that you didn’t think was ever going to be filled again. 

There was not a day you didn’t think about him or the letter he had written. You had burned it, like he had instructed you, but not before memorizing it. Every night in bed, you were thinking about it. It was almost a year after he had left you, and you still did not find peace with this sudden departing. And when you finally managed to fall asleep, he was almost always there in your dreams. Most of the time they were actual dreams, of green grass fields, and cuddles and soft kisses stolen as the two of you lay on the floor (he tripped, you lay down next to him so he wouldn’t be alone). 

Sometimes they were nightmares though, and tonight was such a night. Burning buildings, dark clouds of smoke making your eyes tear up and your breaths heavy,  your lover just out of reach as he left you behind. You, sitting on the ground, unable to move, unable to go after him, tears eventually falling from your eyes. This time around, rain was starting to fall, mixing with your tears as they slowly hit your face, creating even more smoke as the rain unsuccessfully tried to diminish the fires. 

You woke up with an actual wet face. It was raining outside, with pretty heavy winds, and you had forgotten to close your window before bed. You stood up to close the window when the very familiar scent of cigarette smoke hit your nose. You blinked a couple of times, your house was too far away from the village to smell anyone’s smoke, and it was literally the middle of the night. You looked through the open window and noticed a very familiar black feathery coat a step away from your front door.

You sprinted downstairs, not even sure what was happening. Maybe you were hallucinating, maybe even dreaming, but when you opened the door, your heart skipped a beat. There he was again, one finger to his lips, motioning for you to stay quiet. He had a sleeping child in his arms. You let him in, too confused to even speak if you wanted to.

You were not sure how to feel exactly. Your first instinct was joy. So happy that he came back, so happy to see him again, alive and well. But the more you thought about it, the more sad and angry you got about him leaving you behind in the first place. All the grief you went through, and only now you were healing again. You weren’t sure how much your heart could take still, and neither of you had spoken up yet. He put the child on your couch, placing his coat over it as a blanket and creating a silent bubble so the two of you could speak all you want without waking the little boy. 

“Y/n… I…,” he started off, hesitant to continue, not sure if he could ever say something to make it up to you, “I know I probably should’ve said something. But… it was for the best.” He took a breath, wanting to continue, but it was then that your brain finally caught up on the situation and your bubble burst. “Should’ve said something? You lied to me, took me here, promised me love, a life together and then just abandoned me! Far away from my family, my friends, everyone and everything I knew, in the middle of nowhere, all by myself! I didn’t get to say goodbye and we barely spent time together.” Your voice broke halfway through the rant, and you were trying so hard not to cry as you spoke. 

He walked over to you, touching your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, but you didn’t seem to respond to his touch like you used to. You sank to your knees crying, and continued speaking, although is was barely a whisper.

“Why..?  Why did this happen? Just tell me… why did you do this?” His heart was breaking at the sight of you like that. “Because I love you y/n, always have and always will.” He took a deep breath, sitting down in front of you. Close enough to be reassuring in some kind of way, but not so close that it could possibly make you uncomfortable. 

“My brother would have you killed. Your family too. I had to protect you. I thought, that if I just left without really saying anything, you could forget me and start a happy life. I did mean it when I said you’d be better of without me.”

“I was miserable Rosi. You made me think you never loved me… That hurt so much.” “And I am so so so sorry for that… I’d get it if you’d never want to forgive me.” You shook your head, leaping up a little so you could hug him, and he promptly fell over, having the general balance of an elephant on a unicycle, taking you to the floor with him, thankfully he served as a nice pillow. 

You sobbed as he rubbed your back, comforting circles as you repeated the same words over and over: “Never leave again. Promise me. I love you.”

He gets up a little, still holding you close to his chest, kissing the top of your head.

“I promise. I love you too.” You tilted up your head, and Rosi only had to dip down his for your lips to lock. The kiss was so much more intense than any kiss you had shared in the past. There was so much longing, loving, regret, and pure desperation. No fights for dominance, just your mouths fitting together perfectly as if it hadn’t been over a year. You were out of breath when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “There is a lot I still need to do. But I won’t leave without telling. I won’t lie about my feelings. And I promise I will always come back.”

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part five

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x Reader

A/N: Enjoy part five as we delve into Black Noir’s twisted, methodical mind and hunting technique.

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

              Unstable

That night, the slight drizzle that set lazily upon the city gave Jason a last day to live.

Fueled by an anger evident in the heavy rise and fall of his shoulders, Black Noir moved stealthily in the night. He couldn’t shake the image of her ex-boyfriend grabbing her wrist, hurting her, just as he couldn’t stem the rage that followed. He took deep, measured breaths that made him stand taller, like a shadow stretching and distorting into a nightmarish figure. He’d been following a trail of blood that the man had left behind from what was probably a fractured arm. Black Noir reveled in the memory of the sick twist and crack of bone as the man hit the sidewalk.  It had its own distinct sound, like a sudden crunch of plaster. And it promised pain. He wondered if the bone had pierced the skin, if the two pieces were so disarranged, they couldn’t be molded back together. If she hadn’t been there to witness it, he would’ve proceeded to firmly detach it and let the man bleed out.

However, his murderous fantasies were promptly interrupted by a slight drizzle that began to erase the already faint trail. His pace grew faster, led by purpose and fury, when suddenly he stopped. Rounding the corner, still concealed in shadows, Jason’s destination became quite clear. The hospital was illuminated, presenting a grand and pristine face. Lights shined and cars were moving in the parking lot, people at the entrance milling in small groups. As an ambulance shot past Black Noir, he conceded Jason a last night of life. A last night to breathe, eat, sleep--to feel. Dumb luck. The flashing red and blue lights barely missed Black Noir as he backed into the alley turning away from the lights, the man, murder. Simmering with hardly contained anger, he walked away, climbed onto a rooftop and made his way back to Vought Headquarters.

…

The next day, Black Noir was to attend a series of long, boring meetings on advertising and PR management. Honestly, he couldn’t care less. His strategy is a constant: stay mute and brooding. The better part of his morning was spent thinking of ways to infiltrate the hospital, murder Jason in his bed and leave without being caught. It would look bad if he were recorded on camera or seen by a nurse. By lunch time, he’d extinguished all potential plans and ultimately decided that he’d wait for the maggot to be discharged. During his afternoon meetings, he quickly moved onto deciding what method he’d use to end the man’s life. Would he use brute force? Bash his head into a wall? No. Too quick. Slash his throat and watch it pour across his front? Maybe. Enjoy the crack of his spine as he snaps his neck? Satisfying, but still too quick of a method. Black Noir sat mostly still in his chair. The only elegant movement was that of his hands as they doodled on an official business document laid in front of him. But even those were soft movements, concealing the fury building beneath. On the inside, he felt jittery and couldn’t wait to smell Jason’s blood in the air. Would he stab him over and over again in quick succession, letting his rage possess him? Yes, that’s the one. Finally, his mind strayed from the approaching crime. He began to wonder about her. What she was doing and thinking about, if she too was nervous as the hours passed and their meeting grew closer. He leaned back and, behind the lenses of his mask, he closed his eyes and replayed the previous night over and over again.

Some time later, he realized it was already four in the afternoon. With the bad condition Jason’s arm was in, he probably had to undergo surgery at a certain point. Black Noir hoped they amputated him, making him feel helpless under the blade just as he would soon be trapped under the masked man’s dagger. Deciding he’d contributed enough of his day to the useless string of meetings, he crumpled the paper in front of him and stood tall, swiftly making his way out of the room. The young, overenthusiastic man leading the presentation tried to call after him, sputtered in confusion, and ultimately proceeded with details on current topics in millennial discussions.

Black Noir carefully made his way back to the hospital, hiding out in an alley with a view on the main entrance. He hoped the man hadn’t already left. Concealed by a series of bins, he sharpened his favored dagger, the jagged teeth promising pain, blood and death.

He kept tabs on movement at the hospital’s entrance, studying every individual, couple or family that went in. He stayed ready.

It was two hours later that he saw him. A slight limp in his step, Jason left the building with his arm tightly wrapped in a cast. Black Noir was disappointed to see it still whole. But that wouldn’t matter for much longer.

The mute maintained his composure, biding his time as Jason unknowingly moved towards his end. Back Noir sent a rapid look over towards the hospital and the large parking lot at its side. No one would see anything. A few more steps. The anger and hatred from the night before were finally getting a chance to come out and rear their head.

It drove him forward as he grabbed Jason, pulled him into a chokehold, and dragged him deeper into the alley. Away from prying eyes, he spun him around and slammed his back into the irregular wall. Deep breaths. Clean and controlled. Jason was pale, clutching his injured arm in obvious pain. He opened his mouth, and Black Noir felt the sudden intake of breath that would morph into a cry for help. He cut him off with a sharp jab at his throat. The smaller man keeled over, sputtering and choking as he tried to speak.

Still in control, Black Noir pushed the edge of the dagger under his chin and pushed upwards. Now looking him in the face, he waited. He waited and enjoyed the fear that had the maggot shaking like a leaf. He waited and stared him down, letting the tension build into something unbearable.

And suddenly, he let go. The control, the clean movements, the breathing were all left behind. Black Noir surged forward, a black skull being the last thing Jason saw.

…

Soon after, every stab brought clarity, letting him slowly rebuild his control and reach his mostly collected self. But even as the anger fueling him lessened, he proceeded until he spilled into a complete detachment, like floating in a calm sea. No disrupting waves, no tension from being on edge.

Finally, he stopped. Taking a step back, he let the mangled figure slump in a pile.

He looked up at the sky and just breathed.

He had a meeting with Sarah, and he’d be damned if he was late.

Giulia

PART 6

[ms-interpretation]

Lee Lim’s appointment with death? (Time travel ep 14/15 theory)

In episode 14 Lee Gon and Lee Lim both travel back in time. They can do so because they ”meet up” in the in-between. Their pieces of the Manpasikjeok align and it therefore momentarily becomes whole. Their gates thus become portals to the past.

Lee Lim arrives an hour before the coup attempt and promptly makes his way to warn his younger self of the crown prince, since he now knows that grown-up Lee Gon will be the mysterious savior who interrupts his attempt to steal the Manpasikjeok. He therefore tells his younger self that he should make his way to the crown prince’s room and murder him. Past Lee Lim scoffs in disbelief over the fact that the 8-year old prince will manage to stop him, exhibiting one of his fatal flaws: his extreme arrogance. Utterly unimpressed by his future self and filled with greed (his other flaw) he kills his future self and takes his flute piece (which however disintegrates in his hands). It is important to remember that Lee Lim doesn’t really understand how the Manpasikjeok or time travel works. He doesn’t even really try to figure anything out. Lee Gon is the opposite, being a mathematician who is continuously trying to work out the science and rules behind the seemingly supernatural elements.

My theory (which is kinda crazy and probably wrong) is: When Lee Lim kills his future self, he is actually (or at least risking) condemning himself to death. Why? First the rules of TK:EM time travel: The time travel in TK:EM isn’t closed or fixed, meaning that the time travelers can change the past (and future) even if it ends up conflicting with past events/their past memories. Doing so doesn’t mean that they simply ’un-write’ their current selves either. This is established when Lee Gon and Tae-eul finally meet again in episode 15. They have new memories, they both know that these memories are new, which indicates that they haven’t forgotten their old ones (how would they otherwise know which memories are new or that their memories are different at all?).

I sometimes call this kind of time travel ’Overlapping Time Travel’ or alternatively ’Merging Memories Time Travel’. Past events aren’t easily ’unwritten’, instead the changes the time traveler caused will create a new time line which overlaps with the old one, resulting in that the people affected (or only the time traveler) will have two time lines/sets of memories in their head. This is what happens to Lee Gon and Tae-eul.

This kind of time travel does however still come with a lot of risks, since the past can be changed. This means that Lee Gon could have failed in saving himself during the Night of Treason (him remembering that he succeeded is no guarantee). If he had failed he might have died as a kid and subsequently been ’erased’ as an adult. This is the fate of Lee Lim in episode 16, as he vanishes in the in-between because Lee Gon kills his past self.

Now to the important part: Lee Gon knows that he is the savior because he saw himself as a child. This realization at the end of episode 13 is what prompts him into action (as well as the sound of the flute which calls out to him in ep 14). This realization is what prompts him to fulfill his role as the savior. Doing so he preserves the time line he has been living through, since he makes sure that things plays out as he remembers them. If he hadn’t he might have simply died back in 1994, and the time line would most likely be erased. The information he obtained as a child: seeing his future self save him, is important and is an essential causal link in this time line since it is what prompts Lee Gon to save himself (and thus survive).

Contrast this with Past Lee Lim (or Lee Lim 2.0). He gains some new information which his future self didn’t have until recently: that the crown prince will be the one who stops him. Therefore this version of him will never have that moment of realization by the river (ep 13) and he will not become the self he kills. Lee Gon becomes the savior self he remembered seeing as a kid, Lee Lim kills his future self after having received new information he previously didn’t have. Lee Gon’s actions preserve the time line, while it seems that Lee Lim’s must be about to change it.

If ’Past Lee Lim’ wishes to maintain/remember this new information and preserve the time line he is now living in, which is different from the one Lee Gon and (Future) Lee Lim (1.0) have been experiencing, he must make sure that he will still receive this information at about the same time. Why? Because otherwise he will change/the time line he has lived through will change. He absolutely must gain this information in some way and the only way of doing so is seemingly to (at some point) time travel back to his past and tell his past self. Why must he do this (again)? Because he has changed too much, he will never become the Lee Lim who he murdered. That Lee Lim (1.0) is therefore erased from time and his actions are ’un-written’. Contrast this with Lee Gon who merely fulfilled what he already saw happen and is therefore the same person, his actions stand.

However Lee Lim knows, from his own experience, that his past self will most likely kill him if he simply plays out the situation in the same way. Therefore one could claim that he has a future appointment with death. Because he still needs to share this piece of essential information, since it plays a causal part in how he acts. If he doesn’t he will be, if not ’unwritten’, at least ’re-written’. This might be what happened to the majority of characters after the time reset in ep 16, since Lee Gon and Jo Yeong changed the past so drastically. People are ’re-written’, the previous time line/past ‘unwritten’ events still affects them (even if they cannot remember them), this could be why Eun-sup is more confident and is working for the NIS.

However seeing how Lee Gon and Tae-eul changed their past and still remained the same people (only gaining new memories) Lee Lim could hypothetically in his own personal future simply: time travel back, share the essential information, and just make sure he doesn’t die. This would most likely cause him to simply have two sets of memories from that encounter, as he would ’overwrite’ his killed future self’s actions (similar to how there are two different versions of Lee Gon’s and Tae-eul’s first meeting, the latter ‘overwriting’ the former). Thus maintaining the new time line which was created due to the new information he was given. 

In episode 15/16 the fact is that he could hypothetically at some point in the future time travel back to his past is probably why the time line isn’t simply disintegrating or breaking apart in ep 15/16. He must do it at some point though, similar to how Lee Gon (or someone else) must save young Lee Gon as a child.

It wouldn’t surprise me though if Lee Lim doesn’t realize this himself. In episode 15/16 he is simply again trying to get hold of Lee Gon’s piece of the Manpasikjeok. Maybe if he did gain access to the whole Manpasikjeok he could save himself in another way, through its magic. My theory also entails that if Lee Gon and Jo Yeong didn’t go back in time and change the past, killing Lee Lim or if Lee Lim never travels back in time to share this essential information with his past self - their current time line (ep. 15/16) will most likely break apart. 

Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if I’ve just made the time travel in TK:EM a lot more complicated than it actually is haha. But I wanted to share this theory anyway, so I hope some of you find it interesting and feel very free to disagree about my conclusions. 

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE - Given Time (Part 10)

Part 1: [X] Part 2: [X] Part 3: [X] Part 4: [X] Part 5: [X] Part 6: [X] Part 7: [X]

Part 8: [X] Part 9: [X]

A/N: Some people missed Part 8 before reading Part 9. Make sure you’ve read Part 9 before this, as the ending of 9 sets up all of Part 10!

After a long night of fitful stops and starts, Chase awoke yet again to the gnawing, snarling and howling of his hollow stomach. Grimacing against the complaints, he curled into a tighter ball and stuffed his face into his pillow, trying to re-smother the emptiness in dejected darkness.

What little snippets he could recall in his sluggish state were dreams of food, slipping out of his grasp just when he was about to bite down on it, and Marvin perched on the edge of a full table in the far distance with a malicious grin on his face. Now even those dreams were less than forthcoming; his stomach would settle for nothing but the real thing.

With a deep sigh he let heavy eyes crack open, chewing on the inside of his cheek as the gurgling and groaning continued. What would he do if Marvin refused to bring him breakfast, as he had lunch and dinner yesterday? Maybe Chase would stay here all day, huddled away in bed, feeling sorry and spiteful. His stomach lining felt like it was seizing up in knots and—was that turkey he smelled?

Any remaining notion of sleep vanished without a trace as he bolted upright in bed, zeroing in on the source of that aroma: a halfhearted sandwich on a plate by the door. Pain, shock and gratitude soared through him as he lunged for it.

The bread was soggy, the meat was sliced too thin, the mustard was in salty globs and Chase devoured it just as eagerly as he had the premium waffles. He hadn’t felt this sick and frantic since he’d refused Marvin’s food the first week, an eternity ago. How had he brought himself to endure it so long the first time?

What was the point? Why’d he go and starve me? Some kind of exercise in obedience: ask no questions and you get to eat? he wondered bitterly he licked the last of the mustard from his fingers. Well, if that’s the way you want to be, Marv, I’ve learned my lesson. But screw you anyway. With what small rebellion he could muster, he kicked a foot at the door—and promptly stopped dead when it clicked softly under the force.

No way.

Openmouthed, he ran his hand along the seam, a shaky gasp escaping him as probing fingers found slight purchase on the edge of the stile. It was cracked open just half an inch, even less, but it was open!

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t truly be happening.

Head spinning with a combined rush of euphoria and terror, he gripped at the edge. Thoughts of fresh air, the sky, the sun, freedom, home swept over him, swelling in his chest even as his mental voices clamored.

What if this was a setup? Chase could open this door and fall right into a greater trap but if this was his one and only chance, after so long…Whichever the case may be, he knew in his very soul that this would never happen again.

The door groaned softly as he coaxed it open little by little. A wash of air, musty but cool, raised goosebumps on his arms as weak light bathed him from above. He was faced with a hallway.

His heart thundered like a racehorse’s hooves as he clung to the doorframe and leaned out, peeking his head perilously at one end of the hall, then the other. Marvin was nowhere in sight.

Trap, trick, trap, trick.

Knees weak, he took his first quaking step beyond the threshold and froze, expecting something to spring or snatch at him. Nothing did.

Make a mad dash, scurry to the nearest door! his voice of vulnerability cried, piped down by his voice of caution guiding, Slow. Silent. Find out where you are.

Sweat beading down the back of his neck, he crept to the left, approaching what looked to be an open floor. The closer it loomed, however, the harder his chest clenched and his lungs threatened to give out.

It was unrecognizable yet somehow unmistakable. This was their home. This was Egos Incorporated—dimmer, distorted, like a reflection in a mud puddle.

The carpet muffled his steps but barely gave under his feet, matted flat and ingrained with fallen hair, mud and dark splashes that Chase didn’t want to identify. The ceiling fan hung still, dust clumped in chunks to strings of cobwebbing that dangled from its blades. Paper and paint peeled from the fissured walls, some of it faded, shriveling, some seemingly ripped away.

The kitchen was the only area remotely maintained—the counters discolored but dusted, the sink rusted but still offering water. The intermittent dripping, combined with the sputtering hum of the light fixtures, was the only noise to fill the silence.

The burnished wood dining room table was rotting, bowed in the center, and the former coffee table was nothing but a warped frame and broken glass. The TV screen was scratched and spotty and the piano sank sideways, propped on two hobbled legs and half-hidden under a torn sheet. Yellowed ivory keys were scattered around it in every direction.

In a numb, twisted reverie Chase turned away, only to flinch at the muffled crunch of glass and paper underneath him: a photo, bent and tattered in its frame. His mouth went dry.

His own face smiled brightly back at him…Marvin’s too, but there were other bodies in the picture standing with them, scratched and scribbled into obscurity from their chests up. Chase didn’t need to see their faces to know; even through the damage he could make out the stark red jumpsuit, the white lab coat.

Why?

Other pictures had been disfigured and littered nearby, some shredded into halves and thirds, others scorched to black ash. The few frames still on the walls were the ones that held pictures of him and Marvin alone.

Why? Why is it like he wants to erase any memory of them? They’re our brothers! They’re—

His voice of safety barged in, startling him out of his daze with a thrill of hope. Backdoor!

Heart leaping into his throat, he dodged the table and fallen chairs, sweeping the dust-laden curtain aside to see a gray, storm-sick sky through the smudged glass. The backyard was a ruin, every flower strangled and overrun by weeds, but he hardly gave them a thought. There was a lock bar strapped across the door, thick, rounded steel—the one piece of metal that wasn’t rusted.

If he could jump the fence, he’d be free to run for it. He could start the journey to the city, find some help there, someone to hide him until Marvin gave up.

H̴e̶ ̛n͏e͡vȩr̡ ͡wi̧ll. Panic provoking him, he snatched at the lock bar with both hands and strained, muscles quivering in vain. Fo͜o̴l! Loathing snarled. F̧i͘n͡d͘ so͟me̷thi̶ng͜ t̨o s͞hatte͞r ̡the ҉g̸lass!

Another frantic pan around the room revealed nothing immediate. The furniture was too decayed to hold up; it would probably break against the door rather than the reverse. Praying for a miracle, he jogged to one of the other closed doors and jostled the handle, relief bursting through him as it gave way.

It was a bedroom, three walls coated in gray, the other red. The bed may be stripped and the closet empty but the bookcases and their contents were untouched, not at all like the rest of the house’s unseemly state. Graphic novels, figurines, picture frames, awards—Jackieboy’s trinkets, all cleaned and preserved.

Throwing a set of novels from the top shelf onto the floor, Chase seized the stone block bookend, weighing it in his palm. If his aim was true and he put all his force behind it, this could do the job.

“Chase!”

“Ahh—!” Chase stumbled in his fright, falling against the bookcase and lobbing the bookend in the same motion. Marvin deflected it with a fling of his arm, magic embedding it in the far wall with a crash.

“What are you doing here? How did you get out?! Do you realize what you could have done?!” he bellowed, eyes wild as he charged in.

“No, s-stay away from me!” Chase yelped, diving under his outstretched hands for a reckless lunge to the door.

“Go back to your room!”

___________________________________________________

@viostormcaller  @misslennie9  @obsidiancreates @plutoandpolaris  @rainidaydreamer @alvie-ashgrove @subtleshenanigans  @victory-cookies  @happysingingturtles @c4link @ashphoenix06  @a-humble-narcissus  @jackskeptically @burningbirb @theblackphoebe  @hexatrash @gingersrants  @realcanadianmoose  @o-0notsteph0-o @help-trashbin  @blitzindite  @rats-this-username-is-taken @lildevyl  @droidreamer  @number1120 @bookwormscififan  @wynterst0rms @awesomekattyk  @the-weirdest-fan  @epicfangirl01 @rammypaige @the-spawn-of-loki @isa-ghost @rabbitsartcorner @totallynotanti @thesinginggal @akiacreates @veryanxiousdev @stardustdragon130 @10th-no-name-person @immabethehero @rataccoonn @darkiplurrr @smolswolpotato @gay-but-still-feral @definitely-asexual-volcano

@egopocalypse 

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 4 Hobbit Plot Bunnies

Title: Just to See You Happy

Summary:  Time Travel AU. Frodo has carried the Ring and deserves as much rest as any mortal can bear. He refuses to see his mission as complete until Bilbo finds his happiness. And if that happiness is found in a group of dwarves from long ago, Frodo will fight the Valar above to see it done. Along the way though, he may learn it’s not the ‘dwarves’ but perhaps one dwarf in particular.

POV: Frodo

Bilbo Baggins was many things in the eyes of his nephew both before and after the incident with the ring. He was courageous. He was kind. He was encouraging. He was everything Frodo needed him to be when suffering the tragedy of losing his parents. He could so clearly recall the memory of running out as a tween without a waistcoat in his eagerness to get to the market to get the first pick of raspberries for Bilbo’s tarts. 

Of course, he had managed to run into Lobelia Sackville-Baggins who gave him such a scolding on the shame he brought his family name to be underdressed, running wild, with uncombed feet hair to top. Frodo could barely stomach the lashing, and ran back to Bag End, tears in his eyes, ready to never leave the hole again. Well, that certainly wouldn’t do for ‘Mad’ Baggins as he promptly stepped out in his bathrobe of all things! Returned Lobelia’s barb words tenfold making sure she knew just who the shame upon the family name of Baggins was, and then sent Frodo out into the woods where the ‘best wild berries’ lay hid. 

It really was no wonder Frodo offered to walk upon the slopes of Mount Doom itself just to protect his uncle. He would do anything for his uncle’s piece of mind. And while the Big Folk may sit around and argue as to whether or not Bilbo could be faulted for picking up what he deemed a harmless trinket that turned out to be the singularly most evil item in all of Middle Earth, Frodo decided he could carry those invisible sins. All for Bilbo’s happiness.

Happiness. A curious word in retrospect. If one had asked Frodo prior to the whole mess with the ring if his uncle was happy, he would have said yes easily. After all, he had shared laughs and smiles with Bilbo. He had been subjected to tender hugs and kisses as a faunt. He knew the stories that could tickle him pink. What else could happiness entail?

However, in the weeks leading up to their departure to the Undying Lands, Frodo looked introspectively, and realized Bilbo had been happy in the Shire in the same way Frodo was happy now. A mask of contentedness that hid the drowsy emptiness inside. A phantom pain that couldn’t be explained, and that couldn’t be chased away. A sad thing that clings to the back of the mind once they were alone. Perhaps it was the way one felt after having witnessed true tragedy, and there was no cure. Or perhaps it was the lingering effects of the ring that refused to give up even after its destruction. Either way, Frodo hoped with his entire being that the Undying Lands were the answer. That sailing west with the elves would heal this hurt upon his and Bilbo’s minds to show them true happiness once more.

Frodo watched his uncle’s face light up in pure delight when he deemed himself ready for ‘one last adventure’. It was so nice to see Bilbo coherent once more. That was the one thing he feared the most as he grew older, the loss of his wits. Seeing that he found them once more gave Frodo hope as he climbed into the boat with him. That hope was dashed within the first hour of their voyage.

“As soon as we land in Valinor, we must stop at the Gardens of Yavanna and maybe the Lands of Lorien before we head to the Halls of Aule.” Bilbo began to murmur excitedly.

“The Halls of Aule?” Frodo questioned with a laugh. “What business do you have in the Valar’s Smithy?”

“The Valar’s Smithy indeed.” Bilbo huffed. “I’ll have you know that is where my dwarves are, and I intend to see them.”

“Bilbo, my dear fellow, you and Frodo are the first mortals to get to visit Valinor.” Gandalf pointed out delicately.

“Meaning what exactly?” Bilbo asked with a raised brow.

“Meaning you won’t exactly have free reign to wander into anyone’s afterlife. You will be treated as a mortal in an immortal’s land.” Elrond answered gently.

The joy that had been shining in his eyes swiftly left making the already old hobbit seem nearly decrepit. After that, it was hard to get Bilbo to engage with them again. He just sat there looking out across the ocean with that pained look Frodo knew only too well. However, now he was wondering if the reason behind that look had nothing to do with the Ring. What if it had to do with something that happened during Bilbo’s adventure?

Frodo went to sleep that night wishing for more than anything to just be able to erase that look from Bilbo’s eyes forever. After closing his eyes, Frodo actually began to dream for the first time in a long time. He was standing amongst the stars where several tall figures began to appear.

The first was a blind man with hair fairer than Lady Galadriel. He looked over at Frodo and winked before turning to the rest of the gathering. With a jolt, Frodo realized what he was witnessing. He was in a meeting of the Valar, and that man was Lorien, Master of Dreams and Desires. As he spun around, more names became associated with the faces above him.

Lady Yavanna, earthy and proud, next to her husband in the dwarven armor and long red beard, Aule the Smith. Manwe’s electric blue eyes practically radiated the power as King stood next to his wife and queen, Varda, shining stronger than the stars around them. Mandos, Nienna, Este, Tulkas, every lord and lady Frodo had ever grown up learning about was present, and not a single one of them was aware of his meager presence. Well, until Lady Yavanna had the gull to wink at him.

“Why have you summoned us, Lorien?” The impressive voice of Manwe bellowed.

“To answer the call of your Chosen.” The blind Vala answered.

“Yavanna and Aule’s children?” The shadowed persona of Mandos questioned. “Have we not already granted them asylum?”

Yavanna shared a look with her husband, giving his hand a squeeze of support.

“After the service they have done us, is it too much to give them an audience?” Aule gruffed.

“Oh yes! Please, let us hear Frodo Baggins out.” Nienna pleaded her Mercy with tears streaming down her face.

Frodo suddenly found himself the intense victim of the immortals’ weighted gaze. The fact that his legs hadn’t given out on him yet was a strong reminder that this was only a dream.

“Well, let’s have it.” Este’s sweet voice, as the Lady of Healing would have, carried down to Frodo making him feel almost giddy. “What would you desire of us, Young One?”

Frodo gulped struggling for a moment to find an answer for the Vala.

“You see, it’s my uncle, Bilbo Baggins. I just want him to be happy. He doesn’t deserve to be so burdened. The choice to Bear the Ring was mine and mine alone, but Uncle...he just thought he was helping thirteen dwarves get home.”

Eyes shifted to Vaire, the Weaver, as she pondered Frodo’s request.

“It’s true there were many paths laid out before Bilbo Baggins, but...it was the fall of the Line of Durin that sealed his pain. I cannot free him without going back nearly eighty years in the mortal’s lifetime.”

Yavanna gripped Aule’s hand in support as his face twisted into a pained grimace.

“The three deaths in question were young and unnecessary, but unavoidable when considering the proximity of the One Ring that Bilbo Baggins carried at the time.” Aule pointed out.

“And we cannot surrender that front.” Manwe interjected. “This mortal’s pain is unavoidable.”

“Not necessarily.” Lorien gave a tight grin. “I have called us all here because I have heard the calls from both Frodo and Bilbo Baggins, and I believe there is a way to fulfill their desires. Vaire, could there be a path to peace created from the presence of Frodo Baggins after what the mortals referred to as the Fell Winter?”

Gasps were heard around the room.

“That far back?”

“Can it be done?”

Vaire seemed to give this a considerable amount of thought, and as she thought her fingers glided through the starry landscape as if she were sewing a pattern in the vastness of the sky. Her eyes widened at whatever it was she saw, and she turned towards the rest intrigued.

“There is a pattern I see. It’s very risky, but it can be done.”

“You’re asking us to risk the fate of the world on the happiness of a single mortal?” Manwe scoffed. “Why would we ever consider such a thing?”

“Because if anyone deserves happiness, it’s the ones we burdened with our shame and inaction.” Nienna cried out. “We must give Frodo Baggins a chance.”

Varda took that moment to address Frodo causing silence amongst the rest of the Valar.

“Frodo Baggins, do you understand what is being asked of you?”

“Forgive me, My Lady, but I’m afraid I do not.” He admitted.

She nodded gently but her voice still rang firm. “If we grant this wish for you. To see your uncle’s happiness, you will have to carry the One Ring once more. Could you bear such a burden again?”

Frodo hesitated and the pain in his shoulder from the Nazgul’s blade throbbed as if in denial of the deed that lay before him. He was broken from the quest the first time. Would there be anything left if he had to carry such evil once more? He came to the Undying Lands in search of peace. Peace for himself and for Bilbo. This entire conversation seemed to counter that point. His anxiety must have shown on his face, because Este’s calm broke through his dark thoughts. 

“I cannot see the future, Frodo Baggins. But I can feel out this timeline, and if you succeed, you and Bilbo will finally be free of the pain you carry.”

Frodo heaved a heavy sigh. There was really no question then, was there?

“I don’t know if I am truly the right person for such a monumental task as this. But for Bilbo...for myself, I would be willing to try.”

Tulkas laughed hard enough to shake the foundation upon which they stood.

“What did you do to these ones to make them so courageous, Aule?” He questioned.

Frodo stared at the smith in confusion as he just smiled fondly.

“I let my wife have some input in the design. She wanted them born with a healthy dose of hope.”

“Then let us carry that hope forward. Manwe, with your permission, I wish to send Frodo back in the timeline where he can make a real difference. He will remember much of his previous life, and he will know of the task that lies before him.”

Manwe sighed a gust that threatened to blow Frodo over. “So mote it be.”

“So mote it be.” Everyone else repeated.

Frodo looked expectantly up at Lorien who was gazing down at him softly. “Go Little One. May you fulfill all your wishes, and if you need guidance, may you always know where to find me.”

Slowly, the world faded around him until he was once again enclosed in darkness. Waking up instantly, Frodo found himself in a world much unlike the one he just left. And the first thing he noticed was how it was unbearably cold.

[fanfics4all]

The Piano Man

Request: Yes / No 

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 3999

Warnings: TALK OF RAPE I will not be tagging anyone but do not read if you are triggered by rape! (This is based on season seven episode 12)

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

A long time ago I used to live in Houston. That was a part of my life that I never wanted to return to. But now, it looks like I had no choice. I had joined the BAU team in the FBI and our case was back in my hometown. 

“So Houston PD needs our boots on the ground for the Piano Man case.” Garcia said and I silently gulped. 

“The serial rapist?” Morgan asked. 

“A case we consulted on about eight months ago. Twelve victims over five years.” Hotch said and he glanced at me. He knew that I was one of those women that he had hurt, he was the only one that knew. Not even my boyfriend of one year knew, I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone else. Hotch needed to know because it came up on my psych eval, but that was the only reason. The local PD didn’t even know, I never reported it because I was scared… 

“He crosses racial and social lines, ages too.” He added and kept glancing at me, I knew the others noticed as well. 

“Power assertive?” Prentiss asked. 

“Knocks them out with a date rape drug, and binds them with piano wire…” Rossi said. 

“They wake up with no memory of the assault or how they got the permanent scar the wire leaves.” I said, managing to keep my voice leveled. 

“So he’s branding his victims. How does he dose them?” Prentiss asked. 

“Houston PD still isn’t sure ‘cause, you know, date rape drugs metabolize quickly, and he’s keeping them for twelve hours.” Penelope answered before I could say anything. To be fair, I have no memory of how he drugged me, so even I didn’t know. 

“So why are they calling us in now?” Morgan asked. 

“Because of these most recent attacks. This piece of work has elevated sick and twisted to a whole new dimension. Cases in point- Brittany Anderson filed a report after she woke up outside the restaurant she was abducted from, and Vanessa Campbell was just reported missing.” Penelope answered and my eyes widened. 

“Wait, those were victims two and five, weren’t they?” Spencer asked. 

“Yes. He’s going back and attacking survivors a second time.” Penelope confirmed. 

“Vanessa was grabbed from her house? He’s changing his M.O. from what we studied. He’s upping his game.” JJ said. 

“Well, we know he stalks them. But public venue abduction, he has the power. Home invasion, he’s on their turf.” Morgan said. 

“So he’s betting he can gain control before they get to a phone or a gun.” Spencer said. 

“The question is why? What is he getting from revisiting old victims?” Rossi asked. 

“It seems careless for someone who’s been so controlled up to now.” Hotch said. 

“What is this? On the floor?” Prentiss asked.

“Uh, that- oh, God, that is the contents of Vanessa Campbell’s stomach, which she ralphed up.” Penelope answered. 

“And in the glass?” Prentiss asked. 

“According to the police report, it is salt and water.” Penelope answered. 

“Homemade emetic.” Prentiss said. 

“E-what what?” Penelope asked. 

“Quick and dirty cocktail meant to induce vomiting.” Rossi answered. 

“Vanessa Campbell and her husband moved to a new address. They’ve put locks on the doors. They took precautions. She even knew what to do if she was dosed again, and it still wasn’t enough. That’s what he gets out of it.” Prentiss explained. 

“Their fear. He wants them to know that no matter what, he can still get to them.” Hotch said and I felt a chill run up my spine. 

Everyone was getting ready to get on the jet. I gathered my stuff up and headed to the jet early. I walked on and saw Hotch sitting there alone. 

“Hey.” I said. 

“Y/N, I’m glad you’re here. Sit.” He said motioning to the seat in front of him. 

“I don’t want you to go on the case.” He said and my eyes widened.

“Hotch, I’m fine.” I said and he shook his head.

“No, you’re not. You are too involved with this case.” He said and I shook my head. 

“This man is the reason I studied so hard for this job, I want to catch people like him and now I have the chance to catch this son of a bitch. Please don’t take that away from me.” I said and he started at me for a few minutes. 

“He’ll try and come after you.” He said and I nodded. 

“I know the risks, but Hotch I can promise you I’m okay. I’m not gonna let him scare me.” I said and he sighed. 

“Fine, but you listen to what I tell you and don’t try and find him on your own.” He said and I nodded. 

“I promise.” I said, although I knew I might not be able to keep it all that well. Hotch and Rossi were talking with the chief and JJ and Prentiss were interviewing the victims. Reid Morgan and I were sent to the latest crime scene. 

“Does Vanessa smoke?” Spencer asked her husband. 

“Yes, Vanessa smokes. What does it matter?” He asked. 

“It might explain how the unsub is drugging these women.” Spencer said and my eyes widened slightly. Thank God I quit. 

“The media has done a very good job of warning people to watch their drinks so that bars are no longer a fertile hunting ground, but cigarette smokers aren’t as careful. They might ask to have a cigarette from a stranger, or have their pack swapped out of their purse when they put it down and then unknowingly inhale PCP or scopolamine, both of which mimic the effects of date rape drugs.” Spencer rambled, it honestly was always so cute to me, but now wasn’t the time to be thinking that.

“She hid them in her purse. She didn’t think I knew. She cracked the windows so I wouldn’t smell it when I got home.” Mr. Campbell said. 

“You know, if the unsub stalked her from the backyard, he’d have a good view when she lit up.” Spencer said. 

“He also took out the window with something like a center punch.” Morgan said. 

“What’s that?” Mr. Campbell asked. 

“It’s a spring-loaded device used to punch divots into metal. It also breaks glass.” I explained as Spencer walked off towards the kitchen. 

“No cigarettes. He must have taken them with him to hide the evidence.” Spencer said while looking through her purse. 

“You know, it might not be all he’s trying to hide.” Morgan said. 

“What do you mean?” I asked him. 

“Mr. Campbell, was this on when you came home?” He asked. 

“The police told me not to touch anything.” Mr. Campbell answered. 

“Well, you sure got a lot of MP3s on here.” Morgan said scrolling through them. 

“Was it playing one of them?” He asked. 

“No. Why?” Mr. Campbell asked.

“The media center keeps a history of the last twenty songs that were played, but either you don’t listen to any of them or someone erased it.” I said catching on to what Morgan was thinking. 

“It wasn’t me.” Mr. Campbell said. 

“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan said, pulling out his phone. 

“Whatcha need?” She answered. 

“Hey, there’s an MP3 player in the Campbell house, can you tell me anything about the erased history?” Morgan asked. 

“Okay, I can’t tell you who deleted that playback list, but I can tell you exactly when the log was cleared. 7:43 P.M..” She said. 

“Why erase a history of someone else’s music?” Spencer asked. 

“Because he didn’t erase someone else’s music. At 7:36, he loaned an MPS via USB drive, played it, and promptly deleted it.” She said, showing us on the Campbell’s T.V..

“Cleared the history so he could cover up his tracks.” She added. 

“The unsub brought his own music to an abduction?” I asked confused. 

“Yes, he did, and that is creepy. Fortunately, whatever is imported onto this computer downloaded the home network, so, ladies and gentlemen, the mystery song of Mr. Gruesome is…” She said and the music started playing. “That’s specific.” Spencer said. 

“That’s another reason to call this guy the piano man.” Morgan said. 

“Turn it off. Please.” Mr. Campbell said. Morgan turned it off.

“Does this song mean something to you or your wife?” Spencer asked.

“Vanessa hates it.” Mr. Campbell said and I gulped. 

“How come?” Morgan asked. 

“I don’t know. She doesn’t know. But every time it came on the radio, she’d burst into tears.” Mr. Campbell explained.

“So the unsub just happened to play it the night he came after her.” Morgan said. 

We got back and JJ and Prentiss brought the woman back in to see if they had songs that triggered them too. All of us were in the room the local PD had set up for us and looked at all the songs these women now hated. 

“Lady in Red, Up Where We Belong, Glory of Love. Each victim has her own piano ballad.” JJ said. 

“You know, considering the survivors lose consciousness during the rape, we think this functions as the unsub’s signature. He most likely plays the songs repeatedly during the assault, resulting in pavlovian response when they heard it later, sort of a subconscious rape trigger.” Spencer said. 

“The night of Vanessa Campbell’s abduction, that signature became part of his torture.” Rossi said. Hotch looked at me and I shook my head. 

“We need to know.” He said and everyone looked at me. 

“No.” I said. 

“Know what?” Spencer asked confused. 

“Y/N is one of the victims from the first time.” Hotch said. 

“Hotch!” I said and I felt everyone looking at me in shock. 

“So, what song is it?” He asked and I looked away from everyone. 

“Endless Love…” I said.

“So, why these songs? What do they say about him?” Hotch asked, but before anyone could say anything more his phone rang. 

“Go ahead, Morgan.” Hotch said. 

“We just found Vanessa Campbell’s body. He didn’t even bother hiding it.” He said and my eyes widened. 

“How long has she been dead?” Hotch asked. 

“Maybe five hours.” He answered. 

“He’s never killed before…” I said. 

“Are we sure it’s our unsub?” Spencer asked, he was clearly worried. 

“He used a piano wire as a garrote.” Morgan answered. 

“Alright, Morgan, you come back here, I’ll go to the coroner's office once they’ve looked her over.” Hotch said and hung up. 

“Keep working.” Hotch said and pulled me out of the room. 

“You need to go back home now.” He said and I shook my head. 

“I’m not going anywhere until he’s behind bars.” I said, standing my ground. 

“Y/N this is serious, he’s getting more confident, you need to leave.” He said. 

“Hotch is right Y/N.” Spencer said coming out of the room. 

“I’ll give you two some time to talk.” Hotch said and went back into the room. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked. 

“Because I wanted to forget about it. Hotch is the only one that knew because of my psych eval.” I said not meeting his eyes. 

“I can help you.” He said, gently touching my arms. 

“Spence, there’s nothing to help. The only thing I need to do is to catch him.” I said. He gently guided my eyes to look at his.

“I understand, but this is dangerous for you, he could try and come after you now and what if he kills you? I can’t lose you…” He said with tears in his eyes. 

“I promised Hotch I wouldn’t go looking for him alone and as hard as it is to keep that promise, I need to. Because if I ever see him again, I will kill him.” I said and Spencer’s eyes widened, but he saw the tears in my eyes. 

“I can’t let him get away with this again.” I said and a tear slid down my cheek. Spencer pulled me to him and held me close. 

“Just stay with me okay? I can tell Hotch that we need to stay together, I can protect you.” He said and I smiled. 

“You know, I think that’ll be better for the both of us.” I said and he smiled back. 

“I love you.” He whispered. 

“I love you too, now let’s get back to doing our job.” I said, but he stopped me. 

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you to go home?” He asked and I smiled slightly. 

“You know there’s not.” I said and he sighed, but nodded. 

We walked back in the room and Hotch said the three of us were going to the morgue. So we hopped in a car and headed there. They didn’t have too much to look over apparently. 

“Tissue inflammation is consistent with inhalation of some sort of drug. I can’t tell what yet.” The doctor told us. 

“And the ligature marks?” Hotch asked. 

“Same as before. New wounds on top of old scars.” The doctor said holding up the hand and I felt myself reach for my own wrists. 

“No sexual assault, though. Possibly because she regained consciousness at some point and fought back.” He added. 

“She doesn’t show any signs of defensive wounds.” Spencer commented. 

“No, but I did fish this out of her trachea.” The doctor said handing Spencer a bag. 

“Neoprene?” I asked. 

“From a glove. My best guess is she bit him.” The doctor said. 

“Not enough to break the skin, unfortunately.” He added. 

“An exam glove?” Hotch asked. 

“Most likely.” The doctor answered. 

“Actually, it’s a surgical glove. A little bit thicker than an exam glove. If he was wearing neoprene, it means he has an allergy to latex.” Spencer said. 

“I’ll have Garcia check hospital records.” Hotch said and left the room. 

“Thank you doctor.” I said and Spencer and I followed Hotch out. 

When we got back to the PD Hotch told Spencer and I to take a little break. I objected at first, but he said it was an order so we took a walk around the block. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I said grabbing Spencer’s hand. 

“I understand why you didn’t.” He said. 

“I can hear him still you know…” I said and he looked at me confused. 

“What?” He asked. 

“He sang the song, I remember his voice. I was new to smoking so I wasn’t used to it yet. I was out with some friends and I went to smoke alone, when I tasted it, it tasted off so I got rid of it, but I blacked out after. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I could hear that song and him singing it…” I admitted. 

“We need to go back.” Spencer said and grabbed my hand. We ran back as fast as we could and we saw everyone sitting at a table. 

“Hey you guys are back, we got a suspect.” JJ said and we looked at her confused. 

“Y/N remembers his voice.” Spencer said and everyone’s eyes widened. 

“Let’s go, Prentiss you try and get him to talk. Hotch said and the four of us walked towards the investigation room. Emily went inside and started playing to his fantasies. 

“It’s not him.” I said. 

“He’s definitely assaulted Dianna though.” Prentiss said. 

“Arrest him for that, but he’s not the man that raped me.” I said and walked out of the room. 

“How can Herman Scodie not be the piano man? We’ve got the medical gloves, the medical record he pulled.” Rossi asked. We were all gathered in the room, after Hotch had sent JJ, Spencer, and Morgan to go check his house anyway. 

“The taunt he said to Diana Mitchell, he repeated to us.” Prentiss said. 

“Well, Scobie definitely assaulted Diana the second time. He’s probably re-victimizing all of the survivors.” JJ said. 

“But apply the profile to Herman Scobie, and look at what’s different. There’s no piano wire, and there’s no song played.” Morgan said. 

“You think there are two unsubs, the piano man and a copycat?” Hotch asked. 

“A copycat studies the original unsub in order to learn. Herman Scobie’s a doppelganger.” Spencer said. 

“He’s trying to pass himself off as the piano man.” I said. 

“Why?” Rossi asked. 

“Convenience, maybe. If he assaults the piano man’s survivors, they’re less likely to reach out to the police.” Morgan said. 

“And if they do, the women claim it was the piano man. No one thinks to look at hospital orderlies.” JJ added.

“So who killed Vanessa Campbell, the piano man or Scobie?” Hotch asked. 

“It’s a lay-up. Same neoprene glove in her throat as we found in Scobie’s van.” Rossi answered. 

“There’s something odd about that too, though. If Vanessa swallowed this it would be scarred by digestive acids. I mean, even if it got caught in her trachea as he choked her out, gastric reflux would be evident, but there isn’t any.” Spencer said. 

“So the unsub placed that in her throat postmortem.” I said. 

“Which unsub?” Prentiss asked. 

“He used the piano wire, he played the song, it must be the piano man.” Morgan said. 

“So he plants a piece of evidence to frame Scobie.” Rossi said. 

“Okay, let me get this straight. The piano man is trying to convince us that Scobie is responsible for all of these crimes.” Prentiss said. 

“And if these two have studied each other this closely, then Scobie is the key to finding the piano man.” Hotch said. 

“His lawyer’s here. Scobie’s not gonna talk to us.” JJ said. 

“He will when he finds out he’s been set up.” Hotch said. 

“Let me talk to him.” I said and everyone looked at me. 

“No way.” Hotch said. 

“If he’s studied the piano man he’ll know who I am. He’ll want to talk to me.” I said and Spencer shook his head. 

“No, we can’t let you do that.” He said. 

“Fine. I’ll go in with you. That’s the only way.” Hotch said and I nodded. 

“Hotch, you’re serious about this?” Spencer asked shocked. 

“She’s right, if he knows who she is then it might put him on edge.” He answered. 

“Let’s go.” He added and we walked inside. Herman and his lawyer looked up at us and I noticed Herman’s eyes flash with realization. 

“My client has nothing to say.” His lawyer said. 

“Good. We’d rather he listen anyway.” Hotch said. 

“You’re going away fro rape. The question is whether you’ll let your competition hang Vanessa Campbell’s murder on you as well.” I said. 

“I didn’t kill her.” Herman said. 

“I didn’t even touch her.” He added. 

“Herman.” His lawyer warned. 

“From what you’ve told us, we know exactly what you think of these women.” Hotch said. 

“You don’t need to kill them.” I said speaking as if I wasn’t one of them. 

“They’re not worth that much effort to you.” I said and he never took his eyes off me. 

“But the piano man can’t take that risk. When he’d heard what you’d done, he killed Vanessa Campbell.” Hotch said. 

“He went back to an old victim, just like you, but then he places a piece of neoprene down her throat. Does that sound like an accident?” I asked and he glared at me. 

“He’s setting you up.” I added. 

“I need to discuss this with my client.” The lawyer said. 

“No, he talks to us now, or he takes his chances with a jury.” Hotch said. 

“What do you want to know?” Herman asked, eyes still never leaving mine. 

“Who is he?” I asked and he smirked. 

“You should know, I know who you are.” He said leaning forward towards me. 

“His unknown victim. The one that didn’t report him.” He said.

“Who is he?” Hotch asked again. 

“I never met him. I just read about what he did in the hospital records.” He said looking up at me. 

“You were the only one that didn’t report him, but you came in with the same marks as those other women.” He said, looked at me again. 

“The weird thing though, I had three chicks picked out to do next. I was gonna start with Vanessa, but… He got to her first.” Herman said. 

“Who was the other ones?” Hotch asked. 

“Regina Lampert and Y/N Y/L/N.” He answered. 

“You’re going away for a long time.” I said and walked out of the room. Spencer grabbed me and pulled me to him. 

“It’s okay.” He whispered and kissed my head. We all met in the room and tried calling Regina. 

“Okay, guys, regina Lampert is not answering her phone, and I found something hinky on her, which I’m sending to your tablets.” Garcia said. 

“Alright, Garcia, what are we looking at?” Hotch asked. 

“It’s a surveillance video from the bar that Regina Lampert works at. Do you see the guy she’s talking to?” She asked.

“PLaying the piano. He’s taunting her.” Rossi said. 

“She knows it too. Look at her body language.” Hotch said. 

“Watch what happens when I fast-forward to closing time.” Garcia said and sped up the video. 

“She seems to warm up to him.” I said. 

“And then, watch this.” She said and the video changed to a different angle. 

“Garcia, freeze it right there.” Hotch said. 

“Look at her face. No, she doesn’t. She set herself up as bait.” Hotch said. 

“Credit card says that the guy at the piano is Hamilton Bartholomew. This is what I know, his wife just filed a missing persons report on him this morning. She directed me to some job he just applied for, so I got a background check from that where they did his fingerprints.” She said. 

“Alright, Garcia, pull Regina Lampert’s rape kit and cross-reference the prints found with Bartholomew’s, and see if you get a match. We need to get to her house.” Hotch said. 

“Sending her address to your GPS.” She said and then we hung up. We all left to get to her house. 

“Garcia, did she pick up?” Hotch asked, answering the phone. 

“No, but we did just get a 911 call from her house, and it is freaking weird.” Garcia said and then started playing the call. 

“911 operator. What’s your emergency?” A lady asked. 

“Hello?” She asked when no one said anything. 

“My name is Hamilton Bartholomew. I’m being held captive by a lunatic!” He said then a gunshot went off. 

“She took the piano man captive?” Prentiss asked. 

“Unless he’s not the piano man. I mean think about it. Would the piano man call us to rescue him?” Morgan asked. 

“She could be shooting at the wrong guy.” Rossi said. 

“No, it’s him.” I said. 

“What?” Spencer asked. 

“That’s his voice… I know it.” I said. 

“The lab just confirmed, it’s him.” Prentiss said. We pulled up to the house and everyone got out. 

“Y/N you stay out here, that’s an order.” Hotch said and I knew there was no fighting this on. 

“As long as I’m the one that puts the cuffs on him.” I said and Hotch nodded. They went in and Spencer stayed out here with me. Hotch and Prentiss came out with both of them and Hotch handed him to me. 

“Hamilton bartholomew, you’re under arrest for the rapes of thirteen women and the murder of Vanessa Campbell.” Hotch said and I put the cuffs on him. 

“It’s you…” He said to me. 

“I’m gonna make sure you stay in jail for the rest of your damn life.” I growled at him. Hotch took him from me and Spencer came up and held me tightly. 

“Should have let her pull the trigger.” I said. 

“Come on baby, let’s just go.” Spencer said and took me to the car. 

“He’s never gonna see light again, you know that.” He said. 

“But he’s still alive…” I said. 

“And I’ll be here for you, whatever you need.” He said and held me close. 

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes pt6: A slow morning

Summer:.......

Shiva:*smiling* Aren’t you going to invite me in?

Summer:How is this happening?

Shiva:Come on, your are weak but not stupid. I’m sure you already have a few ideas. *skipping to the bed*

Summer:.....I’m still sleeping aren’t I?

Shiva:Bingoooo!!! *flops on bed* Gods I forgot how soft this bed was! It’s been ages since I layed here; reminds me of the real deal. Can’t wait to lay in it again.

Summer:*glares* Fat chance....

Shiva:Oh wipe that ridiculous look off your face and take a breather. No way I’m fighting you in this place. I just wanna talk.

The young woman layed back up and crossed her legs elegantly as she stared down Summer who was still in the door way. The smug smile that she wore was nothing new to her condescending attitude but it held a certain light hearted feature to it. Summer could tell that Shiva was telling the truth, so why did that only make her more anxious?

Shiva:There’s enough room in this bed for two you know?

Summer:I’m perfectly fine standing here. *tensing up*

Shiva:Whatever makes you less scared. Just when I thought you were getting more assertive. I guess it’s just desperation that made you steal those vials.

Summer:How....I was warm with that happened.

Shiva:Yeah but you’ve been thinking about it nonstop and obviously you’re cold enough for all this to happen. It’s only natural I find out; does natural even apply to us. Huh, something to ponder for later. Right now I’m way more interested in what exactly do you hope to accomplish. I tried digging deeper in that pretty head of yours but I can only get so deep, or maybe you’re winging it. *stands up*

Summer:Like I’d tell you. Just know your days are numbered.

Shiva:Funny, took the words right out my mouth. If anyone knows just how big the difference is from creating plan and executing it properly, it’s you. How many times has it been I wonder, since I left you freezing to death in your own mind? By now your friends and family have to be really tired of dealing with you.

Summer: Their problem is with you, not me!

Shiva:Now now Summer, do you really want to yell at me?

A chill ripped through her suddenly as her feet were frozen in place. The air itself started to get cooler to her discomfort. Despite her efforts, Summer started to shiver a little as Shiva walked closer. A piece of Summer really wanted to scream but refused to. The urge slowly growing though as her captors hand reached out to her. Nimble fingers on her left cheek caused the poor girl to nearly jump out her skin. Something told her that speaking wasn’t a good idea at the moment.

Shiva:That’s better, I really like this room the way it is. As I was saying, you’re nothing but a burden. The one’s you love wouldn’t be tired of me if you were strong enough to get rid of my from the start. Maybe then mommy dearest wouldn’t have a cute little scar that runs across the first one at the bottom. Man can she dodge like nobodies business. I wanted to leave a much bigger reminder of our meeting. If memory serves me well then it was diamond dust that caused the reaction and the whole apartment. History re-

Summer:*grabs wrist* That’s never happening again. You’re not catching anyone off gaurd by a long shot. We’ve learned many things in six years and you’ll feel like nothing but a bad dream in six more. My family will be just fine.

Shiva:Ah, there’s that little fire in your eyes. Always ready to come out whenever someone threatens mommy, daddy, or big brother. It’s the only time you are actually interesting. I wonder if it’ll keep you warm against me, or you’ll burn yourself by clinging to it?

..............

Shiva:Hmph, well I think I’ve had enough fun for the moment. I suppose I should let you rest while you still can; it’s only fair.

Summer:*lets go* Gee how thoughtful....

Shiva:Goodbye little one. I’m gonna enjoy this bed. *puts cover on the floor*

Summer:What are you-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Her body jolts violently as her eyes open. The right side of her body aches and feels like it’s on something way less soft than she is used to. Slowly her senses come back and notices that she’s currently on floor next to a knocked over heater. Shiva’s surprise appearance started to make sense; just another precaution to add to the list. The dim light hit Summer’s face from the bedroom window told her it was still early. As much as she wanted to move back to her bed, all the strength she had was put into placing the heater back up right. Then she pulled the cover down to the floor with her and went back sleep.

xxx

Year round, Atlas always looked like a work out art at a museum in Nicholas eyes. Freshly fallen snow in the beginning of Winter though, that’s when Atlas becomes the center piece of it all. Crisp air tickles his nose as he walks down the quiet streets with two coffees in hand. Behind him the sound of snow crunching in his previous foot steps gets louder. He raises the coffee in his left hand for it to be promptly grabbed.

Valerie:Five sugars!?

Nick:With a small amount of cream for good measure.

Valerie:Man if there’s one thing I miss about school mornings, it’s this baby right here.

Nick:*chuckles* You do realize you could’ve gotten one of those at anytime you wanted right?

Valerie:Nah, they’re reserved for this moment every time or it feels less special. Coffee on the way to school is our thing; don’t want to abuse that.

Nick:If you say so. What happens when we eventually graduate then.

Valerie:I’ll get it once in a blue moon and remember all the good times of combat school.

Nick:Do good times and combat school even fit together like that?

Valerie:Now you sound like your sister. Speaking of which......

Nick:Doubt she’ll show up today.

Valerie:Such a shame. One of these days a teacher is gonna blow a fuse. I don’t even think the Prince of Atlas could stop them from expelling her.

Nick:They will as long as I make the school look good and please don’t call me that. “A prince is nothing compared to knight that chooses to defend him.”’ I’d rather be the knight.

Valerie:I don’t see why you can’t be both. Your parents might as well be kickass King and Queen but I digress. Can’t really blame Summer for wanting to skip the P.E. physical.

Nick:*eyes widened* Gods I’m stupid,m. Of course that’s why she’s not here. It skipped my mind the two of you have that today.

Valerie:Not surprising, you don’t wittiness the crap that goes down. One of these days I might just fight half the girls in that locker room.

Nick:That bad huh?

Valerie:It’s not like they’re even saying much either, but the way all of them stare. Silently judging and forming opinions about her scars makes me wanna drop kick all of them. *aggressively sips coffee*

He couldn’t help but smile at his oldest friend’s remark. Valerie definitely was never one to put someone in their place. She was typically open and blunt just like her mother. Frankly it was hard to tell if any of Ren’s mannerisms or genes; especially with her hair being short. He sort of missed seeing it long if he was honest with himself. She’s kept it short since the day she decided to start “exploring.” Nicholas took a long sip of his drink to avoid making a frown. Both of them would do anything for Summer; that’s his sister and Valerie is her closest friend as well, but he knows that friendship probably isn’t what compels her to help. He’d have to be naive to believe it was.

Valerie:Hmmm? What’s wrong Nicholas?

Nicholas:Nothing, just thinking about the test is all.

Valerie:Nice try, that’s not a “I’m afraid of a test look.” You’re way to smart and study hard. I bet that expression doesn’t even exist. Something else is up.

Nick:Well maybe this is the first time I’m worried about a test so you finally see the expression? *sips loudly*

Valerie:*pouts* I hope you know that you can tell me anything right? We’re best friends remember. *nudges him*

Nick:Yeah I know?(That’s the problem....)

Valerie:*smiles* So be straight with me instead of giving me the run around.

Nick:I just really want you to lo.........

Valerie:To....?

Nick:To....keep an extra good eye on Summer for the upcoming weeks. Classes are starting again, tournament preparation, the usual bullies, etc. It be a bit overwhelming for her in the beginning. Look after her if she needs any help.

Valerie:Of course! I’ll always be there for Summer!

Nick:Trust me, I know you will.

Valerie:That goes the same for y-

Nick:VAL!!!!. *grabs her arm*

He yanks her left arm to pull her in close to him The sudden movement causes her tense up as they see a car swerve onto the sidewalk at high speed before taking off moments from where she just stood. Her head is still processing the events that unfolded as her body is being held tightly against Nicholas’s shorter and slightly smaller frame. His body shaking with adrenaline. He began shouting at the car angrily.

Nick:LEARN HOW TO DRIVE IN THE SNOW DUMB ASS!!!!

Valerie:Wow, that was.....close.

Nick:*lets her go* Are you okay!? Nothing clipped you?

Valerie:......

Nick:Valerie!?

Valerie:*shakes head* Sorry, I’m alright. That was just ummmm, wow that was close. Lucky you were here. I guess it’s officially that time of the year again.

Nick:The only down side of all the ice and snow. Tsk, I gotta a deal with a whole season of this again. You sure you’re okay?

Valerie:*rotating shoulder* Yeah I’m good. Wasn’t expecting that yank but it’s better than a tire on my chest.

Nick:Oh, sorry about that. Guess I went full force.

A bluish bruise was left where he grabbed her arm. While he frowned at it, Valerie was actually a bit surprised and a bit impressed. Seeing Nicholas that serious outside of a match is a rare sight. Forever he’s cool, collected, and isn’t one to show up that much. She could count the number of times that he’s actually caught an attitude with somebody. Soon her aura kicked in and erased the bruise all together.

Valerie:Look, all better in no time at all. Also no need to apologize for saving my skin. *smirking* Been awhile since I’ve seen that level of pissed off from you.

Nick:*red* Well can you blame me!? Almost had a tragedy today.

Valerie:Oh but we still do...*points to the snow*

Both of them watch the white snow become dyed brown and melting from their spilled morning brew. Sadly they pick up the trash and continue to walk.

Valerie:Better the drinks than me but still a shame.

Nick:Sigh, Maybe I should’ve stayed in bed today too. Tomorrow let’s just ride the bus.

Valerie:*giggles* You’re the boss!

The two of them walked twice as fast to school until they ended up in front of the school. Nothing amazing about the building really. Just the regular combat/high school. Half the size of Beacon or Atlas maybe which makes since considering there’s no dorms. Just plenty of class rooms, a huge cafeteria, and a massive space in the back filled with multiple area’s designed for different sports. All in all the back had to be a least a couple of acres give or take but it’s mostly for the track and plenty of open space. They’ve arrived before most students even though they walked. Winter break must be making everyone a bit sluggish. Thes shiny white and gray hallways should have tons of people struggling to remember their locker combinations right now.

Valerie:Looks like most people are following your sister’s lead about school. Oh well, that just means science might be quiet for a change. Only one way to find out. *walking away* If I see you in between classes I’ll give you the inside scoop on the test.

Nick:I’d rather you just make sure you pass so all that studying wasn’t for nothing.

Valerie:Deal! Consider it my way of thanking you from earlier.

Nick:......

Nick:I don’t wanna be that guy but that gift doesn’t sound worth it.

Valerie:Hehehe, I guess you’re right. Give me some time to think about it. Love ya! *runs off*

Nick:.....Sigh, not the way I wish you would.

Valerie:(Hmmm for second I thought he had something in mind. Oh what to do? Maybe Summer can give me a couple ideas later; possibly even make a whole day out of it!) *grinning* Pfft wouldn’t that be nice?

Nick:*opening Locker* (Okay, Take notes in history for two, Ace a science test, lunch, free period, and then help organize the tournament. Should be a calm day.)

P.A. System:Would all members of the student council please meet in the auditorium during first period? Thank you...”

Nick:Okay, no notes I guess. I can always use free period. Still a calm day. *closes locker*

He turns around to see a middle aged black man dressed in a stylish black suit with a cyan tie and a black fedora with a ribbon around it that matches the tie. The man smiles at Nicholas who displays a neutral face that slowly turns into one of exhaustion, even though the day just started.

Nick:Hello Mr. Coal.

Flynt:Hello Nicholas, shall we talk in the courtyard or my office.

Nick:The principal’s office always has candy so I think you know my answer.

Flynt:Let’s mosy on then.

Nick:Sigh, I wish I still had my coffee.

Part 5

[team-free-will-oneshots]

Sleepover (Friends Forever)

Title: Sleepover (Friends Forever) Summary: Jo Harvelle considers you one of her closest friends. Little does she know, your feelings for her go a lot deeper than just friendship. Based on ‘Sleepover’ by Hayley Kiyoko. Pairing: Jo Harvelle x Fem!Reader Warnings: light angst/pining, some swearing, ends with fluff Word Count: 2.7k

note; pride month may be over but i’m still gay. also this does not fit into the canon timeline at all, i realise that, just go with it pls lmao

Masterlist

“Hey, can you help me with my zip?” Jo asked, holding up her dress as she ducked her head into the room. Your head shot up, and you swallowed hard before nodding.

“Y-yeah, of course,” you said, forcing a smile to your face as you stepped into the bathroom where Jo was getting ready. Your brothers, Sam and Dean, were working a case against a particularly powerful warlock and needed someone to seduce him. As their little sister, they insisted that you were out of the question (despite your protests), but Jo was all too happy to volunteer - it gave her a chance to get out of the bar and finally get in some hunting, much to Ellen’s ire.

Such thoughts fled your mind as Jo turned around, sweeping her long hair away from her neck as she ducked her head. You rested a hand on her shoulder, your touch featherlight over her warm skin as you dragged up the zip with shaking fingertips. After clasping it, you stepped away like her touch burned you. And in a way, it did - Jo was like the sun. Bright, beautiful, and sure to cause you pain if you let yourself get too close. Of course, it might have been too late for that.

“Thanks,” she said, casting you a grin as she turned to the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair, sighing. “Do y’reckon you could work some miracles with my hair, as well?” she asked. “I might know my way around a gun, but a curling iron? A little out of my league,” she remarked, and you laughed.

“Mine too,” you admitted. Not the only thing out of my league, your mind added wistfully, watching as Jo tossed her hair back over her shoulder, so carelessly beautiful you couldn’t help but stare. You lowered your gaze. “But I’ll try. Here, sit down,” you said, dragging a chair into the room that Jo promptly plopped herself onto. The curling wand was already heated, so you ran your fingers lightly through her long tresses, the gold strands spilling like silk through your fingertips. You ignored the warmth of her body as she leaned back against your waist, closing her eyes as your fingertips gently parted her hair.

“Feels nice,” she murmured, eyes falling closed and a contented smile gracing her features.

“It’s easier when the other party’s not struggling,” you said with a laugh, and her eyebrows creased in puzzled amusement.

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” she prompted, and you couldn’t bite back your grin as you curled a lock of her hair around the wand, holding it there for a moment before letting it fall down in a neat coil.

“Back when we were kids… Dean was off on a hunt with Dad, and I needed someone to play princesses with. Sam stepped up - but he didn’t realise that entailed a makeover, as well,” you said, smiling fondly at the memories as you picked up another section of hair. “I think he still has the scars.”

Jo laughed, a sound that made your heart leap along with the sparkle of delight in her eyes.

“I’d pay good money to see that,” she said.

“Wish I could help you out, but Sam burned all the pictures I took with my shitty little disposable camera,” you informed her, and she pouted playfully.

“Too bad,” she lamented. You nodded, letting the last piece of hair fall as you grabbed a hairbrush from the sink. Jo hummed as you ran it through her hair, and you ignored the way her smile made your heart race. Wasn’t it just your luck to have a crush on a straight girl?

Well, it wasn’t like the Winchesters, in general, had particularly good luck with women - you supposed you could’ve drawn a shorter straw than this.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Jo asked, raising an inquisitive brow and jolting you from your thoughts. You shook your head.

“N-nothing. There, all done,” you said, putting down the brush as you stepped back and squirted a fine mist of hair spray over your work. Jo half frowned, not convinced, but let it go as she got to her feet and ruffled her hair. Her frown was erased with a pleased grin.

“It looks great! Thanks!” she exclaimed, shooting you a cheeky smile that lit up her whole face and ignited a wave of swirling butterflies in your stomach. You cleared your throat, smiling back tamely as you tried to stop yourself from imagining those soft, smiling lips meeting yours.

Not gonna happen, you reminded yourself. She’s not interested. Stop it.

Her face fell, and she sent a stern look your way, folding her arms and leaning against the wall.

“Okay, come on. Something’s wrong. What is it?” she demanded, her voice taking on a hard edge. You laughed dryly.

“It’s nothing,” you insisted, and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re being weird. Spill.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s nothing - really. Just… feeling a bit alone, I guess,” you said vaguely, and Jo’s mouth curved into a sympathetic frown. She reached forward, her hand finding yours, warm and soft and firm as her fingers twined with your own.

“Well, you’re not. You’ve got me. Friends forever, right? Us girls gotta stick together,” she said, winking at you. An empty smile stretched over your face, contrary to the aching in your chest.

“Right. Friends forever,” you murmured. How were you supposed to explain that even when she held your hand, there was no erasing the blue feeling that had overtaken you? Every one of her smiles, her carefree laughs and affectionate touches had you wishing, longing for something she could never give you - how were you supposed to explain that to her without making her feel uncomfortable? You cared about her - god, you cared about her so much, and you couldn’t risk losing that - couldn’t risk ‘making it weird.’

“You ready?”

Dean’s voice rang from the bedroom, and Jo looped her arm with yours and dragged you in with her. Your brother whistled when he saw Jo, his eyes raking her up and down, and you fought back the urge to roll your eyes. She smirked, pulling away from you to twirl once for him. He raised his eyebrows, licking his lips once before shaking his head.

“Damn, Jo. You clean up nice,” he remarked stiffly, and she threw him a flirty wink that made your heart sink. Of course she was interested in your brother - that seemed to be just your luck. The cherry on top of the cake, as it were.

“I know,” she replied confidently, before spinning back to you with bright eyes. “C’mon, let’s go gank this son of a bitch,” she said, and you gulped, nodding nervously and snatching your gun from where you’d left it on the bed.

“Right. Let’s go.”

---

“Well, that was easy!” Jo exclaimed as the two of you stumbled back to her bedroom, exhausted and sticky with sweat and splatters of blood. You chuckled, kicking off your boots and peeling off your socks as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I’ll say - did you see his face when you pulled that knife on him? I’ve never seen a guy so torn between panic and arousal,” you snickered, and she beamed.

“Damn right,” she said brightly. “But did you see yourself in there? I think I had some competition,” she teased, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Yeah, right. Too bad for him, I don’t play for his team,” you said with a laugh, before freezing as you realised exactly what words had fled your adrenaline-fuelled mouth. She paused, and you could see her mind racing behind her eyes as she quirked an interested eyebrow.

“R-really?” she asked, voice soft, teeth tugging on her lower lip as she appraised you thoughtfully. You kicked yourself.

Fuck, your brain hissed. Fuck fuck fuck - you made it weird, right on, Y/N. Look at how she’s looking at you! You done fucked up!

You smiled nervously. “I- um- I mean-” You sighed - there was no use trying to cover it up, now. “Well, yeah. That’s… is that okay?” Your voice was timid, and it seemed to snap her from her thoughts.

“Yeah, of course!” she was quick to assure you. “You’re still Y/N - friends forever and all that, right?” she said, tone a little too bright to be genuine. You felt a pit in your stomach, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Friends forever,” you mumbled. “Look, um… can you not mention it to Sam and Dean just yet? I haven’t really told them, and…”

Jo’s all-too-bright smile fell into one of empathy, and she stepped forward to touch your shoulder, fingertips lingering a little too long on your arm as she ran her hand soothingly down its side. Her touch sent shivers down your spine and raised goosebumps on your skin, and you were grateful for the long-sleeved flannel that hid your reaction to her caress.

“I get it,” she said quietly, and there was a raw, turbulent sincerity in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. She cleared her throat, ducking her head and shaking it once before her eyes met yours again, composed and steady. “I won’t mention it.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, and the two of you held eye contact, caught in a lingering moment of peace and familiarity that seemed to belong only to the both of you. You were lost in her eyes, wide and warm, only accentuated by the smudge of black eyeliner beneath them. She’d sweat off most of the makeup she’d been wearing for the case, leaving only a hint of smeared red lipstick fading from her lips and the faint, glittery sheen of highlight on her cheekbones, blending into the sweat that had her hair clinging to her temples.

She was beautiful.

You were startled out of your reverie when you heard a rapping at Jo’s bedroom door, and the two of you quickly drew away. Jo crossed her arms defensively, sighing, before responding;

“Come in!” she called, voice laced with irritation. The door swung open to reveal Sam, whose eyes sought yours.

“Sorry. Y/N, Dean and I are ready to head off when you are,” he declared, and you sighed.

“Just let me shower first,” you muttered, but Jo was quick to interject.

“Why don’t you stay here the night? There’s plenty of room, no need to rush off right away,” Jo protested, before shooting you a sly smile. “Besides, Y/N and I have plenty of catching up to do.”

Sam shrugged. “Sounds good to me - I’ll let Dean know,” he said, smiling once before turning away and letting the door fall shut behind him. As you heard his footsteps fade, Jo looked to you.

“Well, I dunno about you, but I’m ready for a shower,” she declared.

“Dibs next,” you replied, a smile stretching over your face. “Should I go find an air mattress or something while you’re busy?”

She scoffed. “Why would you need that? My bed’s plenty big for both of us. Watch out, though - I hog the covers,” she said, winking before walking into the bathroom, the door swinging shut in time with the sway of her hips. You blinked. She wasn’t… she wasn’t flirting with you, was she?

You quickly shook the thought away. No - impossible. You were reading too deeply into things. There was no way she… not after she’d looked at Dean like that… no. She wasn’t flirting - just being friendly, you thought decisively, settling back onto the bed and scrolling through your phone as you waited.

---

By the time you’d both cleaned up, you were all but dead on your feet - as easy as it might have been, a hunt was a hunt - exhausting. You stumbled to the bed with leaden feet, running your fingers through your damp hair as you collapsed next to Jo, sliding under the covers and swallowing back the butterflies as Jo curled in close to you, her body heat quickly warming you up far more effectively than the steam of the shower. You felt nervous sweat prickle on the back of your neck as her legs wound with yours, bare skin on bare skin.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a sleepover,” she mused, and you laughed.

“Me neither,” you whispered, voices soft in the darkness cloaking the room. “What do people even talk about?”

She shrugged, chewing her lower lip as she considered. A mischievous grin crossed her face, and she nudged you playfully. “I know. Who do you have a crush on?” she asked in a teasing, sing-song voice. You rolled your eyes, hoping to cover up the panic that had flared in your chest at the question.

“Me? I think I should be asking you,” you countered, giving her a knowing smile and fighting to keep your voice even. Her brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

You raised an inquiring eyebrow. “I saw the looks between you and Dean. What’s going on there?” you asked, forcing yourself to keep your tone casual. Jo stared at you for a moment, before the comfortable silence was broken by the loud peals of her laughter.

“You- you think I like Dean?” she demanded. “No no no no no, I mean, we flirt sometimes, but- it’s nothing like that,” she chuckled. “There is a certain Winchester I happen to like a great deal, though,” she said, a shy smile spreading over her lips. Your brows shot your hairline.

“Sam? Really?” you asked in surprise, and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head. You made a face. “My dad?”

She slapped you playfully. “No, you idiot!” she said in exasperation. You looked at her expectantly.

“What? Then… who?” you asked, overwhelmed in your cluelessness. She rolled her eyes, but her playful demeanour turned tentative and nervous as she prolonged her silence. You saw her swallow, pressing her lips together as her fingers nervously fiddled with the bedsheet. The springs creaked as she shifted closer, the two of you almost chest to chest when she finally raised her gaze.

“Take a guess,” she whispered, before leaning forward to seal her lips to yours.

You froze against her mouth, and she drew back anxiously, but as soon as her lips left your own you were leaning forward to catch them again. She smiled into the kiss, her mouth soft on yours, tasting of mint toothpaste as your hand found her waist over the thin cotton fabric of her sleep shirt. Jo hummed pleasantly, her hand moving to rest on your cheek and her thumb smoothing over your skin as her tongue found yours, playing a teasing game of touch-and-go that had your heart racing and your hands shaking as you lost yourself in the taste of her, in the soft press of her body against yours. You could smell the apple scent of her shampoo, the freshly laundered smell of her clothes as she ran her hand down from your cheek to find a home at your neck, sneaking around to thread through your hair as she tilted your chin back so she could move her lips to your jaw, kissing down your throat…

Pulling back breathlessly, you exchanged astonished smiles as your chest quickly rose and fell, desperate for the air it had been deprived of during your sweet kiss.

“I-I thought you were straight,” you managed to gasp, and Jo’s face twisted in amusement.

“Did that seem straight to you?” she teased, raising your hand to her lips and grazing a kiss over your knuckles. “‘Sides, I thought you were straight.”

You snorted, and she grinned, her hand moving down to rest on your hip as she leaned in and rested her forehead against yours. Although the two of you were blanketed in the night, the room felt the furthest thing from dark - Jo still shone like the sun, her touch burning and her eyes gleaming bright with passion as they found yours.

“What happened to friends forever?” you breathed, and Jo smirked.

“I can think of something better,” she whispered, before surging forward to kiss you.

__________

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