#like. bitch is 10 years old and saw heavy use for the first 3-4 then moderate for a couple more. but it's still annoying

[caffeinated-bibliophile]

You know how there's stuff like Book Bub and Book Riot's ebook deals emails?

Is there one that's for NON Kindle books like for the Kobo store?

When I finally replace my kindle, I do think I'll try a kobo, but I'm also trying to not buy many ebooks from Amazon anymore.

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze part.4 — Spencer Reid

Icon by @obiwansjedi

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3

Sumarry: After the breakup, Spencer and the Reader follow different paths and lives. But, after 8 years, Gideon's death brings an avalanche of emotions, putting the two face to face again in a reencounter that could break their hearts again — season 10 —

Couple: Spencer Reid /Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: mention of death, mention of violence, death of the father, depressive thoughts, murder, crying, swearing, a lot of anguish, mention of love, fluff (but it has a very fluff too, I'm not a monster)

Word count: 5k.

A/N: This is the most sad chapter that has, I promise that the next will be very cute.💖

I saw Gideon's death episode again to make it as faithful as possible for you guys. I used the original Criminal Minds chronology too, being 8 years from Gideon's last appearance until his death.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Let me know if you want to be added for a taglist for a specific fandom (Criminal Minds, The Umbrella Academy, Riverdale, Roman Godfrey, or all)

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

Hunting bandits. Save people. Improve the world a little bit every day. Those were the three things Spencer believed it was worth to be at BAU. It was worth fighting for, holding on, staying sleepless for days, being haunted by murderers by day and nightmares at night. For what it was worth looking at the abyss, even when it looks to you

Reid could deal with human perversion, with the thousand and one ways to practice heinous crimes, the sowing of evil and cruelty. He could cope with constantly being inside insane minds, learning his whys and mechanisms. He could take it. He put up with it day after day, case after case. He endured being tortured, stay being held at gunpoint, having a piece of his essence plucked with red-hot iron month after month. Spencer knew he could handle it.

But he couldn't handle death. Goodbye. It shattered his soul far more than difficult cases, pushed his own sanity to the limit. Perhaps burying his feelings as deeply as possible was just a method of delaying the wave that would drown him at one time or another. Inevitably.

Each farewell took a piece of Reid away. His father, his mother, Ellie, you, Gideon, JJ, were just a few of the people who left, living their lives elsewhere. But what about those who died? The victims, the children, Hayley, Maeve, Emily (even if only for a short time) and so many others. These took much more than a piece of him. Maybe costu his whole soul.

Spencer felt himself harden over the years, the cases, loss after loss, day after loss. He felt the purity of his own heart slip through his fingers like sand, the faith in humanity to be put to the test. Sometimes even faith in himself.

Was that the price to pay for that job? Being constantly vulnerable? See his life and the lives of the people his loved most at gunpoint?

It was worth?

Maeve's death shook him more than any other, sucking all the pink glow from his world, leaving him with only the cold feeling of hopelessness. A very deep void. It took a long time for memories of she not to hurt like red-hot iron, for his breathing not to be heavy. It took a long time to be happy again.

And when Spencer felt healed from the deepest wounds, the most visceral pains, he was hit again. Deeply. If Maeve's death was a wave that brought him down, Gideon's death was the tsunami that destroyed him.

“It's Gideon.” Hotch's voice confirmed the fear of everyone in that cottage.

Then Spencer felt shattered. Torn apart. Torn like a rag doll and placed on the fire. He wanted to scream, to scream so loudly that he would never regain his voice. He wanted to break something, destroy some, run away.

But run away from whom? From what? That pain or himself? If Spencer had been able to tear off his own skin at that time and be someone else, he would not have hesitated. Not having dropped to his knees in that cottage was a miracle, because Spencer no longer knew what was holding him upright.

Jason Gideon, in many ways, was all that Spencer had. He knew that they took different paths and traveled different roads, living different lives, but he believed that they always end up on the same, even one they was old. Spencer was sure that if he was dying on his knees, Gideon would be to rescue him. For all those 8 years, it was extremely comforting to think that Gideon was out there, living life, finding the hope he had in college, finding the brilliance the world had.

And Reid knew that Jason had you. And you had Gideon. That was the most soothing and comforting thought. No matter what, he knew that you would take care of Jason, just like he would take care of you. But now... now Spencer's world had dissolved in the air. Like a sandcastle knocked over by the wind.

And the pain was surreal.

When he realized, he had left the room, close to the... body. If he could, Spencer would have moved away from himself. How would he take it? One more death, another psychopath. How many other people he love will are died at the hands of the work he did every day?

The answer to all of these questions was frightening, and Spencer wasn't sure if wanted them.

The trip to the coroner was the worst Reid had ever done, talking about the body was the worst conversation he had ever had. And when Morgan put his hand on his shoulder and said that he couldn't close himself now, that they were going to get that son of a bitch, all Spencer wanted to say was that he couldn't take it anymore. That he couldn't breathe. The emptiness was too oppressive. So much visceral pain.

But that was not what Spencer said. He just clung to the only lifeguard in the middle of the rough and deserted sea: justice. Gideon deserve it.

Reid doesn't know how he managed to get back to the Gideon’s house, how he managed to hear Hotch and Rossi talking about what could have happened. But he was there, standing, by some miracle.

“Do you know who might want to have done this?” Hotch asked Stephen, who had arrived, his eyes red from the crying he struggled to hold.

“No. I know he had a list of things he wanted to do before he died... That's how we came back to speak, one of the things was to get back in touch.” His voice was so reminiscent of Gideon's that it was stabbed in the heart of Reid.

“Didn't he talk about being chased? Feeling anything strange?” Rossi commented.

Reid watched Stephen's expressions carefully, first because he reminded Gideon a lot, and second because he looked for any clues in his reactions.

Stephen took a second to think before saying: “No, but we both don't keep in touch daily, you know?” He swallowed a sob, probably with regret, but then his eyes lit up with some information: “'But Y/n surely know, they both spoke to each other every day, if my father was thinking differently, surely she know.”

The mention of your name hit Reid with a very different wave. Bringing a very different feeling than it should. At that moment, he felt himself holding the air.

For a second, a lapse of consciousness, Spencer had not connected any of this with your physical presence. The notion that you were Gideon's daughter was obvious but, for some reason, Spencer didn't think about the fact that you were going to be there. That you would share the same air with him again, the same place...

“We will have to call her, bring her here to see if something has been left, or taken. If there is anything important on the scene.” It was Hotch.

“I called her as soon as you guys called me.” Stephen said “She arrived from California the day before yesterday, my father and she were going to travel.” He tried to swallow the crying, his eyes trembling.

"And you weren't going?" Rossi added.

“I have a son and a wife.” He gave a smile broken by the sadness of the mourning “They would stop by before I go… Y/n was going to tell me the news, since our schedules hardly match much, she works as an astronomer in…”

“Caltech.” Spencer completed, without even realizing it, like a thought out loud.

“Yea.” Stephen agreed.

Spencer felt a chill go from head to toe, and another ton of feelings were thrown at his back. The reality that he was going to see you again hit him hard. Like an arrow. Suddenly, Reid wanted to get out of there. Run as far as possible.

He couldn't see you. He had no ability to deal with those feelings now. Not now, when his life was so overwhelmed with emotions for Gideon’s death that he still hadn't dealt Not when you aroused the feeling of... hope. Spencer can’t could hope, of any kind. Not for them to be taken from him with visceral force. Reid was already hurt enough for handling another fall.

“... But I don't think it's a good idea for my sister to be here, anyway.” Stephen continued to speak.

Rossi and Hotch frowned: “Why?”

“They were very connected. Seeing this scene is not going to do her any good...” he sobs this time “Y/n is not like me… she is sentimental, emotional. ”

“As long as you're trying to stay calm, she'll be the opposite.” Hotch completed.

“I just don't want my sister to suffer anymore and...”

But it was too late for Stephen to complete. It was too much for Spencer to escape. It was too late to be born again, in a different life.

A gray car moved forward on the stone road, at too high a speed not to have washed several road fines. That was so much typical of you who hurt Spencer's heart pieces more than he thought possible. More than he thought he could feel at the time. You were always so wild at the wheel. But Reid didn't have time to finish a thought, not even Rossi, Hotch, Morgan who was with them or even Stephen. Because car brutally stopped it, the door opened and…

And it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds after years. As if summer had finally come after decades of overwhelming winter. In a burst, everything you've ever represented for Spencer has come back for him once again. And he felt the same thing that he felt when he first saw you, 8 years ago. And he was catatonic.

You got out of the car in a very hurried and desperate way. And as much as there were tears in your eyes and redness in cheeks, Spencer has never seen anyone so beautiful. Your hair was longer, in a brighter shade, maybe you had dyed it. Your features were more lyrical and beautiful, and Reid thought that the passage of time had no effect on you. While he considered himself just less clumsy over the years, you proved to be blooming like Romania's most superb rose.

“DAD!” But that was when your desperate voice brought Reid's consciousness back to earth.

You weren't calling your brother, you weren't asking why, you weren't in mourning. You were in denial. Disbelieving. You called out to your father, with the certainty that he would show up. And the despair in your eyes hurt Reid more than being shot.

But before the agents could do anything, you were running towards the house and Stephen ran towards you, taking you in his arms, trying to keep you from getting inside.

“LET ME GO, STEPHEN!” You struggled, trying to get rid of your brother's arms, your hair messing with the wind, tears streaming down your eyes. “They are wrong! It's not our father! Let me fucking go! DAD!”

“Y/n” Stephen had a broken heart in his eyes, some tears streaming down his eyes “You need to calm down before you get in there !”

“LET ME GO!” Yours sobs broke the hearts of the four agents over there “DAD!” You was cryng out, almost like a prayer, in a desperate call.

"He's gone, Y/n.” Your brother kept his arms stronger in you, trying to contain you while you struggle in trying to break free and go inside the house, under the illusion that you would find your father there.

“NO!” Now your crying was continuous “I spoke to him yesterday! It's not him, Stephen!” Then your brother turned you to him, holding you tight, and you melted into a visseral pain “It can't be him!”

“I know...” he sobbed, looking at you with the same shared pain “I know...”

So you gave yourself up to a painful, loud and desperate crying, the kind that won't let you breathe. And, unlike Reid, you fallen down. Your knees found the stone and grass floor, your hands clasped on Stephen's shirt, who knelt on the floor with you, delivered the pain you both shared.

You knew what your father's risks were in working in such a dangerous profession. Expose yourself to constant and frightening danger. You always knew about the risks, you just tried to ignore them all your life, sinking your fears about your father not coming home at night. Then, when he let the BAU, that fear dissipated. You felt a colossal weight being lifted off your shoulders, like tons of lead, and you let go of a fear so great that you didn't even know you had it.

For 8 years you thought that the chances of him not coming home were over, that the chances of seeing him the next day had increased dramatically. For 8 years you two traveled together, stopping at every type of diner for milkshake, chocolate ice cream and mint - his favorites - For 8 years you had your best friend, the only thing you knew you had in the world. You always knew that if you were drowning in the ocean, it would be your father who would give his lungs for you to breathe.

You didn't see a life without Gideon.

For you, you were crying for hours in what one day was your father's backyard, totally devastated, but for the rest of the world it was a matter of minutes.

Your sobs were so loud and real that Hotch and Rossi caught themselves with watery eyes, perfectly understanding the pain you were going through, the devastation. The two had lost many people, many of them being essential pieces to be able to continue breathing. Many of them felt wounds that would never heal.

But it was Rossi who approached you, the pain at the top of his throat, his mind wandering the day Gideon said he was going to have a little girl. Unlike Stephen, Rossi never saw you in person, but the sparkle in Jason's eyes whenever he talked about you, or with you on the phone, was enough to know that you were one of the essential pieces to keep breathing.

“Hi, my name is Rossi.” He knelt in front of you and your face went towards him, your cheeks and nose as red as your eyes.

“M-my dad talked about you."” You were still sobbing, slowly letting go of Stephen's shirt.

"Good things, I hope.” The two of you laughed like a sigh, and soon the pain returned to your eyes in a visseral way. “I know this is not fair, and I know it is asking too much, but I need you to go inside and try to find something out of place. Something that whoever did this to your father may have taken or left. ”

You closed your eyes in pain, tears streaming as you sobbed. Your hands, trembling and cold, went to your face, perhaps trying to hide from reality, perhaps wiping away tears. Maybe both. When you looked back at Rossi again, you saw the pain in his eyes too.

"I don't know if I can do it.” You admitted, your voice shaking.

"I know.” Rossi took his hand to yours, squeezing comfortingly “But only you can help us now, help other daughters not lose their father to the same killer. Being inside in the house can bring information that is in your subconscious. I promise you will make it, we will all be here with you.”

His handshake got stronger, and it reminded you of your father. That should have been the same way he comforted the victims' relatives, the way he was supposed to act with people.

'Everyone is somebody's son.' That's what Gideon said. It hit you like an atomic bomb. And, for a moment, you thought it was possible to die of sadness.

You squeezed Rossi's hand tightly, as if you were looking for courage. When you opened eyes again, you gave a weak nod. Carefully, as if any sudden movement is capable of causing you more pain, you stood up, your legs wobbly, your heart bleeding, sadness clouding your vision. Rossi put his hand behind your back, in a way to make sure him were there, as an anchorage in reality that would not let you get lost in the valley of sadness and pain.

As you walked up to the house, you didn't see the other agents, you didn't see the trees, the cars. At that time, you didn't even know what color the sky was anymore. It was like a suspended moment, when the world is in slow motion, the hemisphere is terrified. The sadness was palpable in the breeze, in the way that the rays of the sun did not reach the ground. The whole land looked like mourning.

As soon as you stepped inside the house, the smell of home and Gideon hit your nose, and you felt your face tighten in an expression of pure pain. You didn't notice the agents coming in behind you, you didn't notice Penelope and JJ. You just saw the furniture, the decor, his stuff. As if Gideon had just left for the market and was going to come back.

Everything was in was there. Minus the most important thing: him.

You did not notice when Rossi left you, you did not notice who approached. Everything was in a haze of pain.

But that's when you saw the strong blood marks on the floor, stuck to the wood with possession. A cold shiver as sighed from death ricocheted through your entire body, bristling all over your skin. In a burst, like the bursting of a violin string, the mist dissipated, the state of tupor burst, and reality hit you with overwhelming force.

And then the plug fell.

Jason Gideon had died.

You fell again, barely noticing the sobs and loud crying starting to come out again, the most desperate and painful in you life. But this time the arms that took you were different, bringing with you sensations that you haven't felt in a long time. That a long time ago you forgot that you could feel.

They were long, thin, and contained a vigor hidden beneath the thin facade. The smell of his presence was… heaven. That feeling was your anchorage on the high seas, in the valley of despair, and you clung to him for fear of drowning, of not finding your way back home.

You didn't have to see it to know who it was.

You turned to the arms that took you, now Spencer kneels with you on the floor, and you cried in a way that you never cried before, with a visseral pain. Your hands went to the brown cardigan he wore, closing there as if the fabric was your only chance for salvation.

So you looked at the immensity of the his brown irises.

"He was the only thing I had, Spen.” You sobbed loudly with the crying, gently swaying his coat, your voice utterly torn.

Spencer felt his eyes sting, his throat lock and the remains of what was his heart ache in a hideous way.

“I know.” He felt a tear run down his left cheek, his hands on your arms.

At this time, the two of you supported each other. Gideon meant a lot to you two. An irreplaceable role in yours life. And Spencer knew that was what you were talking about when you said:

"He was the only thing we both had.” You closed your eyes, your hands still firmly on his coat, your heart pounding.

But this time Spencer's voice was just as broken when he said: “I know.”

Then he hugged you.He hugged you for everything. He hugged you because it was a pain that only you two could understand. He hugged you because you needed it, and because he needed too.

Jason Gideon had a special connection with you two, a connection that only the two of you had ever experienced. Each relationship with Gideon was different, special in different ways, but only the two of you had him as a protector, mentor, a much more paternal and confidant figure. He was the kind of person you could leave your life in his hands, the kind who would teach you the secret of the worlds, show you what goodness was and at the same time strength. And you two had that.

You stained Reid's coat with tears, and Reid stained you with the strong smell he had. He stepped far enough away to be able to see your face perfectly, at a considerable distance, and, against everything he had ever done before with anyone, he took your face in his hands, his eyes fixed on your in pain shared.

“We will catch how did it.” Reid assured you, as if he had tattooed this words on your skin. You closed your eyes in pain, but he brought you back “Hey, keep looking at me."

So you did it. Because you would always follow Spencer. To hell if he asked.

"Don't take your eyes off mine, okay?” His voice was so sweet, so gentle, and you couldn't have done anything but agree. “When was the last time you spoke to Gideon?”

“Yesterday.” You replied “We were going to travel to the beach today, I took a vacation from work.”

“Was he at home when you two talked?”

The team looked at each other, with several questions in those look.

You denied it, the hiccup now because of the shortness of breath you had because of the crying.

“He stopped at Roanoke for...” and that's when you seemed to remember something.

Your eyes widened softly, your lips trembled, and you let out a stammering sigh as you try to remember something very important.

“What do you remember?” Spencer stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, trying to calm the beating of your heart that went back to being frantic and making you focus on the question, not the sea of ​​emotions you felt.

“He…” was when your eyes fluttered before meeting Reid's again. “He said he saw a woman on the news who was found dead. And ... and that he had to make sure of one thing ”

Rossi looked at Hotch, who gave an attentive and objective expression.

“Did he tell you why?” His eyes closed again and you sobbed. Reid moved closer, bringing your face back in his direction again “Look at me, Y/n.”

As soon as you did, he gave you a gentle smile, but contained all the pain in the world. He understood what you were felling.

“Why was he interested in the case?” He changed the question.

“I-it was something about...” you searched in your mind “Girl named Tara. I don’t know. He mentioned about a blue butterfly tattoo on her ankle as well, and that it was something to do with a… a case or something.”

“1978” Rossi interrupted and everyone looked at him “Gideon and I worked on a case in 1978, the suspect was never caught and Tara was a teenager who we thought had been kidnapped by him. The killer left dead birds in the hands of the victims ”

“But he didn't mention birds and...” That's when your eyes, fluttering, darted around the room and you stopped abruptly.

Spencer turned his attention to you again, seeing that you were staring somewhere. His hands slowly left your face and he asked:

“What?”

“The board.” You pointed to your father's board, which had a beautiful brown bird.

“Does say anything to you?” Rossi turned his attention to you.

You shook your head, your body too exhausted to go to the painting and examine it.

“He shot the board.” You looked at the agents “My father loved that painting, he never would have done that. Even though my father is stunned, he has the best aim I have ever seen.”

“The devil is in the details." Rossi went to the pinting and, after two seconds, turned to the team and said “I already know who did this.”

You let out a gigantic sigh of relief as the agents split up to continue the case, speaking so fast that you couldn't keep up.

“I helped?” You looked at Spencer, tears still shining in your eyes.

He smiled and nodded “Very.”

But when he got up, you took his hand, making Reid turn his attention back to you again, a questioning look on his face.

“You're going to get it, aren't you?” The sob invaded your voice "Promise me that you will catch him, Spen."

Reid took his hand in your, giving you a strong, comforting squeeze before saying:

"I will. I promise.”

And then he left, along with the other agents.

- - -

You thought you knew what pain was, the loss, the tightness in the heart. You thought that your many relationship breakdowns showed you what it was like to suffer. But you have never been so wrong. None of that compared to how you were now, to what you felt.

You would trade that feeling for anything in the world.

This was terrible. A cold, coercive, brutal and cruel feeling. As if you were at the bottom of a black ocean, unable to breathe, falling deeper and deeper, consumed by the overwhelming cold of the water.

It was impossible to say in words how you felt. But if it were you had to define it in one word you would say: pain. A pain that bends you, a pain that makes you want to scream, that pierces your lungs so that it is not possible to breathe, but that even so, you fight for air.

It was pain at its rawest, most brutal, sharp and atrocious like a dagger blade. You would go through Dante's hells for eternity instead of living one day with that pain.

Since Spencer and the agents went after the person in charge, you have sat on the steps of the front door, watching the nature, the shaking of the trees, but your attention was so far, far away. Perhaps unattainable.

Gideon always loved watching the seasons go by, and in that moment, you wondered if looking at the same thing he looked at every day would make you feel close to him. Feel with him. It had only been three days since you last saw him, when he picked you up at the airport, but you felt like you were past three lives. How would you go without it? How were you able to think of living without it?

You pulled your knees up against your chest, hugging your legs, the metallic, atrocious and icy taste of devastation stuck to yours in your mouth. The trees shook hard, forcing the birds to fly away, but you didn't feel cold. You were not feeling the cold breeze hit your body, nor were your muscles contracting in exhaustion from the hard wood of the steps you were sitting on.

The hunger, the cold, the heat or the craving could not reach you, as if the pain had paralyzed all your system. Probably your soul.

You didn't see when Stephen put father's blanket over your shoulders, nor did you hear his sobs for seeing you so devastated. But you smelled Gideon, and the warmth of the blanket was like having his arms around you again. Then the rest of the water in your body found its way to your eyes and crying was as automatic as breathing.

You were clinging to Spencer taking the son of a bitch who did it, trying to chase away any other thoughts that weren't about that. You didn't want to think about what would happen after he was caught. Which meant his capture for you. It would bring justice to Gideon, honoring his name, his life, but it wouldn't bring him back. What was taken from you would not be repaired, regardless of the end of that damned man.

When he was caught, you would have nothing else to focus on instead.

You don't know how long you stayed there. Hours? Days? The those peach and gold tones in the sky is from dusk or the dawn of a new day?

You had lost track of time, as if your watch had stopped since the time Gideon died.

The sound of cars on the road was the only thing that pulled you out of your fucking valley, and as soon as the black SUVs stopped, you stood up as if you had been waiting your whole life for that moment. The blanket fell from your shoulders, heart accelerated at an alarming rate, and for a second, everything was gone from your mind.

Rossi was the first to get out of the car, but yours eyes darted to Reid. You wanted to run, ask what had happened, listen to the answers. But you were paralyzed in place. Afraid of the truth, of reality.

What would become of you after that news?

Spencer came towards you without hesitation, and you couldn't take your eyes off him for a second. He didn't say anything, nor did he explain anything. It was not needed. The way he reached out his hand and placed your father's rings in your palm were enough answers.

Your whole body shook and you looked at Reid with more emotions than askers.

"He is dead." He told you, and it made you fall down again.

But this time you fell into his hugging, clinging to him in despair. There were many meanings in that embrace: gratitude, relief, fear, pain and grief. And Spencer hugged you back in the same way.

You two stayed that way for a while, even when the agents went to talk to Stephen, even when Garcia and JJ left the house, even when the cold wind hit you both.

“Thanks." You heard yourself say it, and Spencer shook his head, signaling that it wasn't necessary, and the two of you moved away.

So you went to Rossi, and hugged him too. In that second, Rossi could feel Gideon in that hug, and it took a second to not cry.

“Your father was a great man." He told you when the two of you walked away, and you agreed on a sad smile.

"He was." You looked down at the rings in your hand, staying a second there before turning to the agents and saying: “You guys are going to the funeral, aren't you? I ... my dad would like it w-very much.”

"Of course." Rossi guaranteed it.

As they walked away and went back to the car, heading for their own houses, your eyes met Spencer's and he whispered in the air to you:

“I will see you at the funeral."

You nodded, giving you a sad, grateful smile. And while everyone was leaving and you were looking at the rings in your hand again, you had a feeling that your story with Spencer had just started over.

A/n: I also lost a very important person to death, and for everyone who went through it too, I mean that no one is alone! My message box is open if you need anything! Love you❤️

Tagged @gublersuvula

@peculiarinsomniac

@measure-in-pain

@nobutalsoyes

🍒 @misshale21

[samadiw]

Knickers - Part 03 - Yellow Knickers 💛

.

Yellow?

Fucking yellow?

She didnt have yellow knickers, she didnt have yellow anything and it wasnt like she could stroll into Hogsmeade and buy a pair.

Hermione pulls out her drawer of knickers, for a girl who didnt get it on much, she had a drawer full of colourful undies, one must always feel good in what covers your twat.

She gingerly picks up a scanty almost see through black pair of knickers, well, they would have to do.

Placing the pair on the bed, she reaches for her wand and waves it over the undergarment, the colour instantly changes from black to dark yellow.

Hermione grins, it looks better than she expected.

H : "Not bad..."

She flops down on the bed and thinks of Malfoy's cock for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

The fucker had no shame in just whipping it out in front of her, his crass boldness turned her on, he didn't care to tip toe around her as if she would shatter into a million pieces.

Her toes curl with wanting, he would widen her nicely, she had always been told she was tight.

Damn that bloody Malfoy cock.

*******

T : "The fuck man."

B : "Don't you get sick of losing?"

T : "You're cheating, I know it."

B : "Its wizards chess, you just suck."

T : "I have to meet Luna but once I'm back, I want a bloody rematch."

B : "Let's make it interesting, care to place a bet?"

T : "10 Galleons?"

B : "My house elf makes 10 times that, you bloody cheapskate."

T : "Later."

B : "Use protection, we don't want crummy chess players being added to the population."

T : "Fuck you, Zabini."

Draco walks in towelling his hair

B : "Ah, want to grab a butter beer?"

D : "Sure, mate."

Throws a bottle at Draco and he catches it expertly.

D : "So, whats the name of the new broad?"

B : "Patil..."

D : "Nice."

B : "Is Weasley still banging Granger?"

D : "Haven't a clue."

B : "She's looking rather fine this year."

Draco tightens his hold on the bottle and takes a long swig.

Blaise didnt know the half of it.

The next morning

T : "Fuck, are you ready to leave?"

D : "Yeah, I've got some, unm...work to do."

What he wanted to do was claim his seat in the Great Hall before someone else did.

B : "Well, I'm ready, I'll come with you, Theo, do hurry up bitch."

T : "Yeah, yeah, I'm hurrying."

They walk into the Great Hall and find it half full.

A bunch of 3rd years are sitting in Draco's usual place.

The blonde towers over the younger students and hisses darkly.

D : "Move, now!"

The adolescent boys trip over themselves in their haste to get up.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy, sir."

"Right away."

"So sorry."

Blaise and Draco slide into the seat.

B : "I think the tall one wet his pants."

D : "Respect, Blaise, must be taught when young."

B : "Theres a fine line between respect and bullying."

D : "Potato, potahto."

B : "Why the fuck do you keep looking at the entrance?"

D : "For Nott, ofcourse."

Blaise raises a brow and grins.

B : "Sure you are..."

Hermione links her arm through Ron's and he whispers a funny joke into her ear, she throws her head back in laughter.

From across the hall she can feel steely grey eyes watching her every movement.

She locks eyes with the ice blonde and bites her lip.

Settling down in her usual spot, Hermione looks at Draco through hooded eyes and challenges him.

Draco smirks, fucking showtime.

He's about to drop something when a voice cuts into his train of thought.

PS : "Mr Malfoy."

Fuck..

D : "Yes, Professor Slughorn?"

PS : "Come with me, boy, I need your rather unique potion making skills."

Come on, no, no...

D : "Now?"

Slughorn raises a brow.

PS : "Yes, now..."

Draco glances at Hermione desperately.

Did the old codger have to fuck up his morning?

Draco weakly protests

D : "But sir, I'm um..hungry."

Hungry for Grangers cunt.

PS : "Now! Before I start deducting points off Slytherin."

The bloody bastard.

Draco gets to his feet

D : "Fine."

Hermione looks on in disappointment, brings her legs together and watches Malfoy trail after Slughorn miserably.

The fuming Slytherin throws a look of annoyance her way before exiting the hall after the potions master.

Draco misses his first two lessons because of Slughorn's potions emergency, he is still at it when his year piles into the classroom.

He wipes his brow and looks up, Hermione grins and pats the seat next to her suggestively.

It wouldn't do to openly sit next to the Gryffindor without a bunch of questions being asked.

Draco coughs to distract everyone else and shakes his head, Hermione frowns, rolls her eyes and pulls out her books.

PS : "Good job, Mr Malfoy."

Draco replies in frustration.

D : "Yeah, no problem, Professor."

He gathers this things and sits next to Theo.

The class drones on and by the end of it Draco has dozed off more than once.

Theo nudges him and hisses.

T : "For fuck sake, get up."

The class ends and the exhausted students leave the dungeons and make their way to lunch before the next round of classes start.

Hermione studiously avoids Draco, she wouldn't go to him, let him come to her.

Refusing to sit with her, who the bloody hell did he think he was?

She steps into the abandoned girls bathroom to fix her hair and wash the tiredness off her face.

It takes but a second.

The door opens, closes with a bang and a heavy firm body presses up against her back.

Shocked at first, Hermione reaches for her wand but she looks up to see Draco grinning smugly at her.

She turns around and shoves him

H : "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

D : "Isn't it obvious?"

H : "This is the girls lavatory."

D : "I'm aware."

H : "Get away from me, you pervert."

D : "I haven't seen your knickers today, Granger."

H : "And you're not going to see them now."

D : "Oh, I beg to differ."

He places firm hands on her waist, lifts her and settles her on the counter.

Hermione lashes out

H : "Have you lost your damn mind?"

Draco winks.

D : "Possibly."

Hermione tries to hop down.

H : "I'm not playing this bloody game."

Draco holds her in place, his long fingers brush gently along her skin and edge upwards.

He pushes up the school skirt so it bunches around her waist and stares at the bright yellow undie hugging her pussy lips, outlining every dip and curve.

Draco swallows hard, up close she looks absolutely breathtaking.

H : "There, you saw them, are you satisfied?"

D : "Immensely, yellow might be my new favourite colour."

H : "Very funny, now let me go."

D : "Not so fast, pet."

He runs a long finger down her material covered slit.

Hermione gasps and a involuntary moan escapes her full lips.

She comes back to her senses and scolds.

H : "Stop it, anyone could walk in."

Draco rolls his eye, waves his wand and distinctive click echoes through the quiet bathroom.

He grins mischievously.

D : "Problem solved."

He continues to rub enticing circles around the flesh of her inner thighs.

D : "I wonder if you taste as good as you look."

H : "You wouldn't..."

D : "Oh, I would and you will love it."

He peels down her panties, leaving a trail of fire where his fingers touch her skin.

Draco puts Hermione smooth legs over his shoulders and bends to give her exposed cunt a quick lick.

Hermione gasps as he delves inside her with the tip of his tongue.

He gives her clit a quick flick and proceeds to eat her out generously.

Holy fuck, was Malfoy licking her cunt?

Oh, so good, so bloody good.

D : "You taste divine, let's see what makes you come."

Hermione's breathing elevates, she surrenders to the blonde licking her to glory.

The noises he makes as he moves his tongue echo in her head and fuel her pending release.

H : "Malfoy...."

D : "Wet, so fucking wet."

They have 4 minutes and 26 seconds before their next class.

Draco figures he needs 3 minutes tops to fuck her with his talented tongue and feel her orgasm on it.

D : "You taste fucking amazing."

He parts her pussy lips with his tongue again and begins to lap at her eager wetness.

Moving slowly, he uses the tip of his tongue to circle her ever receptive bud.

His tongue slips and he's rewarded with a loud moan.

Ah, so that's the spot.

Draco relentlessly tongues Hermione till she squirms.

He wants to look at her, keeping up his ministrations he braved a look at the witch whispering his name.

She was shuddering above him, her body wracked in pleasure.

Head thrown back, wild curls around her face, fuck...she looked stunning.

Her eyes closed, thighs spread wide and hands massaging her breasts and pinching her nipples.

This was a sight he could get used to.

H : "There, oh fuck...don't stop..."

H : "Oh...mm...I'm going to come."

Music to his ears, he takes her swollen bud between his lips and sucks hard.

D : "Let go, baby."

Hermione lets out a cry, grabs a fistful of Draco's hair and comes crashing down around him.

Only after she rode her high and stilled did he wipe her dripping juices off his chin and get to his feet.

H : "Well, that was..."

She hopes off the counter and attempts to stand on wobbly legs.

Draco licks his cum stained lips and grins.

D : "Something else."

H : Yes, something else.

Draco muses .

D: "And we havent even kissed yet."

Post orgasm bliss aside, Hermione asks.

H : "Why didn't you sit next to me? Do you still think me dirty?"

Dirty, was the woman mad? She fucking came in his mouth and he couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth.

Draco pulls Hermione close and kisses her.

The kiss is no gentle exchange between lovers, its hard, fast and demanding

He pries her stubborn lips open with his tongue and slips it in to seek the inner sweetness, they grab onto each other fighting for dominance, until, she breaks free and surfaces for air.

Draco nibbles on the heated flesh of her neck and whispers.

D : "That's your cum you taste on my tongue, do you honestly believe your blood status means fuck all to me?"

He places a tender kiss to her lips

D : Actually, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment of mingling with an ex Death Eater.

Hermione shoves him playfully.

H : "Sod it, sit with me tomorrow."

D : "You dig your own grave, Granger."

A distinctive tent decorated Draco's trousers, he cups the bulge and adjusts his painfully hard erection.

H : "Oh, you're still hard, let me..."

D : "We don't have time."

Hermione's face falls in disappointment and Draco smirks.

D : "Don't worry about it, you can make up for it tomorrow."

Draco picks up the discarded yellow knickers and pockets them.

D : "I'm keeping these by the way."

H : "You cant be serious?"

D : "I rather enjoy the thought of you walking about the castle knickerless."

H : "You fucking smug prat."

D : "Blue is my favourite colour, Granger."

Draco lifts the spell and walks out.

Funny, she would've bet her left tit that it was black.

[moon-light-jukebox]

Stay with me - [Hotch x Reader]

Request prompt: Heyyyyy I was wandering if you still took requests cause I’ve been dying to have this written. I’m thinking something about reader being youngest of the bunch at BAU and after a really intense and scary case everyone is kinda shook and in the jet reader can’t stop sobbing by herself in the back and hotch goes and comforts her and when they get home he goes with her home and holds her in her sleep and then they make love at like 3-4 am. I just need details and a lot of feels. I hope you’ll do it

Summary: After a tragic loss that rocks the entire team, Reader turns to her unit chief for comfort. 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Fem!Reader

Word Count:  5.1k

Genre: Overwhelmingly angst. then some smut and fluff. 

Rating: Mature

Content Warning: Angst, mentions of torture suffered by a victim. Normal Criminal minds stuff. Smut. Oral sex (female receiving). Unprotected sex. 

A/n: I hope this is what you had in mind, Anon. This request just jumped out at me. This is set during season 9. 

-- Stay with me --

stay is a sensitive word. we wear who stayed and who left in our skin forever.

- Nayyirah Waheed

-- September 2, 2013 --

Some cases stick with you long after you board the jet home. Some cases crawl inside your skin and hollow you out. Some cases become a part of you.

The team had been called to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma to help catch a serial killer. I had only been a member of the BAU for 4 months, so it wasn’t uncommon for cases to still rattle me. Rossi said that I’d develop a thicker skin over time.

But this case seemed to even rattle him.

Over the past 15 years, on the same day every year, a woman’s body was found in a public place. She had been violently assaulted and tortured. The local M.E. always said the torture took place over the span of at least 10 months.

I felt my stomach roll when I read over the case file. I don’t think there was a form of pain he didn’t inflict on these women.

We had his prints; we had his DNA. None of that mattered, this man was a ghost.

September 1st had been fast approaching, and the local police knew they most likely couldn’t save the woman that had already spent the last several months with him. One deputy said that killing the woman would be a mercy, because “who could ever recover from that.”

We spent a week in Oklahoma; we started at the very beginning. I poured over the lives of 15 women, praying that maybe I could help us find 16 in time, praying I could save 17 before he ever touched her.

-- August 30, 2013 –

“Morgan,” Hotch said, his eyes scanning over the document in front of him. “I want you and y/n to interview Heather Pruitt’s brother.”

Derek’s eyebrows went up. “We’ve already talked to him, Hotch. He has an alibi. Do you think he knows something else?”

The unit chief nodded. “Heather was our first victim. She was important to the unsub.”

“Probably the most important,” Rossi chimed in.

Hotch nodded. “Understanding why Heather was so special to him is how we catch him.”

Morgan clicked his tongue against his teeth, nodding in agreement. “Okay…” he trailed off. “Are you sure y/n is up for this?” He turned to me; hands raised. “No offense, it’s just that…”

“I’m young,” I finished for him. Dr. Spencer Reid was the youngest person to ever join the BAU…and I was the second. I was 25 years old. The closest person in age to me was the resident genius, Dr. Reid, who was almost 32. I had earned my spot in the team, but I was no Spencer.

Morgan nodded, not looking abashed in the slightest. “Maybe Blake would be a better choice, Hotch.”

His dark eyes ran over me, considering Morgan’s words. “I’m sending her in because she’s so young. People don’t perceive her as a threat.”

“They never saw me as one,” Spencer said softly.

JJ laughed, swatting his arm. “You’re still not a threat, Spence.”

-- August 31, 2013 –

“Mr. Pruitt,” I said brightly, extending my hand. “Thank you so much for coming to speak with us.”

The older man nodded, meeting my gaze evenly. “Anything to help you catch this son of a bitch.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Rachel, darlin’, why don’t you wait right here? I don’t want you to have to…hear about what happened to my sister.”

The woman, Rachel, was small and pale. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes. “Of course,” she said softly, pressing a kiss against David Pruitt’s mouth.

"Do you need anything, ma'am?" I asked her.

“No,” she responded meekly. “I’m fine.”

I looked right into her eyes and smiled warmly at her before I turned away to follow Morgan and Mr. Pruitt into the interview room.

-- September 1, 2013 –

The entire team was standing around the precinct waiting for the call. JJ was gripping her cup of coffee tightly. Reid was staring at a map that was taped on the evidence board. Morgan was looking down at his phone while he talked to Blake. Hotch and Rossi were standing near the Sherriff of Broken Arrow.

We hadn’t stopped him. If he held to pattern, then victim 16 was already gone, and we’d be getting a call about her body soon.

I felt numb. I felt like I had missed something.

The shrill ringing of a phone made all of us tense up, every head in the precinct immediately turning to the receptionist at the front of the room. She spoke for a few moments before she hung up, giving the sheriff a grim nod. “She’s at the park off 6th street, Bruce.”

We all sprang into action, racing out the door to our vehicles. Morgan drove one SUV, Hotch drove the other. We knew we were too late for this girl, but maybe, just maybe, if we got there quick enough and the crime scene was fresh enough, we could find something.

The local police beat us there by a few minutes. Hotch hadn’t even parked before I was opening the door.

I couldn’t explain it then, but I had a feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach. It was a darkness I couldn’t pinpoint, the sort of thing that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

She was on a park bench, her eyes wide and unseeing. “No,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Morgan sighed out before he turned and marched back to his SUV.  

I felt someone’s hands grip my shoulders. “Y/l/n,” Hotch said gently. “I know, but we have to go. He’s revealed himself now. He’s going to try to run.”

And I knew he was right, so I bottled my feelings up as I ran towards the SUVs. We had to find David Pruitt before he left town.

He was our unsub. He killed his sister 16 years ago…and we were certain of that because the 16th victim was his girlfriend.

The same girlfriend that was within our reach yesterday. She was being tortured by this animal…and we had let her go home with him.

-- September 2, 2013 –

The mood on the jet felt heavy. No one was speaking, no one had said much of anything since we found Mary Beth in the park yesterday morning.

Her name wasn’t even Rachel. David Pruitt had to take everything from his victims, including their names. He broke her so badly that not only did she not scream for help in the middle of a police station, she probably couldn’t even remember her own name.

I couldn’t read the entire autopsy report. Rossi and Morgan went to the morgue to speak with the M.E.

Rossi said he was surprised she was even able to stand the day we saw her.

And that was the hardest thing of all. We fucking saw her.

I wasn’t quite sure how the rest of the team managed to keep their emotions so compartmentalized. I saw how this was bothering each of them, but none of them seemed close to breaking.

Not like I was.

I just kept seeing her face over and over again. Her wide eyes, her polite smile. The pictures of her broken body. How different her eyes looked when she was on the park bench. It was all on a loop in my mind.

When we boarded the jet, I sat in the very back, away from the rest of the team. I stared out the window, unseeing. How could I have missed it?

“Y/l/n,” a voice said softly. “Are you okay?”

I hadn’t realized that tears were slipping down my cheeks until I heard Hotch’s voice. I looked up at him. He was my unit chief, the strongest of any of us. If there was anyone I couldn’t afford to break in front of, it was him.

“Yeah,” I said hurriedly, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, y/n.”

I just nodded. Please leave, please leave. If he walked away, maybe I could hold it together a little while longer.

But he didn’t leave. He knelt down beside me in the middle of the aisle. In the months since I joined the BAU, I had made sure to never get too close to SSA Hotchner. There was something about him that fascinated me…and I knew he was a good enough profiler to see it, because I wasn’t skilled enough to hide it.

This was the closest I'd ever physically been to him. I was close enough to notice that his eyes weren’t a flat shade of brown; they were a warm chocolate brown and he had freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“Y/n,” he said softly, reaching out to take one of my hands in his larger one. “It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. This is the job; we can’t save them all.”

“But I saw her,” I whispered, feeling the dam break inside of me. “I talked to her.”

Hotch must have realized I was already too far gone to hold myself together anymore. I just kept seeing her eyes, over and over and over.

He stood abruptly, pulling me up with him. He led me into the back area near the restroom. There was a small countertop here, but most importantly, there was a curtain that could be pulled closed, giving us all the privacy anyone could get on this plane.

I stared up at him in bewilderment while he closed the curtain. By the very nature of the area and given how big he was, our bodies were much closer together than I had ever allowed.

“I know you won’t break down in front of everyone else,” he said quietly. “You still feel like you have something to prove. You don’t, but I understand why you feel that way. You’re a part of this team, y/n.”

I dug my teeth into my bottom lip, holding on to the last threads of my composure.

“Now, I can leave you here and you can pull yourself together,” he continued. “Or I can stay with you.”

This was one of the reasons I hadn’t allowed myself to be near him. There was something in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at me that always made me feel so safe. He was always fierce with a scowl on his face; occasionally he’d surprise me with his dry humor.

I hadn’t known his eyes could look so soft and it pulled on something inside me.  

“I was so close I could have touched her,” I whispered. “And he…he…” I broke off as the first sob ripped out of my throat. Mary Beth was 23 years old. She had a younger brother and two loving parents. Her best friend, Anna, wore Mary Beth’s favorite necklace around her neck. None of them had given up hope.

And I had let her go home with him to die.

I had to watch when her parents got the news that we were so close, but he broke her too badly, she never cried out for help.

I closed my eyes to stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks, desperately trying to pull myself together.

My heart hurt so badly I barely reacted when Hotch’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him. I just buried my face against his chest while he rubbed my back. I was taking the comfort he offered, even though I didn’t deserve it. I was vaguely aware of him whispering against my hair, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

I failed her.

It took a few minutes for my tears to slow. I was able to bottle my pain back up again and take a few breaths. My arms were trapped between our bodies and when I went to pull them free, Hotch started to release me, no doubt assuming I wanted to end our embrace.

I didn’t.

I took a step forward when he took one back, wrapping my arms around his middle, pressing my cheek against his shirt that I just realized was damp from my tears. “Is this okay?” I whispered.

He had frozen for a moment before his arms tightened around me again. “Of course, sweet girl.”

I was just so content to be in his arms that I didn’t even process the term of endearment. “I got your shirt wet.”

“It’ll dry.”

I hummed against him, still so reluctant to let him go. “You smell nice, Hotch.”

He chuckled quietly. “Thanks. And given our current situation, you can call me Aaron.”

I nodded; my thoughts still somber. “I let her down. I let her go. I could have touched her.”

His hands kept rubbing over my back. “You’ve never let anyone down,” he murmured. “Not even for a single moment.”

--

Aaron didn’t feel like my boss when his arms were wrapped around me. He was just a man who held me for as long as I had needed before finally releasing me, offering me a small smile when I moved int the bathroom to try and fix my face.  

I don’t know what he said to each team member, but none of them paid any attention to me when I walked out. They weren’t ignoring me, they just seemed unaware of what happened, even though I knew they weren’t.

Whatever he had done, I was immensely grateful.

It was just after 10 pm when the jet touched down in Quantico.

“Go home,” Hotch said as we all grabbed our go bags. “The paperwork can wait til tomorrow.”

Rossi clapped our unit chief on the shoulder. “This one was a hard one. I know it’s painful, but we can’t save them all.”

But why couldn’t I just save her? I thought.

When we were walking off the tarmac, Morgan spoke. “Kid, lemme give you a lift home. It’s not far.”

Reid’s brows drew together in confusion. “Yes, it is. You live on the other side of town.”

"Just let me do something nice for you, smartass."

Their banter almost pulled a smile from me, but I couldn’t. Everything still felt so heavy.

“What about you, y/l/n?” JJ asked.

It wasn’t a secret that I took the train like Reid did. I’d only lived in D.C. for the four months I’d been a member of the team. Reid didn’t drive because of car crash statistics; I didn’t drive because I hadn’t gotten around to getting a car.

“The train is still running. Which is probably good,” I muttered to her. “It’ll give me time to think.”

She just nodded, giving my arm a squeeze as we all walked into the bullpen to gather the things we had left before the case.

I stayed in the bullpen longer than everyone else. It’s not that I didn’t love them, I truly did. But I just…I couldn’t be brave right now.

“I know it’s not my place, but I really don’t want you to take the train home.”

My lips pulled into a smile then, even though I couldn’t bring myself to face him. “It’s no big deal, Hotch. I’m a full-grown FBI agent. I’ll be fine taking the train home.”

“You might be,” he conceded. “But I won’t be.”

“What?” I questioned, unable to stop my body from turning towards him.

Hotch stepped closer to me, looking slightly unsure. “I…I’ll be worried.”

His words felt important, and I realized the thought of him worrying bothered me.

He heaved out a great sigh, his eyes looked so tired. “Jack’s already in bed, Jessica is staying with him tonight. Please, let me take you home.”

How could I tell him no?

--

The ride back to my apartment was quiet. Hotch seemed to know where I lived without me having to tell him. He had turned the radio on in his SUV, but the volume was so low it was just background noise.

I watched the raindrops roll down the passenger side window and all I could think about was Mary Beth. I wonder if she liked the rain.

“Don’t do that.”

My entire body froze before I turned to look at the man in the car with me. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “Y/n, you did all you could. This isn’t on you. We were all in that precinct. I offered her my hand when she left the station.” His hands were now gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Aaron,” I whispered, reaching out to put my hand on his forearm.

“If you blame yourself, you’ll have to blame me too.”

Tears started to fill my eyes again. I didn’t know what to say. “I couldn’t blame you.”

I saw his throat work as he swallowed, his eyes fixed on the building in front of us. I hadn’t even realized we had pulled into my apartment complex.  

“Then you know why I can’t let you blame yourself.” He killed the engine and took his seatbelt off.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at me in confusion, like it should be obvious. “I’m walking you to your door.”

Oh. “Why?”

Aaron paused, considering his next words. “Because I can’t leave you yet.”

He was out of the car and opening my door before my brain could even process his words. I slid out beside him, clutching my jacket around myself. It didn’t help, the chill I felt was coming from inside of my body.

Aaron pulled my go-bag from the back seat then shrugged me off when I tried to take it from him.

Despite all the emotions I was feeling, I couldn’t resist teasing him a bit. “Are you secretly a gentleman, Aaron Hotchner?”

He looked sheepish for a moment. My mean ass, always scowling FBI unit chief that intimidated almost everyone on a daily basis looked sheepish because I called him a gentleman.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” he warned, shutting the car door.

I felt a tiny smile tug up the corners of my lips. The first smile I’d felt since…

Just like that, the guilt hit me again. How could I be smiling?

We had just reached my apartment door when a tiny sob ripped out of my throat.  “Aaron…I can’t stop seeing what he did to her. She was in pain. And she-she fought back. She didn’t want to…and I can’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart don’t do that.” He dropped my go bag and wrapped his arms around me, once again offering me the comfort I didn't deserve.

The only time I had felt right in the past few days was when I was in this man’s arms. My question slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to think better of it. “Will you stay with me?” I whispered against his chest.

I felt his body stiffen. Fuck. I pulled away from him, quickly wiping at my face. “I’m sorry, Hotch. You’ve got Jack and you’re my boss. It’s inappropriate. I’m so sorry.”

My hands were shaking when I reached to pick up my go-bag from the floor.

“Y/n, it’s not that I don’t want to,” he explained, his hand grabbing mine right before I touched my bag. “It’s not Jack, he went to be hours ago. But I am your supervisor, and I can’t take advantage of you.”

His words hung in the air, feeling almost as heavy as the pain in my chest. “The only time I feel anything good is when I’m with you, Aaron.”

My eyes were fixed on his bigger hand that engulfed mine, but I felt his eyes on me.

“I don’t think I could leave you now even if I wanted to,” he mumbled.

My keys shook when I unlocked the door and once we were inside my tiny apartment, the gravity of everything finally seemed to hit me.  

"I can leave, y/n," he reminded me as if he could tell what I was thinking.

I licked my lips, looking around the room before I could look at him. “I want you to stay,” I pleaded, trying to summon every ounce of courage I had ever felt. “I know it’s not…I’m sure it breaks a million regulations and protocols. But…can you stay with me tonight? I just…I don’t want to be alone.”

What I was asking him for was so much more complicated than just spending the night at my apartment. I think we both knew that if he stayed something was going to change.

“Are you sure it’s what you want?”

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his.

--

I was sitting up in my bed, picking at the threads of my comforter when Aaron got out of the shower. He’d insisted I shower first while he went to grab his go bag and call Jack’s aunt. I felt the energy around me shift the moment he stepped into the room.  

“Are you okay?”

I bit my lip, unsure of how to answer him. "I don't know." I looked up, my eyes meeting his dark ones. "Can-can you stay with me? Just for a little while?"

For a moment I thought he might say no, but his shoulders dropped, and he jerked his head in a tight nod. “Of course.”

He came around to the right side of my bed, looking torn for a moment before I pulled the covers down, indicating I wanted him to get under. I laid my body down while he adjusted himself on to my bed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not in a suit,” I mused, motioning to his t-shirt with a faded FBI logo and his flannel pajama pants.

He scoffed, pulling the covers up to his abdomen. “It’s a rare occurrence.” He had settled on his back, one of his arms bent behind his head, the other one resting on his abdomen.

“Aaron,” I breathed out. “Can I…will you…I don’t want to-“

“Hey,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “You can ask me anything, y/n.”

“Will you hold me?” I begged, my voice breaking in my effort to suppress my emotions.  

My eyes were shut tight, so I didn’t see the look of agony that washed over Aaron’s face. I only felt his body shift closer to mine before his arms came around me again, bringing me flush against his side.

At that moment, even though I felt terrible about myself, I found some solace in the fact that a man like Aaron Hotchner wouldn’t be holding me like this if I were truly a monster.

His big hand ran up and down my back while my head lay on his chest; I was taking comfort from everything about him, his smell, the feel of him holding me, even the steady beating of his heart under my ear.

I made no move to pull away from him; it was selfish, but I couldn’t let him go.

“Thank you for staying,” I whispered into the darkness. Right before I fell asleep, I think I felt his lips brush against my forehead.

--

Several hours later my eyes snapped open when my body jerked suddenly. The instant my eyes were open the nightmare was gone, I could barely remember any of it, not that I needed to. What else could it have been about?

“Hey,” a voice rasped out. “Are you okay?”

I realized I was still in Aaron’s arms. My head was still on his chest, one of his arms was wrapped around my body.

He had stayed with me.

“Yeah, I think so. Just a nightmare.”

He hummed in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I can.”

Aaron’s arm tightened around me. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

My fingers traced nonsense patterns over his chest, my mind racing. I felt so incredibly young then. I was lost in a sea of guilt and despair, and my only anchor was Aaron Hotchner.

It was easier to ask him in the darkness of my bedroom. “Do you feel this too?” I whispered.

The stillness that overtook his body indicated he knew what I meant. “Y/n…I...”

I lifted my head off of his chest, looking down at his face. “If I’m wrong, it’s okay to tell me.”

I saw those dark brown eyes scan over my face; I saw the indecision behind them. “I’ve felt it for a long time,” he said at last. “But you’re hurting, and I’m your-“

I brought a finger up to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. "Then make me not hurt. Please?" The finger I had on his lips started tracing the shape of them, over his cupid's bow, down to his fuller bottom lip.

With an amount of courage that I didn’t know I had, I pushed myself up, swinging my leg over his body. I leaned over his face bringing my lips so close to his. “Please,” I whispered against his lips. Just be with me. Be here with me, Aaron.”

I felt his self-control crumble a moment before one of his hands gripped my hip while the other slid behind the back of my head. He pulled me down until my lips were against his.

If I had allowed myself to think about kissing Aaron Hotchner before, this wouldn’t have been what I expected. His lips were gentle as the brushed against mine, his tongue wasn’t demanding when it slid against the seam of my mouth, his thumb brushed over my cheek while his tongue slicked against mine.

I was the one that broke our sweet kiss to pull my shirt from my body. Baring myself to him this way was nothing compared to how much of my soul he’d already seen. Those dark brown eyes were filled with heat when they ran over my body, his large hands felt reverent when they brushed over my skin.

He rolled us until I was on my back underneath him. Aaron kissed down the column of my throat, down over my collarbones until he reached my breasts. His mouth felt almost scalding when it covered my nipple. I arched up against him, a strangled moan tore from my throat when his blunt fingers slid into my panties.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered against my skin while he trailed wet kisses down my stomach. “Can I?” he asked when he reached the band of my sleep shorts and panties.

If I had had any doubts that I wanted Aaron Hotchner, that question would have gotten rid of them. I was begging him to take me, to make me feel anything other than the pain in my chest…and he still needed to make sure I wanted this.

I hooked my thumbs into my waistband, pulling them down while those almost black eyes ran over every inch of newly exposed skin. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I rasped out.

He reached behind his back to grab the neck of his t-shirt, pulling it off of his body. Before I could blink, he had settled between my thighs, his mouth right above where I ached for him. “I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

Any response I would have made was broken off by a loud groan when his tongue parted my folds. His tongue circled my clit before moving down to dip inside of me. The moan that vibrated against me when he tasted me was the sexist thing I had ever heard.

I couldn’t feel anything but him.

My fingers threaded through his hair while his mouth worked me over. It didn’t feel like this was the first time we had been together like this. He touched me like he had known me for years.

But I needed more.

“Aaron,” I whimpered, my fingers tugging on his short dark hair. His eyes snapped open, but his mouth didn’t lift from my pussy. “I need to feel you inside me. Please?”

He pressed a final kiss to my pussy before he pulled away, moving up my body. Before he settled against me, he pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs. I felt how hard he was, how much he wanted this, against my pussy while his upper body loomed over me. One of my hands pulled him down to me, crashing his mouth against mine; with the other I reached down to grab his cock, running it up and down my slit.

Aaron moaned into my mouth when I lined him up and he started to press inside of me. He gave a few swallow thrusts, allowing my body to adjust to his size before he slid all the way inside of me.

I had never had sex like this before. Sometimes in the past, it had felt like I was just loaning my body out to someone, taking whatever pleasure I got in return. This felt so different. Aaron moved against me like he needed me, his lips ran over my skin like being allowed to touch me was a gift.

He set a steady rhythm, his hips moving against mine in just the right way. He was kissing my neck, moaning my name against my skin when he brought his thumb down to my clit, massaging me while he moved against me.

“Aaron,” I breathed.

His mouth was against mine again. "I've got you, sweet girl, I've got you."

My nails dug into his back, my body arched against him, and my mouth opened in a silent scream when I flew apart underneath him. His head dropped down against my shoulder as he found his own release inside of me.

Aaron’s big body was settled on top of me, but he didn’t feel crushing, it felt safe.

When we had both started to come down from our orgasms, he rolled us against until I was on top of his body, my head on his chest. He pulled the covers over our bodies and pressed a kiss against the top of my head.

“What happens in the morning?” I whispered out.

His head turned to look at the clock on my bedside table. “It’s technically morning now.”

“You know what I mean.”

I felt him nod. “What do you want to happen?”

I lifted my head up, my eyes meeting his dark coffee-colored ones. "Will you stay with me?"

His hand raised to cradle my face again, pulling me down to press the softest, sweetest kiss against my lips. “For as long as you want.”

--

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[bujorulgalben]

it’s 5am and my cat just woke me up so now you all have to endure more of me. you can thank pearl now:

NAME. eve is my alias here! it comes from the name my parents nearly gave me; evangeline

STAR SIGN. virgo sun, taurus moon, libra rising. this is insanely sexy of me

HEIGHT. 5′2. i am the eldest and shortest of 3

WHAT’S YOUR MIDDLE NAME? lucy. not short for lucifer but that’d be really funny

PUT YOUR SPOTIFY ON SHUFFLE. WHAT ARE THE FIRST 6 SONGS THAT POPPED UP?   1. rammstein - du hast (oh baby we’re off to a great start) 2. chris keya - totentanz 3. wargasm - post-modern rhapsody 4. franz ferdinand - walk away (never mind time to cry) 5. crystal castles - intimate 6. toby fox - death by glamour 7. ffs - johnny delusional 

EVER HAD A POEM OR SONG WRITTEN ABOUT YOU? ppl have dedicated songs to me and i promise that’s a sure-fire way to make me leave the function

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU PLAYED AIR GUITAR? maybe two days ago? i dance about with my jams a lot. easily embarrassed if i’m caught out

WHO IS YOUR CELEBRITY CRUSH? marina diamandis my beloved

WHAT’S A SOUND YOU HATE; SOUND YOU LOVE? hate: balloons rubbing on hands or other balloons. i could never be a balloon artist that noise goes straight through my head. it’s on the same level as nails on chalkboard. this is why i stopped going to TGI’s.  love: birdsong. uwu it’s one of the joys of living in the english suburbs all my life. i have a special place in my heart for robins, especially. i love robins. one of the paintings up in the house hallways is one i did of a robin, aged 6. i peaked at 6

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS? ok so there was this one time i went on a residential trip with school for half a week, the house was absolutely haunted, and one morning i woke up to find myself standing upright in an old wardrobe. the doors were heavy, and i don’t sleepwalk. cue coming out joke

HOW ABOUT ALIENS? how can you not? it’s insanely vain to think we’re the most intelligent sentient species out there

DO YOU DRIVE? no! never! i love joking like “i’m a euro-gay you don’t WANT me to drive!!” but i legit have zero desire to drive. too expensive. too much destructive power. i’d die inside if i hit a pigeon let alone a person

IF SO, HAVE YOU EVER CRASHED? see this is what i’m talking about! big fear! used to have nightmares abt car crashes

WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? the song of achilles by madeline miller. i like crying

DO YOU LIKE THE SMELL OF GASOLINE? oh baby. oh i love the smell of petrol. this is the downside to not driving LMAO not getting to go to the petrol station. idk i like melting my brains i suppose. it takes me back to the highs i used to get off spray adhesives when i was studying fine art

WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU SAW? i have no idea! i’m not a movie person by any means, so it must’ve been a while ago. i think it might’ve been the green knight, which was very sexy/10

WHAT’S THE WORST INJURY YOU’VE EVER HAD? idk! i’ve had a medically eventless life! it was probably the collapsed vein i had when this nurse fucked up taking my blood to test me for anemia. i fainted! and had to come back the next day! also yes i do have anemia i didn’t need a blood test to tell you that

DO YOU HAVE ANY OBSESSIONS RIGHT NOW? i revived my naruto obsession after ten-ish years of not touching it and that’s been very, very fun. also: bitch i’m here on a tumblr roleplay blog. you tell me.

DO YOU TEND TO HOLD GRUDGES AGAINST PEOPLE WHO HAVE DONE YOU WRONG?  yes. i can hold the mother of all grudges, and as much as i’d like to say i’m more inclined to forgive but never forget... nah. that isn’t true. i’d like to do better at this bc holy fuck is it tiring, but i feel my jaw clench thinking about Certain People. this is absolutely not healthy don’t be an eve

IN A RELATIONSHIP? i’m sorry but your social link isn’t strong enough for me to answer this

tagged by: stole it lol tagging: the girl reading this <3

[altheterrible]

On strength and the Future

My therapist had to reschedule me from today (3/9) to tomorrow (3/10) due to “unforeseen circumstances” and of course my first thought was that she hates me and thinks I'm boring and pathetic.

I have no logical reason to think this. She's only ever been extremely supportive and validating. I just feel like I'm boring and pathetic, so I feel like everyone else feels that way about me, too.

The thing is, I am not boring. Or pathetic.

I'm depressed. I'm depressed, and that makes me feel boring. I'm actually very interesting, I'm extremely well educated, well read, media savvy, musically gifted, artistic, socially conscious, and I'm juuuust dramatic and ridiculous enough that I’m a hilarious storyteller. People have told me my whole life that I’m a goddamn delight. People I respect, even. I believe them. I'm not boring!

But I FEEL boring. I feel dull, and unengaged, and disconnected from everyone and everything. So I assume everyone feels the same about me. Oh, that Al is such a bore. Al can't even entertain herself. Even Al doesn't want to listen to her own boring thoughts, why would a poor therapist want to?

As for being pathetic, I feel like this whole trauma thing is a joke. Like, I feel as though I'm being a dramatic baby just clinging to slights from the past because they're the most interesting thing about me. A stronger person would just let it go and move on. Maybe I'm just desperate to be tortured and tragic so people will pity me. Maybe I need an excuse to be as much of a failure as I've ended up being. Maybe my trauma and the supposedly related mental illness is just my whole identity.

The thing is, though…before grad school, my mental illness was a huge part of my identity, but even then, I still saw myself as so much more. I was a musician, an artist, a writer, a scholar. A pet owner. After the four years of therapy I got in grad school, my mental illness became even less of my identity. I make a concerted effort to define myself by the things in my life I've controlled, not by the shitty things that happened to me due to others' malevolent or negligent actions.

So I don't think I'm like, deliberately clinging to trauma to be dark and mysterious or something, and yet…if I'm not deliberately holding on to my trauma, then why won't I just let it go? If I have the ability to drop the bowl of soup that's scalding my hands, why have I not done so? It's stupid and illogical to hold tightly onto that which causes pain, so if I won't let it go, then I must be stupid and illogical.

I've never been stupid and illogical, though. Multiple friends call me the most logical person they know.

So...maybe I CAN’T let go. Maybe I cannot move on.

But…I need to believe that some part of me wants to hold onto my trauma, and linger on it, and obsess over it, because being unable to let go is unacceptable. Unable to conquer my own emotions? Pathetic. I never even used to HAVE emotions, when did I get so weak as to be ruled by feelings?

No.

I refuse to be weak.

I have never been weak.

My father, and his mother, were very critical of me growing up. My grandmother wanted thin, pretty, feminine granddaughters and I've been short, fat, and butch my whole life. She showed heavy favoritism to my more appealing cousins. My dad resented that, but to him, the problem was that his kids didn't measure up, not that his mother was a bitch. So he pushed and pressured and criticized and even as young as 4 or 5 years old, I knew I needed to improve myself.

I embarked at that young age on a focused program of self-improvement, as ridiculous as that sounds for a child that small. I couldn't make my body into what my grandmother wanted, and wearing dresses and such made me feel like I was suffocating (and still does), but I knew I could improve myself in other ways.

I began to teach myself piano and dedicated myself to learning about music. I began to listen to the classical composers my grandmother liked and I'd read about the composers at the library to impress her with my knowledge. When she criticized me, and she did often, instead of letting myself become frustrated or upset at her frankly unfair commentary, I forced myself into cool neutrality. Proper young ladies don't show their anger, they stay calm and put together. Good granddaughters are quiet, attentive, and malleable, so I became those things. I learned baking, sewing, and gardening to please her.

I decided around age 8 that I needed to become stronger in other ways to make up for my ugly and Gross body and also so that my parents would give me the positive attention I craved instead of ignoring me. At that point, the only attention I was getting regularly was from the cousin who was sexually abusing me, and I also thought she'd treat me better if I were different. So, I decided I needed to be more stoic and reserved so my parents wouldn't know (and thus yell at me) when I got sick or when someone hurt me. I decided I needed to be less sensitive so that when my classmates bullied me, I could just brush it off. I thought I needed to be emotionally closed off so that I had fewer vulnerabilities people could exploit, for example, my cousin would use my emotions against me to manipulate me into doing what she wanted, and I thought if my feelings were a secret, she would have to be nicer to me overall to get me to cooperate. Finally, I decided I needed to become the truly strong, silent type instead of reacting emotionally like a child to all the traumatic shit that kept happening to me--in my mind, only children cried when they were scared or yelled when they were hurt or angry, and since being a child sucked for me, I decided I was ready to be an adult.

I started cutting myself at age 11 to train myself to withstand physical pain, thinking that if I could do that, then emotional pain wouldn't bother me as much. It worked ridiculously well. By cutting myself, I could turn emotional pain off immediately. Good riddance. When I cut myself, I felt focused and strong. I so rarely felt strong otherwise.

Being able to shut off all unpleasant feelings helped me "mature" quite young, and I focused on making myself stronger in all the ways I could. My asthmatic, stunted, malnourished, and neglected body wouldn't cooperate and become the thin, fit, healthy ballerina my father and grandmother wanted me to be, but I strengthened myself in every other way. I attacked every weakness in my character with precision and became the most mature, responsible, adult child possible.

Thus, by the time I was in high school, I had taken every characteristic that annoyed me in others or led to POTENTIAL harm and removed them from my personality. At 14, I kept my own schedule, did my own cleaning and laundry, cooked my own food, and scheduled my own appointments, and a few years later, did all my college tests and applications alone. I worked 20 hours a week starting on 9th grade, and from then on paid for my own clothes, school supplies, piano lessons, and college entrance fees. I was totally independent by age 16, depending only on my parents for shelter and utilities, which I did contribute to so I really just needed them to use their legal ages to pay bills.

I had no close friends until 2012, and confided only sparingly in my sister until 2016. Everyone liked this setup except me, but I didn't matter. When I felt like I was going to choke on all the secrets I was keeping, I started an anonymous online diary and told strangers the things no one in my life wanted to hear. This kept me from completely shutting down emotionally from 2001 until I could get therapy in 2015.

I was cutting myself 5 or 6 times a week as a high school student, but to me, that didn't matter. I didn't matter, per my parents, so my body didn't matter, and hurting my body to master my emotions was a good trade off to me. It let me be productive, even after being sexually abused for 5 years by my cousin, even after being neglected and abused by my parents and bullied by my peers, even after watching my aunt try to commit suicide in front of me, even after my dad was in jail, even after he was back and he threatened to burn the house down while we slept like my maternal grandmother tried to do when I was five. And so much more. Even after all that, self harm let me be productive. Being able to produce excellent schoolwork, musical genius, and clean sheets was more important than my body, my body had betrayed me from a very early age by being too fat, too short, too easy for others to abuse. Ten years after graduating high school, I was cutting myself multiple times daily, often deeply enough that I needed stitches. I was also bruising myself and breaking my own bones. But I still thought being productive mattered more than the “harm” I was doing to my body. Until my second year of grad school, I was able to just push all the trauma shit down inside with self harm and remain functional. I felt this was a solid coping mechanism. After all, I didn't drink or do drugs, I didn't harm animals or engage in any other criminal behavior. The only person I hurt was myself, and I didn't matter.

And I still feel that way today, honestly, 16 years since I graduated from high school. Being a productive person is more important than my feelings, and my inability to move past my trauma is a weakness in my character that needs to be excised with precision, the way I've excised so many other faults. But I can't, I can't move on, and now I'm stuck feeling bad about shit that's 10+ years old, all the time. Constantly. Just constant bad feelings that won't go away.

They won't go away, and I can't just turn them off anymore, either. Because in 2016, I started trying to quit self harm. And two years ago I stopped self-harming for 15 months straight, and now it doesn't work as a magical emotions-off button anymore. I cut myself now and I just feel guilty and gross, plus all the bad emotions I was already dealing with, instead of feeling strong and powerful and focused and empty.

So now I'm stuck in this place where I can't just get over my trauma and move on from the intense bad feelings, and I can't just turn the feelings off because cutting myself--my only real coping mechanism for these intense bad feelings--just compounds the intense bad feelings now instead of stopping them, so I'm stuck FEELING INTENSELY BAD CONSTANTLY WITH NO END IN SIGHT.

This leads me to conclude that I'm left with the truly unattractive option of actually processing the trauma to stop the constant bad feelings it's causing. Process the trauma, no more bad feelings. Can't go over it, can't go under it, can't go around it, gotta go through it.

It's such bullshit, though, because literally no one has sympathy when you're working through shit that happened 10 or 20 or 30 years ago and your life is consequently a disaster. They expect trauma to come out only in therapy and go neatly back in its box at the end of the session, but it doesn’t work like that. If I open a box of trauma, I then have to sort and organize that whole box. I can't just fit it tidily back into the box how it was before, and the box won’t just neatly shut again. All that trauma mess will be sitting out in the open until I can get it all put where it actually belongs, which means I gotta clear storage space and probably organize and sort my non-trauma mess to make room. And I don't know if I can commit to that kind of deep cleaning. I need to get a steady income, I need to do laundry and clean the cat boxes, and I need to clean the bathroom, and I need to cook, and I need to work 40 hours a week, I need to PRODUCE the stuff of life. The stuff that "matters" like paid bills and completed projects and met deadlines.

The need to be productive never stops, but working through my trauma may erode my ability to be productive even more than struggling to stay afloat in the ocean of my trauma has already eroded it. And then what? Who am I, if I'm not productive? What good am I?

But maybe there’s more to life than being productive. Strange idea, that. Maybe there's more than paying bills and meeting deadlines. Maybe there’s joy out there. Maybe there’s love. Maybe there's satisfaction in a job well done, instead of a sense of uunending panicked guilt about what's not yet done. Maybe there's a future that's actually…worth living. A future that's...good. Maybe there's 9 cats there. Maybe there's a grand piano and a kitchen with an island.

A future is intriguing, especially one worth living, but how do I get there from here? Can I? How do I get from "I'm drowning in an ocean of trauma" to "happy, living a worthwhile future with 9 cats and a grand piano and a kitchen with an island"?

What if I keep fighting to barely tread water here in the Trauma Ocean forever? I'll run out of energy and drown, eventually, well before I get to "forever". Treading water in this sense means going though the days like I am now, tired, burned out, empty. Exhausted. Productive, sure, but barely, and no joie de vivre. Nothing feels worth living for, but suicide is too cruel to my sister, so I keep going. Swimming in the Trauma Ocean is painful because there's no rest--I can't touch the bottom and I don't have a life vest--and so there's no escape from the bad feelings, it's just constant hurt and anger and sadness pulling me down.

Several months, maybe even a couple more years like this, with nothing changing and no escape from the constant pain, eventually it'll get too tiring to keep my head above water anymore and that’ll be it. I'll sink. I'll finally give up and kill myself, or just die of diabetes complications when it gets to hard to care for myself. Then I'll never have a chance to see this POTENTIALLY WORTHWHILE FUTURE with cats and a piano and a kitchen island that may exist out there for me.

So if I just give up immediately and stop trying to keep my head above the water of the Trauma Ocean now, I'll drown much sooner. Saves me some suffering, yeah. Still dead too young of something preventable, still no chance to live my nine-catted, fancy kitchen, Steinway grand piano dream.

I can’t just get out of this damn ocean, I covered that already, I'm good and trapped here in the Trauma Ocean by my own inability to move on. Can't get out of the Trauma Ocean, so I guess I'll just tread water here until I drown. I guess the nine cats and grand piano and kitchen island are out of reach after all.

Or, maybe I do something really ridiculously hard...and I just drain all the water out of the Trauma Ocean.

And if I keep struggling to keep my head above water while simultaneously working on draining the water out of the Trauma Ocean, then I might survive long enough for my feet to touch the bottom and then, maybe, I can stand up. Rest. Then, start walking. Walk into the future I've been told by friends and teachers and therapists that I deserve. Walk right into my happy future with nine cats and a grand piano and kitchen island.

Draining the water from Trauma Ocean removes the source of my suffering. I don't have to exhaust myself treading water forever if the water starts to go down. If the source of my pain--my Trauma--is managed, then my suffering will also be managed.

And that's why I need to process this fucking Trauma bullshit. Right now, I'm surviving, but I can't keep going forever, it's too exhausting being in this much pain constantly. I will survive, up until the exact moment I can't tread water anymore, and then it'll be too late to save myself. So, surviving isn't enough, I need to do more work to drain Trauma Ocean because I'll never be able to do anything but survive until my feet touch down on the ocean floor. And I want more than survival. After all the shit I've been through, I deserve a happy ending goddamn it, and if that means I have to go through and process every traumatic garbage memory I have, then I'm ready.

I am ready to do more than tread water and gasp for air. I'm ready for more than “well I guess I'm not dead yet.” I'm ready for more than the same pain and exhaustion I've been fighting for years.

I'm ready to feel the ground under my feet. I'm ready to stand up and start walking. I'm ready to finally get the Happy, joyful, loving, worthwhile, multi cat loving, grand piano owning, kitchen with an island having, good feelings-ful future I deserve.

I just need to drain this massive fucking ocean first.

No big deal, right? I've done harder, scarier things than that. it's just moving some water around.

I'll just take it one bucket at a time.

One drop at a time.

One molecule at a time, if that's what it takes.

[myhauntedsalem]

True Ghost Stories and Tales of the Supernatural

1. A Baby Crying

“When I was in high school, my uncle would throw me a couple bucks to help babysit his kids with my aunt. They lived in a two-story house by the water, nice area. The kids were about 3 and 6, respectively.

One day I was sitting in their den on my phone when I started to hear a baby crying. Thinking it was the three-year-old, I headed to the bottom of the stairs to check and see if my aunt was up there dealing with it. I called for her a couple times with no response. The baby kept crying. I called for her one more time, and when I got no response I started walking up the stairs. Then I heard my cousins and aunt playing outside.

All the hairs on my body stood up and I literally felt a chill run down my spine. I quietly turned around, walked down the stairs, got in my car, and drove away. The ‘baby’ was still crying when I closed the door behind me.

A few years later I was drunk at a family party and told my uncle the story. He told me that he and his wife used to hear the baby too, and apparently, the previous owners had a kid die of SIDS in that room upstairs. He’s uber Catholic and had a Mass said for the baby. He said after that it never happened again. Still gives me the willies when I talk about it though.” – urgehal666

2. The Man with the Suitcase

“I was 13 years old and drinking lemonade with my best friend in my kitchen. We were alone. From where we were seating we could see a corridor that leads from the front door to the backyard. We were talking and something made us shut up. We looked to the corridor and there was the shadow of a man walking by with a suitcase. I know she also saw him because we both described the same thing: a tall shadow with a suitcase

Fast forward to a few years later, I had to do a school project with another girl. Again I was alone at home, working on the computer when she arrived. She then asked me where my dad was. When I told her my dad was away, at work, she asked me, ‘Well, then who’s the man I saw walking downstairs and carrying a suitcase when I came in?’

So far, no one else from my family has seen him. I haven’t seen him again ever since, but for a while it really scared the shit out of me to be home alone.” – rraarraarraasputin

3. The Exorcism

“I work as a paramedic, got a call to a church, the retired nun who still lived at the church was having some issues. The priest was attempting an exorcism when the family got a state order to get her into a psych facility. We got her into the back of our ambulance and all was fine. Then this 92-year-old, 90-pound woman ripped out of her leather restraints and started speaking in a voice no human could produce. She then told me that her commander in the war had burned and buried her alive during the war when defending France against the Germans.

The whole presence was terrifying and gave me nightmares for years to come. I told my partner to use the lights and sirens so I could get out of there as fast as possible. During the whole transport, she was speaking in weird tongues.” – rbilly0001

4. The Morgue Door

“Used to work hospital security and we had video cameras accessible in the office.

During body escorts, we kept finding the morgue door open. That was weird because it was a heavy door that could only be opened with a keycard. Pathologists were blaming security and security was blaming pathologists for leaving it open, as we were the only two groups with access. I did a body escort one day, made sure to close the door behind me and went back to work. Not even a half hour later, the office got a call bitching that the ‘last guard left the door open.’

I swore up and down I didn’t and went to check the cameras. The cameras showed me pulling the door shut, pushing on it and then wiggling the locked handle to ensure it was closed. I wasn’t even out of frame from the camera yet before we could see the door swing ALL the way open, hit the wall and then slowly swing shut until it was slightly ajar.” – LilithImmaculate

5. The Haunted Hotel

“Not me but a friend who is a pilot. She stayed at an older hotel downtown Chicago and was studying for her recurrent class which was in a few weeks. While at the desk, deep in thought, she heard people talking and laughing. When she looked up, it got quiet. She said it sounded like it was in the room with her and went back to studying. The noise started off softly and then again sounded like a party was going on in her room. She got up and looked around and there was silence. There were no sounds coming from any rooms, no televisions on, no radios, no people in the hallway – the noise was definitely in her room.

That night around 2 am, she was in bed and felt someone brush strands of hair from her forehead and tuck it behind her ear. She jumped up and turned on the light and there was no one there. She didn’t get back to sleep and bid around that overnight so she wouldn’t be in that hotel again.” – Sandbargirl

6. Echoes of the Past

“When I was little I saw a recurring ghost. She would appear for a split second and then vanish, but I could always perfectly recreate the image.

She was a short little girl wearing a frilly blue dress and a big red bow, blonde hair, blue eyes, large ears. A couple of notable sightings were her looking through my mom’s jewelry box and one peering through our glass door at me (with her hands over here eyes binocular style)

It never really bothered me and these happened for a while. A few years later at my Grandfathers house and we were helping him unpack his attic and I found a portrait of his long since deceased sister.

Not quite the same dress, slightly different bow, but the face was absolutely her. She had died as a child quite tragically so obviously I had never met her, but I did know of her but had never seen a picture of her before.

So, not a scary supernatural encounter but rather a heartwarming one knowing the great aunt I never met was saying hello.” – Omni_Omega

7. Alone in the Chuch

“I worked for my church for two years. One day, a coworker and I were closing up the church at the end of the day. By this point, doors were locked and we had checked every room to make sure no one was in the building. The church had two lobbies, one in each side of the building. They were connected with a long hallway lined with classrooms. As my coworker and I were turning off lights and double checking the doors in the one lobby, I looked down the hall and could distinctly see a boy (late teens to early 20s) in a blue plaid short sleeve shirt and khaki pants sitting in the chair. He had his hands folded and was looking at the ground as if in deep thought.

Initially, I didn’t think anything of it as this wasn’t an uncommon sight. I turned and in the second it hit me that we were the only ones in the building. I turned again and he there was no one (from the time that I saw him to when he disappeared all happened in about a second or two). I told my coworker what I saw and we both noped out of there quick.

Being that is was our first unexplained, potentially supernatural, experience, we were both pretty freaked out but we never felt threatened nor was the presence malicious in any degree.” – AgentMarks

8. The Escaped Prisoner

“I worked in a maximum security prison for awhile. I was assigned to central control one night, which is where the camera screens were.

One of the cameras was for the classifications room. I glanced at it and there was an inmate in there. This was super odd because it was two in the morning and nobody was supposed to be in there. Everyone that had keys to that room went home at 5.

Anyways, so this inmate is just sitting in there doing nothing. I got the sergeant’s attention and told him someone was in there and gave him the spare key to the room. He went to go check it out with a couple of other people, but by the time they got there, the room was empty. They searched for like 15 minutes but there was definitely no one in there.” – Bb21297

9. Calls From the Old Morgue

“My colleague used to work in a hospital and would often receive phone calls around 3am but no one would speak at the other end of the receiver. The number was from an extension somewhere in the hospital and when they looked it up, it was from an old morgue nobody has used in a while.” – manicpixiechick

10. The Footsteps

“When I was about 12 our family moved into a new house—new to us, actually quite old. It was in our same village but down a different lane.

Part of it used to be a bungalow so my room and my sister’s room were on the ground floor, down a long hallway. All of the ground floor had walnut flooring and there was a Persian rug outside the door to my room to avoid cold toesies in the morning.

Every night, around 11 or so, I would hear footsteps walking at a fairly slow pace right down the hall, from the end guest suite up past our rooms and away down the hall to the living room.

I was always in bed when I heard them, and so was everyone else. You know how you can tell who a family member is by the way they walk up the stairs, or open a specific door? I knew it wasn’t anyone in my family. Plus, it was the sound of outdoor shoes clacking on the wood and everyone in my family wore slippers inside the house.

I would hear the footsteps start, fairly loud on the wooden floor, way down the hall, come up past my sister’s room and then there would be a pause—while whatever it was walked over the rug. You could hear the gap in the footsteps, about three seconds, then they would start again on the other side of the rug and fade out as they walked down the hall away to the living room.

Then they would come back—same footsteps, break across the rug, resumed on the other side.

I don’t remember ever feeling scared, but I never ever went out to see what it was. I would fall asleep to the sound, it would go on for a really long time. It stopped about 3 or 4 weeks after we moved in and I never heard it again. I didn’t really think about it much after it stopped, but I’ve never forgotten it and as an adult it makes me shiver to remember it.” – KE-1930

[weapon13whitefang]

First Line Tag Game

Tagged by @neversleepingever​

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Well let’s go...

1.] Kimi No Na Wa (Your Name) | Erasermight AU

There was a faint, persistent buzzing somewhere in the room. It was persistent and annoying as it dragged Toshinori Yagi from his sleep. He wanted to ignore it, but it was just too consistent and annoying! The pillow he dragged over his head did little to stop it too.

2.] Talking In Your Sleep

“You talk. In your sleep… Did you know that?”

The question was asked with curiosity and hesitation on Lydia’s part. She was always curious about him. He was still a sort of stranger to her, shared trauma or not…. But she was also always very hesitant. As if expecting him to lash out at her with violence. Couldn’t blame her. Not like their first meetings were fucking sunshine and kittens. Or with her having a mother like Alpha… Will Dixon looked almost saintly compared to how that woman and her brick wall of a bastard, Beta, treated her

3.] My whole existence is flawed 

When Beth Greene was twelve years old, a worldwide epidemic struck, taking out more than half the human population and then some.

At first, it had seemed like just a regular flu. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Fever, weakness and fatigue. Dizziness. Dehydration… Normal stuff you’d see from a heavy case of the flu.

4.] Gotta Get Underground

The humid heat of summer had passed to make way for the colder winds. Although Georgia was often saved from the terrible cold of other states, for those of warm nature and years of comfortable heat, the drop to forty degrees could seem as cold as negative ten or worse... Especially when one was hungry.

5.] Safe

Shota Aizawa was in pain. A lot of pain… More pain than he’s been in for a long time, really. Not since he was a rookier Pro Hero and he’d ended up in more than one rough battle with Joke or Hizashi or Nemuri (or all of them depending on the situation) in some dirty alley at night. Back when he had to patch himself up more than once without aid because who the hell had money to go to the clinic every time you got a scrape or haul ass across the city to get all the way to see Recovery Girl at UA

6.] Haircut

For as long as Beth could recall, she had been growing out her hair. By the time she was seven it was down past her shoulder. It would never be any longer than to her waist but it would never be cut above her shoulder blades.

7.] once bitten, twice shy

The Georgia night air was humid, making clothes stick and sweat drip. It had to be the hotest day of summer and Beth had spent all day helping her daddy corral the cows because the bull had broken a weak part of the fence and they all came barreling out to the patch of road that lead to her farm. Her cousin Arnold had been coming to help out for the morning and had almost hit a calf. He’d had to call everyone down with his cellphone, Otis and Patricia coming up behind to help. 

8.] I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door 

When Beth was only five years old, she’d seen her first death. It had been her grandma Lewis – mama’s own mother – and she had been slowly slipping away. Beth had been brought to her grandma’s house with the rest of her family to see her one last time. Something Beth hadn’t really understood back then, being so young. She had just understood that grandma Lewis hadn’t greeted them with warm hugs and kisses, but had been hooked up to machines in her own bedroom with mama and her mama’s brothers – her uncles – standing around the room.

9.] But, Oh, Those Summer Nights

Beth didn't cry anymore. She hadn't cried since she was little and her daddy had almost died from drinking and driving. He'd lost his leg and had sworn off alcohol the day Beth declared - at six years old - she wasn't ever gonna cry anymore. 

10.] Once Upon A Story Book

“Once upon a time, the sun came up-“

“As it does every damn day-“

“Daryl!”

Princess Beth bit her lip to keep from smiling, staring up at the sky. It wasn’t a sky like what would probably be considered normal, but instead was a sky with letters forming sentences with lines of quotations and actions.

11.] Baby, I Want You Back

Crash!  

 All of Nova Diner went silent. Heads whipped around or took a peak over their menus. Some of the elders tsk’s. A few of the waitresses shook their heads in understanding.

12.] No Such Kiss

Justin's hands twitch on the steering wheel of his Jeep Wrangler, head lulling back slightly as he sucked in a deep breath, releasing from his nostril along with a mild groan. He rolled his head on his shoulders, pulling and releasing at the muscles in his neck as the hand not flexing on the steering wheel was digging into bleach blonde locks at the crown of the skull of the bitch working him over.

13.] The Mark

She is sitting on the porch swing when she see's the dust blowing and hears the rumble of his motorcycle as he comes down the driveway. She fight's back the urge to groan and bang her head against the metal chain of the swing, eyes narrowing as he stops just in front of the house before he's parking and cutting off the engine.

14.] destined to be wedded

For as long as Beth could remember, she'd been told that she'd someday be wedded.

Her horse-drawn carriage careened down the loosely built dirt road at full speed, Button and Flame panting as Otis steered them further to Beth's uncertain future. From being stuffed into the cramped cab of the carriage with her father and mother, to getting sick with every rough patch that bounced them around nauseatingly, and for every trot of hooves that took her further from home, Beth was no very impressed with this future.

15.] Dizzy With A Canary

“Hey, all you fine and in-line listeners! Jumpin Johnny’s got the goods all day every day! Oh yeah, that’s right! JJ's got the hook-up for all you listeners! And JJ invites all you dolls and studs to come down to my man Zack and his Hop happening at Atlanta’s little hot spot on Cherry St! Come and join us! But until then, enjoy some Hoagy Carmichael, Y'all!

16.] In The Air

Mating.

The word brings a sour taste to Daryl’s mouth, making his skin or fur stand up and his nose wrinkle like he’s smelled something foul.

17.] Of Angel’s & Crusaders

"Shawn, those are breakable! Please be careful!"

Beth Greene bit her lip as she heard Shawn curse up a storm as he carried in a rather heavy box of silverware, glass, and other breakables – antique breakables – through the door of her new studio one-bedroom and bathroom apartment room on the fifth floor.

18.] God Love Her

A fast road to nowhere. That's what he'd been told his whole damn life. That he was on fast road to nowhere real quick. And everybody was waiting for the day Merle Dixon crashed on that road. Hell they all watched to see him slip and fuck up. Waited for the moment he couldn't worm his way outta jail or worse.

19.] Audience

Merle had always known he was going to hell. After all the shit he did, all the stuff he's said, all the blood he's stained his hands and feet with, he knew. He knew damn well and he knew others saw it to. Knew they looked at him as just some fuck up, a monster... Well they weren't to far off, so who could blame em?

20.] The AFterlife Entertainment

Merle rolls his head on his shoulder almost impulsively. He doesn’t feel any kinks or pains. Doesn't even really need to pop his neck. He just does. Cause it's a habit now. Habits die hard. Dead or not. And he was fucking dead. His little brother stabbed the fuck outta him. Fucked up his pretty face and all... Ah well. He wasn't looking so hot as a biter.

There’s a pattern that I’m terrible with naming my fics and being bad at finishing, but that’s not new... Have to see if you all notice one.

Tagging: Whoever wants to... I’m terrible at tagging people, honestly.

[yoongisbars]

Samusil | myg | P R O L O G U E

summary: It was always known that you were the family disappointment. So naturally, you fled. With a looming school debt, alcoholic tendencies, and no luck whatsoever in keeping a job for more than a month, you were at your wits end until you finally cave into working at Bang-Lenzo. You’ve only ever heard horrors of the place and its manager. But maybe, just maybe, that office would become your safe haven.

pairing: myg x reader genre: strangers to lovers au | office!yoongi au | future angst? fluff?  word count: 7.5k tw: alcohol as coping mechanism, subjects that might hit close to home note:  inspired by The Office US, this is only a teaser, a taste, of a project im working on, i wont release anything besides this until its ready, so pls endure !! <3

        Life was a bitch to everyone, and ever since you flunked out of Business School, it’s proven you weren’t the exception. It was an already supersaturated field with bright minded, innovative entrepreneurs. And you? Realized halfway through that the business world wasn’t cut out for you. With an overwhelmingly expensive college debt for an unfinished degree that your parents refused to pay for, you became the official family disappointment. After two years of being done with their bullshit, you finally packed your stuff and moved as far away as possible, hoping to start anew in the small town of rural Yangpiji.

        Just because you had some level of education, didn’t mean it would get you quite far. It’s done the opposite, in fact. Jobs with higher wages frowned upon your incomplete studies, and jobs that didn’t give a fuck if you finished high school, didn’t pay enough to deal with their idiocies or take care of the bills for that matter. One heated argument with the owner of the last food joint you worked at was the final straw. Throwing your dirty apron at his face, you walked out of there without a single care in the world, and for the moment, you felt powerful. At least until you waltzed into Slack Jack’s and sat at the bar that night, head buried into your palms.

“Rough shift?” Your eyes peered from behind your fingers, focusing on a shot being placed in front of you. And boy, were you thankful for it. Without speaking, you threw that shit back and let it burn your throat, the only consolation for the situation you were in. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Jackson, I quit.” Feigned shock played on the bartender’s face as he cleaned a beer mug. You weren’t the only one who searched for new beginnings in Yangpiji. In front of you was Jackson Wang, owner and proprietor of Slack Jack’s. He had moved there from abroad no more than ten years ago in hopes to reinvent himself, and against all odds did. He had been your close friend for the past three years since moving. Quite frankly the only good thing this area had to offer was Jackson and his cheap drinks that get you hammered quick.

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought!” His hand shot up to cover his mouth, chuckling at your bland reaction. Rolling your eyes so far into your skull, a heavy sigh escaped from within.

“I’m serious. I quit. I quit work, I quit life, I quit Yangpiji- I’m tired… I hate that I’m a jobless 28-year-old drunk, with nothing to offer this world besides how to survive on garlic noodles and rum.” Your hands traveled the air around you as you searched for words, “I can’t even afford to make them Jjajang Noodles, Jack. JJAJANG!” A small shriek spewed out as you downed another shot, you stopped counting after the third one. Dread and sorrow pooled around you in a matter of seconds. You were at your wits end. And you couldn’t say you were past your peak, since frankly you never took off the ground to begin with. “I’m a failure, Jackson.”

        Widened eyes traveled the room trying to find any words of consolation, but the bartender couldn’t find anything other than pity. His hands moved quickly, putting away the bottles before he was tempted to offer you anymore. He usually served you on the house because he knew of your struggles, but you also drank your weight in alcohol, and he didn’t want to go broke any time soon.

“Listen, chief. There’s still an option…” Oh no… You didn’t want to hear it; already knowing what was coming. “The Bang-Lenzo Yangpiji Branch is still hiring for a secretary; you should test it out.”

        Ah, yes. Bang-Lenzo Inc. Somehow a successful company in the dying paper industry. One of the first to drop their deforestation contracts for their supplies and switch entirely to recycled paper. Since most companies didn’t believe in the Save The Trees movement, most of their major clients dropped them and signed contracts with Bang-Lenzo instead. Working for them would be an achievement… If only the branch in your city wasn’t a nut house.

“Jackson…” Elongating the last syllable, you groaned. “I’ve heard horror stories of people that have tried to work there, it’s chaos. No one ever lasts a full week…” The idea of even bothering to work there was dreadful. The workers there were a nightmare, so you’ve heard. But their manager? A complete lunatic. Unprofessional, immature, inappropriate, and other negative connotations have been used to describe the young manager, Jeon Jungkook. Rumor had it he was the top salesman for 4 years straight before the old manager died. When the company crunched the numbers and stats, he was technically the most qualified for the manager position and had managed to keep it for the past 5 years.

        Amidst your internal struggle, Jackson raised an eyebrow and cut you straight. “It pays $15 an hour, plus benefits.” On instinct your hand shot up, doing quick maths in the air. Holy cow. You shifted your attention to Jackson so fast you almost snapped your neck.

“That’s almost $30k a year!”

“More than you’ll ever make busing tables, that’s for sure.” He had a point. And, you were desperate. Maybe not so much at first, but $15 is $15 and if it meant sacrificing your sanity for survival, well damn it, you were down for the count.

“Guess I’m speaking to Jeon…”

        On Jackson’s commands and with a set of instructions, you left the bar early. ‘Prep for tomorrow, rest and sober up.’ Three things that you were never quite well doing at the very last minute. Bits and pieces of information were fed to you, in order to try and snatch the job at its core.

‘From what I’ve heard, he likes to go in on Saturday mornings to catch up on some work.’ All that meant was that you had to wake up early, and your suspected hangover did not like that. You did what any ‘sane’ person would do and popped in a pain killer and a nausea reliever, an old family remedy to wake up fresh and ready.

‘At the breakfast buffet two blocks over, I once saw him obliterate the cheddar biscuits… And I think he has a thing for sausages too.’ Really, it seemed like Jackson knew Jungkook too well, but honestly so did the town through word of mouth. That last bit of information is what made you scour the nearest convenience store for the necessary ingredients to make the piece of resistance, the key to securing your assets. With this bread you were going to get your bread.

---

        Morning came quickly, as you had gone to bed late baking and sorting out your clothes for the day. Sporting one of your finer ensembles just to make a statement, you were ready to take life by the throat. A dark gray, tight pencil skirt above the knee, a light beige button up blouse with pearled buttons, and a blazer to match the skirt. You applied a fair amount of neutral colored makeup in order to rejuvenate your features to not look like you’ve been miserable for the past 10 years. You finished off the look by slipping on some classic, black Mary Jane’s.

        For the first time since inheriting this 1999 Verna, you were glad the aircon was a hunk of junk and only blew hot steam. Of course you drove with the windows down to receive actual fresh air, but you angled the conductors towards the biscuits, keeping them toasty and warm as if freshly baked that morning. Jeon Jungkook would be in the palm of your hands and the job would soon be in your possession. Financial stability: here I come.

        Parked outside of the building, you painted on a mask with all of the false confidence and determination you could muster, before any ounce of regret could slip in. Once the clock hit 8:55am, it was time to go. You grabbed the biscuits, which you had ever so ‘lovingly’ placed in a basket upping the charm factor, and headed for the entrance.

I need money. I need money. I need money. It was the mantra of your choosing as you took the unnervingly long elevator ride up to the Bang-Lenzo office where your unannounced meeting with Jeon Jungkook awaited. Yes, unannounced. Obviously to anyone with common sense of time, 9:00pm wasn't a viable hour to schedule a meeting for the next morning, so you decided to take the determined approach and show up like you already owned the place. For the first time you had a goal and were dead set on obtaining it. Nothing would stop you from getting that income. I need money.

‘Bang-Lenzo INC.’ read the door sign in front of you. For a moment you closed your eyes, fighting off the urge to walk back to your car and forget this place. But your mantra was quick to erase such thoughts. I desperately need money. Overpowered with feigned confidence, you strutted into the main office. Immediately you were faced with your soon to be desk. It was large and crescent shaped, spacious and tall. In a room to your right, you heard a muffled voice. Surely that was Jeon’s office. With a huff of air, you went to knock on his door.

“Huh? C-come in?” Faint and hurried clattering was heard from inside. With suspicion, you went for the door, revealing behind it the manager, and possible future boss: Jeon Jungkook. Sporting nothing but a set of gray sweats, disheveled hair, and a headset placed around his neck. “Did you need something?” 

The scene in front of you made you lose focus for a split second. You had never seen him before, and by personality description you expected many things except him being viciously attractive. And also a gamer, noted by the Overwatch screen on his computer. The thought left you in a split second, you only had one goal and it did not include sleeping with the manager to reach it. You learned that only works once and it’s never rewarding.

“I’m here for the secretary position? I figured since it’s early and unannounced I’d bring in a little something to eat.” A sweet and charmful voice oozed from your throat, foreign to your body unless it was summoned. The confused manager’s doe eyes lit up once they set intensely on the basket making way to his desk. “I hope you enjoy warm biscuits.” Before he could even question what was going on, you were already sitting across from him, placing your intricate resume in front of his grubby self, you were ready to snatch this job from his hands. He had already fallen victim to the biscuits. You could see the revival in his eyes as soon as he took the first bite. Butter and cheese were the key, but  it was the mini weenies hidden inside that sealed the deal.

Jungkook didn't bother to offer it much of a glance. Instead he redirected his attention to you. “Are you good with computers and organizing?” Bread crumbs and cheese lingered on the corner of his lips as he spoke, you could have sworn some spittle came in your direction as well. Upon further inspection, the food stains on his sweats may have started a whole community of bacteria. Any office fantasy of getting railed by a manager quickly died with this individual, and some word of mouth started to make sense.

“Yes. Anything document and spreadsheet related I can handle, not to mention emails, and of course scheduling agendas-“

“And you made these? From scratch?” He held a biscuit in awe, and you couldn’t help but feel success in your future.

“I did.” You offered a soft, shy smile. Another desperate attempt to charm him for the job.

“Do you think you can bring them in on Monday mornings? Starting this Monday? Tell you what, I’ll raise you to $16 an hour if you do.” You choked on your saliva, instantly entering a coughing fit. He really might be off his rocker, but in this economy, who cares? Not you, because for simply baking Sunday nights you get an extra $40 a week. With this bread, you get your bread. 

“I certainly can! It would be my pleasure.”  “Great! Then let’s sign the paperwork and make it official.” He rummaged through his files to retrieve the contract. “Gosh, I can’t wait to tell the other managers all about my new beautiful secretary who cares for me, and cooks for me, and, who knows; maybe even have a secret romance with me?” There it was, the inappropriateness everyone talked about. Jungkook didn’t give you time to come out of your confused state. “Ha! I’m kidding! It’s just a joke. We’re professional. Professional. We’ll of course report our relationship to HR.” A noise seemingly from The Grudge escaped you. There was an ungodly uncomfortable silence before he decided to kill the awkwardness of the situation.“KIDDING AGAIN!” 

        You didn’t question the lacking interview, or how Jungkook was quick to hire you. It was the most unethical thing in the world and yet? You didn’t care. You were one step closer to financial stability, and that was all you could ever ask for. With the contract filled out and already added to the payroll, you had officially signed your soul over to the white collar world. Serving as the official secretary of Jeon Jungkook. He truly was an oddball, and somewhat inappropriate, but he didn’t give any indication of being an asshole of a boss. Too friendly and annoying, but you had the gut feeling he might just be a decent enough boss. Or at least not so much of an idiot that you can tolerate working for. Besides, the money’s good.

        Walking out of and looking back at the building, your eyes spotted his office windows, with him behind, cheerfully waving you off as he ate the remains of the biscuits. A subtle reminder, you needed to prep your baking game.

--- 

       With a more dressed down version of what you wore to the impromptu interview, you drove your car over to the office building. Only this time, pulling up to the parking lot as you were now an employee. Jungkook’s car was already there. A sleek, black Equus. In comparison to its ancestor, your Verna, it exuded upper management presence. He clearly was a successful 27 year old, and you aspired to be able to reach as much coin as he probably had some day. Really, all you ever wanted in life was money. Were you willing to work much for it though? Probably not, but you didn’t have a choice. It was time to get in gear and make up for lost time. 10 years of your life, in fact.

        You stopped thinking about past mistakes before you could let them affect your first day. Taking the biscuits and purse in a hurried manner, you rushed up to the office. Only an hour earlier than the rest, but you still had things to prove, if only to yourself.

        Upon arrival, Jungkook was busy fiddling on your computer. Documents and folders were neatly spread out on a corner of your desk, waiting to be filed and sorted.

“Hey Y/N, You’re early! I hope you don’t mind, I’m setting up your company email so you can quickly get started.” His quick fingers stopped abruptly, for just a moment, his hand reaching for the biscuits. “And thank you for these, I didn’t think you’d actually make them.” He cocked his head in surprise and took a bite before finishing setting up your computer and programs. The comment left you with an odd feeling.

“Of course I would, I promised it.” Truthfully you only agreed because of the pay raise, but you would still hold up with it. No complaints. “Why did you up my pay grade if you didn’t think so?”

“I don’t know, incentive? I figured this would be an easier way to have someone stay for longer than a week at least.” Shaking his head for only a brief second, he continued. “But there’s something about you that tells me you’re going to be the perfect fit here. You have potential, Y/N. That’s why I hired you.” What the fuck was he talking about, ‘Potential’? You were a 28 year old deadbeat, a failure and a degenerate according to your relatives. You had anything but potential. Noting the hesitation to answer, Jungkook changed the subject swiftly. 

“And it’s done. I’ll give you a quick rundown of things on the machine and then we can work with organizing my schedule, I am so out of sync with this company and I haven’t a clue when my next meetings are.” With a clap, he stood up and motioned you to the seat. He continued to peruse through the biscuit basket, searching for the ‘cheesiest ones’.

        After a tour throughout the company programs and where supplies and files were around the office, the other workers started to arrive in a timely fashion. Some didn’t bother to give you the time of day, but others decided to greet you as soon as they walked in. Particularly a few of the guys from accounting and sales were quite enthusiastic to greet you. If you remembered correctly, the younger pair of them were from Accounting; Jimin and Taehyung, they were really nice, a bit shy as were you, but very polite and warm. You watched as they sat at their corner and bickered slightly, but it seemed to be in honest fun. The one from sales, Hoseok, was the opposite in terms of shyness. He welcomed you with the most charming of smiles and emphasized that if you ever needed a helping hand around the office to not hesitate to ask him. He cheerfully chatted your ear for a few minutes giving you a small idea of what a day in the office might be. “It’s not that bad once you get used to it, you just need to give us a chance.” You heard his hidden pleas. Many people came and went from this place and their tongues never ceased to express their distaste for it. Even most of your coworkers gave off an air of annoyance with the place. You couldn’t blame them, but basing your experience on first impressions only, it could be worse. Only time will reveal the shithole everyone else claims this place to be.

        It was 20 minutes past 8:00am and the once empty office was now filled and working. Jungkook came out of his office ever so often, glancing over the the desks, ‘tsk tsk tsk’ is all he ever spoke before going back behind his door. You thought to ignore his manner and focus on organizing his schedule based on the emails he forwarded you. He had plenty of meetings, webinars and conference calls to attend, and they were all scattered around. On your shared calendar, you added the event reminder and description for each and every one for the next month, even going an extra step to add reminders on your own calendar the day before, just to make sure he’s up to date. 

        A new email displayed on the screen, an impromptu conference call for Jungkook in 10 minutes labeled ‘URGENT’. You were about to head to his office to notify him, but you remained seated as the entrance door swung abruptly, startling you just enough to make you forget your name and the company you now work for. All you saw was a coat being placed on the rack next to you with an exasperated sigh escaping the core of the individual. Right away, it was clear that if there was anyone in the entire building that hated having to wake up early in the morning just to show up to work in this unfortunate place more than you, it was him. Like the majority of the employees, he looked straight up miserable, even behind dark colored sunglasses. The freshly made venti Iced Americano, the slow paced walk to his desk and his disregard to show up on time were, in your opinion, strong indicators of his likely hatred for his job.

        Settled in his desk, he removed his shades. His narrow, cat-like eyes drew you in like magnets, there was no telling whether or not his iciness was natural, or a ruse to limit his interactions with the rest of the staff. Yet somehow they were still fitting for his rounder, chubbier cheeks. His lips were already pursed downward, but they seemed to curl even further and remain that way almost permanently as Jungkook peered his head out. You tried calling out to him, but your voice was muted by his own exclaims.

“Yoongi!” He shouted, you could say enthusiastically, towards the late addition in the office. He released another sigh, this time accompanied by an eye roll.

“Not now, Jungkook.” His voice was deep and low. Eyes never abandoning his monitor as Jungkook approached him. 

        Whatever conversation they were having was nothing but whispers and subtle head shakes. Yoongi was it? Didn’t seem in the mood for whatever chatter the manager kept going on about. You noticed bow everyone in the office was trying to work, but not being able to steal sudden glances from the conversation. Judging by those, especially Hoseok’s since he was sitting right at the situation, you assume they all had an idea as to what was unfolding. You, however, could only assume was an odd scolding in Jungkook’s manner for him showing up late.

        A ringing alert brought your focus back to your own desk, the incoming call you guessed was from Corporate due to the email. Jungkook had previously requested that you warn him first before answering any calls from them, and you remembered what you were ready to do before Yoongi walked in. Not wanting to bring in any attention to yourself you debated quickly which was the best option, calling him over or going straight to him, but you didn’t even answer yourself before your legs started moving on their own.

“Jungkook.” You tapped his shoulder gently, and spoke softly. The young manager startled a bit, and you were unsure if the other man’s expression was relief or annoyance, but you let it go quickly.

“Yes? Oh! That reminds me. Everyone!” What you wanted to avoid was exactly what he gathered: attention.

“This is Y/N, office secretary. I want you all to make her feel welcome, be kind.” He kept going on one of his badly timed speeches until no one paid him any mind.

“Jungkook, you have-”

“Would you both excuse yourselves and talk elsewhere?” The deep voice that spoke seemed to command more authority than Jungkook did. 

“Sorry,Y/N. Yoongi’s a bit on edge due to his divorce trial.” The last phrase he tried to utter as a whisper by leaning close to your ear, and although he made it sound like such, it was still loud enough for people to hear.

“Do you really have to tell people about my personal life? Where does it end with you?”

“I felt like I needed to excuse your attitude, she’s part of our family now anyways, she can know.” 

        Their bickering picked up again, Jungkook defending the reasoning for his declarations and Yoongi countering with how he always oversteps fine lined boundaries and doesn't have any common sense. Although you very much agreed with what Yoongi was saying that it was an invasion of privacy, you were still caught in the middle of their crossfire and all you wanted to do was inform Jungkook about the god forsaken call.

“JUNGKOOK.” Your raised voice silenced their bickering, and the room came to an onlooking halt. Anxiety started creep behind you due to shouting over your manager on your first day, causing flashbacks of previous outcomes due to this similar situation to roll like a montage in your head, but your patience was running thin.

“What, what is it?” Jungkook, unphased by the situation, cocked his head at you in slight confusion.

“You have a call from Corporate.” You maintained your stern tone, but you were wavering internally. His demeanor took a turn, eyes so wide you feared they would pop out.

“Did you answer?” Whispers gave an undertone of fear. With the phone still ringing in the background, you shook your head.

“Good. Tell them I’m out with a major client. I’m not here.” He hurriedly walked you back to the phone. The glint in his eyes says you should worry, but you swallowed and answered with the same feigned confidence you used for the interview.

“Bang-Lenzo, this is Y/N.”

        You successfully got rid of the Corporate call in the morning, but you were unsure how long that might last given the urgency they requested it with. And Jungkook’s behavior regarding any calls from Corporate today, or the rest of the week from what he stated, was worrisome. It was a concern you’d tuck to the back of your head, it wasn’t your business anyways.

        As the day went on, you saw that life in the office was quite eventful, so to speak. After the ordeal of Yoongi’s divorce proceedings this morning, and Jungkook avoiding Corporate like the Black Plague, an array of unusual things for a normal day to day office routine continued to happen.

        Mainly, Jungkook was entirely distracting. To you, the staff and mostly to himself. He would constantly try to make conversation with anyone, and the topics were always painfully awkward. Anytime he was actually in his office, more time was spent playing Overwatch with Taehyung than doing any kind of work. Not to mention he eventually ventured over to the conference room, with Jimin and Hoseok in toe, for their “twice a day dancercise routine” as their official 15 minute break away from their computers.

        If you thought the nonsense would end there, you were soon to be corrected. It in fact continued in the numerous times Taehyung and Jimin came by your desk asking for copies. And not even official work copies- they were asking you to print out different versions of invitational flyers for their ‘seasonal crop party’. To your surprise, Taehyung had inherited the only strawberry farm in the region due to his grandparents passing, not like you had bothered to ask anyways. The only question you cared an answer for was if Jungkook had approved of using office supplies for this. It shouldn't have shocked you like it did that the man himself had designed the flyer and organized such an event, but still. 

        Lunchtime couldn’t arrive quicker. Some of the staff beelined with their meals over to the lunchroom area, while the others went out to eat. You half expected Jungkook to take advantage of the lunchroom crowd for his shenanigans, but he opted for eating in his office with Jimin and Taehyung instead. You could hear their incessant planning murmurs as you passed by to heat up your meal.

“Y/N!” Jungkook exclaimed once he caught your movement. “If the others give you the cold shoulder, feel free to join us here for lunch.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I planned on eating at my desk,” You chose your next words carefully, feeling the party planners’ gazes. “But I’ll keep it in mind in case I get too lonely, thank you!” The soft smile that spread across your smile was enough to comfort them from the small rejection. They went back to their discussions and you headed for the microwave.

        Peaking your head into the lunchroom, it was filled with the younger, unwelcoming faces from earlier. It’s not like you planned on sitting down and chatting with them, you were there just to heat up your lunch, but upon entry you noticed how their conversations volumes lowered all the way down to whispers and snickers. You focused your attention on the whirring noises and beeps the microwave offered as a mere distraction. It was a curse you carried for as long as you could remember. Any giggle, whisper, snicker, or anything of the sort you heard in your perimeter, you felt was directed at you. As if they could see the list of failures and misfortunes displayed on your back.

        You took your bowl and offered the room a nervous smile and nod before leaving, hoping it came across as a ‘sorry to bother, enjoy your lunch’.  As you exited the room, Hoseok, tailed by Yoongi, was heading with his food over to the conference room.

“Y/N, come join us if you want.” Hoseok was beaming, if the sun was human it would be him. Contrary to the one walking past him, not bothering to stop. He could be truthfully considered the dark side of the moon. Although with his back to you, you could make out his unrelenting scowl reflecting in the conference room’s glass wall. “Ignore him, he’s still mad over this morning.”

“All things considered, I can’t blame him. But I think I’ll pass.” Hoseok hooked his free arm around yours before you could continue.

“Nonsense, you shouldn’t cast yourself out on the first day.” In truth, Hoseok’s friendly manner and joyous attitude couldn’t be denied. You felt his genuine interest in making sure your transition into the office was a smooth one. In the room, Yoongi was already gulpin down his food, not bothering to glance up until he spoke.

“Shut the door so I can tell you…” Words escaped him, replaced by a sigh as he spotted your presence, and Hoseok’s sudden realization of what this lunch reunion entailed. Surely, they were meant to discuss the divorce proceedings, but Hoseok forgot upon trying to welcome you.

“Right… Y/N, rain check? Alone on your first day though...” He sighed as he flushed with embarrassment and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t worry,” that was directed more at Yoongi if anything, a small assurance accompanied by the subtlest of nods. The rest was for Hoseok, as a dismissive joke to calm his worries. “I’ll probably join the Crop Festers and their shenanigans.” He cocked his head in confusion, a sharp ‘hm?’ caught in his throat. You brushed it off, leaving them with a wave. Wishing them a nice lunch and closing the door behind you, it was unknown to you that the Crop Festers had overheard, and were expecting you at Jungkook’s door excitedly.

“So you’re joining us then?” Taehyung assumed overjoyed, and Jimin couldn’t hide his giddiness. Jungkook was at the back at his desk, shaking his head in tune with soft chuckles before waving you in. It was clear that there was no way to have an unbothered lunch for the next 45 minutes, so… You joined.

        Tae, as he now urged you to call him, and Jimin made space for you between them. Rice, meats, noodles, and an array of veggies were spread across the desk, now along with your own addition of food and in no time you were all eating and sharing your meals. Jungkook even offered up the few remaining biscuits, causing Tae and Jimin to fuss over why weren’t they brought out sooner and how good of a cook you were. Now they were expectant for next Monday morning for a pleasant cheesy boost.

        Unknown to your conscious self, you were having a nice time. Further into the lunch, you became more involved with the Crop Party planning, and were even getting a bit excited for the day to arrive. A paid work day for a strawberry picking party? Who could say no to that? You weren’t ready to admit it just yet, with it being the first day and all, but… You were starting to like this place, even if you weren’t ready to acknowledge it. Once lunch was over, and everyone was making their way back to their desks, they eyed you with slight annoyance as you walked out of the office along with Tae and Jimin, still laughing at one of Jungkook’s impressions of some of the staff. Unaware, Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged a suspicious glance. Who was to blame any of them? It was a first for them to see someone new being friendly, or accepting the office shenanigans as they transpired.

        Afternoon was a milder version of what the morning turned out to be, everyone was calmer now, and as the hours passed you noticed they worked harder. Even Jungkook was filing reports and taking work calls, as long as they weren’t from Corporate. One of your last tasks was to send out some notice of change in policy emails to clients, it was the most time consuming, but it helped the remaining hours pass by in a flurry.

        Bags started to be packed and coats began to be thrown on as the clock got nearer to 5:00pm. Everyone was ready to put an end to the odd Monday, and you could tell by their soft smiles and shy ‘See you tomorrow’s.  Hoseok dropped by your desk with a “Lunch tomorrow, for sure!” before leaving and wishing you well. Yoongi followed behind him, not offering anything at all. More than likely still fussy over his personal issues being announced in the office. Jimin and Taehyung each went for a goodbye hug, as they were more than excited to have you aboard. Often they carpooled, you found out that they live together on the farm. After being friends for so long, they decided to run it together. Only you and Jungkook, who was still stuck in his office remained. With your things on hand, you peered through his window to give him a small wave which he returned, followed by pointing to the phone and making mocking expressions of talking too much. With a shake of your head, you went to clock out, putting an end to the first day on the job. You would call it a success, for it being your very first 8-5, and it deemed celebration. So once you hopped on your Verna, and peered out of the parking lot, your destination was clear: Slack Jack’s. 

        You had never once been there on a Monday, much less after 5:00pm. Late weekend nights were what you had grown accustomed to due to your old odd jobs here and there. But much to your surprise, the ambience at this hour was much more tranquil and up your alley than what you were used to. You hated crowds and loud groups of people, and there was none of that here. Eyes scanned the bar for your favorite and only owner, who upon noticing your arrival called you over to an empty stool up at the bar. Eager steps made their way over as he placed your favorite shot on the counter: a water moccasin. You paid no mind to the individual next to your stool as you sat down, eyes trained on the peachy, sweet and sour whiskey shot glass before you. Widened eyes stared, unknown to you, as you drank it in one big gulp, placing the now empty glass on the counter, snapping and pointing at Jackson with finger guns as you exclaimed “Hit me again”.

        A smirk played on the corners of his mouth as he placed a second one just as you finished asking. Knowing your habits, he made two as soon as he saw you. “I’m guessing today went... ?” He was expecting you to tell him all about your day, as soon as you finished fighting off the burning feeling down your throat. It was always the second one that got you the most. Hissing for only a few seconds, you spoke.

“Honestly? Honestly honest? I can’t complain.” Alcohol was slowly starting to take effect on you as you rambled on. “At first I was kinda freaked out? Because everyone was kinda weird? OH! And then Jungkook decided to out a guy’s whole divorce or something?” In the background, next to you, someone cleared their throat as Jackson bit his bottom lip, trying to hold in a chuckle, but you went on. “I don’t know, it was weird. But like afterwards, it was pretty chill. Jungkook ain’t that bad. And lowkey? I can’t wait for the strawberry season, dude.” A snort escaped you as you thought back on the Crop Party. You couldn’t wait. Tae mentioned something about making fresh milkshakes, and right now you were wildin’ at the thought.

“So I’m guessing you’ve met Yoongi?” Jackson’s hand motioned you to look to your right. Lo and Behold, Mr. Divorcee was magically there, a citrus whiskey on the rocks in his hands. And that’s when it hits you, you have a loud mouth.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Eyes like a deer in headlights, pleading for forgiveness. Yoongi waved it off. You finally heard his voice without a hint of annoyance.

“It’s fine.” Bringing the glass to his lips, he took a long sip. Which reminded you.

“Jackson, may I please--”

“Have another?” He chuckled as he went to prepare a fresh shot. “Don’t get carried away tonight, though. You work tomorrow, remember?” 

“Hey, I have self control. I won’t drink past 6:30, I swear.” To even prove such control, you didn’t rush to down the shot. Instead you tried to build a conversation with the man in charge of the drinks, but he cursed silently at a reminder.

“Fuck, excuse me for a sec. I have to call my parents.” You remembered him mentioning something about an upcoming anniversary as he rushed to the back, leaving you alone with Yoongi, a shot and your thoughts. 

        Allowing your mind to travel far for a moment, the waterfall of bitter memories with your family started to cloud your field of vision. Forgetting where you were and who was around, you brought your hands up to either cheek and gave yourself some quick, small smacks in an attempt to distract your tear ducts from doing their job. A groan escaped you as you reached for the shot in front of you, disappearing it in an instant. So much for self control.

        The man next to you watched in awe. He already knew far more about you than whatever first impressions you thought you gave, courtesy of Jackson. But he was one to always doubt the extent of the things he said, and since forming odd suspicions of you at the office, he figured now was the time to see if anything added up. 

“Escapism?” The sudden voice shocked you, and brought you back to reality. Another snort made its way out your nose, in an endearing manner.

“You can say that. No, you know what? Life is a bitch.” In your drunken manner, you broke. You vented, you ranted, and you rambled. You laid out your entire life in front of this man, this stranger, revealing more than what was necessary, but you couldn’t stop yourself. “And now here I am.” Fingers tapped the counter, antsy. Waiting for Jackson to come back and serve you yet another shot to calm down.

“I see, I’m sorry for all that. Things are looking up now, at least?” Yoongi shrugged, a winced expression since your story was still fresh in his mind. “But, if it makes you feel any better, I have some fucked up shit going on myself."

“Oh really? A divorce? Family exile beats loveless marriage any day, boy.” Another side effect of your alcoholism was straight up competitiveness. Even though it stung him, he couldn’t help but laugh. For him, it even felt like the first time in a while he had done so earnestly.

“My wife is pregnant.” Whiskey glass was brought back to his lips for a moment, barely touching them. “And it’s not mine.” He finished off the remainder of the glass, while you stared in silence, jaw dropped.

“Whoa, that sucks... How do you know though?” You brought your face closer to him, in curious intrigue, not knowing what personal space was; but he didn’t mind much as he inched in a bit closer to speak.

“I had a vasectomy.” A sighed escaped his core as he too revealed his life to a stranger. “Before we got married, we were clear that we didn’t want children. At least not for a long time, so I got the surgery done. If we ever wanted kids we would have a talk and take out time to decide how to go about it. But one day,” he shook his head, thoughts lost in the memory “she was very persistent that I go get the reversal done. Like, that I had to get it done that week. And I found that suspicious, so I pretended to get it.” His fingers now mimicked yours earlier, lightly tapping on the counter. “We waited the recovery time, had sex, and a few days later, she was pregnant. So I filed for divorce. Do I win now?” His usual serious pout curled into a smirk as you shook your head no.

“Nah, I still win. You can always get a new wife, I can never get new parents. I don’t make the rules, chief.”

        The mood was starting to liven up, but the universe often threw curveballs in your direction. Text alerts distracted you from your office chatter with Yoongi, and again, you soured. It wasn’t often when you received messages from your cousin, but you never talked about the elephant in the room. This time, however.

‘Your dad’s been asking about you lately. Anything worth mentioning?’ You watched the words fade from the pop-up screen, and debated in silence. The shift was visible, and Yoongi caught it as it happened. “Is everything okay?” he asked. Instead of answering, you simply opened the chat and showed him the message. Grabbing your phone in his hands he stared.

“Do I answer? Do I just leave it for tomorrow? What could I even bother telling?” Complaints continued to spew out of your mouth, muting the light clicks of Yoongi’s rapid fingers working on the keyboard. You’re only brought back from your rambles when you feel him pressing your phone still in his hand, back into yours, a message already written out in the text box.

‘I just started at a new office job. Safe, secure. It’s working out.’ Short, simple and to the point. A quick nod was enough for him to press send. As he pulled away, leaving you with the chat which was instantly read, you expected to feel a bit better, but your worries and anxiety remained as your fingers drummed at a quickened pace, itching for yet another shot. 

        Right on cue, Jackson’s presence made its way to you. Catching your tells, his hands moved straight to the Schnapps.

“Actually, I think she might be better off with water instead.” You shot daggers at him, annoyed at such an assumption. “Same for me. You said you won’t drink past 6:30. I don’t make the rules, chief.” You couldn't grumble out much, because as much as you desperately wanted to be irresponsible and drown your sorrows in waves of alcohol, you had a new, very decent, job to uphold. And that required showing up sober.

        The rest of the night went by pretty decently, ending with a new weird routine of going home early instead of waiting until Jackson finished closing off, to drag you all the way to his car. The nights you drove to your home from the bar were less than the ones he posted you up at his own apartment. 

“You’re good to drive, right?” This time, it was Yoongi who was nice enough to walk you over to the beat up Verna at the end of the lot.

“Surprisingly enough, I am. Thanks.” Sticking the key into the lock, you jiggled it around. The only sure way to open the door these days. “What about you?”

“Considering I only had one glass of whiskey, I think I’m alright.” He motioned over to the Genesis next to you. “I’m gonna head out. Drive safe.”

        You nod and make sure he's at least safe besides his car door before entering yours. Turning back briefly to look at you, your goodbye wave stops halfway as his words reach your ears.

“Lunch tomorrow.” Is all he says. he doesn't even bother waiting for a confirmation, he simply gets inside his car and drives away.

        Starting up your car was always a hassle but you got it kicking in no time. As you pulled out of the lot, you spotted the Genesis still at the empty intersection. You flashed your headlights twice before heading the opposite direction, and from your rearview saw him continue on his way. Despite all the characters and particular personas inhabiting the living bodies of your coworkers, you couldn’t help but think: Yoongi's just might be the most intriguing to you after all.

[madara-fate]

Hey, Maddie! I appreciate your blog a lot, but this is the first time I'm sending an ask to you. The reason of my ask i's abt a thing that is bothering me a lot: the "war" among Skr and Ssk fans between the SS fandom. How can I start that? Okay, after years of the heavy angst inherent of the ship, the hateful content of the ASSes and the almost 6 years of cannon, I never expected to see the fans bashing each others for like Ssk or Skr more. Cont (1)

Cont (2) But I'm noticing that there are more Ssk fans complaining abt the "awful" side of the SS fandom than Skr fans, so I thought it would be good to show how the things aren't not so simple. To see Skr more popular among SS shippers nowadays is a big surprise for me. I'm of the time when Skr was treated as nothing but an object that exists only for Ssk's pleasure and joy (sex, children and love). Cont...

Cont (3)I may was rude with my words and I feel sorry, I don't want to hurt others Ssk's fans feelings, but as a huge Skr fan, I got a bit upset in how some Ssk stans are playing victims of this whole situation. Look, there are a lot of people who call themselves "skr fans" and really hates Ssk, we can see it more clearly comes from KS/NS fandom, but there are a lot of skr hate from Ssk fandom too. Cont...

Cont (4) And the reasons they hates Skr is even worse like "She has no big boobs", "Ssk should make a lot of strong babies with Karin/Hinata/Ino, bc Skr comes with a normal family, so she's trash", "she's a obsessive bitch". Some Ssk fans are so cruel that like projects a distorted image of Ssk being evil (only with skr) and got pleasure a lot from that. Even though these things harms Ssk's character as well, I rarely see Ssk stans complains abt that. Cont...

Cont (5) It seems like Ssk became treated like the way Skr was always been treated by many people in the ss fandom hurts some Ssk's fans feelings. But, as a huge fan of both(together and individually), it hurt me 10 times more. I see the main problem in the way many people who like SS just because think they are hot together or are biased by the fanfictions standards(that in most cases are pure ooc),not because their cannon story. Cont...

Cont (6) I don't mind if they like them only bc of these reasons, but I got rly upset when they try to put fanon stuff into cannon stuff. In the middle of all that, as I always talked with my friends, it's indispensable to understand the character as a whole, not thinking abt romance. And I think I find another problem: some people follow some series just bc of ship. Again, I have no problem with it, I made it a lot of time before. Cont...

Cont (7) But these people need to understand that in a Shounen manga like Naruto, the main focus isn't Ssk and Skr living a sweet romance and, tbh, the obsession with romance make many fans lost a lot of good content, even between SS. For ex, in the chapter 181, Sakura say to Sasuke that "he always hated her". Cont...

Cont (8) OMG, it hurted me a lot, bc this same guy was dispose to die to save her from Gaara, he associates her with his dead family two times in part 1 and hear her talk as if him don't care about her probably was awful. But at the same time, we can see how much Skr feelings changed (for better). Cont...

Cont (9) Even in that moment with 12 yrs, she doesn't want make him hers, she knew him deeply(he isn't her old childish fantasies… He is much better than that, but also full of pain…)and saw how lonely and broke he was, but also saw the good things inside him. Even in that time, she didn't want see him become that man we saw in the Iron Land. Cont...

Cont(10) Meanwhile some people prefer to reduce the whole context in "Sasuke been an idiot once again", the true fans can see the connection between them. The fact that they know each other so well always touch my heart.  And abt MultiSaku and Ssk hate, I have been analyzing how many of these "multisaku" fans are only self-insert. Cont...

Cont (11) They like imagine themselves involved in some fetishism like "student and teacher", "old man and young woman", etc. It is why I would like some Ssk stans be careful when they claim that "SS fandom only cares abt skr", it isn't true at all. Many so called "fans" even don't know the cannon Sakura. Cont...

Cont (12) It is pretty funny, look: we know that Skr(as all other Naruto women) could be much more active in battle if Kishimoto himself isn't insecure of write women as he write abt men, but there are features that Skr has in cannon and some fans put them in fanfictions like if it was something new. XD And abt multisaku shippers hate on Sasuke, I got so tired of it. Cont...

Cont (13)They use the moments where she looks sad for Ssk's bad actions and contrast it with Nrt makes her smile, etc. There are also the idea of a man like Lee is much better than Ssk bc he never was afraid of show his feelings for her. Seeing by this perspective, we can almost forget that Ssk isn't the badboy who gets pleasure from Skr's pain, he is a survivor of the biggest genocide of the shinobi world. Cont...

Cont (14)One of the most interesting thing I love abt SS is how they aren't just the stereotype of "bad boy x good girl/fangirl", in fact they are a deconstruction of that and it could be even better if Kishimoto wasn't so shy or if these two belonged to a seinen manga. And speaking by skr side, I also noticed that most men who has no "afraid of showing their emotions to her" are just her fanboys. Cont...

Cont(15) They think she's pretty and want to be with her. They don't know she deeply for treat her like a queen as some people argue. It's like a female version of Ssk. XD And Maddie, I've reading your texts and I also agree that Skr don't want to be treated like this. What she wanted was to be acknowledged as a full human being/shinobi. Skr had a big inferiority/ superiority complex and to be in the same team with Ssk and Nrt made it even worse than her time with Ino. Cont...

Cont(16)Although this aspect didn't received much attention from the author like her teammates issues, it was still there and it is the one of the roots of her sadness, not the simple fact of Ssk's existence as many haters and KS/NS shippers say. And speaking abt that, one of the most enjoyable things I found in SS is that Ssk never saw her in a idealized way(like "that pretty, perfect girl"). Cont...

Cont (17) He saw her flaws and told her abt them face to face (and it made her improve her behavior), but he also showed sensibility to see her heart (when he cheered her up in front many people or the way he compared skr with his family). Cont...

Cont (18) All of this is away better than the idealized "queen" worship, bc he is seeing her heart and not the surface. I also read an excellent analysis abt how Ssk see skr as the same way he saw Itachi (like as if her was a bother to him, which is untrue) and it could help more people understand him.  Cont...

Cont (end) To finish this long ask, there are a lot of fake ss fan in the fandom of both sides and it isn't a new thing, but we, the real fans, will overcome that issues. Our ship is already cannon and they are in the new phase, some people need to grow up with them, too.

To describe that as simply a “long” ask is one hell of an understatement Anon, holy fuck. I usually include screenshots of the ask if it spans more than one part but I wasn't gonna crop and edit 18 different screenshots, lol; Copy and paste will have to do in this case.

Now having said that, yes I agree with the basic gist of what you said ^_^

[1985music]

Assembly of the Gods

Twon, If you're reading this it's too late my G. 

I'm never sure where to begin with these stories. Y'all remember when Nas spit a whole story backwards? Nevermind forget it. 

The year is 2013, I believe, and it's a rainy night in the fall. My boy Robbie Maxx drags my wife and I to a Meek Mill show in Teaneck NJ, just to peep the scene. The parking lot is a mad house of course. We had to wait in line and shit, which wasn't the vibe. We finally get in the spot, it's already packed and the opening acts are doing their thing. This one performer caught my attention. This short, energetic kid with his squad on stage with him screaming, "UPPERCLASS!". The young boy with the name "TWON" gleaming off his hat was spitting some fire with no fear or nervousness to a sold-out crowd in his hometown. Pretty dope performance overall. Soon after his exit from the stage Meek would come out and make is presence known. I knew that wasn't the last time I'd see or hear from that Twon guy. 

Some months later Maxx would headline a show at this spot called Mexicali Live (Debonair Lounge) and guess who he throws on the bill? You guessed it, TWONDON. It had been a while since I last saw the kid and this go-around the music was a bit different. He performed and did his thing much like the first time I saw him. He was chopping it up with his fans/supporters after his performance, so I had to wait to talk to him. I hate that sh*t. I was able to properly introduce myself and extend the invitation to collab. I'll admit our first encounter wasn't the greatest. It's always weird when a ni**a that doesn't know you tries to strike a conversation. He'll tell you. Although he knew of me as being Maxx's producer/engineer up until this point we hadn't had any extensive interaction. We exchanged info and that was that. He wasn't trying to hear anything I had to say that night though.

 Now it's 2014, I was floating around to different events in NYC. One in particular was a private album release party for Mobb Deep (RIP Prodigy). I want to say it was their last album, "The Infamous Mobb Deep." I'm coolin' in the spot for a little bit and guess who I bump in to? Of course, Twondon. The first thing he says to me is, "Damn B, you get around". At this point this ni**a finally realizes he can't escape the God. This time we got a chance to really chop it up. He mentioned to me he was looking for a new spot to record and a good engineer. I had to get my boy right. The first track we recorded together was, "Life's a Bitch" featuring AZ. I remember Twon asking me, "Yo B, can you somehow scratch in the Acapella of AZ from Nas' "Life's a Bitch"?” and explained how he wanted it to cut in and out of the hook. I remember thinking to myself, "This ni**a has no clue this my f**king BAG." To make a long story short my execution of what he requested was flawless. In past interviews Twon has mentioned that "Life's a Bitch" was when he found "His sound."

 Soon after Twon would make 1985 Sound Studio in Belleville, NJ his new home for recording. By this time I had already mixed a few singles for him including "4th and Inches" and "Run It" featuring Bizzy Crook and slew of others. There's this on-going thing where he'll say some sh*t like "Yo B, make me sound icy" and somehow I know what he means everytime. He also connected me with a few artists he knew including a young lyricist by the name of Dolla $ign Dunn who I continue to help with developing his sound as well. In the early stages of creating with Twon he had already had a lot of his beats picked out so he didn't really need me for production. I was just helping to cultivate that Upperclass sound through my mixing and mastering techniques. It wasn't until mid 2015 that discussions of his debut EP "Stay Golden" began to take shape. 

After a session one day Twon asked me about a beat I was creating on my ipad that I previewed on Instagram I think. No stories back then this was all timeline action. He said "That beat sound like me." 

I didn't think anything of it, I looped up the beat, added a few more elements to it and gave it up. No charge. That was the birth of the first single "Too Committed". He sat on the beat for a short time and came back to the studio and laid the 1st verse and the hook. Later on he told me that Smoke DZA would be blessing the record and executive producing the album "Stay Golden." 

"TWON!!? Antwon!! Wake your black ass up it's 1 in the afternoon..."   -Gloria's Intro (Mama Twondon) 

Twondon's “Stay Golden” album was released December 8, 2015, a day after my 30th Birthday. I was in Vegas my ni**a. The project was well received. The song "Million Dollar Babies" off that project racked up 600,000+ streams on Spotify alone. The whole roll-out for that project was dope. I go back and listen to that project sometimes and I love the way it sounds. It sounds just like the title, "Golden." So much work went into it and I enjoyed every minute of it. There are 10 mixes on "Too Committed" alone. Occasionally I will hear my wife bumping "All the Above." She's also partially responsible for placing "Too Committed" in the Indie film "King of Newark" (2016) 

After the success of that project we continued to create and build. The last few years I've watched Twondon evolve from rapper/lyricist to clothing designer to all-around entrepreneur. Yeah man, my boy was making clothes. I had to support him because the Upperclass Intl. collections were dope, simple as that. Every collection is limited pieces, so if you miss it for the week it's available it's over. His system is untouchable to say the least. He'll give you some dope music and then turn around and give you some fresh clothes. Young Nipsey traits for sure. The one piece I missed out on was this navy blue Upperclass hoodie he dropped. Still salty about that. He know. 

The inception of "God Complex" 

Summer of 2016 I locked in with my brother Josh. He would come to the crib on random days and cook up. Lay hooks, make beats etc. One of the hooks he laid was on "F**k What They Tryna Say," we both knew it was special. He laid it down and we never revisted it. Typical Josh sh*t. He's just a legendary soul. He's different. 

2017 I relocated to Atlanta. Twondon and I would maintain our working relationship and brother-hood from a far. We would send sessions back and forth, long ass facetime calls and sh*t. I would send beats sometimes and I stumbled across that joint "F**k What They Tryna Say" again, so I sent it to him. He didn't have anything in his catalog like it at the time. He wrote to it in about 45 minutes maybe less and sent me voice notes of the verses he had. Just undeniable flame. Since he didn't have a studio to record in at the time, I arranged to shoot back to Jersey to handle some business and record his verses. We linked up at a Sheraton I was staying at in Weehawken NJ overlooking New York City. I set up my laptop and microphone, we had some "God-Talk" and we got to work. Needless to say this record "Fuck What They Tryna Say" is about to be 4 years old by the time you guys hear it. Timeless vibes. Around the time we recorded that song I was still dealing with the indelible aftermath of my own personal police misconduct situation. It's documented that US Police had already shot and killed 72+ unarmed black males from 2015-2017. The numbers continue to rise. The message in that song is powerful, heavy and very clear, Fuck what they tryna say. We're not naive to what's happening in our communities, but as you can see we still thrive anyway. So we dont give a f**k what yall talking about. Plain and simple. 

"The skeletons in the closet is rising, the truth is louder than ever they kill us and televise it..." "FWTTS" - Twondon (feat Josh.GLPA) 

These last few years have made me realize how important the artist-engineer and artist-producer relationship really is. We've gotten so good at separating our business and personal lives that when this guy hits my line and simply says, "Mr. Ross," my response is normaly "Mr. Gibbs?”, I know something is coming. Would you believe we've spent the last 7 years developing his sound to what you hear today? I've mixed and mastered over 30 songs, 3 albums and 3 EPs for Twondon thus far. So many email threads, text messages, phone calls and overtime to bring to life that Upperclass sound you know him for. “God Complex” is just a cornerstone of what we've been able to build together on this journey of ours. Songs like “199$” and “Trips Up North,” are the creative by-product of our extensive conversations about life, man-hood, spirituality and how we are limitless in our thinking and resilient in what we pursue. We are Gods in our own right. Like Ye said, "I just told you who I thought I was, a God". Just respect it. Hope you enjoy this masterpiece. More music on the way. It's Upperclass ̡ 

Written by Brandon "Plan B '85" Ross 1985 Music 

Stream/Buy God Complex NOW

http://smarturl.it/GODCOMPLEXPACK

[chillyravenart]

You mentioned you might do a post on the outfits you hated the most? Not to pole the bear too much but I would love to hear your opinion! I love talking costumes on the show.

Ok I hope you’re ready, because I was largely very unimpressed with a lot of the outfits on the show- several of these are truly terrible, and several are just too repetitive and boring, make of that what you will. Whilst I’m glad we didn’t get typical medieval reenactment attire (and skimpy hose lmao) and I am appreciative of the unique twist they tried to give the clothing on GoT, a lot of it was very lacklustre and boring and should have stayed as curtains or sofa fabric.

A wise man once said, “Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab.” Unfortunately we got a LOT of drab.

 Again this is just my personal opinion, if anyone liked any of these outfits, I’m glad you could find some joy from all the misery. Its going to be a long post so I’ve added a ‘read more’ break, but I doubt it will work because Tumblr likes torturing us. Right, off we trot!

1. I have to mention this one first because I fucking hated it so much lmao. Basic, dull, blue on blue, awful heavy cape for the climate, plain boring sick of it haha I won’t linger, I have a lot to get through.

2. I’m going to bunch these all together because these dresses were all awful. When I was in Year 8 we had a Design & Textiles class and I remember sewing something equally misshapen and sack-like. long story short, it ended up in the bin. What the fuck was that neckline, lord it turned my stomach. (This ghastly neckline will make several reappearances, rest assured).

3. Same goes for Catelyn, her dresses were drab and dire (no pun intended) and the neckline made me want to kill myself. She just looked like a frumpy old school teacher, not the wife of the Warden of the North. ( I did like the fur detail on the sleeves of the first dress, however the main body of the dress itself is very dull)

4. Shit dresses seemed to be a trend for the Tully sisters, and my God, Lysa’s were no better. I expected better from the Arryn seamstresses. What is it with the heavy collars and same fucking drapey arms???

5. Really wasn’t a fan of Arya’s “on the run” outfit, it looked moldy and vile and I know she’s meant to be an impoverished urchin but I’d rather it was a plain tunic/jerkin combo that this rotten mess. And that fucking awful neckline again.

6. Ok so Margaery had some overall nice outfits, but what was this fucking catastrophe? Was Olenna Tyrell away from home the day they commissioned this tragedy? She looked like a lampshade- or as @naomimakesart put it a ‘soda-can’.

7. This deserved a separate post because after leaving the South to head up North, Sansa clearly couldn’t find a decent dress designer, and I don’t blame her. It’s the North remember? Her wedding dress was a cross between an anaemic peanut and a marshmallow, the neckline, the sleeves- vomitous! And her Winterfell dress was no better. The Boltons probably had shit tailors.

8. Look I know Jon was in the middle of a war but that’s no excuse to wear a ratty old surcoat nicked off a decaying corpse. No excuse. You are the Warden of the North Jonathan! 

9. Let’s do Dany again. I’ve said time and time again that if anyone deserved to be dressed in silken grandeur with embellishments and veils and jewels and intricate bodices, then it was Daenerys fucking Targaryen, but instead we got this plain, curtain-like shroud. Why is the material so heavy and thick AND UNADORNED???? Boring boring boring, yawn, next.

10. Did they seriously lack for creativity when it came to Dany? Why were all her outfits cut from the same cloth/template? Why did she have massive shoulder pads like an 80s businesswoman? Why did they dress her in the drab habit of a nun???? Why can I upholster my sofa in that same fucking fabric, are DFS in breach of copyright here????? So boring, so homogeneous, so fucking disappointing. Not to mention the pukesome hemline and dreary shade of charcoal- where was the pitch black and vivid scarlet combo I dreamt of???? Oh but it had red detailing- bitch where???? Can’t see a thing without a magnifying glass!

11. I’m not done, you all asked for this haha. It pains me to dredge up this memory, especially when I’ve spent every moment since season 7 aired trying to expunge it from my mind. What. In. The. Name. Of. Fuck. Was. This. Shit? I’m not even going to talk about the casting choices or the wig, I won’t, you can’t make me, but why in Aegon’s name was he wearing an old potato sack and she a Forever 21 2017 summer collection dress the colour of snot? Someone explain this to me right this minute. And what is that wrapped all around it? Did someone make that from papier-mâché??? HEINOUS.

12. The Sand Snakes. Oh the Sand Snakes. Poor girls. Done so so so dirty it makes a wartime latrine look sanitary. What the fuck were they wearing? Where were the elaborate outfits Oberyn’s daughters dressed in (bar Obara ok)???? What is this mess????

13. Erm so I know Euron was a bit of a joke but I didn’t expect him to dress like a washed-up Alice Cooper fanboy. Then again none of the Greyjoys had decent outfits and travelling all around the world surely didn’t improve Euron’s dress sense either. Next!

14. Now I know people loved Dany’s fur coat, however I was not one of those people. Fine, I was willing to endure it the first time, notwithstanding the fact that she was swamped in it yet again and it’s a good thing Em is adorable and gorgeous otherwise she would have looked like an albino hamster, but why in heaven’s name was the design recycled so often and so unvaried? Furry stripes and shoulder pads folks! Oh adding red to the stripes was a great touch was it? Groundbreaking! It all looks the same, in fact the striped leather coat looked like the fur one after it had been scalded and plucked. Yes I said what I said.

15. I don’t usually rant but lately, I’ve felt the need to get things off my chest. And so I have to add this monstrosity. The hair looks like someone coiled an old hemp rope and pinned it to her head, and the dress, good god the dress is so fucking ugly???? Easily the worst thing Cersei’s ever worn, good thing her gowns improved in the later seasons because holy shit this dress was as grim as the execution itself.

16. Last but not least, this leather coat was ugly and I hated it. So glad we never saw it again after season 1. I’ll add here that the men were all given the same jerkin/surcoat combo with pants and boots and it became very boring after a while. No variance, no style. The only ones with swag were Joff and Oberyn, and dare I say it even Littlefinger’s coats were better than the recycled swill we got with the others.

And that concludes this shitshow. I know we’ve been slating D&D’s writing and the shit plot and awful direction the show took but the costumes were always so underwhelming for me. I expected colour and variety and texture from a fantasy/pseudo-medieval setting, not my grandma’s curtains. And the black emo phase was just laughable, but clearly it reflected the deep sense of mourning and tragedy that befitted the end of this memorable show. Sigh. Thank you for bearing with me. I’ve left LOADS of outfits out FYI but you get the gist haha.

[kisaell]

In the Scions we Trust

So, I’ve been plucking my way through grinding the scions to 80 for that cute little title; and in hopes that there is some bigger reward waiting down the line…

Anyway, I just wanted to note down some interesting quirks of each of the Scions since … It’s a lot of runs to just get them out of each dungeon. It’s a long post, and has some spoilers in it~

Let’s start with the Disaster Twins (who I love with my whole heart);

Alisaie plays like a Red Mage, naturally. However, she drops the OGDC aether blades in favour of more powerful Vercures; should the healer fall, or the WoL get too low she will not hesitate to yell out, “I’ll handle the healing!” and use Vercure 3 to keep people alive. It’s a decent heal too. We all know how extra she can be, so on the first and second boss of a dungeon, should you have Limit Break ready, she will use it on pull. However, should the Limit Break not be ready, and it dings in the middle of the boss; she tends to wait until after her enhanced melee + Verholy/Verflare combo before popping it, so any melee WoL taking her along can use that time to pop it for yourself.

I personally didn’t encounter her dying to mechanics. She is a little ballsy with her placement, opting to get in a little extra damage if she can, but she performed very well whenever I took her with.

Alphinaud plays like a Scholar, no matter what his job title says. He uses his Moonstone Carbuncle rather than a fairy, which makes sense given he isn’t a Nymian-trained Scholar like the WoL can be. Moonstone Carbuncle provides some DPS as it attacks enemies on its own; it also provides a nice Damage up buff every 2 mins (it lined up with my Dancer burst perfectly, everytime).

As for Alphinaud himself, he offers the standard Scholar kit with Adlo shields and Lustrates when people fall low; he also uses Broil 2 for DPS between heals. He is also a little more cautious than his sister, often making sure to step out of AoEs unless he is caught mid-cast; he is unafraid to shield himself and take an AoE should he need to. 

Now we have the Father-Daughter combo;

Thancred plays like a Gunbreaker, because he is one. When I ran dungeons with him, I had not yet touched Gunbreaker, so I didn’t notice anything too off with his playstyle. He is quick enough to establish enmity and will face groups away from people if he can. One unique skill I’ve found is his Quick Slash, which is an AoE attack that also blinds any enemy it hits; it’s not often he uses it, seems to be a mob count thing given I saw it most often in Dohn Mheg with the Wasps.

Personally, he provided the quintessential tank role to the Scions. He held the enemies still, he bosses to either the middle or towards the exit and held them there. My only issue was found in, again, the 73 dungeon… Where he often tanked the final boss in such a way that poor Alphinaud got frogged more than once.

Baby Ryne plays like a Rogue with extra bits, why did Dadcred let a 12 year old have knives? Aside from Y’sthola, Ryne is perhaps the most unique in her kit; not only does she have a 20 second vulnerability up debuff with her Trick Attack (that she can use on every pull) but her unique version of Dream within a Dream - Called Artful Edge - puts a damage done down debuff on the enemy too. And if that wasn’t enough, she has a ranged attack in the form of the spell Banish 3; she only tends to use this after a close-ranged AoE forces her to step away from enemies and bosses. Something that is also neat, is that her Hide isn’t broken by her auto-attacking.

Ryne is again, second only to Y’sthola in terms of how cautious she is. I have yet to see her get hit needlessly when she can avoid it; double AoEs like the Forgiven Apathy’s Earthshakers confound her (like most Trusts) but she will try to only get hit by one rather than both.

Dungeons with Ryne feel a lot faster given how often she can pop that Trick Attack; she’s even uses the Limit Break once or twice which also speeds things up. Another interesting note is that she carries Phoenix Downs to resurrect fallen party members, should there be no one else that can. She is cute baby with a lot of support 10/10 would take her in more dungeons.

Now for Smart Squad;

Boss Ass Bitch Y’shtola plays like a Black Mage, but she has White Mage elements spells to remind you that she’s better than you in every way.

As mentioned, Y’sthola has one of the most unique kits of the Scions as of this moment; all of her spells are followed by the suffix “-of the seventh dawn” and enjoy such elements as, “Tornado”, “Foul”, “Fire 4” and “Water 4”; which as someone who also plays White Mage from time to time, makes me cry. I’ve not noticed her ever use leylines, but she does seem to have a very short recast Triple Cast - which she also pop swiftcast with and just churns out damage when she wants.

In my runs, I noticed that Y’shtola did very well to avoid unnecessary damage; and as we were told, she does pop Triple Cast to make up for lost damage when she’s dancing around AoEs. However, unlike what we were told; I’ve seen Y’sthola pop the Limit Break about as often as Alisaie does, although she will wait until a lot longer in the fight before she uses it. I think she’s mad at me because I looked at her ass in that one quest; hero, and thus LB, privileges revoked. ;~;

Urianger, he doth provide the support of one well versed in the Sharlayan art of Astromancy. Which ultimately means he plays favorites with the cards and waxes poetically about killing shit. Urianger uses Diurnal Sect, which means regens! However, he never uses Aspected Helios; just the regular one. The loss of sheilds can be felt in dungeons; when tanking for Urianger, the tank busters hit a lot harder than when Alphi had my back; but that’s to be expected. What Urianger brings, however, is two unique spells. Gravity of the Seventh Dawn is an AoE attack that puts slow and heavy on everything hit; very very useful when you have a lot of enemies plucking away at your HP; and… Death of the Seventh Dawn, where he literally just straight up kills something, and to be fair, he mostly uses it at 10% on trash but still that’s really wild that he has that.

As for his performance… Oh boy; if you thought Alisaie got hit by avoidable shit, you’ve never taken Uri into Holminster. Our Man of the Verbose likes to get hit by everything, which is fine because he can just Essential Dignity himself back to full but still! At least we know where Alisaie gets it from, haha…. 

And for the final wrap up;

If anyone is interested in doing the hell grind of getting all the Trusts to 80; I’d HIGHLY recommend you break them into two groups and level on set with a DPS and the other with a Tank. That will get you all of them 80 in only two sweeps of the gauntlet. 

Your rewards for doing so are;

Each Trust at 80 unlocks their old (SB) outfit; with Ryne getting her blonde look back.

And once they’re all 80, you get the Achievement “Bound by Faith” and the title “Trusted Friend”

[lavender-hemlock]

Aw.. Shit, here we go again. (Questions below the cut because I’m not an asshole like the below.) 

@kazexvoss

Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

1. What is you middle name?

Marie

2. How old are you?

23

3. When is your birthday?

October 7th

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Libra

5. What is your favorite color?

Burgundy

6. What’s your lucky number?

7

7. Do you have any pets?

One dog

8. Where are you from?

The US-Tragedy-A

9. How tall are you?

Hahaha.. 5′.  10. What shoe size are you?

Size 6

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Probably over ten.. and more than half are boots. 

12. What was your last dream about? Asked by breaking-from-grace

13. What talents do you have?

I guess I have a talent for my empathy, art, and writing? Not sure what merits as a talent without being overzealous. 

14. Are you psychic in any way?

I’ve been called a witch because of intuition for emotions of others? Or being scary close to presuming things. 

Sadly can’t bend any spoons, stay tuned. 

15. Favorite song?

Toooo many. Music is too vast to pick just one, but I’ve been listening to Day Dreaming - Jack & Jack a lot lately. 

16. Favorite movie?

Probably the Phantom of the Opera version with Gerard Butler. 

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

Someone who is capable of respecting the flow of my energy. When I need space, when I’m all for being close. It isn’t that I’m picky or moody, but I know what I need and also don’t need them being worried when I’m just being quiet and reading a book. It’s just a mutual respect and understanding. 

Ya feel? 

18. Do you want children?

Yeah. Which is weird to think about. I’m not in any rush. 

19. Do you want a church wedding?

I think it is right for me to pursue it, but kinda no. I want a venue probably really low key done up in lights, curtains, and simplicity that doesn’t need a huge budget. Its about the bond, right? 

20. Are you religious?

Yep, I am a christian. 

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

I have! I had a piggy bank get knocked on top of my head when I was little and my mom rushed me to the hospital. I think that was the first time I saw stars. Only time though!

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

Yeeeeap. 

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

Yes! I’ve been fortunate to meet a few bands and also see the cast of Fast and the Furious. I got to go on set for the 5th movie! I was lucky. 

24. Baths or showers?

Showers. 

25. What color socks are you wearing?

Black. I hate this question. I’m looking at only one person rn. 

26. Have you ever been famous?

Kinda? Yet I think famous in this way is very subjective? I had my old (and first) RP community for like eleven years. Its not fun when everyone knows your name, I’ll tell you that. You get put on a pedestal or get called terrible things if you don’t respond. It was a whack time. I don’t miss it. I was just famous for the designs I would put for the community and being like a “veteran” member with tons of “powers” (community bling). Blegh. 

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

Nope. I admire those that do great things and gain that attention for the work they have put in, but its a double sword. Everyone knows your business and looks at you. Seems like a ant under a magnifying glass analogy.  

28. What type of music do you like?

I like a lot of pop/alternative. I listen to generally everything except some heavy techno/bass stuff isn’t really for me. 

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

Nope, don’t plan to. What if a snake bit my ass? How do I explain that to a doctor. 

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

3!

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

I have to pick one!?

32. How big is your house?

It’s modest. 

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? Asked by Caewen!

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

Yes! I have been trained to use one strictly for defense over the home. What a sad world. 

35. Have you ever tried archery?

No, but I wish!

36. Favorite clean word?

Cleaaaan? 

37. Favorite swear word?

Fuck. 

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

Hahahaha 72 hours. I like sleep. 

39. Do you have any scars? Asked by Sangria-Fangs!

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

Yeah! It’s.. okay. Kind of creeps me out tbh. 

41. Are you a good liar?

No. I would psych myself out. 

42. Are you a good judge of character?

Yeah. It took a lot of fuck-ups to figure that out!

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

Poorly. All of them. 

44. Do you have a strong accent?

No.

45. What is your favorite accent?

Gosh. British or Australian. 

46. What is your personality type?

INFJ. 

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

Boots! 

48. Can you curl your tongue? Cries. Asked by Caewen. 

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

Innie. This is weird. 

50. Left or right handed?

Right handed!

51. Are you scared of spiders?

Don’t @ me. 

52. Favorite food?

Snow crab.

53. Favorite foreign food?

Italian. 

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

SO fresh and SO clean ~

55. Most used phrased?

”I dare everyday.” She says before she does something stupid. 

56. Most used word?

Ye. 

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

Anywhere from 5 minutes to over 30 minutes. There is no inbetween in this. 

58. Do you have much of an ego?

Either the biggest in the room or the smallest. There is no inbetween. 

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

BITE. 

60. Do you talk to yourself?

When I’m trying to focus really hard. 

61. Do you sing to yourself?

Only to myself, yes. In my car and forgetting there’s someone in the car next to me? yes. 

62. Are you a good singer?

I’d like to think so. 

63. Biggest Fear?

Snakes. 

64. Are you a gossip?

No, but I’ll discuss, not spread. 

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? Asked by Hingan-Fox!

66. Do you like long or short hair?

I like both!

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

Unfortunately. 

68. Favorite school subject?

Literature. 

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

Kinda inbetween. Ask me on a random day, it may be one or the other. 

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

No but it sounds cool!

71. What makes you nervous?

Confrontation. 

72. Are you scared of the dark?

Kinda. 

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

It depends on the thing. If its not my place, I won’t. If they’re ignorant, it depends if its worth it. If they deserve it- passionately. 

74. Are you ticklish?

I will stab you. 

75. Have you ever started a rumor?

Nope

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

Yep!

77. Have you ever drank underage?

Yeeeap. 

78. Have you ever done drugs?

Mary Jane. 

79. Who was your first real crush?

A boy in kindergarten who drew me cards everyday and left them in my desk each morning. ; ; 

80. How many piercings do you have?

None! Needles and I do not work out. 

81. Can you roll your Rs? 

I can’t even curl my tongue and now I get this question. 

82. How fast can you type?

90 WPM average. 

83. How fast can you run?

Fast as fuck boi. I’m just memeing now, aren’t I? Just trying to get through this. I don’t think anyone will get this far. 

84. What color is your hair?

Dark brown!

85. What color is your eyes?

Green-blueishhhh. Depends on the day/lighting. 

86. What are you allergic to?

Wax and bees. 

87. Do you keep a journal?

I used to until someone read it lol. 

88. What do your parents do?

Work? 

89. Do you like your age?

I kinda have to? 

90. What makes you angry? Asked by Caewen! Oo boy. 

91. Do you like your own name?

Yeah, I’d say its just fine. It’s mine.

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

Jace and Claire. 

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

Happy with either.

94. What are you strengths?

Empathy, understanding.

95. What are your weaknesses?

Patience (depends), Failure. 

96. How did you get your name?

They said they just shouted it out until they figured they could say it everyday for the rest of my life and not get tired of it- and the meaning is pretty. 

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

I don’t think so. Never looked into it. 

98. Do you have any scars? Asked by Sangria-Fangs!

99. Color of your bedspread?

White.

100. Color of your room?

White, greys. I like snow and furs and lights. 

Now, after all that- I am clearly no bitch @kazexvoss. Do yours. 

[penny4yourthot]

Broken Stranger Part-12

Summary: Torri (O/C) needs to escape her life in Seattle because of her abusive husband. When she ends up in Charming things don’t go as planned.

part-1/ part-2 / part-3/ part-4 /part-5/ part-6 / part-7 / part-8 / part-9/ part-10 / part-11

The week went by relatively fast. It was hard for me to do nothing but rest for seven straight days, but Chibs made sure to come home early on the days he had to work to keep me company. It definitely made my days more enjoyable. He was also making me three meals a day and making sure the fridge was stocked with tons of healthy fruits and vegetables. One day this week while he was at work he had a pizza delivered here for me for lunch as a surprise.

When Chibs wasn't home, there was always a prospect with me. He made sure to stay in the house and stay close to where I was. It was awkward at first but after talking to Rat we actually became friends.

Today was finally the day I get to go back for my check up with Tara to make sure the babies are doing well. Chibs was driving me there and I had already called Gemma to let her know I may be able to come to work later today. Thank god because I'm sick of being stuck in the house.

Arriving at the hospital we made the familiar walk to Tara’s office. The nerves set in as the three of us walked down to the exam room. These ultrasounds made me so nervous. I’m terrified to find out that something is wrong with one or both of the babies. I laid down on the exam table and lifted my shirt up.

“Any bleeding or cramping this week?” Tara questioned as she squeezed to cool gel on my abdomen.

“Nope, everything has been pretty good.” I felt her push the probe on my stomach so I instantly looked at the screen. She moved the probe around a bit and I could see both the babies. They were tiny but they were moving around a bit.

“They both look great, they are both measuring to be 11 weeks which is what we want,” she said as she moved the prob around a bit more. She clicked a button to turn the sound on and the quick thumping brought tears to my eyes.

“Ye okay, lass?” Chibs asked as he wiped away a tear and then held my hand.

“Yeah. It’s just the best noise in the world, I was so worried something was going to happen to them and to see and hear they are okay is just overwhelming in a good way.” Tara moved the probe and the sound stopped but then started again.

“Yer going te be such a good mom,” he whispered then kissed my cheek.

“Both have normal heart rates as well,” she said with a smile before printing a couple of pictures.

“Does this mean I can go back to work?” I eagerly asked.

“As ye can tell she has been having a hard time staying home not doing shite,” Chibs said with a laugh.

“Yes, but you need to take it easy. No lifting anything heavy and make sure you are not on your feet the whole time you are at the bar,” Tara said as she put the probe back and grabbed a towel to wipe the gel off my stomach. “I’ll let Gemma know your limitations so she can make sure you really are taking it easy” she laughed as I pulled my shirt down and handed me the pictures with a smile.

“Aye Gemma will be on yer ass if yer no’ resting” Chibs chuckled as he helped me off the table.

“I bet she will. Thanks, Tara for all this.” I pointed towards the ultrasound machine.

“No problem. Call me if you have any problems.” She smiled as she headed towards the door.  

“Oh one more question, can we have sex?” I asked quietly, I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I blushed.

“Yeah, just nothing crazy.” She looked over at Chibs with a laugh and then back at me, “and if it hurts at all or causes you to bleed then stop,” she added.

“Okay, thanks,” I said with a smile then looked over at chibs as Tara walked out the room.

“Guess we gotta be really vanilla for a while. Can’t go at it for too long,” I joked as we walked out of the room.

“Aye bu’ that’s okay, we don’t wan’ te hurt the babies.”

“Look how big they are getting.” I handed the ultrasound picture’s to Chibs as we walked down the hall. I put my hand on the slight bump that recently grew.

“Won't be long till they are ‘ere with us,” He said with a smile as he studied the pictures.

“I can’t wait. Can we go to TM? I want to get things ready for tonight I’m not sure who has been bartending so I want to make sure everything is good for the party and go over the orders. Plus the distributor should have dropped off the order this morning since it’s Friday.”

“Aye, I have a shift at the garage in an hour anyway.” Chibs grabbed my hand and held it all the way out to the car.

“Eager te stay ou’ the house?” he laughed as he started the car.

“Oh yeah, don't get me wrong I love sitting around watching Freinds, but after seven days of it I'm ready to get back to work.” I buckled my seat belt in the passager seat and Chibs took off driving down the street.

We arrived at TM quickly. It was a wonderful site, getting to see everyone outside of the house.

“Take it easy lass. I'll be in te check on ye in a little bit.” He kissed me on my lips with a smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’m sure Gemma will be on my ass about being careful anyway,” I laughed before walking into the clubhouse.

“Tara called and said you would be coming back. How are you feeling baby?” Gemma asked as she rose from her seat at the bar.

“Excited to be out of the house,” I laughed as I walked over to her. She drew me in for a quick hug.

“Just wanted to tell you to take it easy. I got Rat in here to stock the shelves with the booze, you just tell him where to put it. You know how he is, he will just put it where ever,” she let out a laugh as she pulled out her cigarettes and lit one up.

“Got it, thanks,” I said as I made my way to the bar.

“Rat, make sure she isn't lifting any heavy boxes of booze,” Gemma said as she walked out and headed back to the garage office.

Rat picked the boxes off the floor and put them on the bar while we were catching up. I started opening the boxes and took inventory on the TM inventory sheet. After we put the booze away, I noticed some things were missing.

“We are missing two bottles of rum and a keg. Last week the distributor called me because they messed the order up and gave us extra for free, so they should be calling soon. the damn guy delivering seemed to be half drunk,” I laughed as I sat down to fill out more order forms. Rat grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down at the bar.

“So are you feeling better?” Rat asked as he watched me go over order forms.

“Yeah, just having some nausea and fun pregnancy stuff,” I chuckled, “ya know constipation, bloating all that shit.”

“Sounds like fun,” he joked as he sipped his beer. The bar phone started to ring

“That must be the liquor distributor, called the same time last week after dropping the order off.” I walked over to the phone and picked it up.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Torri?”

“Yeah, who is this?” I couldn’t recognize the voice on the phone considering the phone in the bar is like ten years old.

“You don’t even recognize your husband's voice anymore?” My stomach instantly twisted as fear ran through my body.

“How did you get this number?”

“I got promoted to detective. I find missing people every day, there's no hiding from me. You need to come home or I will come there and take you home myself.”

“No! Stop calling me, leave me alone,” I yelled into the phone. I heard Rat get off his chair. I turned around and mouthed ‘go get Chibs’ to him and he ran out the door.  

“Baby, I love you. I can't live without you. You need to come home and take care of your husband like a good wife would.” I could hear the bullshit coming from his voice.

“So you can beat the shit out of me and kill me? No. I swear to God Mike If you come here you will be killed!” tears started streaming down my face. I was too afraid to hang up. Anytime I used to disobey him, I would get beat up. I don’t know how he still had this hold on me but he did.

“Bitch If you think you can kill me, you are dumber then I thought,” he screamed. There was the man I knew. The one who would blow up at me and treated me like shit.

I started to shake, and almost fell to the floor but I felt hands on my waist and I turned around and saw it was Chibs. He took the phone out of my hand and put it to his ear.

“Leave her alone! Don’ ever call ‘ere again and don’t try te come ‘ere cause you will be dead. We will no’ hesitate te kill ye!” Chibs yelled into the phone before slamming the phone down, hanging up. I couldn't control the tears that fell down like a waterfall or the way my body shook. Mike knows exactly where I am and he could be here at any time.

Tag List: @gemini0410 @utterlyhopeful @rebelwriter95 @genius2050

SOA tag list: @answer-the-sirens @i-am-sarah

[thinkyoureholy]

A Woman Scorned [6]

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Pairing :Kim Jongin / Reader

Genre : Angst, Mature Language, Fluff, Smut

Words : 2.2k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Epilogue.

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

"Wait what do you mean by buying stocks?" Minseok asked from his seat in the back. "I don't know what's so hard to understand. I'm buying the part of the company Jongin has let slip through his fingers after his grandfather passed away." I said through gritted teeth. As soon as I said that Junmyeon pulled over, turning to me, "I thought you didn't want anything to do with the money your father gave you? If you're gonna use it for revenge then forget about it, I'm not gonna let you go through with it. I'd rather that money stay in the bank unused then for you-" "Just who do you think you are telling me I can't use the money my father left me? And so what if I want to use it for revenge? That money is mine to use however the fuck I please and if I want to use it like this-" "Dammit Y/N you don't understand!" Minseok shouted, cutting me off, "If you do this you'll lose yourself." I looked down at my hands at his words, feeling the tears that I had been holding gather in my eyes, "I just--I can't stand the fact that they get to go on with their lives as if nothing happened. It's not fair. Why am I the only one that has to suffer, huh? Who's gonna give me back the past two years of my life? The things I've been through-- the shit I had to do while in that hellhole...I'm not the same person I was when I went in. The me you knew Minseok is hardly even there anymore. I lost myself the moment they put those handcuffs on me," I said with a broken voice, the tears slipping out and sliding down my cheeks. I took a shaky breath, my heart constricting in my chest, "It's not fair that I'm the only one that's suffered because of their greed." I heard Minseok sigh heavily before I felt him reach over and wipe my tears away gently with his fingers, "Fine." "Hyung-" "I am tired of seeing her cry over that fucking bastard when he couldn't give two shits about her. When did he ever make time to visit her? Where was he when all this shit happened? He just sat back and let his grandfather and bitch do all the dirty work while Y/N suffered. I've had it. I know life isn't fair but fuck, those two deserve everything Y/N has planned for them." Minseok said to Junmyeon, shutting up his protest and all other future protests. Minseok then turned back to me, placing his fingers under my chin and gently making me look up at him, "Okay. We'll go with whatever you have planned. Let's show them how badly they fucked up by messing with you.

-

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Junmyeon asked, still a bit skeptical about everything and making sure I was a hundred percent sure about doing this.

“As my financial advisor, lawyer, and friend you should've done a better job at convincing me not to go through with this but here we are.” I said, keeping my eyes on the elevator doors.

I hear Minseok on my right sigh heavily before coming over to stand in front of me. Without a word he straightened out my the blazer, fixing the collar. He went to button up the blazer before he finally spoke.

“You’ve spent all this money already, might as well make it worthwhile.”

“Don't encourage her.’

Minseok let a smirk cross his lips as he raised his head to look at me as he spoke, his words still directed at Junmyeon, “I say that punk deserves to suffer a little, the bitch too,” He paused for a second before directing his next words to me, “Give them hell.”

……

No one really noticed us when we walked into the hall, everyone minding their own business well everyone besides Bora. As soon as I walked in her eyes met mine, her hold on the glass in her hand tightening a fire was lit behind her eyes. I had to control myself and not burst out laughing at the look, instead I settled on smirking. I knew this would rile her up more than she already was. I mean I would be furious as well if someone ruined my engagement party but she deserved it. Junmyeon, Minseok and I had just gotten to our assigned cocktail table when she marched over to us. With the way she was holding the glass in her hand I could tell she was ready to throw it in my face. Minseok must've noticed this as well as he got in front of me, taking the alcohol in the face instead. She went to grab another glass when Junmyeon grabbed her wrist in his hand tightly.

“I suggest you don't do that.”

“And I suggest you remove your hand.” Jongin's said, appearing a few feet away from us behind Bora.

I didn't bother looking at him, instead focusing on drying Minseok's shirt and hair with the napkins that were provided on the table. I didn't have to do much talking as Bora took the initiative.

“What the hell do you think you're doing here? This event is for invited guests only. What you didn't have your fill by ruining my engagement party so now you want to ruin a business party too? Why the hell did you even think it was a good idea to show your face around us?” She said, trying to keep her voice low so the other people attending wouldn't hear her, “It's been two fucking years Y/N couldn't you have stayed out of our lives for good?”

I set my jaw at her words, putting down the napkins I had in my hand and looking over at Jongin instead of Bora, “Is this how your employees speak to their employer?”

The two stared at me in shock at my words, their eyes wide, Jongin speaking up, “E-Employer?”

I smirked at getting the reaction I wanted, “Who do you think bought the shares and stocks last week? You even decided to throw this nice little party for me, it really wasn't necessary.”

“That's--That's impossible…”

I turned to Bora now, the smirk on my face turning into a grin, “You never knew who my father was. Sure I never wanted anything to do with him and his money but when I heard Lotto Enterprises was doing so bad...I couldn't help but use some of the money my dear father left me.”

I chuckled at the way her face paled, hearing them call for the new co-owner to step up to the podium. The smile on my face immediately fell, a dark look making its way into my eyes as I went to walk passed them but stopped just before passing Jongin.

“I hope the old man is rolling over in his grave at seeing me take over his company. Don't think I won't stop until this entire company is in my hands...before I destroy it completely.”

"Y/N, you don't have to do all of this." Jongin said under his breath. I set my jaw, balling my hands into fists at my sides at his words. I said nothing as I walked over to the podium. Everyone went quiet as soon as they noticed me walking towards it, their eyes on me. Once up there I felt my nerves want to get the better of me, my hands beginning to shake at having their eyes on me. Logically I knew this wasn't the same situation but I couldn't help be reminded of the time I was arrested. Lotto Enterprises was a big company and something like my arrest caught the media's attention. Though they never released my information or showed my face they didn't have a problem bombarding me with questions every time they saw me during the trial. Since then I've developed a bit of anxiety over things like this, hating having so many people looking at me. I took a deep breath to try and calm myself, looking around the room. My eyes found Jongin's, seeing the hurt in them. Seeing that look in his eyes had anger surge through my veins. What does he have to feel hurt over? Was he locked up for two years? Falsely accused over a crime he swore on his life he didn't commit? Was he subjected to abuse or was his life threatened while he was in jail? He had gone through nothing that compare to what I had gone through for two whole years, hell he even got engaged. I ground my teeth, clutching onto the sides of the podium tightly as I tore my gaze away from him, "Good evening everyone. As the gentleman earlier said I'm the new co-owner of Lotto Enterprises, Y/N Y/L/N," I paused before continuing, "I look forward to working with all of you and I'll have a full report on Monday morning sent to each and every one of your emails to further explain what I plan to do with the company. Thank you." I finished and stepped back bowing deeply before heading back over to Minseok and Junmyeon. As soon as I reached them I grabbed them both by the shoulder, turning them around. I clutched their arms tightly, leading them out of there, I had to get out and I had to do it now. As soon as we made it to the elevator I leaned against Junmyeon, letting out a heavy sigh. "I hate things like this." "Well you're gonna have to get used to it." I gave Minseok a grin, "It's one way to get over my fear that's for sure." I felt Junmyeon's shoulder shake before hearing the chuckle that left his lips. I turned to him, hugging his frame and pinning his arms to his sides, "You know I'm gonna need a real financial advisor to make sure I don't waste the rest of my money." He let out another chuckle, a crooked smile making its way onto his face, "I'm a lawyer not an accountant." "I thought you were all the same." At that he gave me a deadpanned look, a scoff falling from his lips, "I don't know if I should be hurt or annoyed but I am offended." "Oh no I think you hurt his feelings." Minseok said with a smug grin on his face. "Aw no did I really hurt the poor baby's feelings?" Junmyeon scoffed once more, his tongue poking at his cheek as he tried to keep a smile from spreading across his face, "Okay now I really think I'm annoyed." "I think he's angry." I said with a shit eating grin, Minseok mirroring my smile. Minseok and I let out a laugh, Junmyeon joining in. But when the doors to the elevator opened on the first floor the smiles on our faces fell at seeing the person. It was Jongin. He was panting heavily as beads of sweat began rolling down the sides of his face. His eyes found me as soon as the doors opened but his eyes soon traveled to my arms that were still wrapped tightly around Junmyeon. I let my arms fall to my sides, Minseok and Junmyeon immediately turning hostile. Before anyone could say anything I felt Minseok grab hold of my arm, Junmyeon being the first to walk out of the elevator as he shoved Jongin aside. Minseok led me out, completely ignoring Jongin. "Y/N wait." I stopped at hearing his voice, my hand clutching onto the fabric of Minseok's suit jacket. I shook my head before walking over to the car, stopping once more at hearing what he said next. "Y/N please I just want to apologize." I broke free of Minseok's grip, turning on my heel and marching over to him, my blood boiling, "You want to apologize? Now? After all this time now you feel the need to apologize? You didn't visit me while I was locked up, not once. You suspected me even when I swore to you that I had nothing to do with the robbery." I paused as I heard my voice begin to break, tears welling up in my eyes, "When I needed you the most...you weren't there Jongin. But now you want to apologize? Why even waste your time?" "I know--I know I fucked up Y/N. I know I don't have the right but I can't just stand by anymore. You have no idea how many times I wanted to go to you but I-I couldn't." "Bullshit," I spat out angrily, "You didn't visit me because you still had a shadow of a doubt that I was guilty. Your grandfather died six months before I was released so what else held you back? Was it Bora?" At hearing her name he looked away from me, diverting his gaze. I couldn't help but scoff at how pathetic he was. I wiped away the tears that had managed to escape, combing my fingers through my hair. "My own boyfriend abandoned me and left me to rot in prison while a complete stranger believed with all his heart that I truly was innocent...that is the cruel reality I live in," I took a breath to reel in my emotions, "I don't want or need your apology so just keep it. You and Bora turned my life upside down, now it's my turn to do the same to the two of you."