#all without The Guilt TM

[bastardnev]

re-reading my old fics makes me both sad and mad bc i miss writing so muc h

[lautakwah]

The thing is, the people who are most "entitled" to "taking a break" from talking about the atrocities happening daily are the ones who will continue talking about it non-stop, either because we actively live it or because we share similar plights. We cannot afford to look away because we all know liberation and decolonization and anti-racism are goals we all share and strive for, and the suffering of Palestinians is the same as the suffering of every formerly and currently colonized peoples.

Yet the ones who talk about "activism burnout" or "compassion fatigue" or whatever, who only want this to be "over" so they can watch Disney+ again and get their favorite Starbucks TM drink TM, are the ones least impacted by what is happening; globally, but in their own country and even community as well. Imagine living in such a comfortable bubble that your main concern isn't the horrific government-sponsored genocide, but whether or not you can "go back" to your fun daily routines without feeling mild guilt because the corporations you're getting your fun and convenience from are either implicitly or explicitly backing that genocide happening right now.

If you can afford to look away and play pretend you are not only appallingly privileged, you have blood on your hands as surely as the military personnel bombing hospitals do.

[grandisknight]

xavier: your lipstick stains

+ summary: Xavier helps you out with the age-old dilemma of figuring out what lipstick to wear. Although, his personal take is one you’ve never thought of until now.

+ tags: established relationship, gender neutral reader, fluff, lipstick, kissing, light evol use/mention, implied/suggestive ending, banter, teasing, one shot, in the bathroom, ‘starlight’ nickname

+ wc: 1.7k | ao3

+ a/n: inspired by that one moment in his lost signal card bc the lips line(tm) is canon ₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

No, not this one.

Too warm, too cool—one would be too glossy while the other barely reflected any sheen coat. How many have you gone through at this point?

If only choosing a shade of lipstick was as easy as counting to three, you would’ve finished getting ready a while ago. A familiar pile of soaked cottons stained in shades ranging from a family of reds to browns sit off to the side of your counter. And currently, a freshly-dipped micellar round was swiping over your lips once more in defeat. Great, another one bites the dust.

For some reason, today of all days, not a single shade complimented your appearance. The offended tubes of balm were littered in slight disarray, varying in size and color. There were enough of them present that you could line them up into a series of dominos and watch as they fall in succession. Your eyes narrowed at the selection, one of your own curation, in disbelief at the sense of betrayal they quietly emitted.

A pair of gentle taps break your dazed stare.

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while.”

The soft cadence was muffled between the thick wood separating the two of you, and your eyes lift to gaze at the door through the mirror. Past your own reflection, where your lips have seen better days. Right, he was waiting for you.

“Sorry, I promise I’ll be out soon.” You offer in apology, a slight pang of guilt pricking your skin at the sound of it. It’s just lipstick. Should be something so simple and quick to get over with, yet here you were about to—dramatically so—end it all because not a single shade felt right. “Just, ugh. Doing something.”

“Would you mind if I stepped in? I can help you,” he offers, though makes no move to push the door handle. Patient as ever, a calm that was an opposite to your current storm of frustration.

You contemplate for a moment. But surely, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion, right? A set of fresh eyes in comparison to your wearied ones that have engraved these shades, and your opinions on them, deep into your frontal lobe. So you decided then with a nod what had to be done.

“The door’s open.”

A pleasant creaking noise welcomed in the light from beyond and the man who shouldered it. Xavier was dressed to the nines, cream blazer neatly ironed down to the very creases and onyx turtleneck sneaking up to his Adam’s apple. A dreamy sight, practically glowing and an angel without wings—truly, the date night dress-code for an excursion out of Linkon did wonders. His shoulders press against the doorframe, arms crossed in thought as he assessed the situation before him. A heartbeat passes in the moment his curious gaze trailed over your figure from head to toe, and away to the messy counter that housed your bathroom activities.

“You look beautiful,” he concludes with a matter-of-fact tone. His brow creases when you don’t even offer him a small smile, sensing the distress radiating from your stare. “Oh. Is something else the matter?”

“This,” you emphasize, pointing a finger to your lower lip. There was a slight stain of previous pigments, a testament to your efforts thus far, and a sigh pushed past it. “I know it might seem a bit silly, but I’ve been struggling with finding something that works.”

Xavier takes a step forward, crossing into the small space as you spun around in succession. Your chests nearly met each other in close proximity and a hand under your chin led your eyes to his. Reflectively, his thumb runs over the plush of the source to your current woes. He hums. “Even your favorite one?”

“Even my favorite one,” you reaffirm. Your usual shade was a lost cause, which was when you knew that today was definitely not your day.

His eyes never left your lips as he posed another question. “I have one you might like. Would you like to try it?”

“Really?” Your ears perked at the suggestion, curious as to what mysterious shades he would have up his sleeve. “What is it—Mmph?”

A soft press of his lips against yours consume your query, neatly melting into your touch like a puzzle piece finding its match. By instinct, your eyes fluttered shut and arms looped around his neck, quickly welcoming the sudden lip-locking. His hands smooth themselves over your sides, gently guiding your bodies to push against the counter and attached himself to you with a further dip of his head. The walls of the bathroom do well to echo every ardent press of his lips onto yours—the warmth of his mouth enhanced the light traces of cherry underneath his breath, a familiar taste that undoubtedly belonged to him.

It was only when you began to feel his hands sneakily toy underneath the fabric of your top and tongue push against yours that you pull back, breathless in effect.

“Xavier.”

The first call goes past his ears, his lips dragging past your chin and peppering a line across your jaw. As much as you enjoyed this—you were losing sight of the plot, and needed to pull on the reigns once more in reminder. Both literally and figuratively speaking.

A slight tug to his nape and an emphasis to his vowels, you call out to him again. “Xavier.”

He paused with the second announcement of his name, warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear. Xavier pulls back then, and you could barely make out the ringlets of his steeled blues with how dilated they looked at you instead.

“Sorry,” he breathes. A fleeting kiss to the tip of your nose adds to his apology. “I got carried away.”

“You’re fine,” you reassured, patting down his nape in turn.

Although, your brow raised as the question pushed down your throat from several seconds ago rises upwards. “What lipstick were you referring to? You know, before all of this.” You gesture between yourselves, only just now realizing how naturally his legs were slotted between your own, and lower back leaning into the counter’s edge.

“The color of my lips suit you best.” Xavier responds as if it was the most sensible solution in the world, an edge of sincerity to his simple yet meaningful words. “So, that’s my answer.”

Even so, you snorted, lightly pushing his forehead back with a finger. “Weren’t you the one who said that my lips suited you back then?” Memories of the promotional filming flicker in your mind, and the same happens to Xavier in the way his ears flush.

“Same difference.”

He avoids your teasing gaze, a hand lifted to shyly itch at the side of his neck. It didn’t last long, however, when his eyes twinkled in mirth as they returned to yours. “But, hm. Here's the thing...”

“Hm?” You echoed, though in confusion and a sense of foreboding. Searching his face leads you to your answer, where his now slightly chapped lips curled into a small smile. You swipe over his mouth in amusement. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

He answers amidst your touches, lightly nipping at your searching digit towards the end. “Looks like I’ll need some lipstick recommendations. Don’t you have any for me?”

“I might,” you play along, withdrawing your finger. Your hand cups his cheek in turn, admiring the way his face nuzzled further into your palm in wait. “But we’ll be late for dinner if I show you.”

“That’s fine.” Xavier answers almost too quickly, blinking somewhat innocently to spare some face in the height of your raised suspicions. “I think I’d want some dessert first before we go, anyways.”

"I don't think that's how this works—Ah!"

You let out a surprised yelp at his unsuspecting hands sliding under your thighs, lifting you to sit atop the counter. Your hands steady themselves on his shoulders, in slight disbelief at the newfound shift. A couple of lipstick tubes roll from the sudden intrusion, hitting the floor with light clicks and littering the tiles below.

Your huff matches his chuckle at the disposition you've found yourself in, and you lightheartedly cross your arms with a pout. “I thought you wanted the lipstick?” You quipped, reminding him of his own proposal just mere seconds ago. "Now you want to talk about desert this and that."

"Am I not allowed to want both?" He candidly asks in turn, gaze lowered and long lashes kissing the height of his cheeks.

"...You can," you quietly confirm, words suddenly feeling dry at the expense of the heat steadily pricking your skin. Was it always this hot in here? It certainly was now, and you were far from complaining.

The butterflies in your stomach became tenfold as he drew closer to your raised body—one hand mindlessly caressed your thigh as the other gestured off to the side in a soft luminance. A whirr of light wraps itself around one of the closest rouges, seemingly floating in effect.

Xavier calmly uncaps the balm then, waving it around in the air with specks of light floating all about. It stops just before you, barely touching the skin below your cupid’s bow and moves with a faint swipe. “Then, I’ll just have to borrow it from you this way.”

He closes the distance between your faces once more, a kiss so fleeting yet purposeful sealing his promise. Another swipe of lipstick and a planted peck followed in suit—though a third brush of his lips against yours couldn't hide the smile on his face, enjoying the play of events under his crafted direction. He pulls back with a content hum, putting the lipstick aside and smoothing his hands over your thighs once more.

You find yourself staring at his lips, now equally as stained as yours and enhancing the natural hues of his pink. "You got your lipstick, and I got mine," you mused, pursing your lips together in thought. "Are we good to go now?"

"Not quite." Xavier shakes his head, nose nudging the underside of your chin and tracing towards your collarbone. He speaks into the cavern that protects your heart, fingers drumming against you before squeezing lightly.

"I haven't had my dessert yet, starlight."

[sapphicseasapphire]

IT’S ME, I’M THE FOOL.

This whole time I’ve been saying that people with God Powers TM are Marked. They all have something on their face! (Except Legend, what’s on his face is just scales, don’t be confused).

But this WHOLE TIME I’ve been drawing Sun without her Marks. Like. She’s literally Hylia. She has God Powers, she should have them. Anyway so this is my Sun redesign for real this time. Just pretend that she looks like this in my “I am Sky” comic.

Anyway so here’s some information about her under the cut.

I don’t have a big story for her like I do for Flora because Cryptid Sky’s story barely changes Skyward Sword like at all. He’s formed that the very very end, after the Goddess’s Silent Realm, so most things involving Sun remain the same.

I will say that she didn’t always have her Marks. When she was born as Zelda, her face was clear, like every other Skyloftian. But when she fell to the Surface and began a quest of her own, when she discovered her divine origins, she started to remember. She’d pray at the springs to recover her memories and her powers, and one by one, her face would be Marked.

By the time that Link had secured all of the Sacred Flames and forged the Master Sword with them, Sun was already lost. And in her place stood a Goddess.

I don’t think that people give her enough credit for all she’s been through. Sun deserved so much better, she lost her life to Hylia’s plans just as much as Link did. And when Link merged into Sky, he was merely mimicking the transformation that his dearest friend had already gone through. Sun’s soul is still split in half, still shared between herself and her Loftwing, but in that empty part of her core lies the domineering presence of Hylia herself. Her life as she knew it is over. Is she Zelda anymore? Or is she Hylia?

She loves Link SO MUCH. When she first comes out of their thousands-of-years long slumber, she’s in shock to see that he’s gone. She falls from the amber shards and lands squarely in Sky’s arms, and Sky envelopes her in his soft wings, holding her as if she’s the most precious thing in the world. In the haze, she doesn’t realize the change in her dearest friend. But when she opens her eyes, she’s devastated.

As far as she’s concerned, it’s her fault. She used Link. Forced him to go on this quest, forced him into the Silent Realms, forced him to wield the Master Sword and the Triforce. She’s the reason that he fused with Aepon; she’s the reason that Link is gone.

But Sky laughs the same as Link would, relief in his eyes when she gathers the strength to stand. She holds her hand in his own, and it feels just like the hand she knows. His face is the same, for the most part: his hair is different and he’s got red spots on his cheeks, but the more she looks at him, the more she sees Link. And as they make it through the Temple together, as she watches Groose fawn over him, she realizes that he’s not gone at all.

He’s changed, just like she is. But just like she’s still his Zelda, Sky is still her Link. The guilt still worms its way into her chest, but as long as Sky is smiling, she’s able to see past it.

Sky does not smile for very long, as a certain Demon Lord shows up mere moments later to ruin their happy ending. To be honest, Sun doesn’t remember much of that night. She remembers the anger in Sky’s face as his body trembled on the ground. She remembers the cold cruelty of Ghirahim’s voice against her chest as she was carried away from her Link- her Sky. She remembers feeling so weak and helpless, cursing the Goddess- cursing herself- for being so useless.

And then all she knew was pain. Blinding, burning agony that enveloped her entire being. She thought she was dying, weightless and alone and scared.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was inside the Sealed Temple. Groose held her. Sky was nowhere to be seen.

She cried into Groose’s chest, something she never would have dreamed of doing a year ago, her head still reeling from that feeling of hopelessness, that pain. All at once, she was scared and relieved and safe and in danger. And Groose held her through it.

Sky would stumble into the Temple much later, limping and bleeding and spasming. His right arm would be totally friend and his wings would drag on the ground, feathers in disarray. He’d lean away from Groose and fall into Sun’s open arms. And when it was time to return the Master Sword to her final resting place, he’d do so with a heaviness in his eyes that’s uncharacteristic and a weakness in his body that’s frightening.

Both Sun and Sky take a long time to recover from that. And really, neither of them ever do. But as Sky starts to physically heal, Sun starts to see more traces of her dear Link. Being around her closest friend and newfound lover is healing, and after the adventure they’d had, they don’t leave each other’s side for a long while.

Sun is very protective over Sky, just like she always was with Link. They exchange Loftwing feathers (Sky gives her his own). And just five days after they’re reunited, they’re separated again.

Okay okay okay. This was less about Sun and more about Sun AND Sky, but they’re pretty much inseparable I think. From Sky’s perspective, there’s a lot of confusing feelings that I’ll get into when I actually write a fic (I’m starting a fic!), but Sun just loves him so much. I have a little comic series which is actually a collection of little short stories in a much bigger plot called “I am Sky.” The short comics aren’t all finished (and they can be read as stand alones) but the order they go in is:

“I am Sky” Stories: Pipit

“I am Sky” Stories: Groose (I’m not done with it I’m sorryyyyyy)

“I am Sky” Stories: Zelda

This all takes place after the Demise battle, when Sky is healing and has the chance to sit down and reflect. When he gets the opportunity to learn about himself, the person that his two halves made him. He struggles a lot, but these specific stories have a lot of comfort. He’ll be fine. Probably.

[nitrowyverine]

Finally played the TOUCHSTARVED Demo! Still thinking about it over a week later.

(Above: Steam banner image for TOUCHSTARVED from Red Spring Studios)

I love it SO MUCH. and i have QUESTIONS. my extended thoughts below the cut [Demo spoilers included]

General thoughts:

this game is SO up my alley that it's insane. local goth gaming nerd is kicking their feet and giggling

the music? and sound design? It's honestly incredible, even beyond the infamous Every Time We Touch cover (Which is how I found this game). We all have to be giving more props to the music/sound work, it absolutely punches the experience up so many notches. When a soundtrack is released I'm immediately keeping it on hand for all my tabletop needs

absolutely enamored with the backstory mechanic. It adds so much individual depth to the character. you can feel attached to your MC without them being a complete blank slate. I absolutely love that different MC backstories have you pick up different details about the characters. (My favorite is The Hound immediately picking out who the leaders are amongst the group, in contrast to the other MC backgrounds)

I wanna eat the backgrounds. I wanna eat them whole. They're so detailed and colorful and have a great sense of depth. 100000/10

Specific character thoughts/theories:

(Images courtesy of the Touchstarved character Lore posts from the Red Spring Studio socials. I'll be linking them in each of the character's names)

Ais:

Thank you, Red Spring studios, for blessing the players with the ability to bite him if you're an ass to him the entire demo. You truly know what we want

Lore seems to indicate that Ais came over from the demon realm for some unknown reason, and was possibly some kind of demon king or leader? Fascinated to learn what happens there

Ngl the Seaspring looks like it would taste good. My favorite raspberry/rhubarb tea looks just like the Seaspring water. Gimme the group juice.

Question: If Ais gets infected with MC's madness....does that mean. the WHOLE groupmind gets infected? Humans and soulless alike? That's a city-destroying disaster waiting to happen

CONCLUSION: Most likely to adopt 6 dogs instead of picking up the groceries. Least likely to let you have the car aux cable.

Kuras:

I do believe Kuras is the actual best shot at a cure/treatment of all candidates. Assuming the curse is some level of demonic, an angel's touch is probably the best bet.

Let me be clear here though, I do think he might just go "Well you can just like. not have arms" and take them. That is a possibility

Most of the other characters I can get a rough idea of what they want and why. Kuras? I have NO idea what his goal is, which is very frightening.

Twitter bio image does say "Repentant Angel", and that his fatal flaw is "his sins can only be repaid through suffering". Possible linkage to Lovent's fall? Or another major disaster?

its okay sweaty we all get The Guilt (tm)

If Kuras somehow gets MC's maddness (I have a feeling it may not effect him? but if it did) that would just. end the world right there.

CONCLUSION: Most likely to be the one guy you might be able to bring home to your parents. Least likely to put on oven mitts to take a frozen pizza out of the oven.

Vere:

I love Vere for being the character I thought I could trust the least, turning into a character I actually trust allot. I trust him to be extremely dangerous. He probably wasn't lying when he said his heart is on his sleeve.

Also, big props for having him just kill you in one of the demo endings. What a guy, I love him, no notes

Wait what he's over 100 according to his birthday post. thats, allot? older? than I thought?. okay yeah the lore posts mention he's a possible deity figure. not comforting

Vere is very fae-logic coded. Like, the words he says can be true and false at the same time. Don't tell him your name, he will cannibalize you for fun, etc etc ya know fae stuff.

i will protect him always

CONCLUSION: Most likely to fuck your dad. Least likely to be your new stepdad.

Mihn:

Mihn is much dodgier than the rest, but I think that makes them more trustworthy. They're not as interested as playing games.

I nominate Mihn as a secondary protagonist, since Leander, Ais, and Kuras seem to be interested in them quite a bit. Even Vere has a rivalmance kinda thing going for Mihn. If MC didn't show up, that would be the dating sim right there

I'm excited by the lore post and the implications that Mihn is from Lovent (or has traveled there? and survived?) and potentially getting greater lore expansion about the world surrounding Eridia

I think it's interesting that their strength stat is relatively low compared to the others, yet they're one of the characters that actually uses their strength in the demo.

Also, I think we see the least of their "monstrous form" of everyone in the demo (minus their ability to dodge in and out of shadows). I'm thrilled to see what their monstrous form actually entails.

Mihn would survive bloodborne. That's it thats the entire thought

CONCLUSION: Most likely to do all the work in a group project. Least likely to be chill during Mario Party.

Leander:

OKAY ALL OF MY QUESTIONS ARE HERE. I AM DEEPLY AFRAID. Something is absolutely wrong but we have no current ability to pinpoint what it is.

I've seen theories Leander is dead. However, in Vere's route, he mentions that Leander smells like aftershave. While this could be part of an extra-elaborate ruse, hair doesn't grow after death (Minus the appearance of it happening due to natural decay processes) so he wouldn't need to shave. However, I am betting on him being involved in some sort of un-death cycle.

actually I can guarantee his story is all about cycles. Has anyone else mentioned how his belt is the triple goddess symbol.

you know. the symbol of maiden/mother/crone. birth/life/death. beginning/middle/end. like

Moving on, the vast majority of his smiles are forced (Mouth is smiling, but there's no eye movement/crinkle that would indicate it's genuine). That is enough of a red flag but honey I am so much more worried about my next point:

WHERE DOES HE GET HIS MONEY. He's constantly buying rounds of drinks for a packed bar. It's briefly mentioned his clothes are nice. He pays for anything MC needs. However, says Bloodhound rates are "Free". Where does he GET HIS MONEY for all of this. Twitter posts from Red Spring point out he doesn't accept bribes (at least overtly).

WAIT I'M REREADING THIS POST WHAT THE FUCK ARE THE SILENT CRYPTS.

Looking again at Leander's stat post. The Ouroboros in the background is. Not comforting. Also, "Forbidden Magic"? yeah I have a feeling we know why he's not in the Senobium

Theory, potentially Leander is currently being paid by the Senobium to maintain lowtown/Silent Crypts order? I think there's still a connection between them. Like the Senobuim can remain detached while having ties to whatever horrible things Leander is doing.

Okay, in the twitter relationship charts it says that Kuras has looked out for Leander "Since he was young". Kuras probably knows. SO much we don't.

When Mihn scolds Leander for not telling MC to be off the streets past dark. I think Leander intentionally "Forgot" to mention that. I think he wanted the MC to see how dangerous Eridia was so MC would stay closer to Leander for safety. I think it was a very intentional manipulation tactic.

(Furthermore, did he actually cast a spell of luck on MC when he gave them the lilies from his introduction magic trick? Then bet on the MC living through the day?)

I do think Leander's surprise at MC going out to the Seaspring was genuine, since his spit-take clashes so starkly with his cool-guy demeanor.

I also have a feeling that Leander has been past the veil/shroud. he's doing something fucky and the veil is prime fuckery territory.

(Are we...going to get a timeloop story????)

CONCLUSION: Most likely to dramatically use himself as a human bridge over a small puddle (as an excuse to get walked on). Least likely to remember to go to bed after playing Stardew Valley for 13 hours straight.

Touchstarved game things I'm concerned about:

(I feel like I wouldn't be doing my game designer duties if I didn't point out my concerns as well. To be fair, there aren't many.)

I hope the bad endings get fucked up, story-wise. Since it's a horror game, I know it might turn some people off to have things go super wrong, but I really hope they do. I want to see some endless pain vortexes, some real Juniji Ito-style suffering. But I would also understand if the devs want to softball some of the worst outcomes for the sake of widespread appeal.

We all have countless examples of kickstarter games looking strong out the gate, but then falling flat upon release. While I have high hopes for Touchstarved, I do know the reality and intense difficulty of kickstarter games. I'm really hoping the demo isn't the best the studio will have to offer.

OVERALL: I am rooting for the Touchstarved team/Red Spring Studio all the way! I'm thrilled to see where this game goes. I am poised on this purchase button and ready to buy when it releases.

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

Sooooo, it's been quite a while since I've done a Tolkien-Poll, so here's a weirdly specific one:

Imagine the Council of Elrond, in the middle of the loud and chaotic debate, POOF!

Someone suddenly appears in their midst!

They cannot believe their eyes, that person should be long dead!

(they respawn exactly as they were before they died, only without fatal wounds obv)

Just Imagine....

... A random love triangle between Aragorn, Arwen & Luthien

... Turin being all "haven't is suffered ENOUGH?!"

... Hurin being a confused potato, having lost his marbles some time ago, becoming a Radagast/ Luna Lovegood Crossover

...Fili & Kili banding together with Merry & Pippin

... Feanor being a Wanda Maximoff -kind-of- Wildcard

... Celebrimbor bein like "bro, you STILL haven't fixed this shit?"

... Durin IV turning absolutely FERRAL once he hears what happened to Khazad Dum: "Fuck this evil blingbling I'll do a one-person-takeover someone give me an axe!!!!"

... Isildur being an almost suicidal, self-sacrificing Faramir 2.0 because of Guilt TM, with some occasional Gollum - Moments

... Elendil dying of second-hand embarrassment/ guilt & probably joining the Grey Company to hide

... Thorin being TERRIFIED of the Ring, refusing to go near it, but joining the Fellowship out of Spite TM "of you think I'm not keeping an eye on Thranduil's spawn with such an important mission you've got another thing coming!"

... Elros teaming up with Glorfindel, Elladan & Elrohir to make his brother's life an absolute NIGHTMARE. you think you have seen pranks? You have seen NOTHING

... Niënor bonding with Arwen about the joys and sorrows of MEN

... Luthien single-handedly destroying the Ring before tea-time if we're being real

[marvelstars]

Anakin´s fall

I have been thinking how, for Anakin, being separated from his mother was the beggining of his fall to the darkside, while of course slavery played a big part of it because this suffering marked Anakin from a young age and forced him to lose part of his innocense, he still had his Mom and his friends on Tatooine, those two reasons made up a little bit for the fact he was a slave, he may have been one but he was still a person and his name was Anakin.

But between the separation from his mother, leaving her a slave and the separation from his friends while being send to a completely different culture and what it meant to him living in a context in which nobody remembered their birth family or their mother, Anakin was worried about his mother´s well being, he missed her but he could not talk to anyone about this, not even his master, because it could be taken to mean he was attached and so, not a good Jedi tm but also because even if they were sympathetic to his situation, they could not truly understand how much this was affecting him, this was one of the reasons why he was not going to be accepted at first by the Jedi Council or Yoda but even when Yoda changed his oppinion at Obi-Wan´s insistence, there wasn´t really an effort to accomodate Anakin´s need to know his mother was safe and free from slavery.

This also generated guilt, because Anakin felt like he abandoned his mother to a terrible fate without any way to communicate with her or try to help her in her situation.

Another big factor of his isolation inside the Jedi Order was Obi-Wan obedience to the council, Anakin was painfully aware he was only accepted because Obi-Wan promised the Council to train him as Qui-Gon´s last wish but also because he was the "chosen one" even if nobody knew what that meant and with the resurgence of the sith, someone who could be useful for his force habilities, so from the beggining his stay in the Jedi Order is conditional to:

1.- Him being perceived as a "good jedi"

2.- Someone "useful"

Any moment he showed signs of not being a "Good Jedi tm" be it because he missed his mother or because he got angry when other padawans called him a slave, he could not even defend himself because he is supposed to be in the "wrong", his master always takes the council side when he is "wrong" he had not confidants or people who at least tried to see his pov because for the Jedi, especially the Jedi Council, there has always been something wrong with Anakin and it´s Anakin the one who has to make adecuations to become a "good jedi tm", he was bassically the odd one out in his community with nobody to trust his feelings to inside the Jedi Order.

So of course, it wasn´t surprising Anakin accepted Palpatine´s offer to be his "confidant, father figure, fun uncle" because at least with him he could talk about his feelings, about his Mom, about Tatooine as he did with his mother and friends back home and this would have been ok if Palpatine have been someone like Bail or Padme someone interested in his well being or at least turstworthy who cared about him for himself, too bad for Anakin it was Sidious, master of the Sith order, who saw him as something that belonged to him the one who listened to him all those lonely years living in the Jedi Order.

Anakin´s fall to the darkside a tragedy in three acts and his mother´s separation and death were a big component of it.

This is why I believe while Anakin had great habilities, a big heart and already big cualities to become a great Jedi, his particular circunstances didn´t allow him to develop in a healthy way in the Jedi Order the way it was estructured in his time, in fact it had the opposite effect, for Anakin living in the Jedi Order meant becoming bitter, lonely, afraid of losing people dear to him, instead of being the sociable, happy, optimistic and active child we meet in TPM and it would have made him a world of good to be raised with his mother or with an adopted family while knowing his mother was safe, away from Palpatine´s influence and with people who understood him for who he was, people he could trust with all his being, this was also why he married Padme and why FAMILY has always been central to Anakin´s character, it´s such a strong force inside him that he tried to make his own despite being a Jedi.

[imsofthelp]

Word count: 2.7k

Category: Angst, Smut

Warnings: smut, a bit of rough sex ig, reader is sad tm, cult leader geto, an awful lot of dog metaphors, veeeery slight masochism but not really explicit. Takes place eight years after Geto left but reader's age is not stated.

Summary: When Suguru left, a part of you went with. It's not a surprise, that eight years after, you still come crawling back to him.

***

When Suguru left, a part of you went with. The school years spent together passed by in a flash and then he was gone without saying goodbye. No words, no letter, not even a short message to your phone. The wallpaper was still set to the picture of the two of you. He wasn’t smiling in that one. When was the last time he did? The more you study the phone screen, the more your hands tremble. His skin looks pale, the bags under his eyes holding all the colors of the night sky. How could you not notice? How could you possibly be that stupid? How were the signs so glaringly obvious yet slipped past your radar?

You were too happy, your brain suggested. Lost in the bliss, living in the soft summer days, only noticing that you had nothing warm to wear when winter came along suddenly. Shoko had told you not to blame yourself, yet you noticed that she had started smoking way more. You were often with her, when she allowed the nicotine to surround the air around you, letting the bright red cherry tip burn right to the filter. Those moments were quiet most of the time.

Satoru didn’t say anything to you, during that time. You often wondered if he was hurting more than you. If the guilt ate him completely instead of chipping away as it had on you. You wondered if he had any tears left to shed. Yours seemed never-ending.

You also wondered what your friends (if you could still call them that, after so many years of no contact) would think of you if they saw you like this. Hair matted with sweat and sticking to your forehead, skin clammy and flushed, eyes rolled to the back of your head and countless loads of cum decorating your pliant body.

Right now, Suguru had you on all fours, back arched harshly, his large, unforgiving hand aiding the pose with a tight hold on your hair, the other resting on your hip with a bruising grip. His hips were unrelenting in their pursuit of his pleasure, almost punishing with how harsh they were. Your body bounced back and forth with each mean thrust, your hands fisting the silk sheets until the knuckles turned white.

You squirm forward a little and his strong body chases right after. His lean, toned body leans on yours, more weight landing on you, his soft hair forming a dark halo around you.

“Not trying to run from me, are you, darling?” His voice is dark and a little breathy.

A soft grunt slips past his glossy lips and you still, taking and taking and taking until there’s nothing but him. His clean, woody scent surrounding you, his silky hair tickling at the sensitive skin of your neck and his huge cock tearing away at your insides.

“N-no. Sorry.”

You’re surprised by the breathlessness of your own voice, sounding so far away. Geto rewards you with a content hum as he kisses the shell of your ear with befitting gentleness. The only sound besides your own deep breaths is the loud squelching of your awfully wet cunt.

It’s not like he hasn’t prepared you. He spent what seemed like hours between your legs, dark hair pulled into a bun because he didn’t like distractions while doing the thing he enjoyed most. He dangled your pleasure just in front of you, only allowing you to cum when you begged real pretty and tear tracks embedded themselves into the soft skin of your cheeks. After that, he had stretched you out with his fingers, cooing at you almost mockingly when three seemed to be too much. And they were, they really were with how long, thick and calloused they were and yet-

Nothing ever prepared you to take his cock, not even when you were dripping, messing up his expensive sheets. He was massive — long, and thick and slightly curved to the side, hitting all the right spots instantly yet never fully fitting inside.

“No? Seemed that way, doll.”

Another kiss, this time to your exposed neck, before his thrusts pick up speed. It’s nasty and loud, yet missing the usual sound of hips connecting that most often came along with sex. Those two last inches never did fit, much to his displeasure.

Suguru angles his hips in a way that hits that spot deep inside, the one that despite countless times of trying, no else was able to hit in the way he was. You keen loudly, burying your head into the bedsheets and sniffling loudly, hands clawing around in search of reprieve.

Suguru grants you that one relief, the hand that was knit tightly into your hair finally leaving and intertwining with yours, fingers squeezing tightly, as if he was the one afraid to let go. His thrusts are still mean. Now, that he had finally granted you the pleasure of feeling his cock against that one sensitive spot, he abused the newfound power over and over and over again.

“You close, love? Tell me how it feels.”

His voice is sweet and as smooth as honey. The word “love” feels like venom dripping from his perfect lips. Another mean thrust and you’re keening, thoughts jumbled in your head, saliva dripping down your chin as if it’s your brain leaking out.

“Feels, ngh- Feels soo- Suguru!”

He actually laughs, sound melodic and heavenly. He’s a god above you, a vision of utter perfection, and you’re a mortal, on your knees in his temple, begging for reprieve, for pleasure, for him.

“Use your words, dear. Can you do that for me?”

It’s completely condescending. The only thing that’s betraying how tight you’re squeezing him is the slight grunts he allows to slip past. He had nothing to hide from you, anyway. Who would you tell, when you were so afraid of admitting that you shared your bed with him?

“M-mhm, wanna be good. Feels, ah, feels good-“

His thrusts slow and you can’t find it in yourself to feel bad for actually whining at the loss of friction. He’s a henchman and you’re the victim, willingly walking to him and laying yourself under the shining silver of the axe. Nothing seems to matter anymore, save for your pleasure.

Your hips buck back, trying to get him to speed his thrusts back again, but Suguru is not the one to give in that easy. His hand still on your hip tightens, fingers curling in a way that’s sure to leave bruises, that’s sure to leave his mark.

“You can do better. You want to come, don’t you, darling? Yeah, you do… So do better for me. Talk all pretty, okay?”

And how can you refuse Suguru, when he asks like that?

“You’re s-so big and n-no one else can fuck me like tha-that. I love your cock, love to fe-feel it in me, love the way i-it hu-hurts and lo-love you, ah-!” words tumble past your lips as fast as running water, afraid to disappoint him, afraid for him to leave.

Finally, finally his hips pick up their speed, the hand that was just squeezing your hip now slithering under your body and finding that little bundle of nerves in an instant. He seems to have no trouble playing you like an instrument, his practiced fingers drawing tight, fast circles on your clit. You just do your duty, keeping your back arched, your hips thrusting back to meet his movements.

It doesn’t take long for your vision to completely black out, screams and moans and little ramblings leaving your spit-soaked lips. Suguru aids you through your orgasm, never ceasing his movements against your clit. He gifts you with a couple more shallow thrusts before he’s pulling out with a soft grunt. In a moment, you feel the warmth of his cum hitting your back and your knees finally give out, body splayed out on the bed.

Suguru rolls over in order not to crush you, his own breaths labored and loud. You spend a long moment just catching your breath, head turning to the side and drinking in his painfully pretty features. The arch of his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, his tired, dark eyes and his mused hair.

“You confessing your love for me was not something I had expected tonight.” He answers with a chuckle, your name slipping past his lips unprompted. No matter how soft it is, it still sounds foreign.

“It was just a slip of a tongue.” You reply, still studying each movement of his body. He was still so coordinated and delicate in his maneuvers, as if the intense session before didn’t tire him out at all.

“Some phrase about a cat and it being out of the bag seems to come to my mind.” Suguru chuckled, before standing up and disappearing for a moment.

He comes back with a wet towel, wiping away at the mess between your legs and then carefully caressing your back, removing all evidence of what has happened before. He puts it away immediately, always the one to stick to neatness and tidiness.

“Why didn’t you just finish inside? It’s less messy and I’m on birth control.” You find yourself mumbling the words. Perhaps you just missed his warmth, craving it to be so deep inside you that even after you left, some part of him still lingered.

Suguru hums softly, pulling you into his strong arms. His skin is warm against yours. He’s still naked, his chest pressed up against your back. It feels right. Like that’s the way it should have always been.

“Admittedly, I am not that possessive, darling. You can fuck whoever you like, someone who fits your moral compass and all that. I don’t need to cum inside to prove that you’re mine.”

He’s always so nonchalant about this. Like he’s absolutely sure that you would always come crawling back, even if it resulted in bruised knees and absolute banishment of your dignity. It hurt that it wasn’t exactly wrong.

“It seems that no one fits my moral compass nowadays. Perhaps I am getting too picky.” You answered quietly, softly. The smell of sex was still heavy in the air.

Suguru brushes figures into the skin of your arms, making your body instantly relax in his strong arms. It shouldn’t feel so safe. Not when the blood of so many people stain every inch of his skin. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. He had never hurt you, at least, not physically. The emotional damage was something you preferred to think about over a nice bottle of wine, alone.

“Perhaps you are. Or maybe we are just two sides of the same coin. I cannot seem to find someone who’s presence satisfies me as much as yours, either.

His words never fail to make you blush. You’re not a school girl anymore, it shouldn’t affect you at all, let alone this much and yet, when it’s Suguru, nothing is off the table.

“We are not the same and never will be.” You find the strength within yourself to answer. The words are weak and uncertain.

“Oh, are we not?” He answers immediately, the movements of his nimble fingers ceasing for a moment before continuing their path down your arms. He’s soothing you, you realize. How stupid. As if you ever needed that. As if he actually know how much you did.

“What are you implying, Suguru?” You ask, and your head finds it’s way to rest on his chest. Suguru finally relaxes, as if it was him who craved it instead of you.

“I will never change my ideals and yet you still crawl back to me like an obedient little dog.” He lets the words linger in the silence of his bedroom for a moment, “You will never change yours and yet I welcome you back into my arms each time.”

“Comparing me to a dog now?” Is all you manage for an answer.

The words have no real bite behind them. A metaphor of a dog with no teeth comes to your mind briefly. You are a scared animal, cornered in somewhere, just waiting for a hand that will feed instead of hitting. Suguru embodies both.

“That’s not what you should be focusing on. And that wasn’t even my point.” He waves you off with a gentle flick of his wrist.

“Spit it out.”

“We were doomed from the day we first met. It was meant to be happen this way.” He begins, and you can’t begin to understand what he’s getting at. Suguru often got philosophical after sex, “I believe it was Emil M. Cioran, who said “If you are doomed to devour yourself, nothing can keep you from it: a trifle will impel you as much as a tragedy. Resign yourself to erosion at all times: your fate wills it so.”

“Are you saying that there was nothing that I could have done to prevent you from leaving? That you are devouring yourself?” the words taste bitter on your tongue.

“I’m saying exactly that. The guilt is written all across your features each time I see you. Not only because you feel bad about us sleeping together. You can’t let go of it even eight years after, you carry it with you like a deadly weight. It’s going to drag you down one day, don’t you know?” He asks so nonchalantly, like he’s not expecting an answer. You offer him one anyway.

“And the part about devouring yourself?”

“Exorcise. Consume. Repeat it until everything inside you aches. My fate was written down on the day my cursed technique developed.” He’s quiet as he tells you this. Honest, for the first time in a while.

“And for you, that is synonymous to devouring yourself? Your technique?”

“More or less so. The rest of devouring is me reaching for a goal that is impossible to reach. Icarus flying too close to the sun, Laika trying to reach the stars.” He’s silent for a long moment after that.

You don’t really know what to say, either. The need to ask about why he was still doing this if he knew what the outcome was, dies down on your tongue. Instead, you hold onto his hand still tracing shapes on your arm. He gives your fingers a squeeze. The atmosphere of his bedroom is heavy and dark, melancholy weighing down heavy on your bones.

“You’re bad at pillow talk, Suguru.”

He offers you a small laugh, sound melodic and airy.

“And you’re trying to evade the topic. There was nothing you could’ve done, okay? And I don’t have plans for returning.” Your throat burns. The harsh reality that you have been trying so hard to avoid comes crashing down around you, “It’s not that you’re not good enough for me to turn my back on all of this. The thing is, you’re pretty, and caring, and your laugh, and your touch are the only things that can soothe my tired body.”

“You’re pouring salt into the wound.” You answer, and your voice is hallowed. He either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it. Deep down, you know that it’s the latter.

“My goals just always come first.” He adds, as if that wasn’t obvious, as if it hasn’t been the thing that’s haunted you for years, borrowing it so deep inside your body, soul and heart that it’s become familiar.

“Your goals always come first.” You echo, “You’ll die a selfish man, Suguru.”

He rearranges you into a more comfortable position, laying you down onto his chest and enveloping you both in a soft, warm blanket. His breathing matches yours and you feel yourself teetering along the edge of unconsciousness.

Suguru presses a kiss to your hairline, chuckling softly, before closing his own dark eyes. Can you even hear him anymore? Ah, no matter. He can always tell you the next time you come back to him.

“Don’t I know it, dear. Don’t I know it.”

[nat-20s]

God GOD okay okay okay okay okay I'm having thoughts I'm having FEELINGS im having a Moment SO

I waanna talk about Ten and Donna (shocker I know) but SPECIFCALLY I wanna talk about like. Them and being besties and soulmatism and red string of fates and what not. Also this post is long as rambly as hell so I'm putting it under a readmore for my non-tendonna girlies <3

So like. The Runaway Bride really does establish them as future besties so so well and some of it is the writing but I do think that some of it is that Catherine Tate and David Tennant, by all available accounts, ALSO immediately got on like a house on fire. Like genuinely i know Acting TM is a thing but I think them getting on is part of why their on screen chemistry is SO electric and dazzling to the point where Donna went from a one off one episode character to *checks notes* a character that came back TWICE and also fundamentally changed the structure and DNA of Doctor Who as a whole so. You know. Pretty impressive. Plus Donna gets to have her first adventure with The Doctor as their absolute worst: Ten is grieving from a FRESH wound of losing Rose, he's incredibly cruel and incredibly cold and straight up murders the Racknoss without a flinch or hint of remorse, and even before that he accidentally kidnaps her and then insults her as someone to dismiss. That's not to say that she doesn't also see The Doctor at their brightest: he ends up treating her with incredible kindness, and he's dazzling and brilliant and cares so much and shows her the creation of the earth itself to provide comfort. However it IS to say that because of the nature of his first interaction with Donna he CAN'T put up a facade she already knows the truth!! She is walking into their dynamic with completely open eyes and at first it fucking scares her! She doesn't dislike him in fact they already are friends after less than a day but

Then partners in crime happens. And she's realized okay no actually I CAN take the bad with the good and I WANT to participate in all of it and I DO want this friendship. The Red Strings of Fate (or maybe the TARDIS being like lmaoo you need this girlie <3) bring them back together and they are Officially Tethered from that point on which is so so so delicious. It's also so so so delicious that Ten's still at an incredibly low point and she's still going into this friendship without any ruses in place. Like oh shit yeah they are Bound together even if they did separate now they would almost certainly find each other again.

AND THEN AND THEN!!! We've already established The Doctor and Donna as fast best friends but holllllyyyy shit I think Fires of Pompeii is what establishes them as forever Soulmates. I meant canonically the ending of Fires of Pompeii where she has him save the family fundamentally changed The Doctor for the rest of their lives and gave them a guiding moral compass long after she wasn't there so yeah that's pretty fuckin soulmates of them. But I actually think them as a concept of two people sharing one soul (for the better!!) happens earlier in the episode. The exact moment in fact is THIS ONE:

The Doctor has to make a choice. There are no good options: both are mass destruction and death. And it's SUCH a Doctor choice to have to make: actively destroy Pompeii and everyone in it, or allow the entire world to be destroyed. Not only that but it will likely kill both him and Donna as well. It's a mix of self sacrifice and other sacrifice to save the world and it's a horrific situation to be in.

It is a narrative that parallels the choice he made in the Time War. It is an archetypical Burden of the Doctor.

And then she looks into his eyes, sees his fear and hesitation and remorse and guilt, and wordlessly puts her hands on his. They push the lever to destroy Pompeii together. And it becomes the burden of the DoctorDonna.

[vee6lolz]

part 3: Krasivaya.

summary; There's a war in her mind, and she's fighting herself. Everything is getting to her, she can't handle it anymore. She's slowly dying inside and no one seems to notice... except one person.

cw!!; +18 content, minors dni!, mini smut scene (not between valley and spencer), angst, emotional reader, mother!reader, toxic relationship, emotional cheating. established name (YOU CAN SELF INSERT!), cheating on reader implied, slow burn, implied protective spence, implied overstimulation + stress . </3

we love u valley we scream out in unison

a/n: this is part 3 of the hidden valley series ! you can find the official masterlist here. --

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE !

- DONT FORGET TO LIKE + REBLOG PLS ! + REQ OPEN

w/c: 6.7k ( ill NEVER give yall short fics i love yall tm)

His lips felt so rushed, it overwhelmed her. His breathing had become more ridged; his muscles tensed. He clawed at her hips as if he was drowning and she was the life line, sweet nothings being whispered through the air.

His mind went blank, only being filled with intense ecstasy.

While her mind was only filled with thoughts of her colleague.

She was being thrusted into by her boyfriend of almost 16 months and all she could think about was a man who she's interacted with once -- cliche. It was like a really bad porno.

Every chance she got to look down at Nick, all she could see was Spencer. His voice, calling out for her in a fit of pornographic moans. His perfectly sculpted jaw. Brown doe eyes staring back at her as he consumed her tits; licking up and down her buds.

She imagined his fingers dripping towards her most sensitive, teasing her body as he hesitantly rubbed. He would make sure that she felt pleasure with even the lightest touch; if she didn't, he wasn't doing it right. Her back would arch, and he would dip his neck to kiss in between her breasts, leaving soft kisses to her intermammary line to sooth her.

Her breathe hitched with his every thrust almost in a rhythm, her walls clenching around his sex.

“I can't--” She would moan out, throwing her head forward, finding peace in the crevice of his neck, digging her nails deep into him to the point of pain.

“You will.”. He would, almost beggingly. He would need her to finish on him, he wouldn't be able to feel complete without it. He would've been in look. The pit started to boil within her lower stomach. Looking down at how full she was, full of him at that would've sent her over the edge. “Agh, Mm...” She'd moan out as the feeling began to rise.

“Yeah, you gonna come?” Was asked. Yet, it wasn't Spencer's voice. It wasn't the soft, begging and welcoming voice she fantasied of. It was Nick's.

Just like that; Pit came crashing down, and not in a good way.

Realizing what she had been doing, she thought quickly. His hands wrapped around her waist and she nodded quickly, “Yes, Nick, fuck.”, She lied. Fake mewls and mumbles flew through her mouth as she forced a clench around him, which sent him over the edge. His face flew in between her breasts and his nose hit her chest, causing a wince of pain. He showed no care. Nick pulled out of her warmth and emptied himself onto her stomach, gasping out for air as she reached to kiss him and he dodged it,

“You know I don't--” “Right,” She acknowledged. He doesn't kiss her after she gives him head. He sat up on the bed and threw her her shirt, groaning as he walked towards the bathroom to go shower. She sat there frustrated, and edged. And usually, she'd be into that type of thing if it were voluntary. Most of all -- she was confused. She denied that it was Spencer, she thought of. She convinced herself that she was getting people mixed up. Maybe she wasn't thinking of anyone at all, because she had Nick.

She couldn't think of anyone at all. She would never hurt Nick like that, and Nick would never ever even think of hurting her like that.

She pushed any guilt she had incredibly far down, essentially gaslighting herself.

It was a weekend off for the team, and the more she thought about it the more frustrating it became.

**buzz buzz**

She stared blankly at the text message, breathing out through her nose as she shut her eyes; she figured if she ignore it -- it would go away. And when her eyes opened again, it was still there. A groan fell from her lips, probably the first real one all night.

Valley struts into the D.C Station after and forty-nine minute drive, being met with the faces of Jennifer, Aaron.

"SSA Aaron, SSA Valley, Vic Barnes." The blonde spoke, she gave a soft nod. He reached his hand for a handshake; she waved instead.

Looking at the bulletin board, Valley's eyes move quickly around the notes and pictures. She notices the hesitation marks on the second victim, "He isn't sure he wants to be killing." She speaks out,

"He's asking police to find him," Hotch adds. "Matches your kid," he speaks behind Valley to which she turns around and is met to face with Dr. Reid. Her eyes meet with his not for long, before his inlock with Hotch's. His eyebags are heavy, his hair is messy, and he looks like he's on his third cup of caffeine. Spencer didn't get any rest, and she can tell. If he could he probably wouldn't let himself blink.

As she looks down at his hands gripping the coffee mug, her thoughts wander back to her early morning rendezvous. The way his hands fit perfectly around her neck, the prettiest necklace she ever wore. She snapped out of it when she heard him speak, her mind racing with confusion and frustration once again. She didn't get her rocks off, and right now really wasn't the time to think about it. Not while they're discussing a trail of prostitutes getting left on the streets.

"I let him go, I'm sorry." He said, genuine disappointment evident in his voice. It was obvious he was beating himself up about it, and if he could without being written off as crazy -- he'd do it in a literal sense.

"We'll catch him," Hotch added.

Around two or three hours later, Gideon and Spencer sought out the unsub for his arrest.

Valley sat at the department, zoned out while sipping on bad coffee, and it felt way more overwhelmed then usual. She felt like he had been making no progress with the team, she had done nothing to help, the officers are desperate to spark up conversation with the team.

Everything is going profoundly wrong. Not to mention, she was about to experience the best orgasm of her life before the sound of her boyfriends voice ruined it.

And in the midst of all of this, Valley had been experiencing incredibly bad flashbacks.

It's the same thing, over, and over again. She's stuck in the same position as blood drips from the rounded oak table to her feet.

The assailants were faceless, like wraiths in the night, their identities shrouded in mystery. They moved with an eerie grace, their bodies gliding across the room as they ransacked the house.

One of them turned towards her hiding spot, his eyes glowing like twin embers in the darkness. You could almost make his eyes out his appearance effortlessly; if it wasn't for the mask he wore.

He was a brunette with long greasy thin hair, his eyes where a soulless dirty blue which were surrounded by a black eyeshadow. A shudder of terror coursed through her as he moved towards her, his steps echoing ominously in the silence.

She exhaled through her nose, thinking of ways to focus. But she couldn't. She didn't know why, her mind was telling her to do one thing while her body was doing three others.

'Should I put the cup down? No, pick the marker up. Don't forget to highlight important details within the case--'. The voices inside her head were so continuous, vexing, and loud.

"Uh, okay okay..." She said under her breathe while squeezing her eyes shut, repeating everything she had to do out loud while scrambling all over the place. It didn't help when Morgan walked through the door, another presence she had to deal with.

Her iris met with his and all she could do was roll them, not purposefully but it was defintely noticeable. And it defintely concerned Morgan to the highest extent. "Baby," He spoke. She ignored him, and continued to scramble around.

Smile.

She smiled.

The inner monologue got even louder, don't forget... no wait... you need to--- she was trying so hard to breathe in and out. She was trying so hard to calm down. But she couldn't, so how she reacted wasn't ideal. She didn't want to be touched, she didn't mean to she just didn't want to be touched. But she thought Morgan put a hand on her shoulder, and,

"Can you fucking move?" She blurted between her grated teeth, nostrils flared and her hands in the air. Her face dropped quickly after she realized what she just said. Her expressions softened, and Derek looked at her. Not normally, not concerned. He didn't look at her like he knew something was wrong with her, or like he knew she needed space. He felt bad for her. He pitied her.

And that only set her off more. "Don't give me that look, please. Not you Derek out of all people do not give me that look." She pleaded with him, her head rocking back and forth. "Look, I'm sorry there's just-- I need you to back away from me. For a moment, please. I need you, to back away. Anything you need to said can be said without touching me.". And that's when he looked at her with even more pity,

"Val."

"No, Morgan. I'm serious. I'm not made of braille you can understand me without having to touch me,"

"Val--" She cut him off, clearly agitated. "Anything you need you can say from--" "Valley,"

"What?" She asked aggressively, turning her head once again. No one was there.

"I'm standing over here.". She looked across the room Morgan never made it in. He had been at the entry way this whole time, alongside Gideon.

Alongside Spencer. She never felt more a fool in her life, her eyes shot back and forth between Gideon and Derek. They didn't betray her, they didn't think of locking with Spencer. She was so, humiliated, so how could they? She looked down once again, shaking her head out of pure embarrassment.

"I could've sworn you were right here. I thought,". At lost for words, she refused to make any further eye contact. "I apologize." she blurted out.  

"Brown," Gideon called. "Sir?" - "Morgan will take over on the profile building,". Her head shot up, and before any refusal could be made, she was interrupted. "I want you to take a walk.". Her nostrils flared once again, "I don't need a walk, Gideon."

Hearing his name being said in such a manner, he glared at her. "Yes, you do.". Valley nodded softly, not wanting to make a bigger deal of things than she already has. She walked towards the shining glass doors, her presence causing both Morgan and Reid to make way. Incoherent mumbles escaping through her lips. She had no clue where she was going to go, but she wanted to go somewhere were she couldn't be bothered. That was going to be insanely hard to do, seeing as even the slightest breeze of wing could very much bother her at this point. She wasn't going to let that stop her though.

It took her fifteen minutes to find a park, where no one was. She could be alone with her thoughts, ones that were free of any task that sent them into overdrive. She didn't know what kept her mind captative, she couldn't pinpoint what her problem was, she couldn't even pin point what her main problem was. Her mind was constantly on go, and she felt like an idiot because she couldn't keep up with it. It was frustrating and it made her feel stupid. And she never feels stupid. She stared into the water fountain, watching as the Koi fish swam in sync with one another. So free, so beautiful.

One reflection became two, and she was greeted with a familiar face. Her eyes felt like they could pop out of her head, and her cheeks stung so badly once she noticed his presence.

 “You know, PTSD can cause intense emotional outbursts, like anger or irritability, due to an overactive stress response system. This reaction happens when the brain's amygdala becomes overactive, especially when triggered by reminders of past trauma.” Spencer spoke, trying his hardest to do whatever it takes to make sure she felt more sane, she was craving silence, believing it would bring her the solace she needed. Yet, despite her desire for quiet, his voice proved to be a greater comfort than any peace could offer. His words reached her in a way that silence never could, filling the void with a warmth and reassurance that transcended mere tranquility. 

 “Statistics show that about 7-8% of people will experience PTSD, and a significant portion, around 51% of veterans, report significant anger issues. These outbursts can strain relationships and affect overall well-being.”, she laughed, unable to hold back the sound. All she could manage was a laugh as she asked, “So, you’re saying you think my friendship with Derek is doomed?”. Spencer shook his head and smiled. “I think that if you try to hide how you feel from someone you care about, it already is, Krasivaya.”. Her ears peaked up, his eyes averted her gaze. "Valley. It means Valley in Russian.".  Valley stared up at him, the sun casting a warm shadow over the two. She stared at him with longing; he stared at her with compassion. “You were not spiraling. You were overstimulated,” he reassures her. “I uh- I know how it feels.”. He added, fixing the glasses that sat perfectly on his face. Perfectly on the bridge of his nose. His hazel eyes glistened, his hands in his jacket pockets and his scarf almost hiding his defined jaw, leaving everything to the imagination. And that only lead her back to this morning. The morning where she felt herself most calmed. The morning where she felt herself unravel, she felt herself release all build up she had. And the worst part is, she feels so terrible about it.

“Do you ever feel like, your trapped in your mind? Like your thoughts are clawing at you from the inside and you're scared that one day, you're gonna be to tired to fight them. And you're going to give in?”

“Am I scared of my own mind?”. She nods in response to his question, her feet moving away from the fountain as she makes her way towards the gateway of the park. 

“How could I not be,” He simply replies. They walked in silence for a while, just allowing each others presence to speak more than words ever possibly could. She begun to profile spencer quite a bit, looking up at him for a moment and letting that mental image do the work.

“Krasivaya,” she whispers softly. Spencer refuses to look down at her, just hummed in response. “What does it really mean,”, now he looked down at her. He thought for a little and just shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno,”

“You can't lie to a profiler,” she joked while giggling. “I mean it took you approximately 5 minutes to figure out I did, so I'm pretty sure I can,”. Valley shook her head, nudging him softly.

The park is enveloped in a serene stillness. Streetlights cast pools of warm, golden light on the deserted paths, their glow creating long shadows on the dewy grass. The trees, heavy with leaves rustling in the light breeze, stand as silent sentinels in the dimness.

The two walk along a winding path, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath them. The air is crisp, tinged with the faint scent of pine and damp soil. The occasional chirp of a distant cricket is the only sound that punctuates the quiet.

The park’s fountain, dormant for the season, is surrounded by a ring of frost-covered benches, their once-vibrant colors muted. A nearby playground, with its swings swaying gently, adds a ghostly touch to the scene, the metal structures gleaming faintly.

As Valley walked beside Spencer, the vibrant hues of autumn leaves danced in the gentle breeze around them. She focused on the rhythmic crinkle beneath her boots, each step a small distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind. The air was crisp, smelling faintly of earth and decay, but it felt alive, contrasting sharply with the heaviness she felt inside.

She cast her gaze away, attempting to push aside the memory of her outburst, the way her voice had shaken with raw emotions she thought she had under control. Instead, she silently watched the squirrels scurry about, busying themselves with acorns and nuts, seemingly oblivious to the world’s chaos. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of her mouth; even the wildlife was thriving, while she felt as if she was struggling just to keep her head above water.

Spencer walked beside her, his presence a steady, calming force amidst her inner turbulence. There was something reassuring about his quiet demeanor, his gentle intelligence that always seemed to shine through in moments of uncertainty. Yet, Valley’s mind flickered constantly, wrangling with self-doubt and guilt. How could she have lost control like that? She had promised herself she wouldn’t let her emotions overwhelm her again, not after everything.

The park was alive, but she felt strangely detached, as if she were watching it all unfold through a glass window. Laughter from nearby children echoed in the backdrop, but it felt distant—like a sound meant for someone else, not for her. Valley glanced sideways at Spencer, who was quietly observing her, his brow slightly furrowed in concern. Even in her turmoil, his eyes were warm and inviting, an anchor she didn’t know she desperately needed.

A few minutes passed in amiable silence, the peaceful sounds of the park mingling with their footsteps. Valley felt a twinge of warmth at the thought of Spencer simply being here. It was absurd how much his presence meant; he had a way of making her feel seen without pressuring her to share what she wasn’t ready to reveal.

After an eternity wrapped in minutes, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for earlier…” The words escaped her and hung in the air between them like a delicate thread.

Spencer shrugged lightly, the corners of his mouth curving into a soft smile—one that spoke volumes, reassuring her without the need for excessive words. “It’s okay to have feelings, Valley. You don’t have to apologize for being human.”

His words wrapped around her heart, easing the grip of anxiety that had tightened within. As they continued walking, a warmth blossomed in her chest, melting away the initial chill of shame. Maybe it was okay to let her guard down occasionally, to accept that everyone wrestles with their emotions.

Spencer glanced over at her and suggested, “How about we grab some coffee?” His eyes sparkled with a gentleness that felt like an invitation to take a break from her thoughts. “I can really go for some caffeine right now. What do you say?”

Valley nodded slowly, the idea of a warm cup in her hands appealing like a cozy blanket against the chill of her lingering worries. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

As they walked towards the nearby café, her heart felt a little lighter. Each passing moment was no longer overshadowed by her earlier despair. Instead, it was filled with the promise of a cozy corner, the rich aroma of coffee, and the comfort of shared silence alongside Spencer.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped them as they entered the café, the warmth of the space wrapping around Valley like a comforting embrace. She took a moment to soak in the vibrant chatter and soft music filling the room while Spencer sauntered to the counter, casually scanning the menu with a focused look. It was both comforting and chaotic—a stark contrast to her tangled thoughts, which felt more like a storm raging within.

She chose a cozy corner table, watching as Spencer interacted with the barista, his genuine smile easily disarming. There was an odd comfort in seeing him in this setting, the slight frizz of his hair from the morning breeze framing his face perfectly. It was a breath of fresh air, a welcome distraction, but as soon as she allowed herself to relax, the weight of her earlier outburst crept back in, wrapping around her shoulders like a heavy cloak.

When Spencer returned, two steaming cups in hand, he slid one across the table. “I hope you like vanilla lattes,” he said, his eyes intent on hers, as if he were searching for something deeper in her gaze.

“Yeah, they’re great,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. She wrapped her fingers around the warmth of the cup, although the heat couldn’t quite shake the chill burdening her heart. “Thanks for getting this.”

Silence fell comfortably between them for a moment as both took sips, but Valley could feel the words swirling inside her, fighting to escape. How to explain the mess of emotions she was grappling with? The looming shadows of guilt and confusion felt too heavy to put into words. She looked down, playing with the rim of her cup, hesitating as the tension within her began to swell again.

The café bustled around them, but it felt like they were in their own little world. She gathered her resolve and steered the conversation back into a more palatable territory. “It’s… been a rough few days,” Valley confessed, gaze flickering up to meet Spencer's. “Probably more than I realized.”

Spencer nodded, his expression softening in understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he said, sipping thoughtfully. But his sincerity nudged her, inviting her to share more.

“I just… I don’t know,” she continued, the words spilling out before she had the chance to stop herself. “Everything feels so overwhelming all the time. Like I’m this awful monster for feeling everything that I do.” Her voice was pained, thick with restraint. She felt like she was ripping open old wounds, exposing her vulnerability, but somehow she needed to say it. “I’m not supposed to feel this way.”

She met his gaze again, hoping to gauge his response. The kindness on his face was palpable, and it spurred her to dig deeper. “I shouldn’t be feeling…” She faltered, grasping for the right words, knowing she couldn’t bare her entire story—not yet, anyway.

Spencer leaned back in his chair, observing her with an intensity that lent the moment heavy significance. “Yes, you are,” he replied, his tone thoughtful yet firm. “You’re feeling that way because you’re human, Valley. You just don’t want to let yourself experience it.”

The earnestness in his voice struck her, and she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of uncertainty. Was he right? She felt so isolated in her struggle; had she been avoiding the very emotions that needed to surface?

“It’s tough, especially when you’ve been on your own for so long,” he continued, setting his cup down and resting his hands on the table. “When you finally start to feel things, it can be… disorienting. You want to shut it all down because you’re not used to having anyone around to help you carry that load.”

Valley felt her chest tighten. What did he know of her struggles? But as she listened, there was a sincerity in his words that struck a different chord. Spencer continued, his voice gentle yet steady. “You have people around you who care. Hotch, Derek, Penelope…” He paused, his gaze softening. “And me.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine—both surprising and warming at the same time. It felt so odd to hear someone like him, a guy she barely knew, quietly affirm her place within their team. Yet, the reality of those connections started to settle within her like a cup of warm cocoa—comforting yet rich, with the potential to carry the burden of her emotions.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you along, Valley,” he added softly, his eyes earnest. “It’s okay to let it in—whatever it is you’re feeling.”

In that moment, amidst the bustle of the café, Valley felt a flicker of hope forming—a fragile yet resilient flame in the face of her emotional storm. Maybe the world wouldn’t fall apart if she let herself feel, if she allowed the warmth of connections to seep through her guarded armor. She offered him a small, hesitant smile, recognition blooming within.

The ambiance of the café buzzed with laughter and the comforting sound of clinking dishes. Valley and Spencer shared a cozy corner table, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they recounted humorous stories from previous cases and slight mishaps on the team. She felt lighter, their laughter weaving a temporary escape from her tangled thoughts.

After sipping her vanilla latte, Valley leaned back in her chair, a grin spreading across her face. “Okay, but can we seriously talk about the time Derek tried to impress JJ by cooking?” she chuckled, barely able to contain her laughter.

“It was a terrible idea,” Spencer replied, shaking his head, his voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. “I think he almost started a small fire in the kitchen.”

“Exactly! And it took weeks for him to live that down,” Valley said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. The joy between them felt palpable, a warm moment that contrasted starkly with the confusion that had plagued her mind for days.

But soon, the laughter dwindled, and Valley felt a sudden wave of necessity. “I’ll be right back,” she said, rising from her seat. “Just need to use the bathroom.” As she excused herself and made her way to the back of the café, she absentmindedly left her phone on the table.

Spencer, still caught up in the lightness of their moment, momentarily lost track of time. He glanced around the bustling café, appreciating the ambiance. But soon, his gaze fell on Valley’s phone. The screen lit up with a notification, its buzz cutting through the festive noise.

Curiosity piqued, he hesitated for just a moment before reaching over to glance at her phone. The text message illuminated the screen, revealing a message from her boyfriend.

He read aloud in a low voice, a puzzled expression crossing his features. That phrase hung in the air, gnawing at him with an unsettling feeling. he muttered under his breath, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. The tone felt dismissive, almost rehearsed, like the words of someone trying to calm a storm they weren't willing to acknowledge.

Valley's absence seemed extended just then, and as the message sunk in, Spencer knew something wasn't right. As she approached, he quickly put her phone in the exact position it was in.

He returned to the light-hearted banter they had been sharing, trying to keep the atmosphere relaxed. As she slid back into her seat, a wave of warmth washed over him, grateful for the moments of laughter they had shared.

Valley glanced at her phone, her brow furrowing slightly as she noticed the notification still glowing on the screen. She quickly unlocked it, her heart dropping as she read her boyfriend’s message again. The words echoed in her mind, a reminder of the tension gnawing at the edges of her contentment.

Spencer, sensing the change in her demeanor, leaned in just a bit closer. “Hey, is something wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with genuine concern.

Her gaze flicked up from the screen, and just for a moment, vulnerability flickered in her eyes. “No, it’s fine,” she replied, her smile strained. It was a lie, but one she hoped would suffice for the moment.

The words might’ve come out easily enough, a practiced response she had become accustomed to giving. After all, she didn’t want to burden him with the complications of her life, especially when they had just managed to find this brief oasis of joy amidst their busy lives.

But underneath that response, the truth lingered— got caught up at work?

He works from home.

Spencer studied her closely, noting the way her eyes darted back to her phone as if it wielded some kind of gravitational pull, making it difficult to shake off the worry tightening around her chest.

“Okay, but if anything’s bothering you…” he started, wanting her to know he was there for her, regardless of whether she elected to share her feelings or not.

“Really, I’m fine!” she insisted, her tone almost too bright. A tiny part of her wished it was true, wished she could brush off the unease that lurked just beneath the surface.

The moment hung between them, a fragile facade of normalcy masking the swirling storm of confusion and doubt that had settled into her heart. Spencer nodded, not entirely convinced, but willing to let it go, sensing that she’d reveal more when she was ready.

Moments later, Valley glanced at her watch. “Ugh, look at the time! I can’t believe how long we’ve been here,” she said, her heart lightening as she gathered her things. “Should we head out?”

“Sure, let me grab the check,” Spencer said, rising from his chair.

Once outside, the evening sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow across the bustling street. Valley shivered slightly as a cool breeze brushed past, the air hinting at the rain that was forecasted to arrive later.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Spencer asked, gesturing toward his car parked nearby. “I wouldn’t want you out in the rain.”

She hesitated for a moment. It felt nice, being with him, yet there was a wariness that tugged at her. “Sure, that would be great,” she replied, glancing at the darkening sky.

As they settled into the car, she felt a strange comfort in their shared quiet. The engine hummed to life as Spencer pulled away from the curb, navigating the winding streets back towards Virginia. The flow of traffic seemed heavier than usual, but the atmosphere inside the vehicle was relaxed. They exchanged playful remarks and laughed over silly observations about other drivers, the ride becoming a safe foothold for their bubbling connection.

“Did you see that guy?” Spencer laughed, pointing to a driver who seemed to be oblivious to the traffic light change. “He’s been sitting there, just staring off into space!”

“Oh my god,” Valley chuckled. “I love how every once in a while, someone forgets what they’re doing in the middle of traffic.”

“It seriously makes me wanna do things that could cost me my badge and my track record,” Spencer joked, kind of.

The drive stretched forty-nine long minutes, giving them time to share even more laughter, weaving confused anecdotes and moments from their lives. Valley talked about her love for concocting bizarre recipes, recounting an unfortunate incident where she added way too much salt to her mother’s famous macaroni and cheese.

“Your family must’ve loved that,” Spencer teased, turning to her with a grin.

“Oh, they were not pleased,” she said, feigning an offended tone. “I practically made everyone drink, like, three gallons of water afterward!”

Spencer laughed heartily, and a surge of warmth washed over her. A part of her wished the drive would never end, that they’d just keep talking in this easy, flowing manner. As they crossed the Potomac River into Virginia, the distant rumble of thunder echoed through the air, and the first few raindrops began to patter softly against the windshield.

Valley’s heart sank a little as the cityscape turned into the suburban familiarity of her neighborhood. The conversation had been so refreshing, and she dreaded the impending silence that would come with parting ways. It struck her that she was hesitant about the moment they would reach her driveway—the reality of the rain and the fact that they were both about to step back into their individual lives.

Spencer pulled up to her house, the comforting glow of the lights illuminating her porch. Raindrops began to fall more steadily, sending rhythmic whispers against the rooftop. As she sat in the passenger seat, she debated inviting him in. The stormy weather was a perfect excuse; it could lead to shared warmth and strolls through further conversations.

But deep down, she knew inviting him inside could complicate things further, layering the confusion that had already begun to unfurl. She didn’t want to cross a line she wasn’t ready for, nor did she want to engage in a conversation that seemed inevitable. Instead, she felt the tugging lingering doubt in her mind.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Of course,” he replied, glancing at her with those kind, patient eyes that had been listening so earnestly. “It was really good to see you today. I had fun.”

“Me too,” she said, letting a brief smile curl her lips. In that moment, their gazes locked, and she could feel an unspoken connection crackle between them, a delicate tension layered with possibility.

“Okay, well…” she hesitated, the instinct to invite him in nearly slipping out. But instead, she swallowed her feelings down, deciding on caution instead of impulse. “Get home safe, alright?”

Spencer’s brow raised slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “You too, Valley.”

“Definitely,” she said, and in that moment, part of her didn’t want to look away. But she broke the tension, unbuckling her seatbelt and grabbing her bag. The rain began to pour, cascading down in thick sheets, but she felt compelled to keep her composure as she opened the door.

“See you soon!” she managed to call over the sound of the rain before stepping out into the downpour.

“See you!” Spencer replied, his voice steady as she closed the door. He watched her squeeze her bag to her chest, her hurried footsteps splashing through puddles as she darted toward the porch.

Valley turned back briefly, giving him a fleeting smile that felt heavy with meaning, but then she pushed forward into her home, shutting the door with a soft click. Inside her house, Valley felt the familiar warmth embrace her as she closed the door against the storm outside. The murmurs of rain against the roof became a comforting backdrop, displacing the weight of the day with a snug sense of home. She stepped into the cozy living room, where her sister, Jess, sat on the couch, flipping through a magazine. Kahalani, her daughter, had already fallen asleep, curled up in a blanket, the soft rise and fall of her little chest bringing a smile to Valley’s face.

As the gentle light from the lamp nearby cast a golden hue over the room, Valley felt grateful that Jess had stepped in to help. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” she said softly, glancing at her sleeping daughter.

“Of course,” Jess replied, offering a warm smile. “I’ll always be here when you need a break. Plus, it was nice to have some quiet time with her.”

Valley joined her sister on the couch, and they shared a moment of quiet camaraderie. Valley sipped the lukewarm cup of coffee left over from earlier, staring thoughtfully at the wall where photos of Kahalani’s milestones hung. Each image captured a moment in time—the first steps, her first day of school, silly faces between smiles. Each picture was a reminder of the fleeting nature of life and how quickly these moments could pass.

"I should really get my act together," Valley murmured after a beat, her gaze focused on the images.

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself,” Jess said, sensing her sister’s underlying tension. “You’re doing an amazing job balancing everything. Work, Kahalani, life… Dick,” “Nick?”

“We both know he's only Dick,” Valley stared at her. Hard, mostly because she knew she was right -- so she let it slide.

“Maybe I’m just feeling a little lost lately,” Valley confessed. “It seems like everything keeps changing, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

“You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed mama,” Jess reassured her. “Just take it one day at a time. It’s okay to need help sometimes.”

As the rain drummed softly on the roof, Jess and Valley cleaned up the remnants of Kahalani’s earlier craft session. They stacked colored paper and crayons, each item a testament to the creativity and chaos of childhood. After a while, Jess glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run,” she said, gathering her things. “But I’ll check in later this week, okay? If you need me tomorrow you just call me.”

“Sounds perfect,” Valley replied, grateful for Jess’s support. She watched as her sister waved goodbye and slipped out into the rain, leaving Valley alone in the hushed home.

Once the door closed behind Jess, the stillness enveloped her. Kahalani was peacefully asleep, her small body cocooned in the blanket on the couch. Valley tiptoed over, brushing a stray hair from Kahalani’s face, and felt a familiar rush of love wash over her. She couldn’t help but smile; moments like these were what made everything worthwhile.

Deciding she needed to wash away the remnants of the day, she moved to her bathroom, the cool tiles underfoot a stark contrast to the warmth of her earlier laughter with Jess. She turned on the shower, and the sound of running water blended with the rain outside, creating a soothing melody that eased her mind.

The warmth enveloped her as she stepped under the cascading water, the droplets feeling like tiny kisses against her skin. The sensation was intoxicating, a silky embrace washing over her shoulders and trickling down her back. Valley closed her eyes, letting the water envelop her in a cloud of warmth. It washed away the heaviness of the day, releasing the stress that had built up like a barricade around her heart.

She took a moment to breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of the lavender body wash that filled the air before pouring a generous amount into her palm. As she lathered it across her skin, the rich foam glided over her arms and legs, each stroke a soothing caress that melted away her unease. The heat of the water against her skin was an intoxicating balm, washing away the day’s tensions and fears. She felt herself slip deeper into a state of relaxation, the world outside fading away.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, allowing the water to cascade over her hair and down her back. The warmth seeped into her muscles, loosening the knots that had formed throughout the day. She felt a sense of peace wrap around her, cocooning her in tranquility as the water ran down her body, pooling around her feet.

After several blissful minutes, she turned off the faucet, shaking her hair slightly before reaching for a fluffy towel. The soft fabric felt divine against her skin as she dried off, the warmth lingering even when the water was gone.

Stepping into her room, Valley switched on the bedside lamp, the soft glow illuminating the space around her. She took a moment to appreciate the quiet, stillness wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. The rain continued its gentle rhythm outside, creating a sense of serenity that contrasted with her thoughts swirling through her mind.

She crawled into bed, adjusting the pillows and sinking into the comfort of the sheets. The familiar feeling enveloped her as she rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling and letting her thoughts drift. She replayed the evening’s moments, from Jess’s laughter to Kahalani’s sleepy smile. As she lay there, however, her thoughts turned toward Spencer.

Just as she settled into the tranquility of the night, she felt something unusual against the surface of the pillow on Nick's side—the pillow he usually occupied when he stayed over. Curiosity hitting her like a flash, she turned toward it, reaching out instinctively.

As her fingers grazed the fabric, she froze. A cold rush flooded her as she pulled the item free.

It was a bra—definitely not hers.

[olderthannetfic]

please, send help. i (23y/o) think i am getting to a stage where I need to be a Cool Aunt TM for my niece (13y/o). She's been a bit too online since she had to move around a lot. She had a bit of antis mentality, but i'm trying to pull her away from it slowly. At the same time, she's been around the internet, reading 18+ yaois and shit. I did the same at her age, so I can’t say I don't understand her. But as an adult idk how to talk about this 18+ healthily with her? or do I even need to? should I leave her on her own devices? I didn't have an adult to talk about these things with growing up so idk how you're supposed to do this.

There is not way to say how my parents or sibling (her mom) would react if I drop this on them, could be +/- , but it's a bit of a lottery depending on the most recent online articles they read lately. lol. They're open to convos, but a bit religious.

I'm taking suggestions if anybody would like to give some.

P.S. I am also not a cool person, i'm pretty much a lame homebody so… i also don’t know how to be cool lol.

im so sorry idk who else to ask.

--

Ahaha. Well, don't try too hard to be ~cool~. Nothing could be more offensive to the sensibilities of a 13-year-old.

A well delivered "Oh, come on, no one really thinks that" and eye-roll in response to the more delusional anti stuff has a wonderful effect if you're offline and the person respects you. Humans in general and 13-year-olds in particular are hypersensitive about fitting in. A boring and serious lecture from an older person will set off every melodramatic "The old people don't understaaaand!" instinct, but a well-timed "LOL, WTF" causes internal panic that one has missed something. If she wants the serious and nuanced explanation, she can ask for it, but I wouldn't start there.

As for how you talk about raunchy art... it really depends on the person. If she realizes you like the same stuff, she may bring it up. I think recs are fine, and so is euphemistic "I liked the ship dynamic in this one". "I got off to this" is TMI on your part. (Well, it's TMI on her part too, but be prepared for TMI if you become the confidant of a 13-year-old.)

Honestly, as long as she's directing the conversation and you aren't sharing details of your masturbation habits, I think you'll be fine. 13-year-olds aren't babies. If they're old enough to read porny doujinshi, they're old enough to talk to a trusted adult about them.

My teen tastes were weird art films full of sex. 13 is pretty young, but within a couple of years, she'll be the age I was when I was trying to see shit like Crash. She could be anywhere from self-assured in her tastes and interested in discussing her favorite media to easily-influenced to paralyzed by guilt. Creepy grooming shit comes from groomers choosing to groom, not from the topic of sexuality being in the air. If she's reading something with even a shred of plot or romance, you can talk about that without the actual conversation being X-rated. My main concern would be to avoid her trying to impress you by consuming media she finds uncomfortable or talking about things she doesn't actually want to share. You can really only judge that by body language and tone of voice in the moment.

I mean... does "18+ yaois" mean actual BL series here that have a few sex scenes or doujinshi that are entirely porn? ('Yaoi' basically means 'PWP' and is not exactly complimentary, after all.) It's somewhat harder to talk about the latter. But I liked some pretty out-there shit as a teen and did talk to adults about it. They just let me do most of the talking.

Probably the easiest way to broach the topic is to catch her reading something and go "Oh, I read that one" or "I liked [name of BL]".

[darling-i-read-it]

Survivor's Guilt

Chris Redfield x fem!reader, Ethan Winters x fem!reader 

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: angst, breakup, lose ending because i cant make decisions, chris’s trauma^tm

Author’s Note: I would totally be down to do a part 2 to this if anyone wants ittttttt. Also I made Mia his sister because I hate her and need her to be so irrelevant lol. I wanted this to be better but alas we are here. I just needed to write something with my favorite resident evil characters. these two will always be it for me <3

Summary: Chris and you had been together for years and partners for longer. He broke up with you when he felt it getting too dangerous. Years later, when your boyfriend Ethan gets lost in Louisiana, you call him for backup. 

Genre: angst, yearning 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Survivor’s guilt is defined as a condition of persistent mental and emotional stress experienced by someone who has survived an incident in which others died. 

When you feel the pain in your chest when talking about an incident that you lived through that you shouldn’t have. When you feel like you are living for so many people that you have lost. When you imagine what it would be like for them if they had taken your place, if you had just been granted access to death. When you are not worthy of the life you are living and constantly being told you're the hero when all you were was the ending. 

Chris Redfield has survivor’s guilt. He could not tell you the amount of people he has known that are no longer walking around with him. He could not tell you the amount of funerals he had been in or been to. 

He knew grief like it was an old friend. He knew the inside of grief, the texture of the walls that caved in around him. He knew it like he was born alongside it. Grief was a twin to Chris Redfield. 

He couldn’t look in the mirror without seeing his companions. Grief and guilt. 

He’d like to think he knew the patterns better than anyone else. If someone were to know what it looked like right before he lost someone, it would be him. He wished death wasn’t so spontaneous. He hoped that one day he would save someone on purpose, save someone that he wanted within the world. 

The warmth in his chest when he saw you was an indicator. It was a warning sign. It was alarm bells. The taste of your lips was a familiar feeling of something he should not have. The feel of your skin was a promise from the world that it would be righted again. You would be taken away. You had to be, so the world could turn, so that he wouldn’t forget the lives he was living for. 

“You’ve been quiet,” you said, gently. You were sitting across from him, two dinner plates between you. His eyes flicked up to yours. You were so good at reading him. You were so concerned, like his personal welfare were your own responsibility. “How was your day?”

“Long,” he said, through a breath. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to scrounge up something else to say. 

“Hopefully they’ll be more bearable once we get jobs together again,” you suggested. The two of you were working for the BSAA and often were sent into the field together. It was helpful for missions if you were both with someone you knew. Usually the job didn’t care that much, knowing that their people were disposable. Warm bodies were not a luxury in a world with 7 billion of them. 

But recently you had a drought of time without each other. Different goals, same organization. You missed having him with you to help. You weren’t used to having to vocalize yourself because Chris could read you like a book. He liked to say it was a talent but you knew the truth. He had just learned you so well that he couldn’t know you any better.

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. You met his gaze. 

“What is it?” You wanted to make a joke. Don’t like the Chinese take out? or Jeans too tight? but you refrained. Something had been eating at him for weeks it felt like. He didn’t hold you as close. He was a physical person and his bear hugs were like they’re own luxury. 

Chris liked to think of himself as a brave man. He was a lot of things, not a lot of them good, but he was at least brave. He took the steps that needed to be taken. He tried his best to save people for their best interests, not for him. So why was this so hard? 

“I think we should break up.” 

It was like he had broken the sound barrier. You looked around, searching for an indication that this was some sort of joke. Nothing came. 

“What? Why?” 

“I think it would be better for both of us.”

“You can’t speak for me.” 

“I can.” 

“No, no you can’t,” you argued. You were raising your voice now, anger that he was willing to let this go so quickly. “What happened? What did I do?” 

Your voice broke his heart. The desperation, the scrounging for something to blame. He was to blame. Didn’t you see that? 

“We can’t keep going like this.” 

“What?” 

“We can’t keep acting like this life is sustainable for either of us. It was nice while it lasted.” He swallowed hard. “Its’ what’s best.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

There was such a betrayal in your eyes. You had never looked at him like that. Not even when he fucked up on the job, when his mistakes could’ve cost him lives. You never looked at him like he was anything less than perfect. 

“Yes.” He couldn’t say anything else. You would see right through him if he spoke again. You would know why he was doing it, you would know that he wasn’t doing this because he wanted to but because he had to. You couldn’t live much longer. He knew how this went. 

Your breathing was ragged. The gravity sat in your chest like a weight. If you thought about this for one more second you would start to cry. 

“Okay.” 

He closed his eyes. Your voice was childlike. It was as though he had just chastised you for doing your favorite thing. You stood up slowly. Each sound was too loud. You tossed your food into the garbage, movements sluggish. 

You went through the kitchen door and you didn’t come back. 

He sat there until he heard your car start. 

-

You gazed down at your bullet proof vest. You felt it in your hands, the weight of it surprisingly familiar. It had seen action. There were scruffs on the sides from the elements and the relentless nights spent sleeping with it on. There was a sharpie marking at the bottom, messily placed there by Chris. You rubbed your finger along it. 

“What’s that?” 

You looked up. 

Ethan Winters stood in the doorway to the bedroom. He walked forward a bit, looking over you to the object in your hands. 

“Some stuff from when I worked with the BSAA,” you explained dryly. You handed it to him. He took it, assessing the weight. 

“Good thing you don’t have to wear this dumbbell all the time,” he muttered. You laughed gently, successfully being taken out of your nostalgia. 

“It’s like five pounds Ethan.” 

“That’s heavy.” You shook your head, taking it back. You place it into its box. “Ready to go?” 

“Almost,” you promised. 

You and your boyfriend Ethan were moving into a new house. He had insisted on living in this one ever since his sister Mia went missing, just in case she returned looking for him. But it had been three years and you had outgrown it. He finally caved, allowing you to go domestic house shopping together. 

It had been eight years since you left the BSAA. Eight years since you had seen Chris Redfield, eight years since he had broken up with you. Up until Ethan, you had only dated guys around you which was slim pickings. You thought you had a good one with Chris but that breakup wrecked you. 

Then there was Ethan. Then there didn’t need to be anything else. 

You had a new life, one that had nothing to do with bioweapons you had once been so accustomed to. You had one that was, as Chris would say, sustainable. You could grow old in your new house with Ethan. Get married. Maybe even have kids. You never would’ve been able to do that before. 

“The van’s ready when you are,” he said. “I’m gonna call for pizza.”

“Who said I wanted pizza?”

“When do you not want pizza?” 

He left the room. You were alone once again. You shut the box up and taped it. That was then and this is now. 

You carried the box downstairs and placed it among the others. Ethan swung by and got some food, then met you back at your new home. You had already started to unload boxes and by the time they were all inside the sun was down. You sat on a cardboard box, munching on cold pizza, as Ethan plugged in his laptop. 

“That was exhausting,” he muttered. He had shed his jacket and was now in just a tshirt and jeans that he had sweat through. 

“So you’re too tired to christen the house?” He gave you a look. “You wanna finish the pizza.” 

“Yes I wanna finish the pizza.” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“I need to shower anyway.” You got up, swallowing the last of your food. You hummed under your breath as you dug around the boxes to find your clothes. Ethan scrolled through his computer wordlessly. You patted his shoulder as you passed him with your clothes. 

As you walked upstairs, Ethan opened up his email folders. To the sound of the bathroom door closing, he clicked on the newest one. It had been sent the night before, while he was sleeping. He had taken time off work to move in but this didn’t look like a work email. It didn’t have a title. 

He opened it up. 

Dulvey, Louisiana. 

Baker farm. 

Come get me. 

-

The conversation seemed too rushed. You got out of the shower and there was a bombardment of feelings that followed. Ethan wanted to leave immediately. She wanted him to come and get her, after all these years. He was already looking at flights, at a route that he could drive. The words and pleads came stumbling out of his mouth. 

She needs me. 

She’s stuck there, she needs me. 

The instinct that bubbled in your chest was one you were familiar with. The preparation for a place that no human should venture. You wanted to give him a gun and a vest and let him be. 

“I got out of that life so that you and I could be safe.”

“This isn’t like that.”

“You know it is.” 

You were sitting down to his standing. You looked up at him with real concern in your eyes. 

“What else could it be? That she’s been taken and then all of the sudden sends you a cryptic email instead of calling the police? How would she even know you hadn’t changed your email? Come on Ethan, think about this.” Silence hung in the air, fighting one anothers wills. You and Ethan rarely got into arguments and you still weren’t sure if you had the power in this conversation or not. It was his sister, sure, but something was wrong here. If anyone would know, you would. 

“I have to.” 

“Let me come with you.” Your mind flashed back to the unopened box of your old things. You could put that vest back on. Would there be any coming back from that? 

“No. No, I can’t let you. This isn’t your fight.”

“Your fight is my fight.”

“I can’t lose you both,” he said, voice low. There was an air of vulnerability about him that mixed with his natural headstrong nature. You knew that feeling, the pit in your chest of losing someone in the search for something else. 

“Let’s go to bed. Think on this. Okay? We can talk about it in the morning,” you pleaded. Maybe if he thought about it for longer than two seconds he could stay with you. You could have that sustainable life. 

It took him a moment of contemplation but he finally nodded. You breathed slowly as you stood up. You had nothing but the mattress on the floor. It wasn’t going to be comfortable but it wasn’t going to be awful. You had each other. 

He got his pajamas on slowly. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head. You wanted to argue about this more but you had already stopped the conversation. You had to stick to your guns. He would feel differently in the morning. 

He got under the comforter with you. There was a lone lamp beside his head, giving all the light in the room. He turned it off as he rested his head. 

“Ethan,” you mumbled. He turned his head back to you and for just a moment, his thoughts cleared. It was just the two of you again. It could be just the two of you forever. “I love you.” His smile softened. He moved towards you, throwing his arm around you. You nuzzled into his chest. 

“I love you too,” he promised but his heart didn’t seem in it like it usually did.

-

You woke up before the sun. Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the darkness that engulfed the room. You groaned involuntarily. Ethan’s arm was no longer around you. You turned around to face him, ready to make some complaint, when you were met with emptiness. You paused, starring, delirious. It took you far too long to catch up to the obvious reason he was no longer gone. 

Once it hit you, you started to move. 

You threw yourself out of the mattress, running to teh bathroom. The house was still a maze to you. It would be home soon but it wasn’t home yet. The familiarity of it was missing which made it more eerie. 

“Ethan!” you called, voice weak with sleep. You looked out the window, trying to find the shapes of the cars. One was missing. Your heart started to beat faster as you went into a panic. “Ethan!” you called again, louder now. You flung open every door desperately until you were back at the bedroom. Under the lamp there was a note. You rushed for it, almost ripping it while you snatched it. 

I’m sorry. I love you more than anything. 

I’ll be back soon, I swear.

E

You let out a shaky breath. You cursed, throwing the paper down weakly, kicking the wall. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered. You had to follow him. There was no other option. He had to know you would follow him. Despite it being 4 in the morning you turned all the lights in the house on. You searched for the box you had hoped to forget. 

Finally, at your feet, was the recently taped box. You tore it open and grabbed the vest out of it. There was no use in dwelling on the signature or the comfortableness of it. You needed to get ready to go. 

-

The Baker Farm was too far out of the way. You had started to lose cell service by the time you finally reached it. You had gone down the same dirt road Ethan had by the looks of his parked car. You wanted to slash the tires out of frustration. Knowing you were on the same insurance plan, you refrained. 

You followed the lightly treaded walkway to the gate of a large house. The gate was locked and too tall to climb. You went around the edge to what looked to be the guest house. 

You just had to hope you weren’t too far behind him. He had hours of a jump on you but you had seen his car. He was here. 

You checked your phone. Nothing. Would you even get any calls out here? 

You pushed forward through the guest house. It looked abandoned, like someone had just picked up and left dinner. The smell of mold traveled through the air. It almost felt like you could see the particles through the setting sun. Someone had left the door in the back open, leading to the long hallway. Something or someone had been pushed through a wall, resulting in debris flying everywhere. Someone had struggled here. Recently. 

You fought the pit in your stomach and forced yourself to think of the best. It was normal. There were no bioweapons all the way out in the middle of Louisiana somewhere. Why would there be? Ethan was fine. Ethan had to be fine. 

The tenseness of your shoulders was familiar. You did not miss the ache or the worry. You turned to go up the stairs. Deja Vu washed over you, brought on by archived feelings. 

Chris attempted to never leave your side but he too often did. You were both used to finding each other again, it was part of the job. You could get separated by a wall or a weapon and you would find each other again. 

It had been too long and the familiar fear creeped into your mind. He was here but you couldn’t hear him. He had to be here, his GPS assured you. The silence was deafening. You swore then to never yell at him again, if he could just emerge unscathed from the rubble of another fight. Could Chris Redfield go down like this? In the middle of some nameless mission, with just you to carry him back home? 

“Here!” 

Relief washed over you as you rushed back to him, moving aside the debris of a fight you had not been a witness too. Dirt covered his face. He was almost unrecognizable in the dried maroon blood that covered his body. 

“Are you okay? Oh God. Oh God Chris,” you whispered, holding him with your hands like he wasn’t real.

“I’m okay,” he breathed. “I’m okay.”

You ached for the relief you had felt then. Ethan wasn’t as capable as Chris had been. Where would you find him? The top of the guest house revealed a larger view of the house. At the bottom was a man, a large mallet over his shoulder, dragging someone away by their feet. 

Ethan. 

He was unconscious but even just seeing him made you feel better. 

Then you noticed the mold. 

Something was wrong with that man, with that house. It was covering the ground, pulsating like it was alive. Instinct kicked in before feelings. You grabbed your phone out of your pocket, watching keenly to see where they were taking Ethan. 

You glanced down at your phone, praying that his number hadn’t changed, and hovered over Chris’s name. You had never been able to do these things alone and you were no use to Ethan if you were dead. 

You closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see yourself click the button. You put the phone up to your ear, listening to it ring, hoping he wouldn’t pick up, hoping you wouldn't be able to make a phone call this far out. 

On the sixth ring you were beginning to lose whatever hope you had. Then he picked up. 

“Hello?” His voice was wary but familiar. It made you weak in the knees, just hearing him speak, his cadence the exact same. 

“I need you.” 

-

You didn’t want to wait but you had given Chris the directions to your car. You didn’t want him to have to play catch up for you the entire time so you waited outside the guest house, pacing. You didn’t know how long you had but he promised he would be there in under an hour. You weren’t sure how he would manage that but you trusted his word.

Sure enough, just about fifty minutes later, he emerged from the bushes. Older. Weathered. His eyes were harder than they had been, less emotion behind his gaze. You reminded yourself you were doing this for Ethan, even as the rush of emotions had returned. You hadn’t seen each other since you had moved out. 

“You came,” you breathed. 

“You called.” You pursed your lips, wanting to thank him, wanting to think about the elephant in the room, wanting to beg him for answers that had been plaguing you forever. Instead you were gentle with your words.

“Thank you Chris.” He nodded once. 

“We’ve been scoping this area. The disappearances here are akin to something consistent with bioweapons,” he said, walking past you. “Where’d you last see your friend?”

“Ethan was out towards the main house. I’ve spotted at least one bioweapon but the ground is covered in some sort of black mass. Do you know anything about that?” He handed you a gun without a word. You took it. It was yours. He had kept yours. It begged so many questions. Had he been using it? Did he even recognize it as yours anymore? Did he dig it out of the rubble, just like you did the vest you were wearing? 

“A bit.” 

“You’re being awfully cagey.”

“This is still work for me.” You nodded once. He was going to stay reserved. It didn’t matter what you two had, he was here for the job. This is exactly the reason you left without a fuss. It would always be the job and then you. 

“Alright. Welll follow me.” 

At the edge of the property was an older house, one that was falling apart at the seams. You managed to get around the bayou to enter it in an attempt to reach the main house, where you were sure they were keeping Ethan. 

“What’s he doing out here?” Chris questioned. You glanced at him. It was like seeing a ghost in his eyes. How could Chris have become a stranger to you? How had you gotten here? 

“Looking for his sister Mia. She went missing three years ago and yesterday he got an email from her with this location.” 

“Not exactly tangible evidence.”

“That’s what I said.” You kept in stride with him. He pushed through doors, turning around quickly to make sure there was no threat. He led. You watched his six. “I told him to sleep on it. When I woke up he was gone.” 

“You’re living together?” His voice showed no sign of emotion. He was asking as though you had never known each other. He was asking like you were a civilian and he was gathering all the useful information. 

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.” A beat in his step was missed but it was hardly noticeable. You pushed past him. 

“And he didn’t feel the need to tell you he was leaving for Louisiana?” 

“He knew I disagreed with him.” 

“Sounds like someone else I knew.” The first allusion that you had ever once known each other. You walked in front of him as you crossed a bridge into the main yard. 

“I listened.”

“In one ear and out the other,” he argued. He was detached from his words. You wanted to ask him why he had even come. Why hadn’t he investigated this before you called if he knew it was here? What was his angle?

“It always ruminated in my head for a bit.” You reached the yard. The house was vast and unfamiliar. It loomed in the nighttime air. There were lights on upstairs and some lamps in the main room. You approached the front door and attempted to open it. It didn’t budge. You hit it, kicked it, cursed at it. 

“Move,” Chris demanded. He rammed his body against the door. You watched him, watched as he tensed his muscles through his tactical vest. The door remained intact but you didn't even notice after a minute. When were you going to allow yourself to admit that you missed him? 

You looked through the window, cupping your hands around your eyes. You jumped at a face emerging from the other side. 

“Y/N?” 

“Ethan!” You put your palms against the glass. He was on the other side. The window was murky and cloudy but you knew his face well enough to recognize it through the blur. From the faint look, he was okay. He was alive. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m okay,” he said, weakly. It sounded like a lie. You narrowed your eyes but he couldn’t tell. 

“I specifically told you not to come,” you said. 

“It’s too late now.” “Did you find Mia?” He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah. Listen, if you see her you have to be careful. All of the people here are normal one second and then they are something completely different.” You nodded. 

“Can you get through the door?” 

“No. I have to find three keys.” 

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Spencer Mansion all over again.” You glanced at Chris. “Listen, I brought a friend out here. We’re gonna try and get in.” You tried the door again to no avail. 

“I’m gonna try and find the keys,” Ethan said. You didn’t want him to go but realistically couldn’t have him stand there with you, not with the apparent threats roaming the house. You nodded. 

“Please be careful.” 

“You too.” He left then, hand lingering on the glass. You turned to Chris, embarrassed. His jaw was set. “I’m gonna clear the trailer.” You nodded once, watching him go. 

-

Chris tried to convince himself he was happy for you. You had made a life for yourself. That’s exactly what he wanted you to do. He left you so that you would make a life he could never give you. Granted, he never expected to see the fruits of his sacrifice. The longer he was with you the more it became evident to him that his emotions never faded. It was like nothing had changed but everything had. You were the same but different. You caused him to want to smile even at dumb things, like attempting to open a door you knew was locked. You were in love with someone else. He had never seen you in love with someone else. He didn’t like the feeling of watching you with Ethan. 

His sense of duty overrode his emotions but even that wasn’t enough to stop his lingering gazes. 

You adjusted your vest in the trailer mirror. There was a head in the fridge and a gun on the counter. You were glad you had called Chris. He reloaded his gun as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. 

“There can’t be much padding left in that,” he said gruffly. 

“Hm?”

“The vest.” You looked down at it, like you hadn’t even noticed you were adjusting it. Your finger brushed his signature.

“It still does its job,” you promised. “Why, you got an extra?” He shook his head. You turned back towards him. “That’s what I thought. I’d rather have this than nothing at all.”

You kept the vest he had signed. 

He kept the gun you had used. 

How long could you dance around this stupid confession? 

“I’m gonna try to break the window,” you said finally. “To the front house.” 

“You don’t think they have bullet proof windows?” 

“We’re in the middle of Dulvey.” You shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.” Chris’s jaw set, nodding curtly. He followed you outside. He was weary of the ever growing black goop gathering outside. You tried to hit the window but nothing gave. You tried to hit it again, causing a more aggressive boom. “Shit. This gun was not made for this. Anything around I can use?” Chris started to look around his feet for something stronger. You moved along the deck. 

Abruptly, there was a squelching sound coming from the middle of the yard, near the trailer. Both you and Chris raised your gun, instinct taking over before the thought process. You watched as the black goop grew into some sort of figure, barely able to stand on its own two feet. You tried to force yourself to act surprised but nothing came. It was life like it used to be. 

Chris shot it first. It stumbled, just barely. You shot its head once and then twice. It came down only when the head was removed. 

“You ok-” you started and was suddenly cut off when something moved behind you. You turned but it was too late. There was something on your shoulder, something wet and cold and big. You had figured because your back was to the house, you didn’t need to watch it. You heard the gunshots but didn’t see them. You breathed deeply as the blackness dissipated. 

You stumbled backwards, hitting something else hard. You jumped, raising your gun, but Chris grabbed your wrist before you could even point it far. 

“Hey, hey.” 

It had been a minute since you were scared like that. You couldn't remember the last time your life was on the line. The shock must have shown in your eyes because Chris was holding your arms gently, looking at you with sympathy. “You’re okay,” he promised. You nodded. Your brain reverted back to where you knew that voice from and the comfort it brought. You cleared your throat, sitting up, swallowing hard. 

“I’m fine,” you promised. “I’m fine.” You stood up, wobbling on your feet. He held your elbow. “I’m just a bit rusty.” He scoffed. 

“Whatever you say.” He looked around. “They come out of the black mass. We watch that like it’s open space from now on,” he ordered. You nodded. 

“Okay. Yeah.” You cleared your throat. The coldness was gone. 

“What did I say?” 

“Black mass is bad.”

“Good girl.” You cleared your throat, flushing. “Now if you ever want your boyfriend out of that house, we have to keep moving.” He adjusted your vest with worry and then walked away like nothing had happened. You followed him with your eyes. 

-

You and Chris were outside debating if he could hoist you up onto the balcony of the second floor when the front door opened. You both looked down, eyes wide, as Ethan fell through the front door. He was clutching his side and a gun was in his hand. 

You ran up to him, almost dropping your gun yourself. 

“Oh God, Ethan? Ethan, are you okay?” He allowed himself to fall into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You breathed evenly as you held him in your arms. You pulled away to see him, look him in the eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s hurt?” There was dried blood on his face. Was it his? 

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” You pursed your lips, backing up. You looked him up and down and grabbed his hand. 

“What is this? Are these staples? What is this?” 

“I’m okay.” You gave him a bewildered look, mouth agape. His hand was held together by staples now. 

“I told you not to come. I told you to wait for me.” If you thought he would live through you hitting him, you would. You were relieved he was okay but you were angry he had left without telling you, putting himself in danger. You had shared with him your stressors about past relationships and he had walked right into one of them. 

“Who’s this?” 

Speaking of past relationships. 

You had almost forgotten Chris was there. 

He stood behind you, eyes averted, chin up. 

“Ethan, this is Chris Redfield. He was my partner when I worked at Stars and the BSAA.” Ethan knew the name and he knew the reaction he should have to it. He had driven you to do something you never wanted to do again. Ethan’s actions hadn’t manifested in you calling the man that had broken your heart. And you didn’t look like your heart was shattered. 

“We need to leave,” Chris explained, not bothering with a hello. He was keenly aware of the situation you were all in. 

“I still have to find Mia,” Ethan explained. 

“Did she do that to your hand?” you questioned. 

“There’s something wrong with her. I know where the anecdote is, if I can find that and find her then we can all leave.” 

“She’s a lost cause,” Chris explained. “There’s no use in looking for her now. The BSAA is currently narrowing explosives on this area and we need to be gone before the sun comes up if we don't want to get caught up in his destruction.” 

“I’m not going to leave her here,” Ethan argued. “The family here are infected by something. I think it has to do with the child she was watching before she went missing. I’ve found some infor-”

“In this line of work, we shoot first and ask questions later. I don’t expect you to know that Ethan but we need to leave,” Chris said, cutting him off. Ethan’s face hardened. You could tell the change in his demeanor as he moved his shoulders back, eyes going dark. You had no way of telling what he had gone through in that house and you had a feeling it was going to take a while to get it all out of him. 

“Do you agree with him?” Ethan asked, looking at you. 

“Don’t put me in the mi-”

“You’re in the middle. I’m putting you there,” Ethan said. “Do you think we should leave her and this entire family to just die?” You looked at him with soft eyes. This was one of the hard decisions you and Chris had to make everyday. You missed the naiveness of his viewpoint immensely. You thought you were working back towards it but it seemed the hard work never let you be. 

“I won’t risk your life for hers.”

“I’m not asking you to risk my life.”

“Will you risk mine?” Ethan shook his head in disbelief. 

“We’re losing time being out here,” he said. “I’m going to the old house and looking for that cure. Come with me or don’t, I don’t care.”

“You don’t mean that,” you said, reaching to grab him before he left but he brushed you off. You looked at Chris with pleading eyes, eyes he knew well. “We can’t possibly leave civilians here and nuke the place Redfield.” 

“It’s their choice to leave.” 

“Mia doesn’t have a choice,” Ethan called. He was already walking away. Incredibly conflicted, you stared at Chris, hoping for some guidance. He had never been the one to give guidance in your relationship. 

“Chris.” 

He had only ever turned you down once in his life. The look in your eyes could make him weak in his knees anyday. You could get him to toss himself off a building with that look. His jaw hardened.

You could die without him. 

You could die with him, he thought. When had he ever been able to save others before?

“Chris,” you pleaded. 

“We have four hours till sunrise. You and I will be gone by then.” You nodded curtly. He approached you before you could walk away. “But you’re not going to run around in that vest,” he muttered. He unbuckled the one he was wearing, untightening it as he lifted it over his head. Your eyes softened. He was still trying to protect you. Maybe he had been trying to protect you all along. 

“Chris I won’t let you-”

“I’m stronger than you.” You smirked, looking up at him. He had a smug look in his eyes. 

“I don’t remember you being forceful.”

“I never had to be. You were always a willing participant,” his voice was soft but disregarding. You glanced at Ethan who you could barely see in the shrubbery as he walked away. He took off your vest and placed it on the ground as he put his own over your head. “You need it more than me.”

“I’m just a little rusty.”

“I can’t risk a little rusty.” He tightened it around your waist, the same way he would help you mid mission before. It was warm. Was it humid out here or was it just the way his fingers brushed your skin? 

“Thank you,” you breathed. He nodded. He put your old one over his head. He had left all the things in his tactical vest. “You want any of these?” 

“I could do with a knife what you can do with a bomb.” You raised an eyebrow. 

“You better watch out Redfield. I might show you up even with the rust.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You wrapped your hands around the straps and leaned back, tilting your head. 

“I missed you.” He tried not to show any emotion but the words seemed so magical he couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath. 

“You know I did it to protect you right?”

“I know now,” you said quietly. 

“You have a life.” 

“I have a life,” you repeated. It was like you were trying to convince yourself of it more than him. You looked at Ethan. In the moment nothing seemed more appealing than leaving with Chris and being safe somewhere other than here. You knew what you had to do regardless. “You know, in another life, I wouldn’t have minded dying in your arms,” you said quietly. He had that sad look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have lived through it,” he admitted. You gestured with your head. 

“Yes you would’ve. Come on. We have things to do.”

Part 2

[wheeloffortune-design]

i don't know if i shared it here, but one of the things I wanted to change about my life was to start reading novels again.

pretty sure lots of you can relate, you were a gifted child, absolutely voracious reader, finished the count of monte cristo at 15, etc etc... and now you find yourself unable to do so.

(but you can read several hundred words of fanfic in a week).

i have lots of theory about this. some attention deficit, the comfort of characters you already know, the fact that this specific fanfic feel is hard to find in traditional novel, the low emotional investment/reward ratio. i even think my eyesight is getting worse and it might be a point against paper books

(thing is, i'm a writer!!! i do, in fact, write novels that end up on paper! that i can do, but reading is almost impossible)

Oh yeah, the longer you spend without reading traditional books the bigger it seems to go back. Until it becomes a failure, an additional stress, a guilt. about something you should enjoy!

(and writers, they get asked constantly "what are you reading?" and only closest friends get the truth. there is a shame to be a writer who doesn't read books.)

all this to say

i read my first novel in years!! it was on kindle, didn't feel like a daunting paper book, but like the fics i read.

(it was the Song of Achilles)

Anyway, this was mostly to share love to people stuck in that same mental cycle. And also say that i'm damn proud of myself, because the Task(tm) had become monstrous.

psyching myself up to read another one!!

[fryeswiththat]

In a dream where Vecna gives his victims what they want, Jonathan lives with the knowledge that his brother was found. That Will still had nightmares about what happened but he's alright. He's happy. Joyce is happy.

Jonathan tries as hard as he can to break through the mold, tries to see the cracks in the walls - but there's nothing there. Just the sound of the Party playing another session, his brother shyly sharing glances with Mike and Mike doing it back.

Watching his brother attend dances with Mike, Mike who acts like he did before everything went Wrong(tm). Jonathan wakes up after nightmares routinely but - it's hard not to want this life.

A life where some things went wrong but not everything.

And if there's a part of him that realizes what this is, that this is a concept of his own imagining, it's riddled with guilt. Guilt for wanting a "simpler" life, for feeling like wanting it and changing what happened to Will is acting like it was Will's fault to begin with. But it's a life without tragedy and mayhem, where he doesn't have to keep a bat beside his bed.

Everything is fine. It's fine and it's difficult to get used to. This can be his one regret that he'll suffer with, until he can get out.

That's his plan, really, right until he hears Running Up That Hill play on the radio and winces - and sees Mike wince too. Mike, who acts like everything he's not, has pretended not to be in the Real World. Who watched Will with misty eyes and lingering hands, not wanting to let him go. All instances Jonathan chalked up to his dream's manifestation. But it's real, and Mike is real, and he's here. He's here with Jonathan, wanting the same thing he does. Wanting to love Will like Will loves him.

(And Vecna laughs, goading, later, sneering with a mouth of vines and charred lips. "And what would dear Will think, to know that the both of you wanted him to be different?")

[passports-pls]

I was very disappointed in the lack of quality Mine playlists so I made my own 🤞

Listen here

you COULD listen to it in your own free time OR you could listen to it alongside my mentally insane directors commentary 😌

(under the cut)

for the sake of this post not getting too long I am grouping all the important songs into different categories pertaining to the different eras of mine tm

Pre-Daigo Misery (Nobody - The Other Woman)

This section is mostly abt Mine being a lonely little weirdo (characterised mostly by the smiths unsurprisingly) and because this era lacks a lot of actual content my notes are less specific between songs

There are actually so many male manipulator songs that fit too perfectly with Mine in this part of his life that I couldn't resist like I'm sorry but creep by radiohead is LITERALLY about him i don't make the rules

Okay but I do find 'Heaven Knowns Im Miserable Now' so funny in this context because I'm sure Mine was forcing himself into the yakuza expecting it to be so much easier to have close connections with these other men compared to his previous 9-5, only to find its almost exactly like his 9-5 just with more crime

'Salvatore' and 'Therefore I Am' are specifically the songs I attach to his bateman-esque grindset and his bubbling hatred for most of the people he works with dsfgf

okay but THE OTHER WOMAN ASWELL. It's literally mine you wouldn't understand. He dedicates so much time to taking care of himself and setting himself up to be an actual catch of a man and yet,, no one gives a shit about him despite all the effort he puts into his lifestyle to appeal to the ppl around him

LIKE??? Kicking and screaming he's so lana del ray coded

Just the sheer depression of this era i feel so bad for him

Yandere-mode activated (Can't Get You Out of My Head - The Killing Moon)

Self explanatory however actually finding songs that pertain to his specific brand of obsession was surprisingly difficult sfdsf

Although I will say that I cope and seethe at the fact that I had to sift through Killing Stalking playlists to settle on most of these songs gfdgsf

Theres such a delicate balance between the right amount of fluff and insanity that very few songs capture without being about literal stalking

like no in this case the stalker fucking won

that and vibes of idolizing Daigo like a god, I think 'Out of Touch' and 'Stolen Dance' do this the best

And freak because I can only imagine in all of Mine's relationships it's always been purely transactional and no ones ever put in the effort to actually talk and get to know Mine in any intimate form.

my poor touch starved blorbo

FEELINGS TM (Romantic Homicide - How to Dissapear)

THIS SECTION I FEEL GREATLY ABOUT

These songs to me are all about how Mine copes with Daigo's hospitalisation and when he wakes up. His whole internal battle surrounding his premature grief and his loss of connection with Daigo because could no longer see him as a truly living thing anymore

'Change' specifically hits when you think about it in this context. Because it's not so much about any real change in Daigo himself it's all about Mine's mental image of him now (because let's be real, Mine was way more in love with the idealised version he had of Daigo more than anything tangible about him)

IFHY is a little more of any iffy choice but I think it still convey's a lot about how conflicted Mine likely felt as well as just continuing his Yandere behaviour just in a much more sinister flavour

Okay but here's where my favourite song of the entire list is

WHITE FLAG BABY

admittedly it's completely self indulgent and ties into the mine-lives theory. But just the guilt and shame Mine felt when he see's that Daigo was indeed alive and that he was going to have to explain the past few weeks to him

yeah i would've thrown myself off that roof as well

also the lyric "I will go down with this ship" paralleling his "everyone abandons ship eventually" line just tickles my brain in the best way

'Door' and 'I Guess' are also just Mine guilt tm as well

'I guess' even more specifically because he's literally attached himself to daigo like a parasite and now he's thinking daigo's gonna break up with him I just AUGH

He KNOWS he's completely fucked up but I don't think he realises how much of a pushover Daigo is just yet and that he would have forgiven him eventually gjfdg

I'll probably update this with more notes as I remember them but for now I hope y'all enjoy the playlist!

[chiharuhashibira]

Back to You Part 9!

Hello! So I am so excited to write this chapter haha!

I won't say anything but, it'll be intense. Soooo see yah below haha!

Taglist:

@unofficialmuilover @sofilsworld @skeleton-the-gangser @ahashiraswife @sharkyy-tm @crazycatlddy

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙸𝚇

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐗 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔)

<𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫>

Content Warnings: Curse words, Slightly Suggestive, Verbal Abuse, Neglect, Emotional Trauma, Panic

(Images are not mine, credits to the rightful owners)

Flashback:

"Get dressed up."

"Won't you cuddle with me? Like, even for five min—"

"Don't you understand that I have to work? Isn't sex enough for you? Why are you too needy?"

"I'm sorry..."

You sat up, pulling up the sheets to cover your body, as you watched your boyfriend, Hotaru, dress up. It's as if you were dipped in the pit of shame as you watched him leave without saying a word.

Sometimes you just can't help but cry because of Hotaru's coldness, but then the situation's different today. You didn't cry, despite the pain. You just laid down, stared at the ceiling, and sighed, telling yourself incessantly that perhaps he's just tired.

You didn't notice that you had drifted back to sleep until you felt a flick on your forehead. There, you sat up, wrapping the sheets to cover your body as you realised it was Giyu. He was looking at you with worry in his eyes, but you didn't care about that.

As red as a tomato, you threw your pillow at his face, which he easily caught. "What was that for?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Why the heck are you here?"

"Is that how you greet your nii-chan?"

"You're not my brother, psycho. And as you can see, I'm naked, so—"

"So what? I've seen all that when we were younger."

"Idiot! Get out of my room!"

You were blushing madly, but Giyu seems unaffected by this. Oh well, he's been your brother ever since you lost your family, so things like this don't surprise him at all. He rolled his eyes and went out, closing the door behind him.

You sighed and finally got dressed, embarrassed that he had to see you like that.

After a few minutes, you went out, and you saw him eating ramen while sitting on your couch. "Oh, there you are. I made you ramen," he said, pointing at the bowl in front of him.

You're starving; being 18, almost 19, and doing things really is tiring. So then, you sat across from him and grabbed the bowl. No words were exchanged until both of you finished eating.

And there, Giyu looked at you with intense eyes. "Hotaru's been here again, I suppose," he said, crossing his arms. You didn't want to answer, but then the veins on Tomioka's forehead started to pop out in anger.

So, you looked down and said, "Yes." A loud thug made you look up, and there, you saw Tomioka, who was pissed off. He slammed the table with his fist before he stood up and went to the kitchen.

You followed him, feeling the guilt sink in. He had told you a lot of times to stay away from that man. Firstly, he is double your age, and secondly, he doesn't treat you right. Ever since you started with Hotaru, your behaviour has changed so much that you even shut the world away just to be with your boyfriend.

"You're helpless, Y/N. I've lost count of how many times I told you to stay away from that jerk! And now, I'll be seeing you in that state instead of heading to school? What the heck? Just because you have your own flat now and live alone doesn't mean that you can waste your life and do any craziness you want!"

Tomioka snapped in rage as he looked at you with disappointment in his eyes. You have never seen him this mad before. Whenever he tries to talk to you about this topic, he is usually so understanding, but now... Perhaps he had too much.

Too much of what seems to be still not enough for you to leave your toxic relationship...

“No. Why do you want me to hate Hotaru? He’s not the worst. He’s just stressed at work. We’ll never know about that because we’re still students.”

"The heck is that reason? Y/N, I'm trying to protect you from—"

"And I don't need that, Tomioka-san. Please don't make me hate you."

You know how bratty you sound right now, but you don't care anymore. Tears ran down your face as you looked down, but then your sobbing stopped when you felt Tomioka's warmth embrace you.

The man can't take the fact that you're crying right now. He just loves you so much as his little sister, and he doesn't want you to hate him. So even if it is not aligned with his virtues, Tomioka said,

"I'll let this slip this time. But please don't waste your life. You're so much better than this."

And of course, you didn't listen to Tomioka. Weeks had passed since that incident, and you never settled things with Hotaru. You let him treat you the way he had always treated you.

An option.

It was painful, but you always loved him. Tomioka still tried to reach out, but you always shut him down. And yes, it came to the point where he tried to not talk about it anymore.

But of course, like your friend, you reached your limit. Finally.

Another tiring day, another hot sex, and now Hotaru's like this again.

“Are you a fucking idiot? Can’t you see that I’m busy? Why can’t you get that through your thick skull? You’re fucking clingy like a pest. Can you just leave me alone?”

You felt little as you fell to the floor after he shoved you away from hugging him. What was he doing anyway? He was just watching people sharpen their swords, or whatever that was. Is that more important than you?

Oh well, other things had really been more important than me.

Tears fell down on your cheek, and you started sobbing like a child while still sitting on the floor helplessly. Things seem to fall into place. Hotaru doesn't love you, and all the people around you are right.

While you're busy wasting your life for him, he's busy using you for his pleasure. Who are you anyway? You're just like a slut to him that he can fuck whenever he wants to. You're not that important to him at all.

And as if to fuel these thoughts, Hotaru turned to you when he heard your sobs. "What a fucking drama queen! What do you want? Another round? Go to bed then, and I'll make you stop crying."

"What am I to you?"

"Huh?"

Astonished by your question, Hotaru raised an eyebrow. "The fuck?" he said while grunting.

"Do you even love me?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you being childish? Can you just shut up?"

"I don't like this anymore, Hotaru. Let's break up."

Your words have astounded the man so much that he has lost his strength to speak.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Let's break up."

You said it once again, with your voice shaking in pain. Slowly, you stood up and gathered your things, which were left on his floor. But then, before you could step out of his door, Hotaru embraced you and buried his face in your hair.

"Hey. Let's fix this, okay? I'm sorry, angel. You know I love you, right? I'll marry you, I promise."

"I don't want this anymore. You're only treating me okay when you need something from me. And after that, what happens? This?!"

"No, you must be confused. Fuck, I'm such a jerk. I'm so sorry. Can we please go back inside? Angel, let's talk. I love you."

"I'm sorry, Hotaru. But I can't do this anymore..."

You faced him with tears running down your cheeks. If you don't end this now, you won't have the courage to do it next time. You let go of his hand and walked away, but then,

"Perhaps you're cheating on me. Maybe with that Tomioka. Perhaps you're fucking him. That's why you have the guts to tell me this, you slut."

Disgust was plastered on your face as you turned to him. Gripping at the hem of your skirt, you gulped and tried your best to not scream, but then...

"Fuck you! I've wasted my life on you, and now you'll accuse me of this? And what's worse is with the guy whom I've treated as my brother? What's wrong—UH! I can't take this anymore!"

"Y/N!"

But before he could ever reach you, you finally managed to slip out of his house and disappear through the crowd.

And yes, that same night, you found yourself crying inside Tomioka's room, with him trying to comfort you with his brotherly love.

And yes, months passed, and you grieved. Hotaru didn't contact you ever again, and that's when you restarted your life, as nothing will happen if you let your past control you.

End of Flashback

You woke up panting. It has been a few days since that stressful day at the hospital. Before you could sit up, you turned to see, and there, Sanemi had already been awake beside you, giving you a worried look.

Tears ran down your cheeks as you turned to him and buried your face in his chest. The math teacher already knows what happened. Another nightmare.

These bad dreams have been plaguing you once again, and sometimes you're afraid to sleep. So, Sanemi decided that he'd stay at your house for a while. And yes, that also means that he told his siblings that he'd be staying with his friend for a project, as they weren't as aware of your relationship as the faculty.

Sanemi ran his hands on your back, and you felt the shivers that came with it. He hushed you and kissed your forehead. "I won't let anything bad happen to you, okay? I love you so much," he whispered nonchalantly, trying to calm you down.

And yes, it worked. After a few minutes, you had drifted back to sleep, but now with dreams filled with you and Sanemi.

The next day, you were at school and found yourself helping Tengen carry some of his art supplies back to his new art room. Yep, the art teacher is spoiled as fuck, and sometimes you tease him for it.

"Uzui-sensei, go first. I'll just fix my shoelaces."

"Kay!"

He said that and walked away. You bent down and were about to tie your shoe when suddenly, you felt a slap on your ass that made your eyes widen. With a pissed-off expression, you were about to reprimand the person who did that, but then, when you turned to look who it was, you were met with a familiar lilac pair of eyes.

Your anger faded and was replaced by a mad blush that spread across your cheeks as you looked around. Sanemi smirked and pinched your cheek. "No one's around, silly," he said, pecking a kiss on your lip. You gulped as you almost dropped Tengen's expensive art materials.

"Babe, you're crazy," you whispered. But then, Sanemi still smirked at you and whispered in your ear. "I love you. See you later," he said before walking inside his class.

You blink in astonishment. What just happened?

But then, before you could be drowned in your trance, Tengen managed to come back and raise an eyebrow at you. "Uhh... Y/N-san, your shoelaces are still untied. Do you need help?"

You shook your head and just smiled at him. "Nah. Just take the other boxes, Uzui-san."

"Okaaay."

He said this, seemingly bored, and walked back to his old art room.

You finally managed to tie your sheolaces and looked at the ceiling, smiling at the thought of Sanemi's sweetness. "I love you too, Sanemi."

It was the end of the day, and you found yourself waiting for your boyfriend near the school gate. Sanemi told you that he had a surprise for you, as this is your second monthsary. Yes, it has been two months since you dated this man. And you definitely have no regrets about that.

Sanemi has always filled your heart with all the love that he can give. And that is more than enough. Yes, everything the man does for you is more than enough, and that made your heart skip.

But then all your thoughts faded into the pits of darkness when a car suddenly stopped in front of you. There and then, you felt like the world suddenly stopped. Not because of love, but because it'll end.

When the window rolled down, you met those golden-orange orbs that immediately sent back all of your painful memories once again. Why is he here again? You thought, feeling sweaty as the breeze around you became colder.

It's as if there was a lump in your throat as you watched Hotaru go out of his car and stand in front of you. His intimidating stature instantly makes you freeze.

"I missed you, angel."

"What do you want?" You asked, giving him a glare as you felt an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach. Hotaru ran his hands on your hair, which made you swat his hand away.

Feeling disgusted, you fixed your hair and took a step back. Your ears rang when you heard Hotaru's chuckle. What is he chuckling about in the first place? You rolled your eyes and repeated your question.

"What do you want?"

"I'm glad you're okay. Feisty again, I see."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to check on you. I never thought that you'll work here, and as a teacher, I see. I never thought that you'd be a teacher before. But you look good."

"Why do you know that I'm here?"

He raised his phone and clicked his tongue. "The power of social media."

You gulped at the thought of him stalking you. You aren't comfortable with that. I should've blocked him! But it was too late.

You glared at him and gripped harder on the handle of your bag. It seems like Hotaru noticed. "Is your bag heavy? I can help you."

"No. Just leave me alone. Please, Hotaru."

"Is that how you treat a friend? I've changed Y/N. I'll prove it to—"

"Fucking shut up!"

You said, seething with anger as you watched how Hotaru's expression turned dark. "I'm just trying to fix things, Y/N. I still love you."

"Just go..."

"Hey Y/N-sensei!"

As if fate had plotted against you, out of all people, it was Kanae Kocho who saw you at this moment. You turned to look at her and tried your best to hide the anger from your expression. "Hey Kocho sensei! You're going home?"

"Yes. How about you? And who is this fine man? Hi, I'm Kanae Kocho. Science teacher here."

Kanae said as she walked beside you and looked at Hotaru, who was now smiling at her. Yes, his smile is angelic, and yes, other girls would fall for it, but not you.

You were about to tell Kanae that you don't know him when suddenly, Hotaru pulled you and draped his arm across your shoulder. "Oh, I'm her boyfriend, Hotaru Haganezuka. We'll need to head out, actually. It's nice meeting a nice woman like you."

Without him knowing that Sanemi works here, his plan shouldn't work, right? Sanemi will come to the rescue, right?

But no.

Without Kanae knowing that you are Sanemi's girlfriend, she believed Hotaru's lies and congratulated you before leaving, as she didn't want to interrupt your lovey-dovey moment.

Cringy right? You felt all your muscles freeze with those words. You just wanted to disappear then and there, but then what you did was push Hotaru away and decide to just head home without waiting for your boyfriend, who is busy with the Math Club right now.

Tears ran down your face as you didn't manage to save yourself from that embarrassment and Hotaru's lies. You just can't because of this irrational fear that you are feeling. You hate it. You just wanted to go home.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

On the other hand, Hotaru smiled as he watched you walk away, thinking everything was falling into place—for him at least.

𝑻𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅…

𝑶𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒔𝒉

I'm so sorry guys for making you feel this way for Hotaru. I love him I swear but it's just he fits so well with this jerky man in my head HAHAHA

Oh well, will Sanemi come to the rescue? Will you manage to correct Hotaru's lies before it spreads like wildfire in the school? What will happen with Sanemi's surprise? Will both of you be okay?

Lotsa questions that will surely be answered on the next chappy!

Thank you so much for reading this once again~ Feel free to reblog if you wanted to share it. Or comment down there! Would love to see your reactions HAHAHA! Love yah!

Requests are still open btw! 💓

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

<𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫>