#i can't blame my parents who give out to me once alcohol is me

[yawn-junn]

☃Special thanks too: @jisvngc0re1 : 8Turn

☃Note: as a tall girlie myself I appreciate this request ALSO! I'm gonna use Christmas prompt 3 since it's legit the same lmfao

☃Prompt: Decorate With Me!

☃TW: Christmas (?) : Jealousy : mentions of food : mentions of drinks (not alcohol) : slight argueing between members (nothing serious) : lovesick Haemin : kissing : teasing :

☃words: 1,496

☃Taglist: @bunnie-stay-p1ece - @mxlly143

11-25-23

𝕄𝕪𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕙𝕠

----------

He's the one who dragged you into decorating with him, handing you the tree topper (star, angel, bow, ext.) Holding your waist as you reached up to put the topper on, your peaceful and slightly romantic moment was ruined by Seungheon who faked gagged "I feel like I just seen my parents kiss" Seungheon mumbled grabbing his charger from the coffee table that now had a giant fake gingerbread man house in the middle along with fake snow.

You and Myungho laughed as Seungheon left the room "kids these days" Myungho sighed "woah don't group me with you, I'm not old" you said crossing your arms, Myungho faked offended putting a hand over his heart "I thought you loved me.." Myungho said dramatically, you playfully rolled his eyes before leaning down and giving him a kiss on his lips.

𝕂𝕪𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕞𝕚𝕟

------------

Kyungmin himself is pretty tall, so the members called for him a while before you arrived, once you took your shoes off you made your way to the living room, hearing Kyungmin's whines of exhaustion, giggling at the sight "oh Yn! Here here" Yungyu said rushing to you with Ordainments he couldn't put on top the tree, "noo...I wanna relax.." Kyungmin said dramatically as you willingly helped the younger male, "calm down you big baby" you laughed hanging the ordainment where Yungyu told you too. Almost 30 minutes later of you helping Yungyu, you finally made your way to your tall Boyfriend helping him hand Garland on the wall, much to his dismay.

𝕁𝕒𝕖𝕪𝕦𝕟

-------

He kept track of time whenever you left his room rather it'd be to use the bathroom or to get food, he does this so he can 'save' you if his members bother you, noteing that you've been gone for almost an hour he finally got up and went to. Check on you, only to find you somehow wrapped in Christmas lights with glitter scattered about the room, slowly blinking Jaeyun finally spoke up "what... happened-" he asked looking at you, before you could respond Yungyu and Seungheon started blaming one another for something he couldn't understand.

Myungho who witnessed the whole thing, shook his head before walking over and helping you out your Christmas light jail, once done he quickly hushed the two boys "what actually happened was, Yungyu brought out Christmas lights Seungheon wanted to put them on the tree but he couldn't reach the top, Myungho didn't like the way he put them on the tree so he took them down, Yungyu for some reason got really upset and tried to snatch the lights from Myungho then I somehow got stuck in the middle ans got trapped in a light prison.." you explained.

Jaeyun rolled his eyes before grabbing your hand and leading you back to his room "you smell like a Christmas tree, a cookie and, cinnamon" Jaeyun commented sniffing your neck, "oh yeah Haemin came through throwing these cinnamon scented sticks at Myungho and I got caught in the cross fire, and Kyungmin somehow baked cookies without burning the house down.." you giggled, "and the glitter?" Jaeyun said sitting you on his bed before opening his closet and grabbing some clothes for you "oh, for some reason it was in the tree when we opened it I inhaled a lot of glitter" you said rubbing the back of your neck Jaeyun laughed before helping you into his clothes.

ℍ𝕒𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕟

---------

Another tall one, so he automatically got dragged into the mess as well, "no! You can't hang that there!" Kyungmin exclaimed ripping the decorations out of Haemin's hands, Haemin sighed "Yn..." Haemin turned to where he last saw you only for you to be gone, looking around the room he sees you not there, trying to not panic he walked out the living room ignoring Kyungmin's complaining, finding you in the kitchen covered in flower as you decorated the mini tree on the counter with Yungyu. "There you are" Haemin sighed "oh hey" you waved before turning your attention back to the younger male, reaching up to grab a bow from the top cupboard as Yungyu complains about who put it there, Haemin sat on the bar stool admiring the way you interacted with his member a small smile on his face "stop staring" you laughed before going up to Haemin and rubbing your flower filled body on his back. The entire time he waited he didn't complain instead he sat and waited with a lovesick smile on his face.

𝕊𝕖𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕙𝕖𝕠𝕟

-------------

He came back from a shower to see you no where to be seen, setting his stuff down he went on searching for you, he found you holding a glittery red bow on the wall close the ceiling, moving it whenever Jaeyun said, once he got the space he wanted Kyungmin came up behind you pushing his front to your back putting the tack in the wall the both of you releasing leaving the bow hanging on the wall, you Jaeyun and, Kyungmin all high fived.

A few seconds later you finally noticed your boyfriend who sat there with a pout on his face glaring at Kyungmin, Jaeyun noticed how jealous Seungheon seemed so he let you go, Seungheon immediately dragging you to his room, "why do you look so upset" you pouted poking his cheek, Seungheon huffed his cheeks flushing a bright pink, "why did you leave.." Seungheon said quietly "I heard them in the living room and figured they needed help" you explained.

"Why were you and Kyungmin so close" he said his pout deeping, you fought back the urge to coo at his cuteness "dont be upset about it, he didn't mean it in that way, he just needed to reach above me" you reassured, Seungheon nodded still a bit sad, you focused the rest of the night on him not letting him get up making him lay with you while you cuddled and kissed him.

𝕐𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕪𝕦

-------

Yungyu sat in his room, waiting for you to come back, almost 20 minutes ago you got up to get you and him a drink and a snack to share, expecting you to come back not to long after that. When it finally hits the 20 minute mark Yungyu gets off his bed and leaves his room looking for you, he finds you holding up Christmas lights while Myungho untangled the rest of the line, looking around the room he realized what kept you away from him for 20 minutes. "Oh Yungyu! Perfect come help us" Myungho called out pulling Yungyu to hold the rest of the lights that dangle from your hands, "please my arms are getting tired I keep dropping them" you giggled sheepishly.

Yungyu sighs before helping out holding the lights as you tack them to the wall, snuggling them in the crack between the wall and ceiling. "Is this what took you so long?" Yungyu pouted, you responded humming out a 'yes', you and Yungyu were forced to sit there and decorate with Myungho before being let go, leaving you to tend to a pouty Yungyu.

𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕙𝕠

-------

Minho sighed waiting for you to come back, even tho you've been gone for a little over 10 minutes he thought it was too long, he got up and searched for you, finding you at the front door with Kyungmin and Haemin, helping them hang a reef on the door along with fake snow, lights and, garland covering the frame of the door, Minho sighed dramatically, "what you are doing" Minho whined, you gasped before leaving your work and grabbing his hand leading him to the kitchen where the other members are "try one" you said grabbing a cookie shaped as a gingerbread man, shoving it in Minho's mouth, he hummed in approval at the taste, "it's good, but you still never answered my question" he said chewing on the cookie "oh, they asked for help so I helped them" you smiled at Minho, Minho blushed at your smile before nodding "see how weak he gets for them" Yoonsung pointed out making the others laughed.

𝕐𝕠𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕟𝕘

-----------

Yoonsung watched in amazement as you effortlessly reached the ceiling hanging up the lights and garland as Myungho asked you too, "why do you look like you just seen space?" Yungyu teased "their height never fails to amaze me" Yoonsung said watching you hang things, the other members tried to talk to Yoonsung only for him to ignore them focused only on you, eventually they all gave up leaving him in his own world, once you came back Yoonsung smothered you in hugs and kisses complimenting your long legs.

[destinygoldenstar]

SLURP ; So I Finally Read 'Quest For Lost Powers' (Commentary Part 2; Kai's Lost Spark)

<< Part 1

Hello and welcome back to my commentary on Quest For Lost Powers. A book that exists because of Crystalized's incompetency.

If I'm doing homework, I'm making content out of that homework.

I already did commentary on the cover art and the prologue. Link is there if you want to see that.

We are starting this book's journey with the Fire Ninja's story.

It is a story about Kai being addicted to noodles, treating his girlfriend like garbage, and above all, whining about not having powers.

"Oh lord... Again? A f*****g gain? Nothing new, nothing changed, same old s**t. Same old f*****g s**t-"

Yeah I'm pretty sure we all think that.

GOOD FSM, DO SOMETHING ELSE WITH THE CHARACTER.

I could come up with stuff at the top of my head.

What about him trying to catch up with his parents?

What about his struggle in a healthy relationship where he doesn't need to look after someone 24/7?

His feelings about Jay as an in law?

His grief over losing his sister?

Him trying to step out of the big brother role?

Him trying to cling to his big brother role?

The forbidden scrolls corrupting him when he believes he needs it to succeed?

Him and Cole could make out-? THAT'S A JOKE.

I'm just saying. There's more compelling arcs you can give Kai.

But you know what? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised. Ever since the Wildbrain era, Kai has been done dirty.

Remember when Kai was one of the most beloved characters of the show? Me too. I miss those days.

Okay, let’s get started and see what he’s doing.

[“Look how many noodles I can slurp all at once!”]

[Sllllurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp!]

Not even two paragraphs in, and we have onomatopoeia, italicized.

This is in kids books way too much.

And it drives me nuts. STOP DOING THIS.

I know it's purely pet peeve. But I don't care.

Also who actually slurps their spaghetti? My family doesn't do it, none of my friends do it. I've only seen it in cartoons. Because I guess spaghetti is supposed to be messy and it's funny to eat with an obnoxious sound effect?

[A few of the customers looked up from their meals to stare at Kai.]

See, even these guys agree with me. It's weird. This man is weird.

[“It looks like the same amount of noodles you slurped five minutes ago, Kai,” Skylor said, brushing a stray lock of dark red hair behind her ear.]

No eating the merchandise.

Also don't overeat like that. It's unhealthy.

Remember when Kai was an underaged alcoholic?

Screw you Skylor, now he's drunk on noodles. And it's your fault.

[“Don’t you have anything bet…trrr…I mean, something more important to do?”]

Like catch up with your sister? Who had been DEAD FOR A YEAR?!

[Kai wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and frowned.]

And he's got bad table manners. That's how you know he's a jerk.

[“Um, no more Fire powers, remember? There’s nothing important for me to do anymore.”]

Oh here we go again. No powers = no purpose to this man. I swear.

We've been here before. And that wasn't even a good arc the first time.

And THAT time, he was TORTURED losing it against his consent. This time was by his own call. He has no one to blame but himself.

[Veteran reporter Gayle Gossip appeared on the screen, standing on a busy Ninjago City street.]

Her name is Gayle Gossip?

All this time and I never knew her name. Wow.

[“Crime in Ninjago City has been rising steadily, ever since word got out that the ninja have lost their Elemental Powers,” the reporter was saying. “I tried to contact the ninja for comment, but they’re not returning my calls. In this reporter’s opinion, they seem to have forgotten who they really are. Powers or not, ninja, Ninjago City needs you!”]

BRUH.

Okay that's just Kai's fault. He's CHOOSING to do nothing.

I can't see his point with that other than him being a jerk.

"There's nothing for me to do"

*There's a ton of crime calls going on*

That art looks great though. He actually looks depressed, holy gosh…

[“You haven’t returned her calls?”]

[“I haven’t charged my phone in days,” he said.]

😂

PEOPLE WISH.

PEOPLE WISH THEY WERE THAT UN-ADDICTED TO THEIR PHONES.

I take everything back, Kai, you are a king.

[“What’s the point? Without my Fire powers, I’ve lost my spark.”]

I fail to see how that translates to 'it's okay to run away from my responsibilities'.

I get it, you can get depressed when you lose something that's defined you and your abilities to support and see value in yourself for so long. You can lose your spark and feel lost.

But STILL. Does he really think it's okay to just not help at all?

Unless there are other people taking care of the city, then I'd see his point. But there's NO ONE ON THE CLOCK.

Not even the New Ninja? Where are they? They were SO IRRELEVANT to Crystalized that we haven't heard from them again. Did they die?

["You’re still as smart as you ever were, and brave."]

Since when was Kai EVER the smart one?

Short answer: He wasn't.

Kai has NEVER been a bright tool in the shed.

He even stated, his own words,

"But Zane, I'm the good looks of this team. You're the brains."

[“Ninjago City has an excellent police force,” Kai replied. “They don’t need me getting in their way.”]

😂

That's a joke. Right?

When has the police EVER been reliable? In ANY show?

Any show that isn't police-centric?

[“This isn’t like you, Kai. Didn’t you lose your Elemental Powers once before? You got them back in the Never-Realm, right? Just by digging deep inside yourself?”]

Oh.

We ARE addressing that.

First off, that's what you call a plot hole. Because that is NOT how Elementals work in this show.

Second, if we ARE going with the 'you just gotta believe' story, then is this supposed to tell me that Kai is depressed? That he's lost himself? That he's suffering lack of motivation and sense of identity?

Cause that does make sense.

That actually would be interesting of a story. It's not about the powers, it's about the identity. No one needs him anymore. Or at least, he FEELS like no one needs him anymore.

In the Never Realm, people needed him, and he was able to use his 'older brother mode' to cling to that purpose.

Who needs that now? Not Nya, she has a husband. Not Lloyd, he has a dad and a disgusting new friend who likes blood for face paint.

Not Skylor cause she can do everything you can do, and she can do it better.

Wow, I feel like I'm saying "Hate to break it to you Kai, but you ARE useless." That's so horrible for me to say. Now I feel bad. I actually feel bad for being snarky...

[He slurped down some more noodles to make his point.]

FSM.

You know what, every time this man slurps, I'm slurping. If I have to suffer the noise so do you.

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP.

[“Skylor! The potstickers are less than puffy again!”]

Who says that?! That's like saying the cheese quesadilla has less cheese.

[“This conversation is not over.”]

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH

THIS MAN'S IN TROUBLE.

Oh Kai, you messed up. That's what you get for slurping.

[Sluuuuuuuuuuuurp!]

AAAAAANNNNNNDD then he does it next paragraph.

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP.

[“THE ROTTEN RABBITS ARE IN THE HOUSE!”]

FURRIES?!

There's FURRIES in this?!

Thanks, I hate it.

[He stood up and faced the robbers. “Why don’t you bad bunnies hop back to whatever greasy garden you came from?”]

Wait, so he DOES help?

Writers, either he's helping or he's not. Pick one.

Kai gets jumped by furries.

Not clickbait.

I’m shocked this isn’t a meme. And now I’m just gonna bully Kai for it.

Remember when Kai got jumped by furries?

[“He’s Kai, the Fi— I mean, Kai the Ninja!” one of the noodle customers yelled. The Rotten Rabbit eyed Kai. “A ninja? Really? He looks like a dude in a hoodie with noodle broth stains on it.”]

Wow, we are REALLY going hard on Kai have no purpose anymore.

In Secrets of the Forbidden Spinjitsu, people were actually supportive, trying to help.

Here everyone's just mocking him.

You know what, I don't blame Kai anymore. They don't deserve your help. Ungrateful b*****ds.

[“Rotten Rabbits, Hop to it!” the main robber yelled. BAM!]

Kai, the ninja who helped save the world 17 times, who forged the Golden Weapons, who obliterated the ice dragon, who weld and smashed the staff of elements, who crossed realms and lands non stop to save his two siblings,

Got his butt kicked by FURRIES.

Oh Kai, I am so sorry my boy. They did you so dirty.

[Skylor emerged from the kitchen, and her eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation.]

But this is the fourth time Skylor has seen this today.

"Ugh, just a normal day in my noodle shop. You couldn't stop with SLURP."

[BAM!] [SLAM!] [CRASH!]

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP.

Girl gives Spiderverse Aunt May vibes.

[Water dripped from his hair and clothes as he scooped up the flopping fish and put them back in the tank.]

Even the fish are more useful than Kai. They didn't die.

[“I couldn’t even take care of a bunch of low-level goons. It’s hopeless! Without my Fire powers, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”] [Skylor stared at Kai with a worried frown.]

Skylor be like:

I don't know how much I'm gonna take him saying the same thing over and over again. Gonna be honest.

One minute I want to hug him, and the next minute I want to slap him.

[“In other news, villages on the outskirts of Ninjago are being terrorized by a gang of people known as Fire Fiends,” she said.]

Angry Kai stans who were upset about s11 and Crystalized.

[“These Fire Fiends—they worship a giant, flaming serpent!”]

OH.

How did I forget the Pyro Vipers existed? That was like such a big deal in those seasons.

[“Aspheera created Fire Fang after she stole my Elemental Powers,” Kai reminded her. “Fire Fang’s powers all come from me. All I have to do is find Fire Fang, and I can get my powers back!”]

Is this course correct for s11?

I don't like them doing the same arc again, but I do like the idea of giving Kai closure with this Serpentine species. Because in the show he... didn't. Zane robbed him.

Continued in Part 3>>

[httpsjeonglvr]

Passageway

"Yeah, if you guys don't like veggie, there's a pepperoni at the bottom." Alex broke the silence as he pointed at the pizza boxes. "There's a sausage under, and a pineapple, too."

"Or board games," Alex suggested again. Seojun quietly placed the box of Twister down beside him as he noticed the girl beside him breathing heavily. Alex noticed the Twister beside the girl. "Ooh, yes, Twister!"

The others glanced at him as he pointed at the slender box. "Remember that we would always...?"

"We're not 12 anymore," Gert spoke up.

"Not even me." Molly scrunched her face as she moved towards Hana to sit beside her. Alex nodded. "Good point. Okay, how about suggestions, then, just anything you guys..." He sat down on a chair until Molly spoke up. "What are you doing?" She scolded. "That was her chair."

Hana grabbed Molly's hand and held it tight, giving her a look. Nico shook her head. "Sit wherever you want." She stated. "She's gone." Alex gave her a sympathetic stare. Another awkward silence filled the air until Chase spoke up. "This is too weird." He sighed. Karolina nodded. "Maybe we just don't work without her."

Chase stood up with a slight scoff. "Yeah. I'm outta here. Alex stood up as well. "No, come on, guys!" He stopped Chase from leaving the guesthouse. "Listen, we can't blame Amy for the fact that we don't hang out anymore."

Chase shrugged. "Fine. I blame you." He scowled at Alex. "You didn't come to the funeral!"

"Everyone grieves in their own way." Karolina defended.

"At funerals with their friends." Chase retorted.

Hana decided to keep her mouth shut to not add more tension to the argument. Besides, there's nothing to say if she weren't part of their past.

"Right Hana?" Chase glanced at her, bringing the girl to the argument. Alex slightly widened his eyes, finally learning what her name was.

Gert didn't let her answer, though, since she spoke up. "Yeah, who would ever do that, not show up when a friend is expecting them?" She was looking directly at Chase.

"That wall was always coming down," Karolina responded. "We were friends because our parents were friends. We were just kids. We were always gonna grow apart."

"Plus, it's kind of hard to stay friends with someone when all they care about is being the perfect church girl," Gert complained, directly hinting at her statement towards Karolina.

"Better than the insufferable social justice warrior."

"Or a dumb jock," Alex added, looking at Chase.

"Yeah, or Molly." Chase glanced at Molly, who gave him a look of confusion while Hana raised her eyebrow, giving him a warning stare. "I've got nothing against you. You're really nice."

"What about me?" Nico asked.

Alex shook his head. "Nico..."

"Whatever I am now, it's not Amy." Nico bit her inner cheek as she took a moment to breathe. "Sorry to let you all down." She glanced at Hana who was playing with Seojuns’ rings . "And I know Hana can't replace Amy."

She looked down while Alex sighed. "No, come on. Nobody's thinking that."

"Great party, Alex." Chase scoffed as he sat back down. "Thanks for all the pizza and sadness."

"Perfect combo..." Hana mumbled which only Molly could hear.

"Yeah, for once, I agree with Chase," Gert stated. "What are we doing here? We'd all moved on." She told her former friends. "We were doing fine."

"No, none of us is fine," Karolina replied. "And I, for one, am sick for pretending that I am." She stood up and crossed her arms. "We need to sit together and talk this through."

Alex nodded while the others were quiet, agreeing in silence. Karolina looked down at Hana and gave her a friendly smile. "Sorry for all of this..." She hesitated for a bit. "Hana, was it?" she nodded. "If you're feeling uncomfortable, you don't have to stay—"

"No!" Molly exclaimed. "I want my best friend beside me." She told Karolina with a smile as she hooked her arm around hers. Karolina shrugged. "Okay, sure."

Chase huffed. "Fine. Then I'm gonna need some alcohol." He stood up headed to the exit.

Alex furrowed his eyebrows. "What? Hey..." He followed Chase out of the guesthouse. Hana watched as Nico followed Alex. "Where are you going?" Alex asked Chase.

"As I recall, your dad keeps a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle's in his study. I've been sipping on it since I was 13."

"Yeah, but they're in there now, having their meeting!"

Molly nudged her friend, turning her attention to the curly-haired girl and breaking her stare from Alex and Nico. "You gonna sip some alcohol? She asked excitingly. She gave her a smirk and rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not because I know you're going to sneak your way to take my drink all for yourself."

"How about you, Hana?" Gert asked, slightly massaging her head with her fingers. "What are you doing here?"

She glanced at Molly before looking at Gert. "Tina and Robert brought me here with them," she explained. Gert slowly nodded. "You don't call them Mom or Dad?"

She shook her head, so Gert nodded in understanding. "I guess you're their golden one now?”

"Hey, Alex!" Hana and the others heard Chase yell. "You can take the stick out of your ass now. They're gone."

Karolina got up and walked over to Geoffrey's office with Chase. Molly dragged Hana and Seojun out of the guesthouse and followed Gert out as well. She walked by Nico and Alex, feeling Nico walk away while Alex stayed back for a bit before joining her and his friends inside.

Once everyone was inside, Alex closed the door. "Don't touch anything, okay?"

"Too late!" Chase smiled when he started looking around for any liquor.

"Dad says there's no reason to be in here when he's not."

Nico approached a chair, and Hana was just behind her, spotting the same object she found. "Why is my mom's purse here?" She asked as she grabbed Tina's purse. "Where are they?" Hana asked.

"I don't know, and I don't care," Chase answered. He looked around and shrugged. "All right, he must've moved the good stuff." He took the random alcohol nearby. "This will do."

Molly sat on a chair nearby Chase. "Bourbon on the rocks, shaken, not stirred." Chase chuckled as he looked at the young girl. "I don't think so." And his answer brought a frown to Molly's face.

Hana’s fingers lightly touched the bookshelves as she peered around. She pressed her palm against a cabinet after noticing it. She quietly knocked on the wooden doors, leaning her head. 'Heavy...'

Suddenly, Alex unexpectedly unlocked the door she was just checking on. As the heavy doors opened, she took a step back, revealing a sliding bookcase that revealed a secret entrance. "Holy shit, what just happened?" Chase questioned, witnessing what happened along with the others.

"You mean other than a secret passageway opening?" Alex asked.

Nico turned to look at Alex. "Where does it go?"

"Bomb shelter?" Gert suggested.

"No, a kick-ass wine cellar, definitely." Chase grinned, glancing at Gert, and approached the entrance.

Hana frowned at him. "What is it with you and alcohol ?" Chase looked at you, quite surprised she even spoke to him.

"In the past, when religions were being persecuted, sometimes believers would build secret temples to worship," Karolina explained as she and her friends slowly approached the hidden entrance.

"Yeah, but this is Brentwood, not Bethlehem." Gert corrected.

Alex stepped in front, just inches away from the quiet girl. "This is some Narnia shit."

"There's only one way to find out," Molly told the others. She glared at her in protest while Alex nodded. "Let's do it." Hana watched as Molly eagerly entered the hidden entrance with the others, but she pulled her back. "Are you serious about this? What if there's something dangerous in there?"

"Something dangerous in the Wilder Mansion?" Molly smiled until she thought for a moment. "Maybe, but... this will be fun! I promise. Just stay close to me, and you'll be fine." Molly pulled her inside, and she gave up. "If something bad happens, don't say I didn't warn you."

tag list: @nekoannie-chan

[dryades-angeli]

Pure Boredom

1. What’s your sexual orientation? Asexuell, - Heterosexual with tendency to being Bisexual.

2. What are you obsessed with right now? Santa Claus von Divine Gate, but Anime in generall.

3. Ever done any drugs? Nope. And I never would.

4. What piercings do you want? My five Earpiercings are enouh for me.

5. How many people have you kissed? Two. The Wheiro in my School and my first boyfriend.

6. Describe your dream home. A greek Villa with Pool near the beach.

7. Who are you jealous of? Of Artist´s who can better draw then me. But I don´t blame them, but take it as movitation to get better with my drawing skills.

8. What’s your favorite show to binge? I don't drink. So I have no idea. xD

9. Do you watch porn? I watched three Softporns out of interest.

10. Do you have a secret sideblog? Yes, I do.

11. If you could teleport anywhere in the world right now, where would you go? Straight to Japan and Egypt. May Greece, too.

12. What’s one of your fantasies? Becoming a famous Mangaka or Author, so I can support my family..

13. Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced? Eow. NOO!

14. How would you spend a million dollars? Giving the half to my parents, a little bit to my brother and the rest... I am wishless.

15. Are you in a relationship? Nope.

16. Do you follow porn blogs? A few NFSW pages dedicated to Anime&Manga couples. But other than that, I'm not a big porn fan.

17. Are you angry with anyone right now? Yes. With my mother. I have no idea how you can make so much fuss and one too many hung towels.

18. What tattoos do you want? More butterflys please. Or Angelwings on my shoulder blades.

19. If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to? Nope. I am satisfied with my name.

20. What is something you’re obsessed with? My PC/Computer maybe.

21. Describe your best friend. I have none. But just very good friends.

22. Tag someone you think is hot. @mikotofubar xDDDD

23. Who are five of your favorite bands/musical artists? Evanescenes Sarah Connor Todrick Hall Citizen Soldier RIELL

24. What are three places you want to travel? - Japan - Egypt - Greece

25. Describe your perfect Friday night. Sitting in front of my PC, drawing and listing good Music.

26. What’s your favorite season? Summer. The hotter the better.

27. What’s your pet peeve? ...idk. Stones in the shoe

28. Who is the funniest person you know? Miss thousend names. One of my good friends and already engaged with her girlfriend.

29. What’s the most overrated movie? The Star Wars films. I´ve never seen a bigger shit than that. My father loved it, but telled me, Neflix´"Wedneyday" is something for kids.

30. Tag someone you want to talk to but have been too shy to message. My old school crush.

31. Do you like paper books or ebooks better? My dear mother gave me once a ebook. But it wasn´t mine. I already have enough devices that I have to think about charging. I don't need another book like that. I also love the feel of paper on my fingers.

32. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick? The world of Divine Gate. I would marry Santa

33. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like? I think like now. Just stuffed.

34. What’s your coffee order? I really hate coffee. It was to bitter for me. I prefer cocoa.

35. Do you have a crush on anyone? Not now, if an Animecharacters doesn´t counts.

36. Do you still have feelings for any of your exes? One ex. And NO.

37. Have any tattoos? Yes. The devilish butterfly from the Gena Showalter books on my collarbone.

38. Do you drink? Just a little on special occasions. But I can't stand too much alcohol either.

39. Are you a virgin? It's really nobody's business.

40. Do you have a crush on any of your mutuals? No...

41. How many followers do you have? 123 on my main Tumblrblog.

42. Describe the hottest person you know. I like the actor of Gideon de Viliers, Jannis Niewöhner. Brown chinlenght hair, blue exes, tick eyebrows, broad lips and shoulders, ghigh cheekbones...

43. What’s your guilty pleasure? Reading erotic books and Mangas.

44. Do you read erotica? Yes. But I like it when a really nice love story is told around it and there is no mindless banging around.

45. What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on? I had never date someone.

46. How many people do you follow? 123 people, as I said. Why is that so important?

47. If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick? No one.

48. Describe your ideal partner. Kind, playful, humorous, loves childs, protective instinct, honest. I like men who are a little bigger, broad-shouldered and maybe (not a must) have slightly longer hair.

49. Who do you text the most? Idk. I would say, my pack.

50. What’s your favorite kind of weather? Sunny days, warm weather.

[manonamora-if]

Hey dear author.

Some Thick Table Tavern asks incoming:

Who is Baxter?

What happened with Dylan? Is he doing okay as a newbie in the Adventuring Guild?

Have you based the watcher's desire to keep everything as orderly as possible on yourself?

Is Brom a cooking genius or a cooking disaster because I just can't decide?

What's the story about the mage stealing Roscoe's cheese?

Who can hold their liquor better: Roscoe or Ez?

Who's the best dancer and singer in the tavern and out of the main NPC's?

How is Brom's family life?

Why is there a need for a magic mixer? What makes it better than a normal mixer aside form the color change when mixing?

Has The Thick Table Tavern ever come close to bankruptcy?

Some trivia for Nora and Astrid of the Adventure Guild please🙏

How were MC,Ez,Filessandro and Brom hired by Roscoe? Did he choose them because they were the most skilled of the applicants or were they the only applicants to work at the tavern?

Some asks about you:

What motivates you to continue working on and creating interactive fiction games?

How do you do it with creating such incredibly detailed guides and tutorials for everyone to use? Do you have some sort of unending energy batteries that never let you get tired?

Who is your favourite NPC in all of your WiPs including the Thick Table Tavern?

What is your favourite genre to write?

Do you like coding more or the writing part of game creation?

Finally,

sending you tsunami waves of love and positivity💛

-annoyingly curious anon

Alright Anon! Let's get this cracking! I've included your questions in my answers so you don't need to scroll up/down everytime.

TTTT Questions

Baxter is mentioned once in the game: For the love of Baxter, similarly to the phrase For the love of God. Think of Baxter as a Generic Fantasy Deity TM. I did not put more thought into this, just took a random name.

Unsure. Maybe? Probably. He was supposed to be THE Adventurer in the first version (like that story was my draft of last year), before I re-wrote each of these 5 recurrent NPC's storyline (and didn't have time to include it.

Have you based the watcher's desire to keep everything as orderly as possible on yourself? Lol Anon. Thank you for Reading me.

Whether Brom is a cooking genius or disaster is irrelevant (though you can have your own opinion about it). He experiments.

Wizards love cheeses. Roscoe has a lot of great cheeses.

Roscoe and Ezabell have yet to compete in their liquor consumption. None will try to consume alcohol for quantity's sake. Roscoe would probably hold strong/distilled drinks better, Ez would for cocktails (especially sweet ones).

Dunno who's the best dancer/singer. Come back when I've added more story bits.

Brom's Family life is chaotic: tired adults running behind energetic toddlers and taking care of old parents.

The magic mixer is needed because I said so :P (just to give a reason for the colour of the liquid changing every time you add/remove an ingredient.

If there was ever a time TTTT was in financial trouble, someone else would come and take the reins before it would go under. Same thing is the owner retires.

Nora and Roscoe have a thing, and they behave like teenagers about it (her request). The only reason Astrid is not the leader of her group (she is more than capable to be that) is so she can blame Bernard for anything that goes wrong.

Ez barged into the bar and pretended to be the waitress for a full day (because [REDACTED], raised hell during pay-time when Roscoe realised she was not an employee (he was out all day) but also that she made a hella ton of profit. Filessandro is not an employee of the tavern, he was supposed to have his own story to explain that. MC's story is dependant on the background you choose... and will be explained further in a future update.

ME Questions

My motivation for creating is easy: it's fun. I get to solve some coding/writing puzzle and tell stories I like/want to. Continue to work on a project is difficult. I've done the dumb thing of creating hella long things and taking breaks from it (losing steam on it). But my drive to finish my projects (to continue working), not wanting to put out bad writing (after reading a draft), and seeing people enjoy my stuff is more motivating than I thought.

I am exhausted all the time (that's 80% a lie) I create guides/tutorials because I like helping people, and if my stuff helps other not struggle with stuff I have, then I'm happy. The trick with tutorials is: make it simple and explain clearly.

Insert that Arrested Development meme about loving my children equally. All NPCs are fun and become my favourite when I write them. It changes per scene...

Same answer about genre. Don't really have one. Not really fond of horror (that's MelS wheelhouse) or romance (but that's because I need to combat my second hand embarrassment).

When the coding becomes stale, I miss writing. When writing is a bore, I want to code. Maybe I might prefer coding over writing, because the proofreading of coding is more fun than writing, and because it has rules (unlike creative writing). Editing/Proofreading is meh to I wish I was dead.

Me rn:

Thank you ANON!

[anonxconfession]

Not My Confession:

I live in a small town so this is a throw away confession. I don't want anyone from my redneck republican town to find out.

So there's this person who I will call "Laxative" or Lax for short, because everything that came out of their mouth was like the most vile diarrhea.

So Lax has always enjoyed a privileged life, their mom makes enough money to give them everything and anything and Lax is a spoiled privileged brat with a white savior complex. Unfortunately, due to not having the privilege of having a mother that loved me nor a family that wanted me I became homeless for a while and Lax had a partner who I will call "Christian" since he was a toxic Christian.

Anyway, Christian and I were friends before I found out about his toxic nature and at one point I'd been left homeless again due to the abusive partner of the person I'd been living with and I'd been forced out again. (That's a whole story for another time but long story short despite being Ace Aro women for some reason think I'm trying to steal their bfs??? Yall are barking up the literal wrong treat lol)

So Christian takes me in and he has me live with Lax and their older parent (Lax is an adult don't get it twisted because they lie about their age online and say they're 16 when they're actually 25 which is super weird in my opinion but they sent their followers after me once so I need to cover my bases) and their parent I think is also an alcoholic but that's a whole other thing.

Anyway so I lived with Lax and their parent for years as they abused me, told me my mental illness "wasn't real" because "you don't experience it the same way I do so I think you're lying" yeah that was a real thing said to me. And after all of that Christian tries to get me to be poly with him and Lax and I just... I'm Ace Aro you guys I'm not doing that.

So Lax gets super offended at their husband but obviously blames me DESPITE THE FACT THAT IM ACE ARO AND WANT NONE OF THIS, and they accuse me of killing and poisoning their cat which they lie to the parent about and once again I'm on the street.

Thankfully after that I was basically adopted by my now Bonus Mom but this entire 3 or 4 year abuse has left me with no friends in this tiny ass backwards town and they friends I shared with Lax and Christian have lied about me to the entire nerd community up here so I'll never have any friends out here... these people who have the money and privilege to ruin my life and then just leave town...

Honestly I'm glad Christian left Lax and took the baby they deserve all the suffering after they went through all this trouble to abuse me only yo leave town.... they can leave and make new friends but I can't leave and they ruined any chance of me having friends out here....

Witches feel free to curse them they deserve it.

I'm so fucking done with these backwards thinking redneck losers.

[organic-thoughts7255]

Contracted

My mother is always open about it. How she almost unknowingly binds a contract to the dark side and becomes another version of an evil entity. They recruit by giving you food with spells on it. Her co-worker (let's call her Jina) kept giving her food. She did wonder why her other co-workers didn't eat when Jina brought food to the office. They already knew but didn't know how to tell my mother, I guess. This keeps on going. Then, one time my mom dreamt of being at a long table at a gathering or party with her co-workers, she dreamt of her boss cutting a big piece of meat. She said while pointing at it, "that's mine." In her dream, she ate the meat and suddenly, she woke up feeling a lump in her throat like she had swallowed something. So weird. She just brushed it off. After that, all of the symptoms of someone turning into a "wakwak" came over her. Like being sleepy around 6:00 PM, smelling unexplained weird smells, and dreaming of flying. Apparently, when you become a "wakwak", as ridiculous as it sounds, there would be a bird that will embed itself in a person's stomach and will come out of the person's mouth at nighttime bringing the person's soul, using it to do whatever dark agendas they have. All I know is they prey on dying people and pregnant women. She went to a witch doctor who gave her a little glass bottle with probably an alcoholic beverage and rolled paper with Bible verses. Probably to take a sip once in a while? I'm not sure, but I did see that bottle. She was keeping it. Then, the witch doctor proceeded to tell her the steps to fully recover. She has to talk about it, everyone how she almost became a wakwak. Then, the final sign came up when the same dream she had repeated, but this time, when she was about to eat the meat, it fell. So, my mother almost became a wakwak. Twice Actually. One when we were younger second when she was assigned somewhere for her work. The person whom she rented a room with was apparently trying to get her to become a wakwak. My mom didn't know anything, so she went to a witch doctor again. Not a good idea at that time, but it did work that time. But still, I know it's a bad idea still. So much weird stuff I heard growing up. I believe in them because of all the testimonies and experiences we had growing up. Like when we were younger, I was still the youngest at that time, and our parents were not at home at that time. We were left with two caretakers. I'm not sure how old I was at that time. I know I was younger than four years old. Our house at that time had a little opening above the main door, but not enough for a person to enter. Then suddenly, a bat came into our house flying wildly. I can still remember the fear permeating the room, the two yayas were screaming trying to drive the bat outside, but it remained. I can still remember though, those red piercing eyes staring right through us; it was so obvious that the bat wanted to hurt my siblings and me. The two caretakers were just being quick to protect us. I pray that they are doing well now. But still, the eyes of the bat, I can't believe I still remember that. Those caretakers really did their job well. That strong grip came to my mind now. Of course, there are a bunch of stories like these. I'm blessed for God to open my eyes and let me know the truth. I know who can protect me from all of these. but I'm not treating my salvation with care. I'm stigmatized from entering another organization. I might ruin it, so they say like I'm some sort of a demon. Still, it brings me back to why those people thought that I was the reason that that family left. I have an inkling that they blamed me because a person asked if I hang out with them at their house, but at that time, I was busy and exhausted with my full-time school and being broke with only having a part-time job. I didn't even know how I survived. Good thing my sister let me stay in their house and let me pay for whatever I could. I really thought I could borrow some money from the bank at that time. But I did not, and I'm already enrolled.

Anyway, that family left because one time, I was absent at that time; people were called in front, and one group was asked to pray over the other group, then the woman got embarrassed for the man, so she did not go to the other group, man and ego, so they left. It does not make sense, but I intend it that way. So, it was so clear they did not leave because of me. I was not even there. We barely see each other anymore. Anyway, I'm not a demon. I'm an average person.

Why do people always think other people are always out to get them. People are not like that. People are good, you know. They are just trying their best to the best of their ability at that moment. Where did I hear that?

I will not forget that pastor who was a seer. Before his arrival, I was excited to see him and for him to see me. Why? Because at the back burner of my mind, I want to know if there is something dark in me, like how other people made me feel. Me too, on my own. But on the first service, the room was already full, so I could not make myself visible to him. But in the late afternoon service, it was in another building; I sat right at the center, but not in front because that would be so obvious. Then suddenly, when he was in the middle of his sermon, he saw me. HE SAW ME. It was like God addressing me. Said the words that I wanted clarification on. I am not a dark being. In fact, I am worth it to be. Oh, if I could videotape that moment. I'm sorry Lord I forgot. That was a defining moment for me. I wanted to remind myself of that very exact moment. I am not a demon. I am not possessed by a demon. I am a normal person. With all the labels I've heard that I admit I have become, I remember as of today, how God defined me at that time. I pray that I will not forget that moment ever again in my life moving forward. This is one of the moments where I don't need anything in my life anymore. Cool Cool Cool.

#practicetypingpost

[kwowze]

i wish i actually had good memories of being drunk with my friends,

but i don’t.

i only know how to fuck myself over with alcohol and god do i drink faster and more than anyone else.

i’ve fucked myself so much that i can’t imagine admitting i’m drunk with anyone or even enjoying being drunk with anyone. 

because it’s bad when it’s me, which is fair.

it’s always bad with me.

i’m never good.

[strayed-quokka]

mother knows best || lee minho

» summary: you hate weddings. even more when it’s for your sister. your mother won’t stop reminding you that it should be you. you’re older, so what’s your excuse? although dreading the day, you realise it may not be as bad when you’ve peaked someone’s interest. and he didn’t bring a plus one. 

» pairing: lee minho x tattooed reader 

» rating: NC-17 which means under 18s do not interact

» genre: fluff, smut, strangers to lovers, happy ending (very cheesy), porn with an attempt at a plot but i abandoned that idea when i realised where it was going

» warnings: readers mother is very condescending, alcohol consumption, swearing, explicit sexual content, sex at a wedding (which takes place in a church), morally probably very wrong (don’t do this, it's religious grounds like respect please), oral sex (m receiving), brief fingering, chocking, light bondage (minho is sick of his tie, whoops), creampie (wear a condom, don’t do this either), nipple piercings, minho is rough, but safe word and gesture exists, if i forget anything let me know because i probably did

» words: 6,409

» a/n: i love minho. there’s not much else to say. i was rotating between a few works to post first in-between my series but this one won in the end and was completed before the others. also first smut, so bare with, but i wanted to indulge. i can't be blamed...

i'll be making a masterlist tomorrow as my wips grow in size 😅

The sun creates a warmth on your skin through the gap in your curtains. It would be a wonderful day to sleep in, if it weren’t for the alarm shattering those hopes and reminding you that today is the day. 

You could’ve waited longer. Whilst your younger sister was practically bouncing on her toes ahead of the big day, you wanted it to take as long as possible to arrive, or better yet, not arrive at all. Though now that it was here, you just wanted to get it over with. 

The biggest problem, really, was your mother. 

You were deemed the failure in your family. You’d rebelled when you were young, slept around in your late teens into your early twenties, and gotten multiple tattoos and piercings before you were technically old enough to do so without parental consent. 

Though you’d mostly learned better from your youth and matured, there was one thing you hadn’t managed to do that your sister had done. Whilst she had had a similar wild phase, it was all forgiven the day she announced her engagement. She’d learned clearly, for one man wanted her for the rest of his life. 

Your mother had been ecstatic. You, not so much, because now everyone looked to you as someone no one wanted, that wasted away even though you were still so young yourself. Hell, you weren’t even out of university, and yet she treated you like you should be well on your way to carrying your third child. 

Your father didn’t necessarily agree with your mother, but he also never argued with her. He’d tell her once, maybe twice if you were lucky, to go a bit easier on you, but he’d give up the minute she’d argue back that it wasn’t good enough. 

You weren’t doing good enough. Who cares about your degree and your ability to live alone and manage financially for the most part with your job on the side? It didn’t matter to her, because it wasn’t what she’d wanted for you.

“Isn’t your sister's wedding today? Why’re you in bed for?” your best friend, Hyunjin, peaks into your room that you hadn’t bothered shutting for the night, aware that you had to be up early and awake himself.

“I’m working on it,” you groan, pushing your body up with the little energy you can muster, staring at your best friend who’s wearing a matching pyjama set, holding a worn mug of hot coffee with his newly dyed hair completely disheveled.

“I’m sorry I can’t come,” you sigh, getting up to pat his chest in a way that’s almost condescending.

“It’s okay. You have a life. Besides, if I brought you as a plus one, my mother may start feeling hopeful,” you laugh, and Hyunjin shakes his head in amusement as he follows you into the kitchen. 

In your first year at uni, you’d been stuck in a small dorm room, but the minute you met Hyunjin, the two of you clicked like two missing puzzle pieces, enough to make you not think twice about sharing a flat with him close to campus. 

Your mother still thought you lived in the dorms. Not that she had to know. She knew of Hyunjin, of course, but she’d be mortified to hear that you lived with a man such as him. He was handsome but a mischievous influence that slept around as he pleased. You didn’t mind it, as long as he warned you ahead of time, and he always respected you and allowed you to tell him no, not one today. 

“She really isn’t giving up on it, huh?” you shake your head, pouring a capsule into the coffee machine for your own, much needed kick of caffeine. 

“Not even a little,” sighing, you turn to look at your friend as he chews on his lower lip. He’s thinking, you can practically see the wheels in his head turning and know him well enough by now to read every expression on his face, “what?”

“So… since you won’t be back late, I can bring someone over tonight, right?” Hyunjin smirks, and you wish there was a pillow close enough to throw at him whilst he hides his laugh behind his mug. 

“I hate you,” you turn away, noting Hyunjin’s presence only when he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“C’mon, don’t be like that. I’ll have her out before you’re home.”

“You better. Or I’ll break your dick,” the blonds grip around your waist tenses, and even if he knows you never actually go through with your threats, the very thought of this one makes him vary enough. 

“She’ll definitely be out.”

You’re thankful for one thing. The wedding isn’t far out of the city. A three hour drive and you leave just a little past seven, set to be there before eleven, which left more than enough hours to get ready yourself, maybe console your panicking sister if you were in the mood, and on top of it, get some alcohol into your system whilst facing your mother. 

The church was beautiful, old stone making up the exterior with colorful glass panels that you couldn’t see through, and even though you could never see yourself getting married in this location yourself (if you ever got married), you did see it’s appeal. 

Besides, you knew your sister was trying to get into your mothers even better graces by choosing the same location that your parents had married in maybe twenty-five odd years ago. 

“You’re here! Thought maybe you’d decide not to come,” your mother was an eccentric woman, dressed in a horrid bright blue colour with too much jewelry and make up, but it kept her happy. She drew a lot of attention this way, but you’d gotten used to it and realised as you got older that really, she just needed those extra glances to boost her own low self esteem. 

You still hated it though and you often made sure that she knew how she embarrassed you by drawing so much attention to herself even on the simplest days of running every day errands.

“I’m perfectly early.”

“You can never be too early for your sisters wedding,” she tsks, dragging you by the wrist to the building connected to the church, where you knew the reception would be held. The two were connected, bound together by an exterior hall that surrounded itself with flowers and well maintained shrubbery, “anyway, you’re here. We need to make sure you look the part. I’ve seen so many handsome me-”

“Mother, you cannot be serious. It’s a wedding!” 

“So? There are no rules as long as it’s not the groom little lady,” you groan, following her like a stomping child that’s frustrated as she drags you around. 

“Here, in you go,” she shoves you inside a room, one you note has your little sister sat in front of a mirror in her wedding dress. She does look beautiful, but it’s further a reminder that you’re so out of place, “you didn’t get another tattoo did you?”

Your mother scoffs, raises your arms up and lifts the sleeves of your jacket to examine you. Shaking your head, you sigh, “no. Thanks for checking.”

“I’m so happy you’re here! I can’t do this, y/n!” man, you were never going to get ready on time, were you?

It took you two whole hours to get your sister to a point in which she felt confident enough in herself and the dress she’d chosen to no longer be second guessing every little detail of her wedding. 

It took another two for you to get ready whilst your mother hovered over you in your navy blue bridesmaid dress, scoffing at the amount of tattoos that laid on display. The dress was sleeveless and cut inwards at the waist, exposing skin and creating the illusion of a smaller figure, but it also showed the colours on your ribs.

Your mother was not happy.

“Do we have a long one? Why didn’t you get her more coverage?” 

She made you feel terrible. You didn’t mind your body, but it was simple things like this that made you doubt everything you saw in the mirror. Maybe she was right. Hyunjin told you otherwise, but maybe you really were just single because you weren’t feminine enough for suitors. 

“God, you have to cover these things. It’s not very church like or ladylike,” your mother comes back a few seconds later with two bandages, holding them out for you to take, “here. one for each nipple.”

Normally, you’d fight it much more. But it was only a day and she’d been exhausting you with ridicule for the past four hours to no end, complaining and nitpicking down to every little detail and you were just so tired of it. 

She’s having me cover my nipple piercings, help. 

You message Hyunjin, though your face is frowning as you attempt to humour yourself whilst writing to him. Not a second later comes a reply. 

Tell her to fuck off. Took a lot of balls to go through that pain. Like to see her suck it up.

You chuckle, putting your phone down as you debate just doing as she says, and in the end she wins. 

Only for today. If you’d please her just for today with this, then you wouldn’t have to see her for a while and could do as you wished. 

You look good. 

He reassures you, and you wish you could call him to feel a little better. 

Thank you. Gotta go before she takes my phone. Love you.

You feel your phone vibrate a minute later, Hyunjin writing the same two words back to you with a heart and you quickly hide it away. Your mother was one to hover over your shoulder any chance she could, and she’d never shut up if she saw your screen now. 

It would probably take you a whole day to convince her that you were only friends with Hyunjin. And then another day on top of it in which she’d ridicule you and wonder how you could be friends with a young man without feeling attracted to him.

It was going to be a long evening. 

Standing at the altar as a bridesmaid now had you realising that you actually didn’t know your sisters future husband well at all, which also bled out into his circle of friends. You couldn’t say you recognized a single one of them, but god, if one hadn’t immediately caught your eyes the second you saw him. 

He was unreal, with sharp brown eyes that looked colder than you would assume he actually was, brown hair parted in the middle and a dark suit similar to your shade of dress, maybe a few tones darker, hugging his clearly very lean and built body. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him and he’d noticed it too. 

As soon as he saw you walk down the aisle ahead of the bride, you’d locked eyes and he felt weaker. Never in his life had he seen someone so beautiful to him, for you were unique, he could tell just by the way you carried yourself and the way your skin bled into an array of colours on your arms and the little he saw on your ribs. 

He wondered what else you hid under your dress, and quickly scolded himself for even going there. 

He was at a wedding as the best man to one of his closest friends. This was not the time to be thinking of a beautiful stranger that likely was related to who his friend was marrying. 

Not good. Yet he couldn’t control himself, for his eyes suddenly only found you.

Though whilst you caught his stare, with the way he looked and carried himself, you could only think two things.

One, there's no way he came alone.

And two, you hadn’t had sex in months and it wasn’t something that usually bothered you, nor was it something that you usually thought of, but now it was the only thing on your mind. Your whole body was telling you that you were desperate. 

Honestly, you were relieved that you’d let your mother force those bandages on you, for they also hid that you were just a little bit more on the edge of arousal than usual. 

“At least dance. Find someone. There’s plenty of single men,” your mother comes up to you, a drink in hand whilst you were on your second glass of wine and not even a little tipsy. 

“Not in the mood right now,” well, to be honest, falling into any man's arms right now may be dangerous, though you kept looking for the same one. He was laughing with a girl, though his body language was somewhat stiff, as if he didn’t want any part in the conversation. 

He only confirmed it when the girl walked away and he visibly relaxed, having a sip of his drink before your mother dragged you out of your gaze by clicking her fingers before you. 

“This is ridiculous. What did I do wrong? Your sister turned out perfect,” well, you had many stories that said otherwise. 

“Why is it so bad that I’m single? I’m still doing so much with my life. You just won’t acknowledge it,” sighing, you rest your hand on the table, earning you another distasteful scoff. 

“Don’t be like that. You can’t have kids forever. Nor will you stay this young. Men will lose interest. Now… how about that one?” 

She points at a random man, one that is staring at the drinks assortment by the open bar in a way that tells you he’d bore you. He knows nothing about his liqour.

Pass.

“Fine, maybe that one?” 

A handsome choice, you admit, but something puts you off. 

“He seems boring.”

“They’re all boring to you,” she snarls, getting up in what is a sign that hopefully she’ll leave you be. 

You should've known better.

“Your mother tells me you’re in desperate need of a husband,” your ears perk up whilst you let your pointer finger run along the rim of the wine glass. You haven’t seen the man, but his voice has a calming effect, running smooth and elegantly as he speaks to you. 

He’s leaned close, you can tell in your peripheral by how you can make out the colour of his suit, “tell her to fuck off.”

The man laughs, and it sounds almost like he’s mocking but not towards you. It’s bitter and sarcastic, enough to have you curious when he takes a seat next to you unprompted. He’s not put off by you, in fact, you’ve intrigued him. 

“Well, she insisted I speak to you. Handsome man as myself. At least she claims-”

“Look-” you’re about to give him an earful, but the second you turn your head and see him, all words leave you and you feel like you’ve lost your breath. 

Fuck, he’s even better looking up close. His skin is incredibly smooth, his eyes a warm colour though they still seem to hide something you can’t make out. And he’s smirking at you, as if teasing you knowingly, because he knows with confidence, why you held your breath. 

“Good lord, who sculpted you?” 

“My parents sacrificed their first born for a do over. Me,” he jokes, and you feel a similar ease that you do with Hyunjin, though you’ve only just met the man. 

“I can see that. They must be proud,” the man nods, resting his elbow against the table as he gazes at you. His stare is intense, maybe it’s the eyes, but your confident enough to not look away. 

“I’m Minho.”

“Y/N. I’m the sister,” the very single one. 

“Ah, well, I’m the best friend. Of the groom,” he clarifies, and you find yourself easing into this conversation quite quickly, “another drink?” 

You nod at his offer, and Minho gets up to move to the bar as you watch his retreating figure. You’d definitely be telling Hyunjin about this man when you’d get home, that’s for sure. 

“I see mother sent someone over,” your sister grins, making you turn your head to see her stand there with a knowing look. 

“She did.”

“You should go for it,” you could. Hell, you definitely should, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d actually hit on someone. 

“I want to take his clothes off. I really do,” his hands move around the two glasses of wine that you know he’s bringing over, and you hate how quickly your mind thinks of his fingers wrapping around something else. 

It really has been too long. 

“Please, no sleeping around at my wedding. Ask him out instead. Civilized!” 

She walks away and Minho comes back not a second later, not questioning you on the brides appearance, “didn’t know which red you had. I just got us the cabernet.”

“I’ll drink anything anyway. Cheers?” You raise your glass and he smiles at you, doing the same as you clink them together. 

“Cheers.”

You don’t know how many glasses you were down, but you know Minho far more intimately now during the hour you’d known him than you knew some people after months or even years. He was interesting and unashamed, answering any question honestly and you decided to do the same in return. The two of you were in a corner, in your own little world, laughing whilst his hand had started to rest on your thigh. 

“Please, you actually pretended to catch him cheating?” Minho was near tears and so were you, laughing at your best friends predicament in which he’d brought a girl home that simply wouldn’t take a hint, and Hyunjin had practically begged you to leave your lecture early and save him as a pretend girlfriend. 

It had worked brilliantly. 

“I am indeed, a hero,” you chuckle, the man in front of you leaning closer while he laughs, shaking his head. 

“That’s brilliant. I could learn a thing or two from him.”

“He’s a manwhore. Doubt he has anything useful for you,” the two of you calm down, and you don’t miss that his eyes briefly flicker down your body, down to where his hand rests under the table. It’s not discreet, but you know no one would catch it unless they looked. 

“So, what else can you tell me about you then?” 

“Depends on what you want to know,” you shrug, and the man before you thinks for a minute, leaning back in his chair. 

“I want to know about…” he trails, removing the hand from your thigh as he slowly lets it drift up to where your ribcage is slightly exposed, hovering over your tattoos, “what else you’re hiding under here that I don’t know about?”

Your brain short circuits, and he doesn’t miss the way you adjust in your seat, his cold fingers making you shiver yet igniting you just the same, “you mean my tattoos?”

“Not just,” it would be too easy to kiss him, but the two of you aren’t in a particularly discreet place, and you know your mother would have your head for causing a scene. She may want you off the market, but not kissing strangers at your sister's wedding.

“I have my nipples pierced,” really, that’s the first thing you think of?

Minho perks up, curiosity getting the better of him as he studies the endless jewelry in your ears. It made sense to him, that you’d be hiding more under your clothes, but he didn’t entirely expect it either, “I’ve never actually seen that on anyone.” 

You shrug, but your head feels like it’s spinning and the room feels hot, “I like them.”

“Show me?” 

Slipping away had taken a few tries. Mainly because you knew your mother was somehow always hyper aware of where you were or where you were headed. That, and the two of you had alternated between bumping into people who were eager to talk to you both. In the end, you simply dragged Minho behind a wall that led into a hallway that no one was currently in, though you couldn’t say for how long that would be. 

“I swear my mum has a tracker on me,” you sigh, just about tipsy enough to flash your nipples in a very public hallway that was just round an open archway to everyone else. 

You were surprised with yourself, how much that risk turned you on. 

“You have me curious,” he licks his lips, taking his fingers and letting them brush over the fabric, right over your left nipple. Your entire body shakes, and it would almost be embarrassing how turned on you were by him if you hadn’t noticed how his eyes darkened. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, quickly fiddling with the bandages under the fabric as he watches you in amusement, “she made me cover them.”

“Gee, your mum really doesn’t want you to be your own person, huh?”

“Wouldn’t you love to know,” Minho looks at you again, hovering over you as he traps you between the wall, and you honestly would risk everything in this hallway now if he asked you to, “now, where were we?” 

His tone is lower and he’s not hiding the way he stares at your covered breasts, feeling the fabric between his fingers as your breath hitches. Your nipples harden under his touch and he feels it along with the metal, making him smirk. You don’t know what he’s going to do, and the anticipation is killing you to find out. 

You push your legs together, hoping he doesn’t notice as he loops his fingers around the fabric of your top and pushes it to one side, exposing your left nipple to the cold air. You have to catch your lower lip between your teeth, biting back a moan that makes him chuckle. 

“I like it. A lot,” his breathing is heavier, you notice it now that he’s so close to you, “fuck, I can’t believe how sexy you are.”

“Me? Please, I wanted to fuck you the second I saw you.”

“I noticed,” you hit him lightly on the arm, though he’s entirely unphased, “I really, really want to do things to you right now that I don’t think your mother would agree with.”

He pushes the fabric towards the center of your chest on the right side, releasing your right breast to the cool air as well, both of your nipples exposed for him to play with if he wanted to, “be quiet.”

The demand makes you want to do the opposite, watching him bend down and take your left breast into his mouth, teasing the nipple and running his tongue along the metal, squeezing the other one with his hand whilst you try not to cry out. You’re convinced without a doubt that the man before you is the sexiest person you’ll ever have the luck of meeting. 

And he for some reason, is incredibly eager for you. 

A loud moan leaves your body before you can urge it away, making Minho stop as he gazes up at you. His eyes are dangerous, and you know he’s in full control of the situation and how he wants it to play out. He’s twisted your body around in seconds, pressing you into the wall with his chest against your back.

“You’re needy as hell. How longs it been?” you aren’t sure, but even if you’d just had sex yesterday, you think the effect would be the same, for he’s intoxicating to you. 

“We should go somewhere else,” and you’re inclined to agree. His hand wraps around your throat, pushing you back into him, making you arch slightly as you feel his hardening cock against your ass. He swallows one of your moans by clamping his hands over your lips, but your eagerness doesn’t get lost on him.

“I take that as a yes.”

The church was eerily empty, near abandoned for the evening aside from the decorations that everyone had left behind, and Minho quickly lures you inside between heavy kisses and fingers digging into your exposed flesh. He leads you up the balcony overlooking the seats and front where the priest usually stands, and morally, it’s entirely twisted and you know certainly that if there is a god, you’re being sent straight to hell. 

“Here? Really?” 

“Well, I don’t like public bathrooms and no one’s gonna be in here. Ceremony already happened,” he’s right. Technically, people are more likely to walk into the bathroom as well.

“Though if you say no, we don’t-” you shut him up with a kiss, laying down on the bench and pulling him on top of you by his tie. He grins, his hand on your thigh that he pushes to the side to pull himself between you. 

“You have no idea how bad I want you,” he’s panting, and even if he’s seemed perfectly controlled until this point, you know he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him. 

Kissing him again, you work on unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his tie, causing him some frustration as it gets caught around his neck. He sighs, yanking it off him and stripping himself out of everything but his underwear, standing before you with obvious intent to rip you apart. 

And you want him to. 

“Are you gonna behave and be quiet?” He’s testing you and you almost want to see him snap and lose all reserve, watching your every move as you undo the back of your dress by your neck, standing just to let it pool on the floor. Only your thong is left on you, showing so much to him, you may as well be naked. 

“Fuck,” he groans, losing all inhabition as you get on your knees. The floor is cold, an uncomfortable old wood but you don’t care enough, looking up at him.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” and how could he say no? You looked so pretty, your naked body on near full display aside from the thin string barely covering your labia, and he quickly gains an idea and picks up the tie he’d discarded on the floor.

“Trust me?” 

He’s asking, and even if you should maybe reconsider, you nod far too quickly. He hasn’t given you a reason not to. 

“If it’s too much-”

“I’ll blink three times quick or say red. Easy,” it’s almost charming and strangely cute, how you trust him, and his heart swells just a little at the way you do. He forgets all too quickly though, bending down to bring your hands behind your back, tying them together by the wrists.

“Good?” 

“Good,” you give him the green light, and he strips himself off the last item of clothing he’d been wearing. 

Based on the bulge in his pants, you’d expected him to be above average, but his cock ends up being bigger than you’d thought. You felt your thighs clench, the wetness between your legs clinging to the fabric you wore.

“Don’t just stare,” he grabs your agape jaw, bringing the tip of his cock onto your waiting lips, and it’s near embarrassing how eagerly you swallow his precum, taking the head into your mouth and moaning when you do. Minho hisses, watching inches of his dick disappearing past your lips, “good girl.”

You had never quite considered yourself submissive before, but hearing Minho praise you this way brought something out in you. It made you want to hear it again, that you were good just for him. You moan, taking him out of your mouth, trying to move your arms but they’re bound behind you. Somehow, it turns you on more, the control he has over you. 

Licking along the vein that prominently runs along from his shaft to the tip, you groan and look up into his eyes. He’s looking back at you hungrily, gripping your hair harshly with one hand, your jaw opening up as he grips it with his other hand, “open.”

You obey, feeling him push his thick cock inside your mouth until it hits the back of your throat and you nearly cough, tears welling up just a little in the corner of your eyes, though you don’t let them fall. When he pulls out, you take a sharp breath, coughing as a trail of spit breaks between your lips and his cock, falling to your thighs. 

“You can do better,” you want to do better. It’s a challenge, and he doesn’t wait or give you time before he’s pushing his cock to the back of your throat. This time, he releases the pressure of the hold he has on your hair just enough to draw you back, letting you breathe with him stuffing your mouth full, but seconds later he takes it again.

You feel the head hit the back of your throat, making you gag and moan over his cock again, and he laughs almost sinister, “you like it?”

Yes. It’s degrading, you know, but something about him makes it so easy to want. He moves again, starting to fuck into your throat, making you spit and cough as tears begin spilling from your eyes. Your make up must be ruined, but you look up at him and he’s still so desperately hungry for you that none of it matters. 

You twist around, desperate to free yourself from the way he’s restrained you, and you know you were right in trusting him when he understands and pulls himself away, moving behind you to undo the tie that’s caused the faintest red marks on your skin. 

“Minho… please,” but you don’t know what you’re begging for. He’s still behind you, you feel his presence as he brings his hand around to your front to fondle your breasts, making you push your thighs apart as he chuckles.

“What do you want hmm? I can do so much-”

A loud ringing interrupts your thoughts, and you realise your mothers calling you. Minho grabs the phone, handing it to you, “answer.”

It’s a demand, and he’s expecting you to say yes. He pushes your back down, head pressed against his suit that now lies on the floor, cushioning you slightly as he moves the string of your thong to the side. 

“I said answer,” he slaps your ass, making you jolt, body trembling as you try to calm your breathing. 

“H-hello?”

“Where’d you go young lady?” You plan to answer her, but your voice is caught when you feel Minho’s fingers spread the wetness over your soaking pussy, making you squeeze your eyes shut. He’s going to kill you. 

“Fresh a-air?” you try. Maybe this could be the day you disappoint her further by claiming you were a smoker. 

“Is that kid with you? You better not be up to something funny. I’m coming outside-”

“No wa-” Minho reacts quicker than you, pushing his fingers coated with your juices into your mouth, expecting you to suck on them and you do without having to be told, closing your eyes in pleasure. 

“She is with me. Her head hurt so I told her fresh air might help. Bit too much wine, you know?”

He sounds so… normal. 

Are you the only one pathetically desperate out of the two, or is he just way better at hiding it?  

“I will. Twenty minutes max. Promise,” you hear the sound of him hanging up, and suddenly his attention is all back on you, pulling his fingers from your mouth, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s amused, “you know, when I first saw you, I didn’t think you’d be so needy.”

He’s a bit too smug, yet that’s also part of his charm. 

“Guess I’ll just have to taste you again later,” he whispers into your ear, and your entire body reacts to the way he speaks in a way you’d never experienced, “right now I don’t have the time.”

You feel the tip of his cock against your slick entrance, and normally you knew better, that he’d probably have to ease you into his size with his long fingers, but you’re both on borrowed time and you’ve never been this wet before. 

It still stings, feeling him push into you, and you’re grateful that he understands without you telling him, that he needs to go slow. You let out a low moan, feeling his hand on your back, pushing you down to an angle as your walls tighten around him. 

He groans, letting you adjust though he’s never struggled so much before, because the way you fit around him is as if you’d been molded to him, “jesus, you sure you’re not a virgin?”

“Shut up,” he moves slightly, making you whimper, pushing your ass back into his hips, and he knows it’s your okay to have him move. 

“Say that again,” he growls, moving in and out of you at an agonizing pace, almost so slow that you want to cry and beg, “I dare you.”

“P-please. M-Minho,” he could taunt you more. It may even get a kick out of him, but maybe he’s had you endure enough for one night. Maybe he’d be nice.

“As you wish,” he adjusts his pace, going from painfully slow to slamming into you, making your whole body move and your knees scream at the uncomfortable floor, but you don’t care. You’re a mess for him, your moans echoing throughout the building and you wonder if it’s loud enough to travel through to the other rooms. 

You wonder if your mother will hear it. 

Yet you don’t care. 

“Fuck, more,” you beg, clenching around him as he groans, feeling his warm chest against your back as he pushes your body up, supporting you with a strong arm around your waist and another with his hand around your throat. 

“You take my cock so well, don’t you? Making sure everyone hears you like the whore you are for me,” one of your hands claw at the arm around your waist, not in an attempt to get him off you, but in a desperate attempt to hold on to something before you collapse under him. 

“M-Minho. Oh god!” 

You know you won’t last long. Not with the way he slams into you at such a delicious pace, his cock hitting deep inside you, and the fingers catching your breath around your throat only add to your arousal. 

“Maybe I’ll make your mother extra happy, give her some grandchildren while we're at it when I cum inside you,” it nearly sets you over the edge, the way he speaks to you so filthy, drawing the line between right and wrong but not enough to make you question it.

“Yes, fuck yes! P-please cum in me,” the back of your head rests on his collarbone, and you know his eyes are on you, the hand around your waist going to tease your clit between his fingers. 

“You’re so beautiful, fuck,” and it breaks you. He breaks you into pieces with something so simple, and you’re left a writhing mess as you clench around him. Minho feels the way your walls tighten around his cock, making him hiss, biting down on your shoulder to silence himself as he trembles. 

You feel the way he fills you up, his body stilling and clinging to your own through the heat you both exude. You're both panting and struggling to breath as he drops his hand from your throat and catches you just as you want to fall forward and collapse. 

“Don’t f-fall and hurt y-yourself,” he’s teasing, out of breath and completely spent but still aware enough to make sure you aren’t in too much pain. 

Minho slowly moves, though it’s intense enough to make you whimper desperately, stopping him by moving your arms back to his hips, “p-please.”

He grins, kissing your shoulder blade, soothing any pain or discomfort you may have anywhere else by distracting you, “you want me to stay inside you? Hmm?”

It’s shameful to admit you do, that you like how he feels around you, keeping his cum mixed with your own orgasm inside you, but eventually it makes you both ache too much, the overstimulation making him break away. 

You hear a thud, seeing that he’s fallen straight onto his back next to you, his chest rising rapidly as he’s trying to recollect his thoughts and breathing, covered in sweat. He looks beautiful like this, angelic and blissful “that was insane.”

You’re inclined to agree, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure as you lay next to him, staring up at the beautifully sculpted ceiling as he pulls you into his arms, “get dressed. I’ll drive you to my hotel.”

He kisses your forehead, a gesture that’s surprisingly sweet and unexpected. 

“What about my mother?” 

“You’ve just had an orgasm and you’re tired. You should shower and get some rest. I’ll get you out of it. Promise.”

And just like earlier, you trust that he will. That he’s true to his word like he’s proven, letting him dress you, cleaning up the mess on your inner thigh as best as he can with the little he has, before sneaking you away to his car. 

True to his word, he somehow works some magic that you really need to learn from him, for your mother doesn’t call you anymore after he’s exchanged some words with her over the phone, leaving you alone for the night as the beautiful man you’d only met hours ago, draws you a bath and orders you some food. 

He was right too, for the food arrives and he’s about to tell you, but you’re already fast asleep in his bed. 

Minho smiles, seeing you wrapped up in a t-shirt he’d lent you, pushing the covers over your bare legs before tangling his fingers between your hair. 

His heart feels full, seeing you there, and he knows quite quickly that this is it. As strange as it may be, it clicks into place as he watches the way you rest, feeling completely safe under his careful gaze.

His eyes soften, becoming warmer, as if the look you'd seen on him just hours ago finally cleared into something softer, less cold.

You’re the one he was waiting for.

dedicated to a friend who actually did have sex in a church, even though i don't necessarily condone it.

everything in this story is fictional and in no way represent any member of stray kids in real life.

feedback and comments always appreciated especially considering i've never managed to go through with smut like this 😅 also i am entirely clueless on how to tag smut so... pfff i tried

do not copy or repost

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.

A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

+++++

Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.

4:25 A.M.

You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.

+++++

"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."

"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.

There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.

Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."

"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.

The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?

+++++

Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.

Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.

"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."

"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.

"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.  

Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.

He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."

Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."

"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.

You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.

"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.

Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.

"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.

"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.

Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"

"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.

+++++

"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.

"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"

"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.

Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.

Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."

Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.

+++++

As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.

"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.

Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.

Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.

"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"

"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.

He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part.  I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."

"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."

+++++

After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.

"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.

"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.

"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"

Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"

You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.

"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."

"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.

Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.

"I would like that," he answers softly.

He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.  

The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.

Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.

If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.

In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.  

At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

Tag List:

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[arcxnumvitae]

Fly on the wall Dawn about violet

@cxrsedsouls || A Drabble of My Muse Talking About Yours

"I mean, she's-- she's perfect!" Dawn's chin rested dejectedly atop her hands at Cornelius' bartop. "I mean, usually Zeus is screwing up things one way or another in all the stories, but for once it seems like he actually did something correct when he made her. She'd be the perfect person to lead the pack beside Damian!" As bitter a taste as it left in her mouth. She reached out for her glass, only to have another hand come into view to slide it away.

"Ah ah." Cornelius sat in the chair next to her, beer in hand and a brow raised. "I can already tell alcohol and this conversation won’t mix well, and last thing I need is you crying all over my countertops." His cousin's face scowled at that and he had to hold back a laugh as she stuck out her tongue, but soon the brief air of brevity brought about by the teasing dissipated.

Dawn straightened up in her chair with a sigh. "But seriously, it just feels like she'd...do way better than me, and without even breaking a sweat too. I mean, sometimes I can't even get Damian to actually talk to me when something's bothering him." Her fingers laced together as honey brown eyes stared down at her hands’ nervous fiddling. “I-I don’t think I’ve ever been able to get Damian to open up to me when he’s got something on his mind. And I dunno, maybe even he knows subconsciously I’m not cut out for helping him lead the pack one day.”

“But you love the pack,” Cornelius pointed out.

“Yeah, with all my heart. But just because you love something doesn’t automatically make you the best at taking care of it.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Sometimes I barely feel like I can take care of myself.” 

Silence stretched from Cornelius, one heavy with hesitation. They both knew there were a number of things she could have been referring to, and that was exactly the problem. Cornelius took a swig of his beer. “How have you been handling it, by the way? ...Everything, I mean. The time spent running from Thanatos, your parents, Will, everything after, all of it. That’s a lot to handle.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her response came immediately. Too quickly.

“You should.”

“I feel like-- I feel like if I start, and if I start crying, with all of it...I might never stop. Like I just might shatter apart the moment I try to deal with it all. It’s been decades, but sometimes I still feel like that lost little girl from Brooklyn.”

Cornelius sat back in his seat with a heavy sigh as he fixed his cousin with a look from eyes the same exact shade as hers. “Well there’s your problem then. How are you going to tackle taking care of the pack when you’re still dealing with frankly a frightening amount of trauma.”

“I thought you weren’t good with people, computer-head.” Dawn snorted.

“I’m not. That’s why I’m suggesting, as someone who loves you, maybe try getting some help? Try finding a therapist or someone to talk to?”

“Seriously, man? The hell would I even start? ‘Yes, so, it all started when I fell in love with a man possessed by the Greek personification of death. But just wait until we get to my boyfriend who turns into a wolf sometimes.’ I’m pretty sure they’d try to have me committed and I can’t say I’d blame them.”

“Har har.” The look he gave her was unamused. “I say, if the world’s big enough for vampires, gods, and werewolves to be a thing, a therapist who can help you with all that is small in comparison. If you want to, we can look. The internet’s a huge place and I happen to be a master of it.” Still, from the furrow of her brow, she seemed unconvinced. “At least promise me you’ll think some more about it?”

“If you give me back my glass I’ll promise.”

[nishisun]

suna rintaro is NOT a genius.

summary: you loved the idea of soulmates. suna rintaro didn’t. it isn’t that hard to put two and two together to realize that maybe people with different opinions on things don’t belong together.

part 2

a/n: this was literally supposed to be a series, i gave up on it because i just didn’t like the way it turned out. it used to be called “out of my league” and this was the intro. i also renamed it. just emptying drafts!! please don’t get confused with the random timeskip, once again, this was a part of a series i never ended up posting😭

WARNING!!: suggestive themes, mentions of death, idk kinda angsty but tell me if i missed anything

Soulmates. Whatever the hell that means. The idea of soulmates is something I truly don’t understand. It’s bullshit, honestly. It’s all-pervasive.

My mother always told me I'd eventually find "the one.” I used to believe that when I was younger of course. But in my opinion? It’s all cliches. It's unhelpful, and it's certainly not true. Destiny is an excuse for the weak. Why do you think most marriages end in divorce? It's 'cause people who believe they are “destined to be" assume everything will fall into place without any effort. I don't appreciate people pontificating bullshit like that just to make me feel better, especially if they haven't found their "soulmate" themselves. My sister once told me, “People who believe in soulmates are more likely to break up and encounter more difficulty in their relationship, which will lead them to give up on one another eventually.”

I sure do believe that.

My mother is a prime example. Fumeiko Suna, my dear mother. Well, she clearly hasn’t found hers. I found out when I came home after a tedious day of school in 5th grade and found my dear mother on the floor crying, with bruises all over her face and a busted lip.

Initially, I thought a burglar had broken into our home once again, but if that were the case then there would’ve been missing furniture. But there wasn’t.

In fact, the place seemed cleaner than usual. When I ran up to her and asked her what had happened, there he was. The devil himself. My father. He reeked of alcohol, and I could detect his shadow towering over me. It’s funny how that I think of it. I used to fear that son of a bitch. Now, I’m way taller than him, and hate his guts. I turned around to see a faux-sympathetic smile plastered on his face.

He explained how my mother was being “clumsy” and had fell and busted her lip on one of the corners of the kitchen table and when I turned back around to face my mother, she smiled gently and nodded in agreement. She didn’t say anything after that.

It was then I realized my father had beat my mother to a pulp.

Long story short, when I found it was my father, sure, I was frightened. In fact, I remember going into my siblings’ rooms to inform them, they shrugged it off and told me that dad had been doing it for a while now.

Over time, when my dad had found out that I was aware, he didn't mind beating the absolute shit out of my mother in front of all three of us. This was when my burning hatred for that man started. Nobody in the house even attempted to stop him. I did a few times, though. He took all his anger out on me. At least my mom had a break for the day.

I almost pitied my mother. Almost. Maybe if she was strong enough to leave him, then yeah, I’d feel bad. But she still decides to stay with his sorry ass. It’s pathetic. It’s unrequited love or whatever you call it. How could she still love that asshole?

I mean, I’m not even going to lie, I’m an asshole too, but I’m definitely not my dad. I would never want to be him. He’s not someone I looked up to, he doesn’t do anything inspirational. He’s a businessman. He travels the majority of the time, and I’m pretty sure my mom invites men over when he’s gone. I don’t care enough to find out. But if I ever hear some guy rearranging my mom’s guts, I’ll kill him. I don’t even blame my mother. What she’s doing is wrong, she knows it and so do both of my older siblings. But they don't seem to care so why should I?

Who knows why she just won’t leave him. Maybe it’s cause they don’t want to ruin how people view our “picture perfect” family. I wonder what they’d say. “I thought the Suna’s were the ideal family? I guess not.”

My dad would probably lose it if he heard that.

Both my mother and my father are the cause of this broken family of mine. They never fed me or any of my siblings the love we always desired when we were younger. They never came to any of my volleyball games when I was younger. They never applauded me for the little recitals we’d have in class in primary school. They were never even here for most of my childhood. They always put money first and left us with the housekeepers. Hell, the housekeepers probably know me better than my own parents.They failed as parents. I despise them for it. They’re most likely the reason I am the way I am, but to be honest?

I don’t give a fuck.

In fact, I should thank them! Because of how they “raised” me, i’m extremely blunt, which is why people respect me. I use the hatred I have for my family and take it out on people and no, I’m not proud of that. I may be a heartless asshole, but I like that people fear me. The hell? Does that make me a sadist? Either way, people know to never fuck with me cause I’d fuck their shit up. I���ve overheard many people say it’s ‘cause of my privilege. It probably is. Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure can buy you many other things.

If my parents were broke, I’d probably be expelled from school by now. Abuse of alcohol and drugs are forbidden on school property. I don’t even take them at school, I somewhat care about my education and health, but sometimes I just need to blow some steam. Even if I did, nobody’s gonna say shit since my dad is the head of Japan’s board of education. How did his ass even get there?

Call me lonely or cynical. Maybe I am. But how is that a bad thing? Why do people need a significant other to rely on? What, a soulmate is just going to turn my life upside down then suddenly bring me happiness? Pfft, I’m gonna need actual proof that shit like that still happens. I’ve only seen shit like that in fairy tale movies. It’s whatever, though. I can live with being alone. I’ve basically been alone my whole life and it isn’t as bad as people make it.

You loved the idea of having a soulmate. The thought of meeting someone who just understood you, accepted you for who you were, and most importantly, loved you excited you. You couldn’t wait to meet your soulmate.

But recently, you weren’t sure soulmates existed.

When your older sister, Akira, came into your room and burst into tears, it frightened you. Your older sister, the one who’d always provide you advice on relationships and how to keep one was in your room sobbing hysterically because hers hadn’t worked out.

“I just can't believe it,” she sobbed.

You couldn’t believe it either. Your sister had recently gotten engaged to her boyfriend of 9 years. They started dating at the age of 15 and managed to make things work out even after high school, and out of all those years of dating, they never broke up. Not even once.

They’d go on romantic dates on Saturdays and they’d always write love letters to one another every day, just to remind one another of how grateful they were to have each other in their lives. On Halloween, they’d dress up as fictional characters from TV shows and books and take cute selfies and bake a bunch of sweets. They’d invite you to come bake with them, but you would politely deny. You knew they were only offering so you wouldn’t feel left out, which you appreciated.

Of course, they’d argue every now and then, but at the end of the day, they always managed to talk things out. Oh to have a relationship like theirs. They were everything you wanted to have in a relationship and more.

“I really thought he was the one for me, y’know?” No, you don’t know. But that doesn't matter. What mattered was cheering your sister up.

“Maybe he wasn’t ‘the one’ Akira, and that’s okay! People come and go all the time, soulmates come and go all the time as well-”

“You still believe soulmates are real, huh?” she let out a humorless laugh and sniffed her nose, “What If I missed my one shot at love, Y/N? What if I lost my soulmate?”

That’s some deep shit.

Now that you think about it, were soulmates real? Soulmates come and go, yes, you’re aware of that, but even though they leave, it’s always temporary. Soulmates always find a way back to their other half, the piece that completes them.

Your dad never made it back to your mother.

He died in a car crash 5 years ago. Your mother and father had been arguing because she claimed your father was cheating on her since he wouldn’t let her check his phone.

You were 13 at the time. Your sister Akira was accompanying you in your room, listening to them arguing back and forth with one another. There was furniture flying across the room, glass breaking, and both of them throwing curses at each other. You were scared. They never argued in front of you and your sister. They'd bicker sometimes, but it was never anything too deep.

Eventually, your father had enough of your mother’s false accusations, and out of anger, he packed his things and left home. For weeks. It wasn’t until one of your uncles called your mother and broke the news. She didn’t take it very well.

Late 2012-early 2013.

Not many people came to your father’s funeral, his family didn’t like the fact that he and your mother were together, they said your mother was trouble, but your dad still stayed with her, even if that meant it would completely destroy the bond he had with his family. Now that’s true love, you had thought. Only your mother, Akira, the Sunas, your uncle, and you, of course, attended the funeral.

It hurt a lot. It hurt when your mother informed both your grandparents on your mother and father’s side and all they could do is put the blame on her. It hurt how they had claimed you, Akira and your mother were a hindrance to your dear father’s well-being. How could they be so cruel at a time like this?

That was the first time you ever questioned if soulmates were real. Maybe they fell in love at the wrong time? Who knows.

After your father’s passing, Fumiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, was there to help your family out financially. Your mother couldn’t even find the motivating to go to work. Your mother and Fumiko have been best friends since junior high, they’ve literally been inseparable ever since. In fact, after they both got married, they decided to live right next to each other.

Your mom didn’t cope with your father’s death very well; none of you did. But your mom had it the worst.

She would cope with alcohol and clubbing which would always result in her bringing different men home almost every night. You didn’t say much about it, you thought it would be selfish to since that’s what seemed to make your mother feel better about herself, but your sister hated it. She was already 19 and in college at the time, but when she visited and found out that your mother had basically been neglecting you, she was furious.

“Seriously, mom? This is what you’re gonna do while your 13-year-old daughter is in her room having a literal mental breakdown because of your childish behavior?” Your sister had barged into your mother’s room when she thought you were asleep, she was screaming loud.

“You’re interrupting something important, Akira. You know better than to-”

“Oh, shut the hell up mom. You’re the last person on earth to be saying shit like that.”

“Well, if you’re done, you can leave my room now. You’re being disrespectful, and this behavior is not tolerated!” Your mother was screaming now. The man in the bed covering his body under the covers and looking back and forth between Akira and your mother.

“Sakiya, maybe you should hear your daughter out-”

“Not now.” your mother scarcely interrupted the man, eye contact never leaving Akira. “Y/N has never complained about this when you were in college. She knows this is my way of coping, why can’t you understand that too!”

Akira scoffed. “So what, getting fucked by random strangers you find on the filthy streets is your way of coping? Getting wasted every damn night to the point where Y/N has to drag you up to bed is okay with you? Do you even know how much this is affecting Y/N? Did you even bother asking her how she felt? I hate breaking it to you mom, but you need serious help.”

“You selfish child!” Your mother screamed, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her body, getting up from the bed. “How dare you say that to your own mother?”

“I’m only telling the truth! If you’re the mother, then it’s your job to be taking care of Y/N, not neglecting her. When’s the last time you’ve engross in an actual conversation with her when you were fully sober?”

Your mother was silent. She quickly walked up to Akira and grabbed her by the hair and slammed her headfirst against the wall.

“You’ve got a big mouth! Maybe I should wash it with soap like I did back in the day, hm?” Akira was attempting to push her mother away, but she wouldn’t let go of her grip. The man that was still on your mother’s bed was in panic, yelling her name, which didn’t have any effect. He might as well stop.

"Look," Akira mumbled, struggling to get away from your mother's grip, "I know it's been hard ever since dad left-"

“Mom! Let go of her!” You cried from the door of her room.

All 3 adults froze and looked at your glassy eyes, mouths wide open.

“Hey, kiddo, I thought you were asleep?” Akira playfully said, your mother let go of Akira and crossed her arms then looked away from you.

“Well, I can't really go to sleep when there’s a bunch of adults yelling about my well-being,” you muttered incoherently. You quickly wiped the uncontrollable tears off your face and sighed.

“Honey,” your mom started, she walked slowly to you, carefully examined your face, and attempted to hug you, but you didn’t accept the offer which made your mother frown. She stopped walking until she was almost face to face with you and placed a hand on your shoulder gently. “Baby, your sister told me that you weren’t happy. Is this true?”

You looked away from her and stared dully at the floor, subtly shifting your feet, then you softly shook your head “no.”

“See Akira, Y/N is happy. So please stop stressing her out.” Your mother said through gritted teeth, then faced you once again. “Y/N honey, how about I go tuck you into bed, hm? I’m so sorry for the excessive noise that was caused.”

“Mom, how clueless can you be? Y/N looks miserable! It’s unhealthy for Y/N to be living-“

Slap.

Your mother just slapped Akira on the face.

“I know what’s best for my daughter! I am her mother! You are not the one who should be telling me how to take care of my own kid!”

“That’s enough, Sakiya.” a familiar voice said from the door.

“Fumeiko-“

“It’s fine. Sakiya, we need to talk.” It was Fumeiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, also known as your next door neighbor. She had been standing in the hallways the whole time, you didn’t even know she was there. Akira was the one who called her over.

That night your mother agreed to get help for her drinking problem. She was gone for 6 months. During those 6 months, the Suna’s took you in since Akira would be in college and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

You and Rintaro were the only kids in the house, being that you both were the same age and the others were in college. It was okay, they were all very polite, dinners were awkward, you could feel some sort of tension between the family but you didn’t pay any attention to it.

When your mom finally came back, it was awkward at first. She still seemed the same, loving and caring, just sober and free of alcohol. It was nice. You two spent the weekends bonding at the mall, watching a movie, or even getting your nails done. Eventually, she gained your trust back, and you couldn’t have been happier.

January 2017.

“Akira, don’t say that. You may not believe me now, but you are such an amazing person, don’t ever think you’ll never find love again. It’s all about having a positive mindset!” you said, thoughtfully stroking her hair as her head laid on your chest.

“I told you that.”

“You did,” you chuckled, “you should take your own advice.

“Oh, shut up!” you both laughed, and Akira let out a shaky sigh. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course, you don't need to thank me. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

— so this is one of the writings that i wrote in January 😭 it’s been in my drafts and i re-read it once and instantly hated it right after. if there’s any typos please tell me!!

— also i wanna apologize again for putting gmds on hiatus,, i feel so bad 😭 i wanna make it up to you guys but idk how so if you have suggestions pls tell me

[yourmidnightlover]

lost my everything

Summary- while revealing something to spencer, you confess something during the process. he didn't know how to react, which led to a terrible accident in which he might lose you forever.

TW: talk abt mental and physical abuse, alluding to death, talk about self-harm, SAD ENDING

WC- 3,152

a/n - please don't read if you're sensitive to self-harm or talk about emotional and physical abuse because reader goes into discussion about these things. i care about you and your safety so if you need to talk about anything please seek help or my inbox is always open! you are loved and you are needed <3

masterlist

----------------------------------

one thing about being the youngest member of the team meant that the second-youngest member was drawn to you.

that second youngest member happened to be spencer reid.

you had just had another paperwork day today since you got back from one the night previous. you were currently in the conference room discussing the case before we got off-topic, curtesy of spencer's coffee problem.

"i might have a slight problem with my coffee addiction, but there are many studies that go to show the benefits of drinking coffee. supposedly, drinking coffee could extend your life period, strengthen your liver, increase your body's glucose production, and even-"

"okay, that's all for today guys. go home and get rest before a case comes in," hotch interjected and warned.

you placed your hand on spencer's arm, this time underneath the table, as his face began to fall from disappointment. he turned to face and gave a tight-lipped grin before you removed my hand and we both stood up.

"so, spence, my place or yours for the doctor who marathon this time?" you said as he grabbed his bag from his desk.

"we went to mine last, so we can just go to yours this time," he said with his natural pep back. "besides, i kinda like your apartment better," he shrugged with another wide smile.

"clearly you do," you joked. "you almost always say my place," you laughed as you both joined jj. pen, and emily in the elevator.

"hey, y/n, would you wanna go to o'kiefs with us tonight?" jj offered kindly.

"already got plans. maybe next time!" you said with a smile, turning back to see spencer wearing the same smile on your face.

honestly, you and spencer have gone to the bar with the team a few times. you weren't opposed to going with them, you just knew that going meant everyone would pressure you to drink alcohol.

last time, you had succumbed to peer pressure. spencer had to drive you home and hold your hair as you puked into the toilet, it was a very good bonding experience. you didn't remember much, but you do remember you convinced him to stay the night, although he did end up sleeping on the couch rather than in the bed with you.

"after last time, i don't blame you, y/l/n," emily laughed out, giving a concerned look recalling the memories flooding her mind.

"next time we won't pressure you so much!" penny consoled. "i didn't know how much you meant it when you said you can't handle your alcohol," she winced.

"yea... i really meant it," you laughed out, trying to shed some light on the subject. the elevator opened, allowing you to go your separate ways for the night. "have fun you guys!" you called as you walked to your car with spencer.

spencer and you have been carpooling to work ever since you learned he took the metro to work and only lived a couple blocks from your apartment complex. you couldn't stand the thought of something bad happening to him while on the train, so you've offered to give him a ride there and back ever since.

in return, spencer insisted on paying for daily coffee runs for the two of you. it was his way 'of returning the fuel money in another type of fuel.'

you and spencer crawled into the car and began the drive back to your place. it wasn't too long to your place, only a 20-minute drive, but being with spencer made it feel like half that.

"do you even remember what happened the last time you went to the bar with them?" spencer laughed.

"not exactly..." you grimaced. "just that you took me home, there was a bit of puking, and i coerced you to stay the night. and you slept on the couch, which is absolutely ridiculous! i mean, i was the one who practically made you stay, so shouldn't i have slept on the couch? it's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before," you ranted.

"you're right, we have slept in the same bed before," he clarified. "but each time we did that you weren't drunk out of your mind," he sassed.

"ha-ha, spence," you mocked. "i did say i couldn't handle my alcohol. is there anything you wanna fill me in on?"

truthfully, yes.

there was something he wanted to fill you in on.

he wanted to tell you how you confessed your past to him.

he wanted to tell you how you kissed him right after...

and he kissed you back.

he could still remember the way your lips tasted, still covered by the vodka from the shots you took hours before.

but he didn't want you to think less of him since he kissed you back.

he just couldn't help it.

he'd been helplessly in love with you for so long, yearning to be with you as more than friends... as more than what he thought you wanted. but that kiss was his hope.

it was hope that maybe you felt a fraction of the chemistry he did. it was hope that maybe even if you didn't like him, you still had an attraction towards him in some kind of way. it was hope that maybe you would grow those same feelings for him.

but no matter how much 'hope' that kiss gave him, he shouldn't have kissed you back. he knew how vulnerable you were by telling him about your history of abuse.

you told him about your parents. about how they would throw you around when they were high, or drunk, or both. you told him about how they would call you worthless, a whore, stupid, good-for-nothing, basically every name in the book. but you didn't tell him about how you coped with the abuse.

so, when he told you how amazing you are to be able to turn your life around how you did, and how beautiful you are and always have been, you couldn't help but embrace him with a kiss.

you kissed him.

and he kissed you.

in a wonderful, vulnerable moment, he kissed you back as he'd always wanted to each night you spent with each other.

"nope," he shook his head. "nothing to fill you in on."

"i guess that's good," you shrugged.

he also wanted to know if you'd ever tell him about what happened when you were in your right mind. he wanted to know that you trusted him with your darkest secret that you accidentally already spilled to him.

although, maybe you should know about what you admitted to him. it was your life, after all. it was your past that you revealed to him in a simple drunken mistake.

"actually..." spencer started, taking a deep breath as he looked into your eyes. "you did mention something."

"okay... what'd i mention?" you wondered.

"you told me about..." he tried to find the right words to say. "about your parents."

"oh...?" you began to realize what you had admitted to him that very night, still not remembering the events that followed. "i didn't want you to find out like that..." you trailed off.

"i figured you didn't," he gave a small grin. you looked over at him hesitantly.

you thought about all the ways you could react to this. you could block him out and act like it was his fault you drunkenly confessed your past. you could ignore the fact that you told him at all and just move on, burrowing all the emotions inside of you once again. or, you could try to finally move on from what happened and how you coped with it by talking to spencer about it.

"when we get to my place, would you mind if we held off on the marathon? i should probably elaborate a bit more," you asked meekly.

"of course we can. we can do whatever you want tonight, y/n," he soothed, placing a hand on your lower thigh comfortingly.

you drove back to your place in silence, the both of you anticipating the conversation awaiting you.

when you finally entered your apartment, you both shed your coats by the door, hanging them on the hook, placed your guns and badged on the table beside the hook, and sat down on the couch comfortably. you crossed your legs, your knee up in the air, as spencer sat down with his knee touching the one still on the couch.

"so... how much did i say?" you asked curiously.

"you talked about the emotional and physical abuse, but nothing too in depth," he confirmed.

"when i was young, about 12, my parents got into a minor car accident," you began telling him about your past, trying to recall the memories with little hurt or pain. "they weren't at fault, it was a drunk teenager, but they each got addicted to their pain meds from the hospital. i would be asleep when they would come home from a night out, drunk and high out of their minds. i remember the first night it happened. i wandered in the living room, curious of what the ruckus was, and was greeted by my dad's hand slapping me across my face," you chuckled humorlessly, not knowing what other reaction was appropriate.

"he told me i shouldn't have been up or seen what they were doing. he was furious," you furrowed your brows as tears began to well in your eyes at the memory as spencer gingerly placed his hand comfortingly on your knee, scooting a tad bit closer to you. "after that night it became almost a pattern of his. he would come home and then get upset from his high coming down, and take it out on me. my mom just laughed and watched as he would hit me."

"eventually, they started just belittling me. they would say i was a coward for not standing up for myself. they would say i was stupid, or worthless. they especially liked to call me 'a waste of space,' i think that one was their favorite," you took a shaky, deep breath as you knew you were about to reveal for the first time to anyone what you would do to cope with the abuse.

"eventually i started to believe them. i started to believe the things they said about me. i thought i truly was an ugly, undeserving, piece of garbage," you turned to see spencer's eyes full of tears, mirroring your own. "i would self-harm because i believed them. each night after they were done with their own abuse, i felt so... frustrated. the only way i could get that frustration out was to do that. the scars are still there, taunting me of how weak i was to not just endure the pain," you finished.

you didn't even realize tears were streaming down your eyes until you noticed the few on spencer's cheek. he reached his hand up to wipe the tears on your face, ignoring that of his own.

"you aren't weak, y/n. you are unbelievably strong for getting through that. you have to know how amazing you are," he told you, demanding you to see you the way he saw you.

because the way he saw you, you were beyond perfect. you were so much stronger for going through that. if anything, knowing you went through that made him think you were that much more amazing.

and honestly, the way you were thinking is that when you told spencer, he might think less of you. he might think you were dumb for doing that to yourself, inflicting pain upon your own body to relieve yourself of pain.

that was anything but true.

"s-so you don't think any less of me?" you asked confused, looking into his eyes for any tells of his lying.

"absolutely not. if anything i think you're stronger now that i know what you've endured," he assured you, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he moved even closer to you.

"thank you so much, spencer," you said as you lunged forward, your arms immediately pulling him closer around his neck into a hug.

"you don't need to thank me, y/n," he started as he rubbed circles in your back soothingly. "if it helps anything at all... i think your amazing. i always have, and i always will."

"spencer..." you pulled back and looked into his eyes. "just... i need to tell you one more thing."

"alright," he nodded, prompting you to continue.

"i uhm, i'm in love with you," you bit your lip in anticipation for his response.

he didn't say anything.

he couldn't say anything.

he wanted to say something, but he didn't know how.

he didn't even know if you actually said that, or if you were just a figment of his imagination.

because at this point, he felt so much more for you than love.

he was infatuated with you.

but you read it as rejection, so you quickly unhinged your arms from around his neck and retreated into a ball while on the couch.

"i-i'm sorry," you said after quickly realizing the reality of the situation.

he didn't feel the same.

"you d-don't need to say it back. i shouldn't have sprung that on you. i-i've just felt that way for so long, and i thought that maybe you did too, but i shouldn't have assumed anything. i'm so sorry," you looked at him, waiting for him to say anything. to admit anything.

"oh god, and i just spilled everything to you," you ran your hand through your hair.

silence.

"i think i need to go for a walk," you said, getting up from the couch and rushing out the door after grabbing your coat.

you opted for taking the stairs to run outside, being the quickest option.

spencer was speechless, still sitting on your couch, dumbfounded.

he was overwhelmed with emotions.

you loved him?

he couldn't believe that someone so smart, so beautiful, so kind, so funny, so... everything would ever love him.

and he was too late to say it back.

he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you loved him, so he just sat there in awe of this revelation.

by the time he realized what you had said, and was ready to say it back, you were already out of the door and down the stairs.

you were walking all too fast with tears flooding your eyesight.

you had just lost the one person you loved the most. the one person who's always there for you. the only person you've felt a connection with. you lost your everything.

by the time spencer ran down the stairs in an attempt to chase you, you were nowhere to be found. he could always call your cell, but he wanted to admit his undying love and affection in person, not over some dumb cellular device.

you didn't know where you were going, just letting your feet take you wherever they pleased. it had been a bit cold and you had left everything at your place, so you began rubbing your arms in search for more friction.

you were walking around a corner when you were pulled into an alley by some random white guy. with a harsh hand on your arm, you whined out quietly from the sudden pain.

you didn't have your gun.

"money! NOW!" he demanded. you stayed there with tears in your eyes, too emotional to speak.

your wallet was back at the house.

"are you too dumb to speak? i said MONEY!" he said, pushing a gun you were now made aware of into your stomach.

"i-i don't have my wallet," you admitted with a shaky voice, tears now streaming down your face faster than before.

the night was supposed to be another night with spencer, watching your favorite show and being with your favorite person. you were supposed to be cuddled up on his couch, probably falling asleep in his arms by now.

and now you were being mugged and were probably going to get hurt in one way or another.

"and why is that, doll?" he pushed the gun further into your lower stomach .

"i-i was in a r-rush. i s-swear i d-don't have anyth-thing!" you stuttered, trying to convince him to let you go.

"too bad... you've already seen my face. let's hope you have a nice nap," he growled before pulling the trigger, a bullet running through your lower stomach.

spencer was near you when the bullet went off. he was walking home.

you didn't even realize it, but you were walking in the direction of your love's own home when you were ambushed.

he heard the gun go off.

he naturally ran into the alley with his gun raised, ready to fire at anyone fleeing the scene. he managed to take the guy down with a single bullet before realizing it was you who was shot.

he quickly grabbed his phone and dialed 911 and demanded an ambulance at the corner of 5th and maine, alerting them that an agent was down.

"Y/N!" he yelled, running to kneel beside your limp body. "please, no..." he pleaded.

he put his hand to your neck in an attempt to find any pulse. there was a weak one. there was that hope again. he pulled you onto his lap, your body now resting atop his.

"stay with me. i-i didn't get to tell you how i felt," he cried as he put pressure on where the blood was coming out.

"sp-spencer?" you asked, barely regaining consciousness.

"it's me, y/n. i'm here," he soothed, running a hand through your hair to move it from your face.

"i'm s-s-sorry," you choked out, feeling your eyelids become heavier by the second.

"no. don't apologize to me," he told you. "i should be apologizing."

"it's n-not... your... fault," you felt your breath coming slower, the weight on your chest becoming unbearable.

"i-if i would've just told you how i felt..." he began thinking about how horrible a mistake he had made.

sirens were nearing, hope was becoming greater. spencer clung to your body tighter than ever as if holding you closer to him would will your heart to beat stronger, even if it was for just a bit longer.

"i-i..." you took another uneven breath, reaching your hand up slowly to wipe a tear from his face. "lo-love..." another breath. "you," you finished, your hand cascading down from his face and falling limp onto spencer’s lap, now accepting your own fate as the ambulance was now right outside the alley.

there was a moment when spencer thought maybe you’d wake up. you’d come back to him. but once they loaded you into the ambulance he had to accept one thing.

he had lost his everything...

@averyhotchner @greenprisca @muffin-cup

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 2 of 2

Part 1 is here:

She never knew it would hurt this much when the person she loves is right in front of her, but she can't reach out and touch him; when she is still her, he is still him, but everything else has changed, like an invisible lever in an old theatre changing the scenery in the background, bringing them both to the part of the play where they are hopelessly lost.

[[MORE]]

All it took was one single moment, one single decision, and everything feels irrevocably broken now. It makes her contemplate on the true nature of relationships, how fragile they are, and how easy it is to shatter them- and her.

The smoke is slowly clearing, and all that seems to be left is a man who is doing his best to keep his distance from her, physically and emotionally.

She can tell from the way he stands with his arms crossed, or his fists clenced when his hands are by his side, that he really doesn't want to hold her hand. How can something so simple as the touch of his fingers be so vital to her existence that it feels like something has been ripped out from inside her?

She wants to reach out and touch him, but she is scared that if he pulls away outright, any hope of reconciliation that she still has left will shatter into pieces.

And she really needs this hope. It's the only thing she still has left. It's the only thing that keeps her going.

---

He looks like a man with a mission.

They spent quite a long time together, running from the TVA, running towards the citadel at the end of time, hoping to achieve their goal of bringing down the one behind the curtains.

But that was her mission, and he was there for her. She was the one behind the wheels, he was the one keeping the sails afloat.

Now it's different. Now he has a defined goal, a glorious purpose.

She's seeing him in a whole new light now, and not just because he has switched to Asgardian leather and metal armors.

As far as she is concerned, she is better off doing it all alone. One woman army, nobody to get in her way, nobody to screw up her plans. Nobody to blame her if it all goes to shit.

Or so it was, until two months ago, when Mobius decided to enlist her help in fixing the multiversal madness.

She has never really worked with people before, and it's weird, to say the least. She never considered herself a team player, but she is finding herself hating the idea less and less lately.

And she swears it has nothing to do with him. Not the fact that they are working together, and seeing his face first thing in the morning brings her a sense of calm that she quite can't explain. Or the fact that their rooms are next to each other and it makes her feel secure enough to finally get some rest at nights. Or that this whole arrangement has kept them on talking terms, when they had gone their own separate ways otherwise.

Nothing to do with that at all.

---

Humans are stupid, and the biggest evidence of this is how they decided that two extremely powerful Gods skilled at magic, enchantment, and defeating an evil extra dimensional cloud that swallows everything it touches, should be delegated to the role of research. "You're clever. You're good at reading people. You can put yourselves in the shoes of the bad guys, no offense", they said, but really, what they meant was, "We can't trust you out in the field much." She knows it, he knows it. She just doesn't know why he's complying.

That's how they find themselves researching every single day.

She likes to think he's not the only reason why she's studying in the library instead of in the comfort of her room, but that'd be a lie.

At first, he chooses to sit at a separate table. But she keeps going over to his to "get his opinion" on something in the file she's reading, and finally, he gives in. Their current arrangement consists of him sitting in the chair in front of her, to the left, prim and proper, while she hoists her feet up on the table.

He falls asleep on the desk one night, face smacked against a file, the tiniest bit of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. It would be a hilarious sight, if her heart wasn't feeling what she can only describe as longing.

They should probably talk about it, like mature adults, but neither of them know how to do that.

All she can do right now is gather the courage to run her fingers through his hair. The touch is hesitant at first, as if one wrong move would make him wake up and push her back to square one. Slowly, she relaxes, letting her fingers dance on his scalp.

He stirs in his sleep. "Please Sif. I'm sorry. Don't cut off my glorious locks, please."

Now this is a story she must hear when things are better.

If things are better.

---

Doctor Strange joins them very briefly, very rarely, but the tension between him and Loki is hard to miss. It's worse than the current situation with her, and that's saying something.

"You don't really like Stephen, do you?"

Something inside him seems to shift, but he masks it behind a non-chalant look immediately and just arches an eyebrow at her. "He's Stephen now, is he?"

"Well, that is his name." She shrugs. "What do you call him?"

"Strange", he spits the word out with an amount of irritation that indicates there definitely is a story there. "That is his name", he mimics.

She can't help the smirk that spreads across her lips. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing", he lies, ignoring the horrifying flashbacks of thirty minutes of endless falling. Not a single soul must ever know a mere human got the best of him. "What can he do to me? I'm a God among those mortals. He just irks me because he is so pompous, and arrogant, and he ceaselessly uses magic to toy with others."

She pretends to think deeply. "Now where have I seen that before?"

He scoffs. "You mock me, but I am nothing like him. For one, I am not rude."

"He seems fine to me", she declares decisively.

It's the first time in months that he gives her a cheeky grin. "That's because you're rude too."

---

They are still just containing the threats to their world, instead of finding a way to fortify the barriers between worlds and stop the threats from coming.

"Shouldn't we have a plan to seal off the other worlds from ours?" She asks him one day.

"They are working on it." He tells her, and then with a look of worry, adds, "I hope."

There are debates on what to do at the Avengers tower and at the TVA. Nobody seems to agree on what the best course of action is, but everyone seems to be following the general instructions of Doctor Strange.

During one such meeting, a Minuteman makes the mistake of voicing out loud how she wondered if things would be better if they were running according to their old boss's plans.

Sylvie feels the guilt wash over her once more.

"No", Loki tells them all firmly. The determination in his voice takes her completely by surprise. "Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling, makes no difference. The degree is arbitrary. The definition’s blurred." She catches him steal a glance at her direction. "We couldn't have left a dictator in charge just because it's convenient. Listen, I'm the bad guy. I've done horrible, unspeakable things. I thought humans needed to be ruled. I wanted to rule. But even I know that it's not right to take away a person's life completely. These are innocent people. You are innocent people. You have families back home, parents, children", a pause and a softening of his features, "-love. A whole past, a whole future. That man had no right to take it away from you."

His powers of persuasion are foreign to her, and it's mesmerizing to watch. Her enchantments cannot hold a candle to how he is able to just talk people into doing what he wants, thinking what he thinks, seeing what he sees.

"He who remains had a plan. One, singular plan, from one, singular man." There is absolute conviction in his voice. "It's not the only way. We'll find another way. A better way."

She has never known what it is like to have someone see you for who you are- broken and flawed, and defend you- even your well-intentioned actions that yielded different results than what you expected and hurt them in the process. She suspects it has been the same for him, a lifetime of not having anyone have his back.

The warm feeling inside her is brand new. What is the name of this? Comfort? Relief?

Happiness?

---

This will be their first time out in the field in a long time, and she feels a little sick to the stomach.

He notices. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his voice tugs at her heartstrings. She nods. She has faced way worse, she shouldn't be so nervous about this, but she is. "I've never done this before."

"We can always just kill him and blame it on the Chitauris", he suggests with a serious face.

"I heard that", Peter yells from the other room, where he is doing whatever it is that teenagers do to prepare for battle.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe we're babysitting."

"I've done this before", he assures her, and it surprises her to picture him being entrusted with such a serious task. "The trick is to conjure up illusions that keep them distracted enough to not cry."

She laughs. "You're thinking of infants. This one is a little older."

"I'm over a thousand years old, Sylvie. They're all infants to me."

Peter joins them, mask covering his face so that he doesn't reveal his identity. "So what do I call you? Loki and Loki? That's confusing. How about Loki and Lady Loki? Or is that offensive? I'm not suggesting women are inferior, because they're absolutely not..."

"Does he come with an off switch?" She whispers in horror as Peter rambles on.

Loki grins. With one wave of his hand and a flash of green, Peter's own webbing shoots out and seals his mouth shut.

---

Things are fine but not fine at the same time. He's right there beside her, but not there at all. They have their banters, they have their stolen glances, but they haven't had a meaningful conversation since that first day when she got back. She's been putting it off for a long time, but she knows they really do need to have the talk.

She corners him in his room one evening while he's tinkering with a temporal collar. She takes a seat in the chair next to his bed and rests her hand on the table, leaning her head against her palm, before switching position and crossing her arms and legs. Everything about her posture screams uneasiness. If he notices- he probably does- he doesn't say anything.

"You defended me that day."

He briefly looks up from the task at hand and gives her a soft smile. "Of course."

She blinks. "I don't understand." Her hands involuntary rise up to rub her temples. "If you can justify my actions to them, then how can you still be mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you", he says without missing a beat.

"Rubbish", her words come out angrier than she intended. This frustration is the result of the months of status quo they have had. She has to know now, one way or the other. "You're distant. You're guarded", she accuses. Then her voice breaks, as she feels a part of her break all over again with her next words. "You don't hold my hand. Why? Tell me."

He abandons the collar and focuses his full attention on her. Staring straight into her eyes, he answers her. "You know why."

"I wouldn't be asking if I did. Look, if it's because I chose the mission over you-"

"-Of course it's not that." He says decisively. Then a sad smile clouds his face. It's the same look he had when she accused him of conning her to gain the throne. "Do you think I'm the type of man who would want a woman to abandon her life-long ambitions just because she has met someone?"

She knows he isn't. But it still doesn't answer why he is so cross with her. "What is it then?"

He pauses for a moment, trying to decide whether he wants to bare his soul out to her once more or not. There are two ways he can go from here- choose to not let her in again and save himself from the hurt, or trust her again and open himself up to potential pain.

Who is he kidding? Pushing her away- keeping her away- doesn't hurt any less.

There were a thousand things that had to go wrong to bring two Lokis from two universes together. A connection like that, it doesn't just happen.

And it doesn't just go away. The pain is constant, it's a part of him, pounding like a second heart every second he has to stop himself from reaching out for her hand.

This has to come to an end.

He takes in a deep breath, bracing himself. "You didn't have to send me away, Sylvie. I wanted to stop you from making the same mistakes I did. But in the end, I didn't care what you chose. I just wanted us to do it together."

She never even imagined this could be the reason for his hurt. All these months spent thinking he hates her for her choices, and now it turns out he is hurt simply because she chose to do it alone? "I'm sorry." She says sincerely. "I just wanted you to be safe."

"And I just wanted to be there with you till the end." He confesses. His eyes shimmer with the emotions he has kept bottled in for so long. "You go, I go."

She doesn't know what to say to that. She has never been good at articulating her feelings. Tears stream down her cheeks at the realisation that even after everything, he is still there for her.

She didn't cry even back at Lamentis when they thought they were going to die. She doesn't let anyone see her cry when she is sad or scared. That's all she has known her whole life. She's used to it by now.

This is new. These are tears of relief. Comfort.

Happiness.

Tentatively, she crosses over to the bed and sits by his side.

It's quiet for a few minutes. But unlike the months of tension so thick she could cut it into splices with her daggers, this is comfortable silence. The kind they had before it all went wrong.

"Did you even miss me?" He whispers.

"What kind of silly question is that? Of course I did." Her shaking hands grab his, and oh how she missed this.

He intertwines their fingers. His eyes draw closed. Bliss. That's the only word for this feeling.

He opens his eyes again and studies her. She's staring back at him, teary-eyed, but with a hopeful smile. "Really? Because you have a really unique way of showing it. You didn't even come looking for me."

"I didn't know how to face you", she tells him honestly. No tricks, no enchantment, no treachery. Not with him. "I didn't know if you even wanted to see me." Her voice grows quieter, dropping to a timbre that perfectly encapsulates her deepest fear. "I thought you hated me."

"Hate you?" He is shocked that she thinks that is even possible, specially after seeing him these last few months. "Sylvie, I'm working with the Avengers. The Avengers. Do you know how much I hate them? They are my nemesis. They're self-righteous, condescending, and so completely dull. Every second with them makes me want to rip their hearts out. Why do you think I'm here with them?"

She thinks she knows. But she needs to hear it anyway.

"It's because of you." He lays it all out on the table. All cards on deck, win or lose. "You've been running away. I have been the one who has been here, trying to hold down the fort, working to fix everything. Because that is what one does when one loves-"

Shit. The word slips out before he realises it.

Their eyes go wide in unison.

"Sylvie, I-"

"-Don't you dare take it back now." She warns him. "I-" She doesn't know how to say it either. They make such a great pair, both equally daft at saying how they feel, like they are teenagers, not Gods who have lived for centuries. "I've been running because I didn't think I could bear the burden of knowing I found you and then I lost you. I don't want to lose you. Not now, not ever."

He kisses the back of her hand, before letting it go. He cups her face, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "I don't want to lose you either."

She leans in closer, until their foreheads touch. She can feel his breath on her face, warm and soft. That is exactly how she feels inside. "You won't", she promises. "You go, I go."

---

(Quote on Lesser Evil from The Witcher. Thanks for reading!!)

[hndcrm]

47 and Diana are in the safehouse in Berlin. As night falls 47, plagued by his newfound memories, can't sleep. He wanders through the house and discovers Diana snores and talkes in her sleep. What will he do about it?!😏

I have made this so much angstier than the prompt calls for im so sorry my brain only provides pain apparently

--

He was glad to have his memories back. There was no denying it. It was liberating to know the events of his life in order, to have them fade back into something understandable as opposed to the blank, cryptic void from before. Some were better than others, memories of his and subject 6’s friendship, of the rare times he’d been able to sneak away with his bunny before its untimely and cruel murder.

Despite this, the memories were overwhelmingly bad, and none quite as pervasive and frightening as the car bomb in 1989.

He was the one to trigger it. It was a mission like any other at the time, he hadn’t thought much of it. Simple. Two targets, Peter and Nancy Burnwood, their daughter considered acceptable collateral damage. In the end, there was no collateral damage and perhaps that’s the only comfort he takes from the memory, that he didn’t kill her, that he was lucky enough to have her alive today. It’s not comforting because he knows she will leave him as soon as she finds out. He can’t blame her. He’s the one responsible for her involvement in everything bad in their world. He killed her parents, changed her life forever, ruined it without a second thought at the time. He recalls with tears in his eyes how she was there, how she was present when he set it off, that this innocent child had to witness the violent death of her parents. He’s hurt Diana irreversibly and she will hate him forever if she finds out.

Even throughout his career with her, he often pondered morality and his own goodness. Diana became his conscience and urged in private that he wasn’t evil, promised him that he was worthy of kindness and love. He wasn’t sure even then how much he believed her. He trusted her, however, so he did not question the assertions.

He knows she was wrong now. She deserves to know the truth, but it would result in her disappearing from his life, and he’s sure he would die without her.

And now, he cannot sleep. He stares out of the window in the living room and watches the night sky, silently bets on how long it will be before he turns to alcohol for comfort.

There are soft snores coming from Diana’s bedroom. He gulps. The door is tilted open.

The scene before him is like some practical test of his character and self-control. He could come in and watch her sleep, just for a few moments. It wouldn’t disturb her and she would never know, and he could memorise the details of her face, add to his mental depiction of her before she leaves him, imagine what it could be like to hold her like this if they could ever be this intimate together. He could pretend to be one of the few lucky men who have been able to truly witness this, to be able to say they’ve had the pleasure of sleeping next to Diana Burnwood herself.

Or he could do the right thing and close the door, minding his own business as a professional work colleague should, though even that description is generous towards him after what he’s done. He is evil.

Diana says he is good, but he knows she’s wrong. If he were good he wouldn’t want to come in and see her right now.

It’s late and he cannot sleep, he thinks the guilt will swallow him whole if he does not distract himself. He deserves nothing to do with her, deserves to die by her hands a million times over and rot in the deepest circle of hell, but now, watching her silently while she sleeps does not seem so sinful in comparison to the pain he has caused her.

He pushes the door open enough to slide inside and tilts it closed.

The moonlight peeking from behind the curtain streaks across her ribs and reminds him of a bullet that he was responsible for. He feels sick. She deserves so much better.

She’s tangled in the sheets, hair flamed out around her face, and instantly there’s an urge to run his hands through it, to move it off her cheek and behind her ear.

She looks delicate. He knows better than to think so improperly of her, ‘delicate’ is an insult when she is a force to be reckoned with and could kill a man with her sharp-tongued nature alone, but there is no denying the more physical aspects of her beauty when she’s sprawled out so ravishingly. Her upper lip is carved down carefully, brows furrowed slightly, bosom caressed by her silk nightgown and her hands elegantly tangled in the sheets, like a scene from an ancient erotic painting, beauty that could only be appropriately captured by a lover.

She stirs then, and he holds his breath, terrified that he’s awoken her with his selfishness.

She hums something incomprehensible, and the thought that she might sleeptalk scares him. He should leave. Diana trusts him, she does not hide from him. If what she dreams of is something he already knows, there’s no use invading her privacy. If what she dreams of is something he is not aware of, then he should stay clueless, respect her choice to keep it from him and leave, pretending he was never here.

He decides to do the right thing. He pads towards the door.

He’s stopped in his tracks when he hears her moan his name. He can feel his face heating up. He’s evil for having ever come here in the first place. How can he disrespect her so cruelly?

Curiosity turns him around, as he tries to picture the shape her mouth might take when she moans his name, but there is little left to the imagination when she does it again, quieter, and the sight is somehow more erotic and vulgar than anything he’s ever seen, he feels his trousers tightening.

He knows she doesn’t really want him like this. Dreams don’t reflect reality. Perhaps she thought of him crudely once, and he was lucky enough to catch it, but it was a one-off because she must know she deserves better than him.

He’d be more than willing to play out her dreams in reality. He couldn’t, of course, bring himself to ever actually do it. Their shared intimacy exists purely as a fantasy in both of their imaginations.

He’s grateful for his trained stillness as he’s about to leave again, determined that he’s long crossed a line. He must go if he ever wants Diana to think of him neutrally, at least. If she wakes up to see him standing before her so improperly she’ll know of his vile nature before he reveals it.

As he’s something like a metre away from the door, he sees a frustrated Olivia rub her eyes and grumble ‘fucking Burnwood’, then she slams the door in front of him before he can escape and he panics as he’s stuck in a deeply compromising position. The door is too squeaky to risk opening again, but it’s too late, for when he turns around to look at Diana, she’s awake, rubbing her eyes and squinting in the dark. He prays she doesn’t see him.

“47? Is that you?” She calls out, and he freezes. He could still leave. She would know he was here, but it would save him the embarrassing conversation until the morning at least, or maybe, hopefully, she’d forget. “What are you doing here?” She sits up in bed, a strap of her nightgown falling down her arm. The usual excuses for trespassing won’t cut it. I got lost, he thinks sourly.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He starts. How much of the truth should he reveal? Lying to her feels wrong, he knows she knows him too well for it. “I heard you talking, I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Oh.” Now she turns red. “Well, I’m quite alright.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. He nods dumbly.

“Good.”

“And 47,” she adds then. “What did you hear?” She does a good job of playing off her voice crack, but he can sense the fear in her voice - fear he is responsible for. Why wouldn’t she fear him when he disrespects her like this?

“It was nothing - I didn’t understand anything.” He lies. He must lie to make her feel better. He shouldn’t have come in in the first place. She plays with the strap of her nightgown. He wants to leave but she looks so worried. Guilt greets him again.

“You’ve been avoiding me lately.” She says finally, chest rising in the familiar pattern she uses to calm herself down. “Is everything alright?”

I yearn for you, he thinks. It’s true. The thought tastes disgusting on his tongue.

“The serum. The memories-” he begins, but the following words don’t come. He doesn’t know how to tell her the truth. He doesn’t want to. She furrows her brows together and looks sadly at him.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Diana gives him a lopsided smile. “If you want to talk about it-”

“No.” His voice sounds harsher than he intends. She cannot know.

He leaves. Another night is spent alone on the cold leather couch, thinking of her in the dark. Eventually, guilt takes over and he cannot bear to think of anything, so he opens a lager and drinks himself to sleep.

He wakes up to find himself covered by a blanket in the morning, and Diana sitting in an armchair next to him. He gulps.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she sighs. He shakes his head, mutters a protest, but the memories of his actions flooding back terrify him. He’s been awful.

He sits up. She hasn’t done anything wrong, and the shame painted across her face makes his insides twist with guilt. He doesn’t deserve to touch her, but all he can think of is comforting her, so he reaches out tentatively. Immediately she smiles at him and wraps her arms around him. It’s unfair how good it feels, how their bodies seem to fit so well together, and she’s innocently on his lap in his embrace, unaware of how many nights he’s spent fantasizing about this. He deserves none of it, he knows.

“I’m sorry, Diana.” He almost sulks into the warm skin revealed by her bateau neckline.

“Whatever for?” She whispers, and he aches again. He can’t tell her.

“I love you,” he whispers as the tears run down his cheeks and he wonders if she can feel them on her neck. It comes out instinctually, and he regrets it immediately. She doesn’t answer. He prays she won’t think anything of it. He’s pathetic. “I’m so sorry.”

They don’t speak of it again, and he spends every living second praying for her forgiveness, for when she eventually finds out.

When he knows she knows, it’s too late for him, and he’s glad she’s killed him. He spends his dying moments craning his neck up to ensure she’s his last dying image. He hopes Edwards will be kind to her.

[nyxation]

SBI + Witch-Hybrid Reader

C OR CC: Character

WHO: Sbi

PRONOUNS: They/Them

WARNINGS: Swearing | Character Death [Mentions]

Okay, so I imagine the reader has vitiligo-type skin, like patches of the grey witch skin ya' know?

Like it's grey and makes them look sick in some places

Reader could probably have one dull purple eye

Also, cats would probably be very attracted to them, like reader just come home one day with 50 cats and Phil doesn't even question it anymore because 'For fuck sake [Y/N] it's the fifth time this week and it's only Tuesday'

Also, reader can trade with villagers easier, they get the good stuff for less money (Techno using this to his advantage and getting items for insanely good prices) this armor is seven gold? nevermind one coal will do

Reader being a master at potion-making and enchanting, trying to teach sbi how to enchant, and just

none of them being very good at it

first off, Wilbur's just shit, okay he got bane of arthropods seven different times. Bitch what?

Tommy's next, he's also shit but not as bad as Wil, he only messed up five or six times, but he was like ten when you showed him so, you can't really blame him for being bad

Wilbur though he was like 16/17-ish so he has no excuse

Techno was okay, a lot better than Wil and Tommy, he got the enchanting down very fast, it was bane of arthropods but he got flame on his next try so reader didn't have to help him too much.

Phil was fine, he struggled with the inscribing but overall he did well (he already knew how to enchant but he wanted to support you and your passion)

Also reader with one of the big mumza hats with the veil on it, just, 6-year-old [Y/N] with a massive hat that they stole from their goddess mom, and it's way too big and keeps falling in front of their face

it probably still does, and the veil is so long it drags along the floor like a train, Tommy would probably steal it from you {like a raccoon}

[Y/N] being the cool aunt/uncle/Auncle/(other name for 'sibling-of-my-parent'), to Fundy and Micheal and taking care of them when Wil and Sally/Tubbo and Ranboo were away

or ftm![Y/N] giving Fundy their old binder (or sewing some for him), helping him bind, setting timers, giving him some of their hoodies, and just being there for him when/if he gets dysphoric

Okay so onto the lore,

If Reader joined L'manberg, they would probably be put in a safe, isolated area, not too far from the center but still pretty far

I doubt Wilbur would have told them about the war, so how did Reader find out?

Maybe it was when you intercepted a letter from Dream, a declaration of war, now that surprised you

Or was it when you little brother showed up at your house rambling a mile a minute about Dream, War, L'manberg

Wait did he just say he died?

You sit him down and start cleaning and healing his wounds while he re-starts his story, starting at the creation of L'manberg and ending with his death moments prior

"So Dream-"

"Shot me, yeah"

"And Wilbur-"

"Did nothing to protect me, no"

"... What the fuck"

You might just take a cannon life, you had always been a more peaceful soul, never really enjoyed the fighting Techno did, or at least not in the way Techno did.

You never thought it was very fun that was about to change

If Tommy hadn't stopped you, you might have just destroyed Dream, and every other person there, family or not.

Onto the election, mainly the results

I doubt Schlatt would banish you, especially since your a witch, he would need potions (which are like alcohol I guess)

So you'd probably leave a join Pogtopia, there would probably be a massive fight between you and the cabinet just so you could leave

They'd probably put you on house arrest, despite not fighting very often you were strong and your potions made it harder to get to you

So you were a pretty well rounded fighter

And they were definitely wary because of you relation to Techno

You breaking out and immediately going to Pogtopia

Wilbur being so relieved that his little sibling is okay

He puts you straight to work, helping ready the weapons

Forgetting that your now a wanted person

Okay, onto Wilbur's death

That fucked you up

Your dad just stabbed your brother and it hurt

Sure the explosion was a little far but killing him?!

Why

You really didn't know and didn't want to stay and find out

So you left, you ran far away into the deepest caves cuz who tf would find you here?

Ranboo

Ranboo found you

Somehow, this bitch is like 8 feet tall how did he fit in the cave

Anyway, he told Tubbo and Tubbo brought the (newly made) Butcher Army to your house, and since you were a criminal

You were supposed to be executed

You escaped before reaching L'manberg and ran to Techno's house

He had told you about Phil through an earlier conversation, he tried to help you

But you lead the army to his house, you also met Ghostbur for the first time

"Is that Wilbur?"

"Ghostbur actually"

"But is he Wilbur? "

"I guess, he's part of brother, like his soul almost"

"Does that mean Wil's with momma now?"

This definitely wasn't what the army expected to hear

"Your siblings?!"

"Yes!" "No"

"Don't deny it big brother, I'm amazing"

Maybe hitting the blood god whole you couldn't run wasn't the best idea you've had

But it certainly wasn't the worst

Ya' know what was the worst?

Breaking off the presidents horn during your escape

Now you were a criminal and a bad person

You and Phil made up and you hung out with Ghostbur

You were happy, Dream was finally put in prison and you didn't have to worry anymore

Your family was back - Broken and no longer the kids you once were - but back

Until Ghostbur dissappears during his visit to Dream