#if we go by both those at some point pen will do something neither right now can imagine

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

my very late (due to an absolute lack of inspiration until recently) half of a fic trade with @christian-latte-anon!!! set pretty immediately after Pacific Rim, I hope you like it Anoni!!

~~~

1. Neither of them has really had a real friend before. This is something they're both aware of, now, thanks to the drift, and something they leave unspoken. They're only really becoming real friends now, even after years of knowing each other. It's odd. You can long for something your whole life and then when you finally have it, you have no clue what to do with all you've ever wanted.

2. Ghost drifting is even weirder. Newt wakes up in the morning not knowing if his dreams were his own, Hermann's, or if they belonged to Something Else. He tries not to think about that too hard, or it gives him a headache. He makes coffee and heads down to the lab just like normal, even though nothing is normal anymore, but he can pretend like it is, right? Nobody is going to bother him. He's too abrasive and loud for interviews like Raleigh and Mako are getting, important but not enough for most of the world aside from the nerds to really care. While he's at it he steeps a mug of tea and leaves it sitting next to the chalkboards. He knows without meaning to that Hermann will show up soon.

3. That, too, may be a symptom of their drift. How long Newton was waiting there for him, Hermann doesn't know. But he knows he was, and the warm, if oversteeped, tea beside his desk when he arrives in their shared lab for the first time since the Breach was closed is proof of this. Hermann stands, puzzled, at the steaming drink for a long minute. His hands feel empty and so does his mind, which is unusual. He does not know what to do with the gesture, if it is in fact a gesture. He doesn't even know how to tell what a simple cup of tea in the morning means. He must be, he thinks, losing his mind. Maybe Newton did that to him, too.

4. "You're supposed to take the tea bag out at some point, Newton," are the first words Hermann speaks to him and honestly Newt isn't even surprised. Some things never change. That's nice.

"Whatever," he says over his shoulder, trying to sketch the things he saw in the kaiju's mind and failing miserably. "You could just say thanks, you know." It sounds like any number of arguments they've had before, but it isn't the same as all those. Whatever they were fighting over for all those years, for Newt's part anger and frustration at not being listened to and at the loss of what he had thought they had as pen pals, isn't really a fight anymore. Did drifting one time really do all that?

There's a haughty sniff from Hermann's side of the room. Then, "...Thank you."

Newt spins his chair around hard enough he almost flings himself out of it. He stares, eyes nearly popping out of his head, at Hermann as the other man actually picks up the mug of tea and begins to drink it. "Dude."

"Yes?"

5. Newton is staring at him with that intensity usually reserved for kaiju body parts. Hermann arches an eyebrow in his direction.

"So, like... what now?" Newt asks.

Hermann frowns. "What do you mean?" He responds, as if he isn't asking the same question himself.

Newt shrugs, fidgets with the cuffs of his shirt. "Like, what do we do now?"

"The study of kaiju isn't going to end just because they can't reach us anymore, Newton," Hermann sighs. "You won't become obsolete for some time, I'm sure."

"That's not what I meant. I meant, like, this. Us. Whatever."

Hermann decidedly ignores the tense note in Newt's voice. He can offer that dignity, at least. "I am not planning on going anywhere if you aren't," he says stiffly. This is going to be a trial, he can already tell. He's never had a friend, let alone been one to anyone else. If this is a bid for that, it's going to take some work. He finds to his surprise that he's quite willing.

"You sure?"

"Yes, Newton, I'm sure."

#anyway they're on their way to being besties for real this time #Lu rambles #Lu writes #pacrim #somehow the numbered style makes writing flow better idk. also it meant I could swap off POVs like a madwoman skdjfksjf

[emeraldtied]

         12.13.3233                                                                                                                                  Location ¦ Green Hill

                                                                 --------

The hedgehog had stopped, pen still hovering above paper when a small folder had been placed onto the table right in front of him. He stared at it only for a moment before looking up at the mongoose who put it there, an expectant look in her eyes to meet his confusion. Even the feline and hawk, resting on the hero's lap and table respectively looked at the singer with puzzled expressions. Which made the hedgehog’s next words far from shocking. 

"What's this…?"

Mina shifted her weight, one finger tapping the folder with a stern air. "Registration paperwork. If we want to get her in at the start of next year we need to fill it out and get it turned in before the holidays."

She could see the realization flashing behind those emerald hues, but nothing came after. He only stared at the folder with a frown that, by now, the mongoose had gotten to know and she sighed. Heavily at that. 

"Sonic…"

He looked up at her, feiging some kind of innocence that she wasn’t falling for. He knew he hadn’t gotten away with it given the look in jade eyes. "What?"

"Why are you fighting this so much? It's been months of this back and forth and now we're running out of time," she said, exasperated as she rested her hands on her hips, eyes boring into his. "Tell me what's going on."

Again she was met with a silence, but she could see the gears turning behind those eyes. Since day one, months ago at this point, the hedgehog had been dragging his feet when it came to putting their daughter into preschool. Mina didn't understand it and a part of her wondered if the hedgehog even knew himself as he sat there avoiding her eyes. It took a while before he even spoke. 

"None of this seems, I don't know…fast t’ you?" He knew the words were probably ironic coming from him, but making a joke about it wasn't even on Mina's mind as she saw his frown, the look in his eyes. "She doesn't need t' go…we don't work that much so there's no real reason t’ send her off. She could just…stay with us until recep – er, kindergarten starts."

"In three years?” Mina's question was rhetorical, and they both knew it. There was a stillness before she continued, tone soft. “We both know she needs to get out there and socialize before that. There's nothing wrong with sending her t' preschool, or even daycare. She needs to be with kids her own age, not two adults all the time."

She knew it wasn't anything the hedgehog didn't already know, but he scoffed which almost surprised her. "I never went an’ I turned out alright."

"Sonic." This time the sound of his name made him look up, and for as firm as the word had been the singer's eyes were gentle. Almost touched as she sat in the seat next to him, taking one scarred hand in her own. "Are you scared something's going to happen? You know she's going to be fine, right?"

She knew that was it when his expression softened considerably and she felt her heart melt a little at the notion and the question that followed.

 "How can you be so sure...?"

"You're such a worry wart, you know that?" The singer smiled as she pressed a kiss to his forehead, happy to see his expression lift a notch before taking up his other hand and giving them both a squeeze. "She'll be fine. You know just as well as I do that Green Hill is perfectly safe. We all know each other, we see each other all the time. That includes the teachers and babysitters. Hell, you went to the main school and nothing bad happened, did it?"

"Not unless you count the trouble Johnny got int',” he replied after a moment, paused and then gave a small grin. “Or made."

Sonic was purposefully leaving himself out of that equation and they both knew it, and neither was going to point it out. 

"You know they say this step is a million times harder for the parents than the kid." Okay maybe not entirely true but it did seem to shift something inside her husband so Mina pressed it just a little more. "What's your gut telling you?"

"...That my wife is right and things will probably be fine," he admitted, a half smile given before he sighed. "My head? 'S too busy running through everything that could go wrong. Can't help it.”

Mina only gave those hands another squeeze, she knew very well how her partner's mind worked at times, and luckily she thought she had an idea. "Tell you what, what if we start with, say, two days a week and go from there? To get you both used to the idea?" 

It took a serious moment of debate, of silence on the hedgehog's part, before he gave a nod. A small victory, and Mina would take it.  

#give a little time to me | queue #everything has changed | update #mina | guest stars

[iridescene]

I AM NOW HERE FOR THE FLOWER-THEMED ASKS !! Daisy, Cosmos, Poppy, Tigerlily, Freesia!!

-Sher

Send me a flower... Or a bouquet💐

DAISY — What is your idea of the perfect date?

Forgive me for the abject indulgence that's about to ensue...

I think the perfect date would be something akin to museum-hopping? Hehe, you know me :3 But really though, just imagine: exploring the heart of the city as we move between homes to art and culture, all the beautiful creations we could bear witness to and learn from!! I think the highlight of the date would be able to share any thoughts or musings I have freely with my s/o, and have them listen and add to it, rather than dismiss me or actively seek an argument to assert their perspectives as they counter my point of view... I think the reason I have trouble dating is because I can't find someone who knows how to respond to these sharings of mine without feeling overwhelmed...

Lunch and dinner don't have to be at a fancy restaurant or even one of those chain establishments you see in malls -- I'd much rather we buy food to-go, then find a scenic spot to sit down and eat while people-watching and talking to each other. I've never really been one for glamour.

If it's a night-time date, it would be a dream come true if we could go stargazing at a planetarium or observatory... Lying next to each other under the infinite stars... Oh and another cute date idea would be to go to an aquarium!

cosmos — what's the best compliment you've ever received? who was it from?

Some time back I was having a Moment and asked @pen-observing if I was defined too greatly by my grief/fear/anxiety... To which she replied that I reminded her of lightning and art and trees... And that is somehow both the most grounding and exalting thing someone has ever said about me. :')

POPPY — Out of the four seasons, which season of the year is your favorite and why?

We don't have seasons here but for me it has to be autumn! It's when the weather starts to get cozy without getting to chilly, and also when trees set the world alight with their ardent hues...

TIGER LILY — Do you have any favorite quotes from any movies, tv shows, books, or poetry? (or from people in real life)

OH I have way too many...! In fact, I have a book exclusively for writing these down. The one I'm feeling the most right now is this one, though:

"What's the happiest moment of your life?"

"I don't think I have one yet but it's probably coming up and it's going to be a surprise."

-- @/humansofnewyork

FREESIA — What do you want people to remember you for? (serious or non-serious answers)

Not what the question's asking, but I felt it notable enough to mention: in terms of constructing a legacy or a... recognized remembrance, I find that I'd rather think forwards instead of backwards... I graduated from a writing program for my tertiary education, the duration (3 years) of which I suffered from a declining mental state (depression go brrr)... And upon running into one of my lecturers outside of campus after I graduated, the first thing she inquired about was whether I was 'handling myself better'.

I remember feeling quite affronted at the time, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why; though now that I think about it... It was like neither a single word I wrote nor any idea I dreamed up stayed with her after all that time. Like people had remembered me and thus now know me for the darkness that lived within me (be it my emotional state or the ways in which I was lacking) rather than the fact that I too nurtured light, even if it didn't shine in the way they wished.

Nevertheless, it's all in the past now; and she's not someone I'd endeavour to go out of my way to impress anyway. Her stifling tutelage gave me all the more resolution to reflect upon, and thus answer this question the way I'm about to:

I want to be remembered for my work, but not just for the fact that my work was 'work'. I wish for everything I create or produce to be an experience: colors and creations and dreams and stories that work their ways into one's heart and find a welcome home there, before they begin to nurture gardens that bloom into myriad hues of possibility.

In short, something that resonates with people, and dares them to dream.

Life is so short, yet we confine ourselves to such suffocating limits. Why do we do that to ourselves? All that we stand to lose in doing so -- are those worthy sacrifices, and to whom? Why must we think of certain things a certain way just because certain people said so? Why not risk the cost of questioning?

We are predisposed to the binary, and I only endeavour to transcend this monochrome.

#ok this got v v long and took longer than i thought but it was fun!! tysm for sending in :3 #:sherry: #:outlook: #souglias

[sexyvampkitty]

RP Mini-Solo 24: 'Just Another Goodbye Letter'

It's another one of those late nights slash early mornings where I can't sleep...so...what am I doing? I'm sitting at the desk in my boyfriend's study...make that 'our' study...preparing to write another 'GoodBye' letter...this time to my last ex boyfriend...ex boyfriend number two. I can't even bring myself to mention his name; just the mere thought of it causes my fingers to tighten around the pen that I'm gripping in my right hand...threatening to snap it in half. After a few endless moments of staring down at the blank piece of paper before me...I lower the pen...and begin to let the words pent up inside my mind to flow freely across the page... [To my last ex boyfriend, I don't need to write down your name in this letter, because we both know 'very' well who you are, I never thought that I could possibly hate anyone more than I do my first ex boyfriend or my ex husband...but...here we are. Anyways, this letter will be short and not-so-sweet. It won't be like the one that I wrote to my first total train wreck of an ex boyfriend...the one that pretty much everyone called a 'ghost' in this town...because...honestly? I don't have much left to say to you...not after what you did to me. All I have to say is...how 'dare' you. How 'dare' you treat me the way that you did. You 'knew' about what both my first ex boyfriend and my ex husband did to me...and you promised me that if we got together...that you would never leave me like they did. You 'promised'. To my 'face'. And yet, what did you do? You turned around and dumped me not long before Christmas...'after' locking me in that little inner room in the basement...pretty much leaving me to starve to death...well...you know what I mean...and for cheating no less...which I never actually did in the first place. I never touched that other guy...and no sex ever took place. I just got lonely, waiting for you to come back, and I was looking for a little bit of comfort from someone else. It was wrong. I know that now. Still...even after you saying that I was 'yours'...and that no one else could ever touch me...blah blah freaking blah...you ended up tossing me aside like I was no more than trash. I guess I meant nothing to you at that point. I'm not sure if I ever did in the first place. Was it all a game to you? I guess neither one of us will ever know now. Oh...and that so-called 'cure' that you gave me for the 'ripper' virus? I am 'never' taking it. I'd rather stay like this forever, than to trust anything that you handed me. Knowing you, it's probably just some vervained blood or something. I might get rid of it later. I have 'no' idea what I ever saw in you. It must've been the whole 'bad-boy' thing. I've always been attracted to that...even when I was still human. It's my weakness. It's such a shame that most of the Damon twins that I've been with in the past have turned out to be total dicks. Although, after everything that I've been through, I 'finally' found the right one...and I know that he will 'never' leave me. I've only been with him since last December...but...I can just tell. He's one of the few good ones. Oh...one more thing...despite what happened on our last encounter when you came back into town...I am 'never' having sex with you again. Yes...as much as I hate to admit to this...I still get turned on in your presence...as you so eagerly picked up on...but...that's a physical reaction only...it has nothing to do with love. 'Nothing'. And...if you even so much as 'try' to put your lips anywhere near mine the next time that you happen to show up...you're going to end up like my ex husband did...with a stake crammed into your chest cavity and hopefully rotting alongside him in that special place in Hell. And if you happen to see my ex 'special friend with benefits' around anywhere, since I know that you Damon twins usually travel in groups...you can tell him from me that he can go fuck himself as well. I'm done. I will also stake him if I ever see him again. Well...that's it...that's all that I have to say. I can't say that it wasn't all fun...because some parts were...but those parts don't make up for the way that you so abruptly ended things. You know what? Screw it. You can go and fuck yourself too. See you in Hell. GoodBye...and Good Riddance. Sarcasmic] ...As I furiously scribble out the remaining words, my lips curl back from my teeth and I emit a low growl, hurling the pen across the room. I pick up the piece of paper...my fingers creasing the sides of it a little too harshly. I don't bother to read over it once...let alone twice. I already know what it says. Just like the last time, my first instinct is to get rid of it...but...history seems to repeat itself as I yank open the desk drawer and unceremoniously drop it on top of the other letter. So now I have two that I will never send. Not that I care. Maybe I should just burn them. Yep. I might do that later. I slam the drawer shut and lean forward...my hands balling into fists in my lap...nails digging into my skin...teeth gritting together...my fangs just itching to push through my gums. I can already feel the dark veins crawling across my cheeks. Unlike the last time...there are no tears to shed. I'm 'way' beyond that. Right now, all I feel is rage. Pure and simple. Hot. Blinding. Great. If I couldn't sleep before...I know that I'll never be able to get any sleep now. Plus, I know that if I try to go back to bed like this...I might end up draining my poor boyfriend and tearing his head off before I'm able to stop myself. I'm currently pissed off. And hungry. Not to mention the fact that the freaking ripper virus has taken control over me...as always. 'So' not a good combination. Screw this. I need to get out of here and find myself a fresh kill. Vampire...or human...it really makes no difference. I just need something more satisfying than stale hospital blood...and I'm in the mood to tear someone's throat or heart out. Possibly 'lots' of someones'...and possibly both...meaning both throat 'and' heart. Now that 'is' satisfying. Pushing the chair back and getting to my feet...I make my way as quietly as possible out of the study and back through the parlor...hoping that I don't wake my boyfriend. I'm sure that he wouldn't mind joining me for the 'hunt'...but...this time...I'll let him be. This is something that I want to do on my own for once. I walk towards the door, open it...step outside...closing the door behind me...and make my way down the long driveway...angling myself towards the woods...but then think better of it and head in the direction of the town square instead. I'm sure there must be a few stragglers out at this time of the night...and...if I can find a vampire...or two...or three...even better. I run my tongue along my lips...my stomach aching for the sweet taste of vampire blood. I continue along the empty expanse of road...the dark woods on either side...hands at my sides clenching and unclenching automatically...my fangs now fully exposed. Freaking Hell. Even with my humanity switch still firmly in the off position, my numerous ex's are still able to affect me. Damn them...damn them all...to Hell...literally... (END)

#tvd #roleplay

[booasaur]

The Nevers (2021) - 1x05

#theneversedit #the nevers #amalia true #penance adair #laura donnelly #ann skelly #the nevers spoilers #the nevers 1x05 #amalia x penance #femslash related stuff #but subtext #an interesting ep! #I've said several times that they remind me of xena/gabrielle but sometimes I also think of jessica/trish #because of the krysten ritter/laura donnelly resemblance #if we go by both those at some point pen will do something neither right now can imagine #but I dunno if we'll get the time or scope for that #the ''if you get hurt--'' trope here was good enough for me! #these scenes were by far the best part of the ep #like it's not even about them being cute or just working together #it's just the most compelling relationship by far #and tbh disagreeing in a real and organic way is almost more interesting than being cute #though I will take that any day

[writer-akihiko]

Hi! If that's okay could i request some angst for the first years (+Grim, Crewel and Crowley? Platonic only for them)

MC/Yuu runs away from NRC due to all the shit they've been put through because of Crowley not doing his job, they do finally find them some days later but MC refuses to go back to NRC and tells Crowley that they despise him.

Reactions?

First Years + MC Running Away [+Plat!Crewel & Crowley]

I love the angst for this, and planning the emotions that they would feel! The dorm leaders also make a cameo in Crewel and Crowley's part. Cut for length.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Emotional Manipulation, Curse Words, Wounds and Mild Violence. Please read at your own discretion.

"I'm not going back."

"Wh... What?" He was astonished. "YN... I've looked far and wide for you- please-"

No words left his mouth as you stepped away from him, tears in your eyes and you were going to make a run for it again.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was in a dilemma. He wanted to go back to NRC because of Malleus, but you refused to. You still meant a lot to him of course, but he still wanted to stay in NRC. He reached out to you, holding you in place with his Fae strength.

"YN, we have to go back. Please don't be unreasonable," He begged. There was no way he wasn't going without you.

You shook your head, trying to tug against Sebek as much as possible. There was no way you could fight against him, and you wouldn't want to hurt him either. "Sebek... Sebek just let me go. I'm just a human and..."

The moment was ruined with Crowley showing up, yelling at Sebek to bring you back. You mustered as much of your voice as you could. "No! Don't take me back!" You screamed at Sebek, who was holding you in a lock. "I hate him! I hate him, don't do this to me Sebek!"

His grip almost loosened at you saying you hated Crowley. Actually, he thought it was directed at him. It took a lot of effort for Sebek not to cry because he knew. He knew how much you didn't deserve the things you faced. The Overblots, the treatment and sheer alienation from other students, Crowley's neglect... He knew.

He blamed himself for getting so caught up in what his Master was doing that he forgot to care about you. When he found out that you ran away, he felt as if he deserved it. He pulled you in, tucking you against his chest and allowing you to cry.

He didn't bring you closer to the others, neither did he bring you away. He kept you close to him, as your tears stained his perfect uniform. Not a word came from him when you cried into him. It was kept that way, as the half-Fae dared to growl at Crowley and anyone else that took a step closer to you.

"YN... You're safe with me, alright?"

Ace Trappola

He told himself that he wouldn't get mad, but your refusal just rubbed salt in wounds as he remembered the sleepless nights of trying to find you. Beneath all of it, he was scared. He was scared that he lost you to some one else. He was scared that this world never suited you, and you finally went to your own, leaving him alone.

"What do you mean you're not going back?! YN, stop screwing around with me!" He screamed, throwing his magic pen to the ground. At this point, he was pissed about anything relating to magic. Magic was useless when it came to finding you.

"I'm not going so leave me alone Ace..." You told him, tears nearing at your eyes. "I don't want to. I don't want to. I'm done with Crowley's shit and I'm done with NRC."

You took a running start, but Ace caught you, pushing you to the ground. His expression caught you off-guard. He was crying, eyes puffy and tired as his face was pale, as if he hadn't gotten enough sleep.

"You're done?! How could you... I..." He didn't know what to say. You were right. You had dealt with enough. You never deserved it... If it weren't for him and his troublemaking ways... Maybe you wouldn't have to suffer...

"I'm sorry..." He coughed out, his voice strained. He kept you pinned on the ground, as his tears flowed with yours. "I'm sorry for being an idiot. I'm sorry for dragging you into trouble. I know you don't deserve it but I'm an asshole that does anyway..."

"Ace..."

"But!..." He went on, his eyes glossing over as he admired you once again. Oh... you were beautiful to him, even if you were crying in his arms. "But I'm selfish. I didn't want to let you go so I went after you instead... So hit me if you want, scream or punch me... I don't care, just don't leave me."

He sat up, pulling you into his lap, his chin under your head. "I was so lonely without you YN..."

"Godammit I love you..." He choked out, his tears never-ending. You both sat there, hugging each other as if it were your last days. You didn't dare to let go of him this time.

Deuce Spade

He didn't know how to respond. All he knew was that he had to hold onto you before you ran away from him once again. "YN... Wait... Don't leave!"

He wondered if he even made the right choice to stay on the side of bringing you back. From just the look of you, he knew you were tired. He knew those responsibilities were never yours. Your suffering just proved to Deuce how powerless he was. Maybe that's why he wanted to bring you back... as proof that he could do something for you.

"YN... I'm sorry..." He said, holding you close to him. There wasn't a thing he could do for you. All you went through... It was Crowley's irresponsibility. He did this to you. Deuce's grip tightened on you, as he though of what it could've done to your psyche. "YN... YN... I'll make sure he doesn't touch you. I'll make sure that he never comes near you again... YN, you trust me right?"

For all the times he wasn't with you, he was determined to make up for it. Deuce wasn't going to let you suffer through this alone, even if it means he gets hurt. It was better for him to get hurt than you, even though he was so desperate to ask Crowley to find you.

You nodded, hiding into Deuce's chest. His heart was beating so fast, most likely from the never ending search for you. You never regretted running away, but you missed Deuce and your other friends, and Grim too. The one thing you regretted was accepting Crowley's offer to stay here.

"I don't care what you do to me," You told him. "Just don't take me back. I don't to go back. I don't want to go back to NRC..." Your body trembled at the thought of moving back to NRC, but all thoughts of it were abandoned as you saw Crowley approach you.

You screamed, but he never touched you. Deuce stood in the way, as he shielded you with his own body. He pushed you back, as he grabbed tightly onto his magic pen. Abandoning all morals of propriety, he glared hard at the principal.

"...Don't touch her."

Jack Howl

He wasn't going to let you run away this time. "Don't move."

Jack couldn't believe that he found you so quickly. No, that wasn't it. He couldn't believe that you were still here. Despite him having a scent on you, you could've been miles away without him knowing. He thought you went back to your own world. He thought you hated him, but by the way you hugged him, it reassured him of any thoughts he had.

There was not single part of you that did not tremble when Jack told you he wanted to take you back. Your sheer refusal turned into an argument quickly, as you listed all the sufferings you went through. It was confusing and agonising for Jack to listen to you. He knew you needed this, but some of the things you said sent shivers down his spine.

"I…"

"It's okay YN. You don't have to go back," He whispered to you. Jack's ears flattened as yours tears made your eyes puffy. He got flustered since he didn't know how to comfort you any further, busying himself with wiping away your tears instead.

Jack was sharp. He knew Crowley was out to get you, even if you didn't want to. He wanted the easy way out, but Jack wasn't going to give him the chance. There was no reason why Jack shouldn't help you… but he'd be lying if he weren't scared of what would happen if you both were caught.

You and Jack had the same train of thought, so you shook your head. "No Jack… I have to…" You told him, your voice raspy. "You already found me and there's no use. You… You can't outrun him with me…"

Jack growled, baring his teeth at the person who caused you such misery. His claws were out, as he hid you behind him. You didn't make a sound, paralysed by the very person that pulled you in this hell. You only met eyes with Crowley for a moment, as the world swirled around you.

"I know I can't… But I'm sure as hell am going to try…" Jack ran away from the principal, with you tightly in his arms as he made a run for it.

Epel Felmier

He was more than angry. He never understood why you and him but now it was evident. It was because both of you were stubborn. You both always tried to grasp what you wanted, and in the light of attaining it, you both always made a run for it. For him it was power… and for you, it was freedom.

"Damn it!..." He cursed underneath his breath, quickly removing his jacket and covering your head in it. You were probably hungry and tired. You were probably scared. What was he supposed to do?...

How did it come to this? He was supposed to be the one that supported your desires, no matter how big or small as you did the same to him. But now, with him using Crowley to get to you… What was he doing? This was hurting you, not helping you.

He moved away from you, ripping off the magical tracking device off of him. "You damn liar!" He screamed. "How dare you hurt her like this… Do you think I'm some stupid puppet?! Like hell you're gonna reach her with my help!"

Epel stomped and tore the device apart, grunting at every time the magic deflection hit him. He didn't stop, ripping further into the grass as he cried for your sake. He never meant to do this to you. He got up, taking you by the wrist and pulling you much deeper into the forest.

"YN… YN we have to go. They were tracking me and they- they might…"

You stopped in your tracks.

"YN?"

You hugged Epel, holding him tight. He snapped out of his delusions, turning to panic about your well-being. "Are you hurt? If you can't walk I'll carry you, but we have to get away-"

"Stop Epel," You said, taking his hands into yours. "Stop… It's okay… I'm okay… I can't make it any further and I don't blame you… I just… wanted it to not hurt for a bit."

He broke down in your arms, as you both collapsed to the ground. Filled with exhaustion, you could only grip to his hands weakly. Before your eyes darkened, you remembered his last words.

"I'm sorry…"

Divus Crewel

He's horrified at your state. All his emotions were bottled for the time being. There was no reason for a puppy like you to be exposed to such horrid emotions from him. He shrugs off his fluffy coat, covering you in the coat, as he carries you in the coat.

Dire was quick to catch up to him, but alas, all that Divus had for him was disappointment. Even from teacher to teacher, no… even from magician to magician… all respect for Dire that he had vanished. The dorm leaders caught up with the principal, and from the looks of it, they were horrified.

"For this puppy to end up like this…"

No, he couldn't get angry now. He had to be the example to other students. Rosehearts, Al-Asim and Ashengrotto were in tears, while Draconia and Kingscholar were murderous. If it weren't the difference of authority, Divus would bet those two would maul Dire where he stood.

"Draconia. Schoenheit. Take YN away and treat her wounds," He commanded. Still wrapped in his coat, Malleus brought you to the others, as Vil observed for any of your wounds. Divus signalled the other students away as he took off one of his gloves, glaring at Dire. "I need to talk with the principal."

Dire was still, as Divus delivered a clean punch across his face. There was no need for further violence. It'd be an insult to what you suffered. Divus grabbed Dire by the collar, almost sneering at him. "Did you realise what you've done to that puppy? She's scared, she's suffered all because of you."

He left Dire alone. It's what he deserved. There was nothing to be done. If he further pummeled the crow man, he might just kill him right then and there. Divus, for now, had to be by your side as your father figure and welcome you back safely to NRC as you were meant to be. Before leaving, he picked up his sullied glove from the floor, saying his last to Dire.

"You don't deserve to be her father."

Dire Crowley

He was ashamed to use his magic on you, but he had to prevent you from running. It was a necessary measure, but the real thorns were your words that pierced through his heart. You yelled insults, curses and cusses at him as if you were held at gunpoint, your lungs exhausted from the constant shrieking.

"No no! Let me go," You begged. "I hate you, I hate you I hate you!" You chanted it as if it were a spell. "I wish you never took me in. Don't touch me!"

The words were enough for the magic to weaken, granting you your escape. Dire was not swift enough, but the Dorm Leaders were. They heard everything, every complaint you threw at Dire and every insult you had for him. Malleus caught you, but as soon you knew it was him, you pushed him away.

"No… NO! I am NOT GOING BACK!" You cried, holding your head in your hands, crouching into a ball. Leona quickly knocked you out. If you went on, you would've hurt yourself and the injuries you sustained from running away was concerning enough.

Against all odds, those seven turned to the principal, with faces of betrayal. All you had been through… They did not realise what burden Dire, and subsequently, they placed on you.

"Crowley… you were never gracious."

Dire was hopeless. He couldn't comfort you, he knew he couldn't be forgiven. He stood in his place, accepting his fate at the moment. He couldn't ask for your mercy nor forgiveness, and perhaps that was his fate. To be cursed by whoever he neglected.

"Please, take care of her for now."

#twst #twisted wonderland angst #twst angst #twst ace trappola #ace trappola #twst deuce spade #deuce spade #twst jack howl #jack howl #twst sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt #twst epel felmier #epel felmier #epel x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce x reader #jack howl x reader #sebek x reader #dire crowley #divus crewel #twisted wonderland scenarios

[softukiyos]

the enemies to lovers project | lee minho

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵; 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘶, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 -- 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺, 𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~18𝘬+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺!!! 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘩𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 >.< 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥!

prologue.

“You know I despise you, right?”

“Oh, despise. Such a big word, baby,” Minho drawled with an obnoxious smirk, the one that simultaneously made you want to rip his hair out and kiss those perfectly delectable lips of his, “If it's any consolation, I abhor your presence as well.”

“Wonderful,” you crossed your legs, a smile creeping onto your face as you leaned backward in your chair, “So why exactly are you here?”

Minho laughed, “The same reason I presume that you’re here for. A hundred dollars to put up with you is a tempting offer.”

You couldn't help but laugh, and you glanced over at the camera pointed at you and Minho, with your mutual friend, Han Jisung, directing the operation. Right, both you and Minho would receive a hundred dollars if you participated in his little social experiment about love. Of course, he'd wanted the two of you to do it for free, but neither of you would budge unless there was at least a little bit of monetary incentive. You loved Jisung, you really did, but you weren't going to willingly spend time with Minho unless there was something else to gain. 

“Alright, let's get started before the two of you claw at each other's throats like a pair of angry cats,” Jisung clapped his hands together as he stepped out from behind the camera, “I assume the two of you have a basic idea of the experiment?”

“Of course not, Sungie. It's not like you ran through your proposal to me through FaceTime twenty thousand times before presenting it to your professors,” Minho replied with a pleasant smile. 

“And it's not like I read through your written proposal double that amount before you had the courage to hand it in,” you supplied with a similarly saccharine expression. 

Jisung sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, “Why are the two of you genuinely the nicest people I’ve ever met but somehow turn into demons when you’re together?” He muttered, mostly to himself. 

“It’s not too late to get rid of us and find some other test subjects, Sungie,” you called out with a smile, “We know we’re hard to handle.”

“No way. The two of you are perfect for this project, and I’m not going to let either of you slip out of my fingers after I worked so hard to get you two here,” Jisung refused your offer. Clearing his throat, he decided to begin, not wanting to give either of you more time to get hostile.

“Alright, so you’re both familiar with the basics. The experiment will take about one month, and the data will be recorded in these notebooks,” he said, the camera behind him recording his verbal instructions as he walked forward and handed both you and Minho a small, leather bound notebook, “These will serve as your diaries for the duration of the test.” 

Minho perused through the empty lined pages with a snort, “What are we supposed to do, write our undying confessions on these pages?”

“You’re going to write your honest feelings about each other. And by honest, I mean really do mean honest. Neither of you are ever going to read what the other person writes about you, so you don’t have to worry about your reputation or whatever,” Jisung explained, “I’ll be extrapolating information from your entries and your entries only.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, glancing at Minho as he closed the book and and leaned back in his seat, “So that’s it, right? We date for a month and write down whether we still hate each other after every encounter?”

Jisung threw a weary glare at him, “Theoretically, yes. The purpose of this experiment is to see if the actions of love will foster any actual feelings of love to appear even if there weren’t any in the first place. The two of you will go on dates, leave each other cute notes, anything that you would do with your significant other. And after each of these, you will write down a diary entry about how you feel about that person. At the end of the month, I’ll collect the two notebooks to write my thesis. Any questions?”

You glanced at Minho, who raised a questioning eyebrow at you as if waiting for you to speak first. After a long moment of palpable silence, your lips curved into a smile, “A bold move of you to find the two people least likely to develop feelings for each other, Sungie.”

Jisung dropped his psychology major professionalism for a moment and smirked, “You know I never half-ass anything. So no questions?”

Minho raised his hand obnoxiously, speaking before Jisung even bothered to call on him, “What happens if one of us falls for the other? Do we win something?”

“No, you competitive little shit. No one is winning or losing anything. This experiment is just to document the progression of romantic feelings or lack thereof,” Jisung glared at his best friend, “You’re not trying to prevent yourself from changing your feelings about the person one way or the other, got it?”

But Minho was no longer paying attention to him, his annoyingly beautiful smile now aimed at you across the table, “You’re going to fall in love with me so quickly, Sungie’s little experiment will be over in a week.”

Your competitive edged roared to life at the provocation, and you smirked, flipping the pen around your fingers, “Your diary is going to be filled with love letters to me once I’m through with you.”

“Oh dear,” Jisung groaned to himself as he walked over to shut off the camera, a weary expression visible on his face.

This was going to be a very long month. 

i.

You never once thought there would come a day that you would walk out of your apartment to see Minho waiting for you, nonchalantly leaning against his blood red accented motorcycle and his famous leather jacket.

“What is this?” You asked suspiciously, as if poking at his intentions with a ten foot pole. 

Minho rolled his eyes, “I'm taking you to class? Why else would I have dragged myself out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning?”

“You're taking me to class on this?” You gestured toward the motorcycle with a hint of disdain, but Minho saw right through you, his lips curling in a smug smile.

“There's no need to be scared, baby,” he sauntered towards you and patted your head, “I'll always protect you.”

Scowling, you swatted his hand away, “Don't do that. It's so weird,” you huffed, fixing your hair. 

“You know that's the point of this whole damn thing, right?” Minho said with a hint of annoyance as he felt churlishly irritated by your constant resistance. Did you really hate him that much?

“No, the point is to do these actions in a genuine and heartfelt manner. Everything you say is fake,” you said plainly, looking him straight in the eye.

Minho couldn't help but scoff, “How is it supposed to be genuine when I don't feel anything for you?”

“You start off with basic friendship. That's not as hard, right?” You said as you reached into your large bag and pulled out a container of milk bread, “Here. This is my Day 1 gift for you.”

Minho’s face went slack as he took the container gingerly, treating it like a live explosive, “You made this?”

“Yeah, made two loaves last night,” you answered, surprised by the sudden softness in his tone. Okay, this was awkward, and you couldn't help but cringe as you extended your hand, “If you don't like it, I can take it back—”

“Hell no,” Minho yanked his arms away from yours and pulled the plastic container to his chest defensively, “You gave it to me, so it's mine!”

You blinked in surprise, your hand falling to your side, “I see,” you said before shifting on your heels and nodding, “Okay, I'll see you later, whenever that is,” you took the chance for a quick escape, turning and beginning to walk to class. 

“Wait.”

A gasp left your lips as Minho grabbed your wrist, making you turn back around to face him, “I have a helmet for you, okay? And I'll drive slower,” he muttered, his eyes trained on the floor and darting around anxiously, “I won't get you hurt, I promise." 

You studied him carefully, his tone of voice, his posture, anything that would give away some hidden agenda, but there was none. Looking down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist, you relented, "Alright, I'll go with you." 

Minho nodded, leading you over to his motorcycle and grabbing the extra helmet from behind. Before you could take it from him, he moved it out of your grasp, "Have you ever even used a motorcycle helmet before? If you put it on wrong, it's not going to do you any good," he said snappishly as he adjusted a few of the straps and fitted it onto your head. 

Unconsciously, you held your breath as he leaned towards you, slipping a finger between the strap and your chin before snapping it shut, "It's not too tight, yeah?" he asked as he pulled away, and you could only shake your head mutely, "Good." 

Swinging a leg over, he climbed onto his motorcycle, easily putting his own helmet on before turning to look at you as he pushed up the visor, "Here. Climb on behind me." 

You eyed the motorcycle with a hint of disdain as you approached it, “And what am I supposed to hold onto so I don’t fall to my untimely death?” You asked dryly.

Unfortunately, that was the wrong question to ask, and the gleam apparent in Minho’s eyes told you that, despite his surprising show of kindness, Lee Minho was still Lee Minho, and Lee Minho was a fucking asshole.

“Why, you hold onto me, of course,” he said pleasantly, “Unless, you’d rather fall off the bike and shatter your bones. The other option is to walk, but seeing that it’s almost 8:30 already, you’d probably end up being late.”

Clenching your jaw so hard you were sure it was going to be sore for days, you stalked over to the motorcycle and swung your leg over it, climbing on haphazardly. You’ve seen the movies; you knew how you were supposed to ride a motorcycle from behind, and your arms tentatively wrapped around Minho’s midriff, avoiding as much bodily contact as possible.

Minho snorted, “You know, if you hold on like that, you’re gonna fall off anyways.”

“Mind your own business--fuck!” A squeak left your lips as Minho suddenly revved the engine and the motorcycle lurched forward. Out of pure instinct, your arms tightened around him, and you buried your face in his back. The time could not have been more perfect, and you felt a rush of anger as you realized that he was just messing with you, “Don’t fucking do that!”

The asshole just laughed, “Aw, come on, I wouldn’t have done it for real. But you seriously need to hold on, okay?”

You huffed, scowling underneath the helmet as you kept your arms locked around his waist, begrudgingly learning your lesson, “Just drive.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Minho revved the engine again and started the journey, albeit with a much smoother start as the two of you began to speed down the street and towards the literature building. 

When you arrived at your destination with Minho pulling up right to the front of the building, you were practically squeezing him like a life-sized plushie, your eyes squeezed shut and your face smushed into his leather jacket.

“You can let go now, darling,” he chuckled as he used his foot to push out the kickstand. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you detached from him like two magnets of the same pole, getting off the motorcycle. 

“I am--” you gasped for breath as you yanked off your helmet, “never doing that again.”

Minho laughed as he took the helmet from you and put it in the container at the back of his bike, “Hey, you’re here with five minutes to spare! If anything, you should be thanking me, sweetheart.”

Your glare was frightening as you finally relented with a huff, “I’m grateful for the ride here, but next time, no motorcycle, please.”

“Next time? Who said anything about a next time?” The boy positively giggled as you realized your mistake. Minho never said anything about a next time! What were you thinking? Now, he probably thought you wanted him to take you to school every morning, which was absolutely not the case!

“Oh, whatever!” You snapped, utterly fed up as you threw up your hands in total exasperation and marched up the staircase without so much as a goodbye. 

Minho’s smug laughter echoed in your ears as you stepped into the building, “Love you too, sweetheart!” 

~

(name): day 1 

action(s): drive to school 

notes: utterly infuriating. an arrogant, smug, flirtatious little shit that thinks he’s the king of the world. he brought his motorcycle out of the blue to pick me up when he knows i flipped out the last time i rode one with jisung (yes, sungie, i am still mad). 

i did get to class early though, because of him, and that’s rare for me. silver linings, i guess.

~

lee minho: day 1 

action(s): drive to school

notes: a stuck up little princess as always, whining and complaining about every little thing that doesn’t go her way. shouldn’t she be happy enough that i came to take her to her class? nope, she just kicked up a fuss about it being a motorcycle. did she think i was going to remember when she had a meltdown riding it last time? (it was funny, sungie, don’t mind her.) i barely got so much of a thank you when i got her to the lit building, early, no less.

the milk bread was good, though. maybe i’ll try to convince her to make me another loaf.

ii. 

First dates were always weird. First dates were even weirder when you were about to go out with your fake-social-experiment boyfriend that you didn’t even like.

What were you supposed to even wear? Were you supposed to dress to impress (not that Minho would ever be impressed with anything you do)? Or were you supposed to dress like you just rolled out of bed? In the end, you opted for something in between the two extremes, hoping that you weren’t going to face the embarrassment of being over or underdressed.

Luckily, Minho didn’t change his daily look too much for the date, opting for a pair of ripped black jeans, a loose t-shirt, and--of course--the leather jacket he never left home without. At this point, you were honestly convinced that Minho was having some sort of romantic relationship with that jacket.

But what was out of the ordinary was the small bouquet of vibrant carnations that he held in one hand as he browsed his phone with the other. They looked wildly out of place in comparison to the rest of his get up, and the contrast was so amusing to you that you couldn’t help but smile as you walked over to him.

“Are those flowers for me?” You asked sweetly, clicking your heels. Minho glanced up from his phone, his eyes darting up and down, and you knew he was assessing your outfit the way you had assessed his. 

“No, these are for my other social experiment girlfriend,” he said with a dry smile, handing them to you, “I heard from Jisung that you hate flowers, so of course I had to get you a bouquet for our special day.”

“Carnations are actually my favorite type of flower, so thank you very much,” you replied, sniffing at the bouquet before glancing around, “Where’s your motorcycle again? In maintenance?”

Minho’s face twitched for a split second before he nodded, “Yeah, I scratched it up real bad. We can just take the bus again.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, but you said nothing more about the topic as the two of you walked to the nearest bus stations. After the first day, you had never seen Minho’s motorcycle again despite the fact that he walks you to your class almost every other day (he skips the days when he has work). What was even more suspicious was that he always had an excuse for not bringing it: he crashed it and it needs maintenance, he forgot to fill the gas tank, Jisung was borrowing it, etc. 

They weren’t bad excuses, but it’s been almost a week, and you were beginning to suspect that there was more to the missing motorcycle than he was telling you.

“Who recommended this place?” Minho asked as you took the seat at the station and he leaned against the wall.

“Jisung did, actually,” you laughed a little, pulling out your phone and clicking into the link of the restaurant Jisung had sent you, showing it to Minho.

The boy scrunched his nose with distaste as he glanced at the restaurant images, “Did you really think it was wise to leave our first date in the hands of the man who’s never actually had one successful date before?” 

“He said it was a control variable or whatever,” you said, placing your phone back in your purse, “Besides, I checked the reviews, and most of them only had good things to say. Why? Is this not your ideal first date?”

Minho scoffed, lips curling into a smirk, “I don’t really do first dates, sweetheart.”

“Oh? So what do you do?” You asked with a hint of annoyance clear in your tone, “One night stands?”

The boy shrugged, “Mostly. Why put the effort to try and create something concrete when it’ll fall apart soon enough anyway?”

You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at his words, once again being hit with the realization that you and Minho were as different as people came, “That’s a rather morbid way of looking at things.”

“It’s realistic and it’s safe. That’s all I really need at this moment,” Minho said shortly as his eyes darted down the street, and he pushed himself off the wall, “The bus is here. Let’s go.”

Without stopping to wait for you, he walked to the edge of the sidewalk as the bus pulled up to greet him. There was nothing you could do but silently follow him, wondering what Minho had gone through to adopt such a cynical mindset about love. 

“What about you?” Minho asked rather suddenly when the two of you had arrived at the restaurant, settled into your table, and were already waiting for your food to arrive. There had been such a long interval of time between the previous conversation and the current one that you didn’t even process the intention of his question for a long moment.

“I’m sorry?”

Minho bit his lip, and he looked like he was regretting the fact that he couldn’t contain his curiosity, “What are your experiences with first dates?” He asked, resting his elbows on the table, “You have had a few, right?”

With a questioning eyebrow, you swirled the small amount of red wine in your glass, “I’m not quite sure whether your question is a genuine one or just another insult.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Minho asked innocently. 

Rolling your eyes, you sipped at your wine before answering, "I've had a few first dates, fewer seconds, and no thirds." 

Minho considered your words, "What went wrong? Clashing personalities? Scheduling conflicts?" 

You scowled, placing down your glass as you grit your teeth, "You're a nosy little shit, aren't you?" 

“Hey,” Minho raised his arms in mock surrender, “if I'm about to be your social experiment boyfriend for a month, I should know what I'm getting into, for my sake and yours.”

Leveling a withered glare at him, you couldn't help but begrudgingly admit that Minho had a point. If the two of you couldn't be honest with each other, this experiment wouldn't work. Like the mastermind had said early on, honesty was a key part of the project. Damn you, Han Jisung. 

“Eventually, every man gets annoyed by the fact that they'll always be second in importance,” you finally spoke as you swirl the wine again, “They say they understand, but in the end, they'll never settle for a woman who puts their passions over their relationships. They want attentiveness, constant coddling, constant affection. They want to be nagged, they want me to be the one that messages first, and I'm just not the type.”

For the first time, Minho’s gaze upon you was devoid of arrogance and that giant defensive wall he’d always had up. His expression had turned almost thoughtful in a way, as if he was really looking at you, really trying to see you for who you were, and you couldn’t help but cringe slightly under his stare, smiling bitterly, “Did I scare you off, too?”

Minho seemed to jolt out of whatever daze he was in, a laugh leaving his lips, “Nah, princess, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled, putting down his wine glass as he spoke again, “It’s not your fault that they felt inferior dating someone that was more driven than them. It’s their loss, honestly.”

“Really?” You failed to hide your surprise, not expecting to find support in someone that was so different from you.

“A relationship isn’t supposed to hinder you from doing the things you love. You’re supposed to do them in tandem and support each other during the process,” Minho said, and as you searched for the punchline, for the part of the conversation where Minho would bark out a scathing laugh and point at your disappointed face, you realized there was none. You suddenly had a strange revelation that you may have misjudged the man sitting across from you. 

“If you have such a wise impression about love, why do you never try it out?” You asked softly, studying his expression like always, but you stopped searching for something malicious about him, since the search had been fruitless so far. Now, you were simply curious, slowly trying to learn more about him.

Minho shrugged with a wry smile, “Just because the solution exists in theory doesn't mean it truly exists.” 

"You don't think you'll ever find someone like that?" You asked. 

"Well, if they're out there somewhere, they haven't shown up in my life yet, so..." Minho trailed off, his expression rather nonchalant at first glance, but you were slowly getting better at reading him. He felt wronged, probably by someone in the past that didn't support his endeavors. 

You let the conversation drop as your food finally arrived, and the seriousness of the evening seemed to dissipate as the food took precedence. When the bill was finally paid (the two of you split it after a long discussion), you walked out with your arm looped around Minho's, and despite yourself, you didn't hate it all that much. 

“So, we're gonna beat the shit out of Jisung for forcing us to go to such an expensive restaurant, right?” Minho hummed as the two of you walked back to your apartment. You tried not to focus on the fact that Minho hadn't pulled his arm away, keeping you snug against his side. 

“I like the way you think,” you laughed, your heels clicking against the ground, “Tell you what, how about the next date, you pick somewhere you normally go to in your free time, and I’ll do the same for the date after. That way, we don’t have to spend an atrocious amount of money unless we want to.”

Minho stopped short, and for a minute, you wondered if you’d overstepped his boundaries. Then, he turned to look at you, a surprised, almost soft, smile on his face.

“You want to see me that much?”

It would’ve been so easy to dismiss his words as sarcastic teasing, like the rest of your conversations have been for the past year that you’ve known each other. But his tone, his expression, it felt almost genuine, like he was pleasantly surprised that you were willingly offering up your own time to spend it with him.

And at that notion, your cheeks felt unnaturally hot as you averted your eyes, “Well, the experiment is supposed to last a month,” you mumbled, finding a very interesting divot in the ground, “What type of social experiment girlfriend would I be if we only went on one date?”

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s smile dimmed ever so slightly at the mention of the experiment, but he still felt that weird, fluttery feeling nonetheless. He knew you were probably just too shy to admit anything truthful to his question, and he didn’t fault you for it. It wasn’t like he was being very honest either.

“Well, I rather enjoy our little escapades, so I suppose I can spare a little effort to plan the next date,” Minho said with faux weariness, making you elbow his side playfully. 

“I swear, if you drag me to another horror house like you did when we went out with Jisung--”

Minho let out a laugh at the memory, “Didn’t you punch the zombie that jumped out near the end?”

“Not a word.”

“And I think you screamed at one of the ghosts, too?”

You frowned, reaching up and messing up his perfectly styled hair, “Not a word!”

Minho didn’t take any of your threats to heart, teasing you relentlessly about that incident all the way back to your apartment, but to be totally honest, you didn’t mind it all that much.

~

(name): day 6

action(s): first date (control)

notes: the date wasn’t bad except for the ridiculous pricing. we actually had rather interesting conversations about our interests, outlooks on life, and had a rather heated argument about whether prisoner of azkaban or the order of the phoenix was the best harry potter book. 

minho’s nice. i know you’re probably laughing at me as you read this, future jisung. but he’s nice. the flowers he got were really pretty. he’s a good listener, too, and he doesn’t give false comforts. he tells it to me as it is, whether it’s good or bad. i like that about him. he also looked really good for the date, but that’s rather surface level, right? whatever. i hope this is even minutely useful to your project, jisung, bcs it doesn’t feel like it’ll be much help.

~

lee minho: day 6 

action(s): first date 

notes: han jisung. the meal was $150 and we both ordered the cheapest things on the menu. fucc you. 

the date was alright, though. (name) actually got dressed up for the date, so i felt a little bad. she’s putting more effort into this project than i thought she would, and i don’t know whether its because she genuinely wants to know me better, or if its bcs it’s your project, jisung. (i know she used to like you, it was obvious). whatever. she’s easy to talk to when we’re not at each other’s throats like usual. she makes me feel understood, which is a good feeling i guess. 

this absolutely does not mean anything special. it just means that she’s not as stuck up as i thought she was. the bar is still incredibly low.

i wonder where i should take her for our next date. the horror house is tempting, but she’s probably going to get sued if she shows her face there ever again. oh well, i’ll figure it out.

iii. 

“Why are we heading towards the direction of the horror house?”

“I promise you, sweetheart, it’s not the horror house,” Minho said for the umpteenth time as the two of you walked down the busy downtown streets together.

You remained suspicious, and as a chill blew towards you, the winter wind seeping into your bones and making your teeth chatter, you brought your hands to your mouth, blowing on them in an attempt to get them warm.

Minho let out a dramatic sigh at the sound of your silence, “Do you have any faith in me at all?” He asked, taking one of your hands and lacing your fingers together before shoving it in his coat pocket without faltering for a moment.

He seemed unfazed, oblivious even as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk, but you...your poor heart did a feeble stutter that certainly wasn’t the product of any social experiment. You knew the feeling well enough from your past experiences, and the fact that it emerged right at this moment made you worry.

“What?” Minho’s voice invaded your thoughts as he followed your line of sight to his coat pocket, where your hand was snugly fitted inside his. 

You tried your best to salvage what was left of your pride, “Aren’t my hands cold?” You asked weakly, “You don’t have to hold them.”

“Yes, your hands are like fucking ice, that’s why I’m trying to warm one of them up, dummy,” Minho rolled his eyes at your lame question before turning to check on the light to make sure it was still on red, “We’re almost there. The place is cozy, I promise.”

Nodding, you slowly felt your composure return to you, “As long as we get out of this cold, I'd consider it a successful date.”

“Oh dear, you've just ruined my plans for a picnic up in the mountains,” Minho said with a deadpan expression just as the light turned green.

“You're ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there wasn't any bite behind your words anymore, and Minho’s jabs at you had slowly lost that hard edge to them. Could it be possible that the two of you were really warming up to each other?

It was true that the two of you were getting along better, and in tandem, you began to be more present in each other’s lives. Minho still walked you to school on the days that he didn't have work. In return, it's become a normal routine for you to make two loaves of milk bread every other day since Minho always devoured his portion ridiculous quickly. 

Not in a romantic way, absolutely not. Both of you would cringe at the very idea. But as tolerant friends, maybe. 

“Ah! Here we are,” Minho said pleasantly as he guided you off the busy street into a smaller, quieter alleyway filled with various cafes and antique shops.

“A cafe date?” You smiled, “I didn't know that was your style.”

Minho stopped short at a particular cafe, taking his hand and yours out of his pocket as he reached forward to open the door, “Well, it's not just any cafe.”

You quickly realized exactly what he meant as you walked in, your eyes lighting up with pure elation and joy as you squealed, “It’s a cat cafe!” 

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s eyes lit up from behind you as he shut the door, keeping the winter cold out of the cozy establishment, “You like cats?” He never knew that about you.

“Like cats? I love them!” You practically gushed as you shrugged off your large coat and Minho signaled for a party of two, greeting a few of the waiters with a suspicious familiarity. 

“Do you come here often?” You asked curiously as the two of you found a nice little corner to sit down in, complete with beanbags, blankets, and little wooden surfaces that were meant to serve as tables.

Minho almost didn't need to answer your question, since the moment he sat down, four cats passed over towards him, the sound of gentle meows filling your ears. You didn't think you'd be able to hear anything more sweet, until you were proven wrong when Minho let out a soft giggle, his expression unbelievably fond as he stretched out his hand, petting their heads and scratching their ears.

When had you ever heard Minho giggle? No, not that psychotic little witch giggle he did when he was feeling diabolical. This childish, almost innocent giggle that burst from his lips. 

“I come here at least twice a week,” he said as one of the kittens clambered into his lap, “I have three cats back at home with my family, and when I miss them, I come here.”

You nodded, surprised that he was divulging information about him without being prompted, but you didn’t mind it one bit, “That’s nice. I’m sure they miss you, too,” you said, smiling as one of the more curious cats went over to you, sniffing at your hand before pressing their head against your palm.

“I’m sure they do. I was basically their servant,” Minho laughed before turning to you, “Do you have pets?”

“Oh, I wish,” your voice was forlorn and wistful as you began to rub the cat’s belly, feeling a rush of pride as they laid on their side. It was rare for any cat to do such a thing, and you treasured the moment dearly, “I had a kitten when I was very, very young, but they died only a few months after we got them. I haven’t been able to muster the courage to adopt another pet since.”

Minho pouted at the way your voice trailed off, your expression faraway, and he suddenly felt an urge to gift you a kitten right then and there just to make you smile. He was long used to seeing you angry, he was getting used to seeing you when you were at peace and smiling, but he’d never actually seen you look so wistfully sad before. 

“Well, you’re always welcome to use my membership card here if you need a break from school,” he offered rather awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the cats so he wouldn’t have to feel the brunt of your expression, which was probably weirded out. 

“You’d let me?” You sounded hopeful, giggling to yourself as a cat jumped into your lap, curling up and burrowing against your stomach.

Minho smiled, turning his head to see the way you were coddling the little kitten, stroking her fur with utmost delicacy and with nothing but pure adoration in your eyes. He was suddenly hit with the realization that you were incredibly beautiful, and his brain almost immediately imploded.

Wait, what? Lee Minho?! Who the fuck are you turning into?!

Unaware of his current struggle, you glanced at him when you didn’t receive an answer, and he scrambled to clear his throat, “O-of course,” he said, “You’d get a 15% discount on drinks. Super handy.” 

If you noticed his strange behavior, you didn't comment or make a face, only gazing down at the kitten in your lap as you asked teasingly,, “Does this girlfriend benefit only last the month?”

It was a joke, not at all different from the ones both of you made on a daily basis, making jabs at your rather intriguing situation, this one seemed to really hit Minho. What was going to happen when the month ends? Will the two of you go back to hating each other and fighting every moment of the day? Will all these little acts of love, the way you would occasionally drop off a bento box at his dance studio and the way he’d pick you up after your late night classes so he could make sure you were safe, would that all disappear like a dream?

“Hello? Earth to Minho?”

Minho blinked out of his daydream, tilting his head towards you to see you already looking at him with a concerned smile, “Are you alright? You seemed pretty faraway.”

“Nah, I’m good. I just remembered that I have a coding assignment due tonight,” he lied, a light tinge of rouge on his cheeks. 

“What?!” you yelped, scaring the cat in your lap as they meowed in discontent, jumping off you, “We should get going then--”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Minho grabbed your arm as you stood up, and with your balance tilted, you fell back onto the beanbag couch, although this time, you were much closer to Minho than you originally were. To stabilize yourself, your hand jutted out to press against his chest, and his breath hitched in his throat.

What sort of black magic was Han Jisung doing to him with this experiment?

“Sorry!” You squeaked out, your embarrassment clearly visible as you tried to push away from him, but Minho kept you close until the two of you were almost cuddling on the beanbag couch. 

Minho only hummed, feigning nonchalance even as his heart was doing strange backflips in his chest, “It’s fine. You’re still cold, right? I saw you shivering a bit. You can just sit here,” he said, shrugging off his coat and placing it over your legs.

“I guess...thank you,” you said rather quietly, not trusting your voice to hide the emotions that were raging in your heart: the confusion, the giddiness, the childlike excitement, and the fear, “But what about your assignment--”

“Don’t worry,” he patted your head lightly, “It’s just a simple one. Won’t take more than an hour. I’ll just do it when I get home.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Minho emphasized the last word with a teasing smile, his heart slowly coming to terms with these new, tingling emotions that he was feeling, “I never knew I’d ever experience you babying me.”

Your cheeks grew warm as you smacked his arm, “Shut up!” You complained, bringing his coat up to your face and shielding yourself, “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t flunk out of school!”

“Don’t lie, you’ve fallen in love with me, haven’t you?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief only to receive another angry smack on the arm.

“You wish. I don’t fall in love with jerks like you.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I am honored by the attention,” he said with a teasing smile as he nudged your shoulder. 

Another kitten came to your position, rubbing against your thigh as you petted their little head, “You better be,” you muttered almost to yourself, “After all the bentos I’ve made for you this last week.”

Minho let out a yawn, stretching out his arms and very cautiously wrapping one around your shoulders. To his luck or misfortune, you were too enamored by the kitten to notice, and you curled into his side without much consideration. The poor boy wasn’t sure whether he wanted you to notice and confront him about it, or whether he should be allowed to feel a sense of fondness knowing that you were dropping the defensive walls around your heart with him.

He won’t tell you, but he was truly honored to be cared by you, to experience your worry, your encouragement, and your little acts of love. It came so naturally to you that you probably didn’t even hold any of those actions to any significance, but to him, the one who was always the lone wolf, the one who was always defined by his looks before his personality, it was nice to be truly seen by someone. 

Even if it wasn’t going to last. 

iv.

Lee Minho was late, and you were going to kick his ass if you didn't happen to be frozen by the time he arrived. 

You stood outside of the computer science building awkwardly, trying not to focus on the weird glances from the students walking in and out, all of whom were obviously wondering what a literature freak was doing at the center hub of the sciences. It was absolutely mortifying, and you briefly wondered if Minho ever got such stares while he waited for you outside of your building. If he did, well, you felt slightly more grateful than you did previously.

“Hey! (name), right?” 

You looked up with panic in your eyes as you quickly tracked the sound of the voice to one familiar stranger, a particular boy on campus that you never actually ever thought you'd have the opportunity to speak to.

“That's me, and I assume you're Hyunjin,” you said, getting straight past formalities. After all, you weren't really in the mood for chitter-chatter. You were just in the mood for a nice hot chocolate to warm your body. 

But unfortunately for you, Hyunjin’s disarming smile was a clear indicator that there were no escape routes plausible, “Wow, no wonder Minho snatched you up quick.”

If you had a tail, it would've bristled at this very moment, “Excuse me?” You asked, keeping your tone decidedly cordial.

Hyunjin’s smile only widened, “What is he like as a boyfriend? Does he treat you well? Or are you just another piece of disposable garbage for him like every other girl he’s fucked?” 

The final question shouldn't have fazed you, but it did. Why did the idea of such a thing send your heart into cardiac arrest? Why did it scare you so much, when you knew none of this was real? Wasn't it all just manufactured by the conditions of the experiment?

Your face must've given away more than you thought, because Hyunjin’s cheshire-like grin only widened as he took your vulnerability as a chance, “You don't have to be with him, you know. Don't you think we'd get along a little better—”

“Really fucking low of you to be trying to hit on your friend’s girl,” a hand suddenly snaked around your waist from behind, making you gasp as you felt your back pulled against someone's firm chest.

“Especially my girl,” Minho’s eyes showed not a hint of amusement or politeness as he rested his chin on your shoulder almost protectively, as if daring Hyunjin to try again.

Hyunjin regarded the two of you with cautious intrigue, his eyes darting from Minho’s hand on your waist to his face now nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and he lifted his hands up in mock surrender.

“Just wanted to make sure you know how lucky you are,” he smiled at Minho pleasantly, leaning forwards as his eyes sparkled when they met yours. Now, you may dislike Hyunjin, but you couldn't deny his beauty, and at such a distance, you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered as he purred, “And how easily that luck can be taken away from you.”

Minho bared his lips in a threatening snarl from behind you, making Hyunjin scoff as he turned away from the two of you without another word. A moment of tense silence screamed in the air before you cleared your throat awkwardly. This was definitely not a good way to start off a date.

“Well, that was weird,” you laughed, detangling yourself from Minho’s hold so you could face him, “I never thought I’d see the day where Hwang Hyunjin would flirt with me while he’s sober.”

“He’s such a fucking asshole,” Minho suddenly spit out with a surprising amount of vitriol in his tone, enough to fluster you for a moment, “Going after someone who’s obviously dating, he just doesn’t have any shame anymore! Plus, I was literally walking behind you. He definitely saw me before he made a move.”

Finding his behavior utterly bizarre, you stared at him for a long moment before you could even speak, “Are you...pretending to be jealous?”

“What?” Minho blinked, as if suddenly realizing that you were still there witnessing the extent of his ranting. And then, your question hit him like a ton of bricks, “What the fuck? I’m not pretending to be jealous, I--”

He stopped himself before he could do any more verbal damage to his own reputation, but inside, his head in shambles.

I’m not pretending to be jealous, I am jealous. 

What was happening to him?

From the look on your face, Minho could tell you were a mixture of confused and suspicious, but you didn’t press him for more details or to finish his sentence. That was one thing he really appreciated about you. If he didn’t elaborate on his words, you trusted that he didn't say more because it simply didn't need to be said. 

"Well, we should probably get going," you said, slipping your arm around his, "I was freezing my ass out here waiting for you." 

"Then, perish." 

"You're the worst social experiment boyfriend I've ever had!" You complained, your pout clear from the sound of your voice as Minho let you lead him to whatever date surprise you had in mind. 

“I’m the only social experiment boyfriend you’ve ever had,” he pointed out reasonably, resting his head on yours while you waited for the traffic light to change. 

You let out a huff, trying to push him off you, but it was rather fruitless to make Minho do anything, really, “You’re still the worst,” you said, trying to tickle your way out of the situation.

Minho only chuckled. Two could play at this game, he thought smugly as your attacks failed and he wrapped his arms around you from the side, pulling you snug against him so he could nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, tickling your skin with his hair and making you shriek.

“Lee Minho, I swear to God!” Despite the slurry of curse words that left your mouth, you were laughing and made no genuine attempts to pull away from him. You’ve noticed over the last few weeks that Minho was never one for blatant physical affection, but he was being abnormally clinging today. 

“Admit it, kitten,” he teased, peeking up at your expression as he smiled, “I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

The world around you seemed to freeze as the weight of that question fully sunk in. Was Minho the best boyfriend you’ve ever had? You thought back to every awkward first date, every time the guy looked strangely disappointed when you said you wanted to head home by yourself, every time one of them awkwardly mentioned that they wanted you to cheer them on at the expense of your own passions. You thought through all of those memories before you realized oh my god Minho was the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

“Hmm? Oh, come on, I was kidding,” Minho seemed oblivious to your plight as he took your silence as a rejection, beginning to let go. 

“You are.”

The words slipped out of your lips before you even realized what you had said. Minho’s eyes widened rather comically as he tried to make sure he was making the right mental connections in his head.

“I am?” He repeated slowly.

“You are...the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” you muttered the last half, your face burning as if you’d eaten a whole bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. 

Minho blinked, his entire system short-circuiting.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you said, awkwardly shuffling on the heels of your feet before you found your escape, “Oh, green light! Let's get moving!” Your voice was bright and overly cheery as if you didn't just drop a bombshell of a revelation on both Minho and yourself. 

Minho practically stumbled over his own feet to catch up to you, “H-hey!” He grabbed your hand before you could pass the halfway point of the large intersection, where the light was manually turned red by one of the buses.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands and back up at his face before answering softly, “Thanks.”

He nodded in response, trying not to put too much attention to the way your fingers curled around his, trying not to put too much attention to the way your hand fit in his, and asked, “So, where are we going?”

“Well, you brought me to the place you like to go to destress, so I figured I would do the same,” you answered, reaching into your back pocket and pulling out a key that looked suspiciously like Jisung’s access card to the music building.

“Tell me you didn't steal Jisung's access card.”

“It's not stealing if I'm returning it before he knows what happened,” you shrugged.

“Um, yes it is.”

You glanced up at him with a playful smile, “You gonna rat me out, darling?”

That name of endearment shouldn't have affected him so much, but it did, and he physically had to restrain himself from holding your hand tighter as he scoffed, “I'm no snitch, especially not when it comes to my beautiful social experiment girlfriend.” 

You let out a laugh, “You’re definitely the king of heart fluttering pet names.”

The rest of the walk to the music building was filled with idle chatter as the two of you slowly got back into the rhythm of your usual banter. At some moments, it was even easy to forget about the way you’d hug his arm to your chest as if shielding yourself from the cold. It was even easy to forget about the way his hand would gently squeeze yours if he felt you shiver too violently beside him, a silent check up on you. It was far too easy to call all of these little actions as normal, as if he was actually your boyfriend. 

“Are you sure we're not going to get caught?” Minho asked as the two of you walked to the side door of the music building. Although, he didn't sound very concerned about potentially getting in trouble, only slightly curious. 

You slid Jisung’s card into the reader and the door unlocked with a click, “I've done this for years. Even if people do check the rooms, there's lot of places to hide.”

The boy only chuckled, holding the door open so the two of you could walk in and escape from the biting winter cold. After wiping off your shoes using the doormat, you gingerly took his hand again and lead him up the stairs to the end of the hall where you pulled him into a dark room.

“Kitten, if you wanted to find a private little place for us to have some fun, we didn’t need to go all the way to the music room,” Minho said, amused, “I know plenty of lockable closets around the campus—”

“That’s so gross,” you said as you turned on the light, revealing that the two of you were in one of the group music rooms, with a piano sitting at the center of the room and a couple of instruments stored on the sides. 

Minho placed a hand on his heart, “Mean,” he huffed accusingly at you. He was mostly kidding, of course, but a part of him felt a genuine despair at the fact that you didn't seem to be remotely flustered or enticed by the idea of being with him in that way, with such intimacy. 

“Don't worry, Min. There will be plenty of fish out there desperate to jump into your arms soon enough,” you flashed him a wry smile as you grabbed one of the guitar cases and brought it to the carpet near the piano.

“Min?” He repeated, the nickname making him feel slightly better even as your words dampened his spirits. Did you really think he would be that eager to go back to his normal “no-strings-attached” routine after this month? 

For the first time, you looked a little flustered as you sat down on the soft carpet, opening the guitar case with a few clicks of the locks, “Sorry. Do you hate it?” You asked sheepishly, “I just figured that you give me so many petnames, I should try to give you one, too. But if Min isn't good—”

“It is!” The boy interrupted a little too eagerly. Catching your surprised expression, he immediately controlled himself, clearing his throat awkwardly as he sat down across from you, “Yeah, Min is fine. Min is good. It's just...new.”

“No one's ever called you Min before?” You asked with a curious expression while you pulled out the guitar with what Minho noticed was practiced ease.  

He shrugged, “I don't think anyone’s ever given me a nickname before.”

I don't think anyone’s ever reached that level of closeness with me, was the unspoken follow-up to his statement. After all, what type of one-night stand would ever result in names of endearment or genuine emotional attachment?

“Hmm...maybe I should take it up a notch and call you Minmin,” you said absently, testing the tension of the strings and being totally unaware of the spiral you just send Minho down on.

Minmin? Minmin? The poor man was turning into a pile of mush before you and you didn’t even know what you did. Minho was sure that if you ever called him Minmin, he’d throw away everything to do as you asked. 

“If you want,” he said, shuffling awkwardly as he sat across. 

You glanced up at him, giggling as you finished tuning up the instrument, “So this is my de-stress room,” you said, “I like occasionally coming here to write songs or just play the instruments here.”

“You play instruments other than guitar?” Minho asked, sounding rather impressed.

“I used to play piano as a kid, actually,” you explained with a smile as you checked the A string, “Jisung taught me how to play guitar in our first year here.”

Minho bit his lip, struggling to keep control over his expressions, “Right.”

Never before in his life did Minho ever think that he’d be sitting across from you and feeling jealous about Han Jisung’s relationship with you. It wasn’t secret knowledge; he knew you used to like his friend, and you used to like him very much. It wasn’t like Minho minded; you were the one of the decent ones and you genuinely liked Jisung for who he was. Something must’ve happened in the middle of the second year, because you gradually seemed to pull away from Jisung at least in a romantic manner. Minho never thought much of it. But now, he was beginning to fully realize how close you and Jisung actually were, and how much that was beginning to bother him.

Did you still like Jisung? That was the question that always haunted his mind. Were you doing all of this for the boy in your past when Minho was here falling harder every single day? 

“Hey, Min?” 

Your voice broke into his thoughts as his ears perked up, “Yeah?” He answered with an uncharacteristically gentle voice. There was something about the way you spoke that felt hesitant and uncertain, rather unlike you, and he wanted to make sure that you felt comfortable being here with him.

“D-do—“ you swallowed nervously, “do you want to hear one of my songs?”

Minho’s eyes widened. As a friend of Jisung and the other two famous producers on campus, he was no stranger to hearing music that they produced. But because of that, he knew how much these songs meant to the people who wrote them. How personal they can be, and how terrifying it could be to share them with others. And the fact that you were willing to bare that part of your soul to him was a gesture of trust that he’d never expected.

“Do you want me to listen?” He asked with caution, “You really don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I do!” You blurted out before your cheeks grew warm, “You shared a big part of yourself with me when you took me to that cat cafe, so I wanted to do the same.”

Minho felt a little speechless, so all he could do was nod and give you an encouraging smile. Taking his gesture as acceptance, you cleared your throat softly and began to strumming out a simple chord progression. 

The poor man was immediately entranced. There wasn’t any hope for him anymore. The moment you opened your mouth to sing, Minho fell into silent awe as he let your soft, soothing voice flow through his body. There was something so present about your voice, about the lyrics you sang. Everything just felt so raw that all he could really do was watch and listen with a gentle smile on his face.

When you finished, you opened your eyes and hesitantly turned to face him, “Well?” You prodded, a hint of nervousness slipping out of your lips. 

It took Minho a few moments to put his thoughts together, and even then, they weren’t totally coherent. Nothing like the smooth-tongued, cheeky persona he always embodied, “That was--wow,” he stumbled over his words.

To his luck, you didn’t seem bothered by his failure to string his words together, but only smiled encouragingly, “A good wow, I hope?” You asked. 

“Definitely a good wow. The best wow,” he nodded fervently as you laughed, waiting for him to continue, “Did you ever take classes like Jisung and Chan?”

“Oh, no. I definitely don’t have the extra money for that,” you said, resting your arms on your guitar, “But I’ve always loved to sing, and I’ve always loved hearing other people sing, too. My first childhood crush was this really cute busker who sang Hey There Delilah once near my city’s shopping street.” 

Minho’s lips quirked up in a smirk. This was much more comfortable territory for him, especially when it means teasing you, which is honestly all he ever did, “A childhood crush, huh?” He drawled, stretching out his legs, “So you have a thing for people with good voices?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, “If anyone has a good singing voice, I’m at least 40% more inclined to fall in love with them.”

“Wow,” he let out a laugh, “That is an incredibly significant statistic. I’m almost worried about how shallow you are.”

You let out a noise of indignation as Minho only laughed harder, fending away your useless attacks, “I am not shallow!” You snapped, your cheeks feeling warm, “Having a good singing voice is just an added bonus!”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, even going so far as to pinch your cheek playfully, “Is that why you fell in love with Jisungie?”

“I’m not in love with Jisung--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you aren’t now,” Minho waved his hand dismissively, even though deep in his heart, he didn’t actually know and that was why he approached the topic in the first place, “But you were in love with him back then, right?”

The withering glare you gave him was weak at best, and you sighed, hugging your guitar to your chest as if it was your own personal shield, “Yes, I was. But that was years ago and we agreed to be just friends. It was awkward in the beginning, but I’m content with the relationship we have now.” 

“You are?” Minho asked, trying to sound casual as he picked a piece of lint off his pants.

You nodded surely enough for him to see that you were being genuine, “I am. Jisung is just a friend, nothing more.”

Why Minho seemed so interested in the topic that he’d ask not one, but two follow-up questions about Jisung, you didn’t know. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was jealousy or a way of making sure that you were emotionally available, but you did know better, and you knew that Lee Minho wasn’t that type of person.

Trying to bridge what was becoming an awkward silence, you cleared your throat and asked, “Do you have a favorite karaoke song? We could do a jam session here if you’re comfortable with singing.”

“You want me to sing after hearing how good you sound?” Minho scoffed in disbelief.

You visibly pouted, and Minho’s defenses immediately weakened, “Aww, I promise I won’t judge! And besides, Jisung said that you sounded good the last time you two went to the karaoke bar. It’s just the two of us, Min,” you smiled encouragingly, “We’re just here to have fun!”

Fuck everything. Fuck you and your gentle words, your soft smiles, your teasing eyes. Everything about you just made Minho want to lower all his walls and embrace all that you want to do. Letting out a sigh, he relented, “Fine. Do you know Congratulations by Day6?”

“Uh, I think the question is who doesn’t know Congratulations by Day6.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Minho scowled as you laughed, shifting the capo slightly higher on the neck of the guitar to the right tuning. Giving you time to get ready, Minho pulled up the lyrics on his phone to make sure he didn’t mess up unnecessarily in front of you. It shouldn’t matter, of course, but there was a weird fluttering in his stomach that made him almost believe that he was nervous. 

When the two of you were finished fiddling around, you glanced up at him, smiling, “Ready? I’ll give a four count,” Minho nodded, and after you rapped your knuckles against the body of the guitar four times, he opened his mouth and began to sing. 

His voice and your playing blended together almost magically, and it felt like the rest of the world disappeared as he continued to sing, disregarding his phone since he seemed to know the lyrics by heart. All you had to do was follow along with your gentle strumming, listening and keeping up to the natural inflections of his voice. The room felt cozier, the sterile fluorescent lights felt warmer, and you were getting lost in the ethereal picture of Minho when--

“Why are the lights on in the hallway?” 

The two of you immediately stopped as you glanced at each other, eyes comically wide. It seemed like, much to your luck, the security guard happened to choose that very day to make his rounds, despite skipping every other day during the week. 

“Put the guitar away! I’ll turn off the lights!” Minho hissed at you as he bolted to the wall of the room and you went to place the guitar back in its case as quickly and carefully as possible. Luckily, the music room didn't have any windows on the door, and the guard couldn’t see what was happening inside unless he actually entered the room. 

The two of you just managed to put the guitar back in its original state and turn off the lights just as his footsteps neared the door. In a split second, Minho grabbed your arms and yanked you into one of the bass storage compartments, closing the closet door right before the guard opened the door to the music room, looking around curiously. 

Neither of you could even breathe in the crammed space of the closet as you tentatively waited for the guard to check the room. The storage compartment left almost no wiggle room, and Minho’s arm stayed wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest so the two of you could fit.

Oh god, this was too much for you. The thumping of his heart against yours, the tickling of his hair against your ear as he had to dip down to avoid thumping his head against the top, the grip he had on your waist as his thumb rubbed your side, an instinctive attempt to calm your nerves. 

The silence screamed in the room, and the two of you held your breaths before the footsteps exited the room, and the door clicked closed. Even still, both of you stayed totally quiet for a few moments longer before Minho let out a soft chuckle.

“This is definitely a closet I haven't explored.”

You swatted at his arm, “Now is not the time to make dirty jokes!” You scolded, but Minho accepted your angry hands, happily holding you snug against his chest as he laughed. 

“If not now, then when?”

“How about never?” You rolled your eyes as you lifted your head to glare up at him, but your intentions seemed to die out the moment you realized just how close the two of you were. Minho’s face was not inches, but centimeters away from yours, your noses almost brushing and your foreheads so close that you could practically count his eyelashes. 

Minho gulped, staring down at you in panic and awe as he struggled to maintain his composure. There was so much he could do, so much he’s done before; this position shouldn’t be all that shocking for him. As he’d said before, he has had his fair share of sloppy closet makeouts and even a little more than that. Cramming into a storage closet with his arms around you shouldn’t be enough to send his mind and heart into overdrive.

But they were, because he’s never met anyone that set his heart alight like you did. His eyes trailed obviously to your lips, the way that yours eyes did to his, but he couldn’t find it in himself to make the first move. There was something holding him back, an irrational fear that prevented him from moving too quickly, a fear that he might scare you away.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly, your hands finding their home on his chest as neither of you made moves to pull away.

“About how this date took a rather strange turn,” he answered instead, his eyes glittering with amusement.

To his surprise, you look flustered and a bit ashamed at his words, “Ah, I am sorry,” you apologized, “I didn’t think it was going to turn out like this. They never check the rooms, and I just wanted to show you a place where I--”

A gasp fell out of your lips as Minho pulled you forward until your body collided with his chest. He engulfed you in a tight hug, his face buried in your hair as he mumbled with what you could discern was a hint of trepidation and shyness, “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for showing me this side of you.”

Your hands stilled behind him, your eyes widening as you felt him hold you tighter. You could feel the beat of his heart, the trembling in his breath, and the remainder of the walls around your heart all but collapsed as you snaked your arms around his midriff, snuggling your face into his shoulder and marveling at how perfectly you fit against him.

“Thank you for giving me the chance,” you murmured, your voice muffled by his familiar leather jacket as you smiled, “You know…”

“Hmm?” Minho answered absently, holding you close.

“I like this better than fighting.”

Minho couldn’t help but giggle at the sheer simplicity of your statement, and he couldn’t help but feel inclined to agree with you.

“Yeah, me too.”

v.

“Fuck!” 

Minho let out a trail of belligerent curses as he ran to the nearest bus station, holding his leather jacket over both of your heads to shield the two of you from the sudden and pouring rain. As the two of you were walking in the middle of the flower garden right before the weather took a sharp turn for the worse, both of you were soaked to the bone by the time you found shelter.

As you clutched at your chest, gasping for breath, you huffed grumpily at the boy beside you, who looked way too dashing for someone who was doused like a wet dog, “Weren't you supposed to check the weather?”

“Well, if we went to the arcade like I'd suggested instead of the park, we wouldn't be in this predicament, would we?” Minho retorted, running a hand through his damp locks. 

“It’s a Friday night. The arcade would’ve been packed to the brim and you still would’ve been all pissy.”

“It’s better than being soaked to the bone and freezing our asses off at some random bus station.”

The two of you maintained your angry tense glares for only a moment longer before you caved, rolling your eyes as a smile crept on your face, “It seems like nothing has changed, even on our last date.”

“We're destined enemies. The universe has decreed it long ago, sweetheart,” Minho chuckled. 

The most humorous thing about both of those statements were how utterly false they were, and how aware both of you were about that fact. Anything and everything that existed between the two of you had changed during the course of the month, and both of you knew it. Minho had changed from a necessary annoyance to an irreplaceable pillar in your life, a source of honesty and comfort that you've grown to relish. Even though the two of you still bickered like cats and dogs, there was something good-natured about it now.

“Well, our garden date is fucked and we can't exactly go to the arcade like this, so what do you suppose we do?” You asked with a grimace as you wrung the excess water out of your hair, “This is the last day before our project ends.” 

Minho sighed, shaking the droplets of water off his jacket as he bit his lip, turning his gaze to your side profile. You were happily oblivious to his stare, continuing to twist the water out of your hair as you stared out at the rainy street, humming softly to yourself. He could tell immediately that you were cold and doing your best to keep yourself from shivering. 

It was definitely a pet peeve of his that he’d grown more and more annoyed over as he spent the month by your side. You never liked to wear jackets or bring them along, despite the fact that you were literally cold-blooded and tended to match the temperature of whatever weather was going on around you. It got so bad at times that Minho had already developed a habit of bringing you an extra jacket or scarf so you at least didn’t catch a fucking cold while you were spending on dates with him. 

Unfortunately, the forecast had predicted clear skies and warm weather for the whole day, and Minho didn’t think about bringing that extra jacket around this time, so all you could do was perish in your cold, soaked clothes. 

“You could come over and hang out at my place.”

The words tumbled out of Minho's mouth before he could really consider the consequences, and all he could do after that was look as nonchalant as possible. 

As expected, you gawked at him as if he'd grown a second head, “You want me to hang out at your apartment?”

“Don't make me repeat myself,” he grumbled, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot, “We could dry up there and maybe watch some Netflix or something." 

You let out a scandalized gasp, dramatically covering your chest with your arms, and Minho's face burned as he gave you a hard shove, "Not like that, oh my god!" He sputtered in total embarrassment, fully beginning to process the implications of his words. 

As the poor man dissolved in his own misery, you cackled, relishing his suffering as you ran a hand through your wet locks, "I'm kidding, genius!" You said with a laugh, "Gosh, who knew you were actually such a prude on the inside." 

If you took Minho seriously at all, his glare would have sent you six feet under. Unfortunately for him, one month of fake dating taught you that the man was a lot more bark than bite. You were basically Minho-immune at this point.

“You know what?” He closed his eyes, grabbing at whatever supernatural patience he had not to just shut you up with his lips smashing against yours, “Offers’ off. Walk home yourself.”

“Aw, alright I’m sorry!” You laughed, ruffling his messed up hair as you walked out of the bus stop and into the pouring rain, “Come on, please? I promise I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

You promising not to make fun of him sounded about as genuine as Jisung saying that he’d stop procrastinating on his homework, but what was Minho going to do? Make you walk home by yourself in this type of weather? It wasn’t that he was giving you any special treatment; this was just what any good samaritan would do.

With a roll of his eyes, he stomped over to you and flung his leather jacket over your head, “Let’s go,” he muttered. Smiling playfully, you followed him home, using his jacket to shield you from the rain as you stared at his back with a hint of bittersweetness.

The jacket still smelled like him, you thought absently as you walked in his shadow. As much as you’d tried to deny it to yourself, Minho smelled good. He smelled like Febreeze and citrus. You were going to miss the warmth of his jacket very soon, when he’d no longer be obligated to take care of you or make sure that you won’t catch a cold.

“Did you die back there, sweetheart?” Minho called behind him, “You’ve gone all quiet.”

“If I died, how exactly was I supposed to answer you?” 

“Oh, my bad. I was really only asking out of courtesy,” he smirked, throwing his head back as his eyes sparkled with a mischief you’ve grown out of hating. Seeing the few feet of distance between the two of you, he extended his hand, chuckling, “Seriously, what are you doing all the way back there? Come on.”

You felt yourself grow quiet, taking a few large strides forward before you let go of the jacket and slipped your hand into his. Minho’s fingers laced with yours as he continued on his way, leading you down a couple streets before you made it to the familiar apartment complex.

Now, you’ve been to Minho’s place a couple times, so you didn’t feel too overwhelmed as the two of you rushed into the lobby area sopping wet and trying your best to dry off your shoes on the mat. However, it was always just a quick stop, like standing in the lobby area while he went up to grab something, or meeting with him downstairs before going on a date. You’d never actually been into his apartment before, and as the two of you stood in the elevator in a deafening silence, you couldn’t stop your heart from racing a little faster than normal.

“Alright, now I’m worried,” he said as the numbers on the elevator screen went up slowly, “You’re being abnormally quiet. What’s up?”

You blinked in momentary surprise, not expecting him to pry, since he wasn’t ever the type, “Oh. I’m just wondering what your place looks like,” you said, smiling.

Minho didn’t buy it for one second, but he only gave you a strange glance as the elevator doors opened, “I see. Well, it’s nothing special. It’s just like any other dumpy frumpy apartment.”

“I didn’t mean like whether it looks expensive or not,” you said with a soft laugh as the two of you walked down the hallway towards the door to the left, “I’m just wondering whether it would be clean or messy, if you like to keep it warm or cold. Those sorts of things.”

“Oh,” Minho rubbed the back of his neck, and for the first time, he felt a little nervous about twisting his key and opening the door. What if you had higher expectations about it than he could actually meet? Wait, did he pick up those boxers off the floor before he left that morning? He did, right?

“What are you waiting for?” You asked in amusement, watching as Minho seemed to have gone very still after he pushed his key into the keyhole. When he didn’t budge, you moved forward to turn it yourself, only for him to angle his body in front of the door.

“Uh, maybe this isn’t the best idea,” he said with a pleasant, saccharine smile.

You blinked, “Minho, we’re literally at your door,” you said just as a loud boom of thunder sounded in the distance, “And it’s thundering. Your room can’t be that horrid, right?”

“It might be a bit messy,” he argued.

“We’ve both spent game nights in Jisung’s hell hole. I think I can handle however messy your apartment is.”

That was a fair point. Minho couldn’t really find an argument against that attack. Lowering his head, he sighed, “Let me head in to tidy some things first.”

With a raised eyebrow, you crossed your arms, “No problem, but I seriously don’t care, if that’s what your worried about.”

Minho could only nod suddenly before he turned the key, unlocked the door and slipped in faster than a ghost before slamming the door shut. Just like he’d predicted, his boxers were lying nonchalantly on his bedroom floor, and he shoved them in his hamper before cleaning--more like hiding--the rest of his junk in record time.

You were beginning to think that Minho had just locked you out of his apartment when the door opened once more, and he walked out with a towel in hand, “Did you hide whatever dirty toy you needed to hide?” You asked with a smirk.

“Get your head out of the gutter,” he retorted, throwing the towel at you and leading you inside.

The apartment wasn’t far from your expectations. Clean, but not meticulously so, a little bit on the chilly side, and a sense of homeliness with the warm lights and lamps that he chose from the living area. You found yourself growing fonder and fonder of it by the minute.

“It’s cute,” you smiled, wrapping the towel around your neck. 

Minho tried to ignore the way his cheeks warmed at the simple, but genuine compliment that fell out of your lips, “Thanks. I laid out a change of clothes for you in the bathroom. You can also take a shower if you feel like you need to warm up.” 

“What a gentleman,” you said teasingly as you placed your handbag down on the floor as you headed to where Minho had gestured to the bathroom, “Do you have people over often?” It was an easy question, not even close to brushing the real question that sat in the back of your mind. 

Is what we have special? Do I mean something different to you the way you mean something different to me?

“Actually, besides Jisung, you’re probably the first,” Minho answered, grabbing a towel to dry off his own hair as he walked towards you, “I don’t really like strangers or acquaintances in my space.”

“Oh, I should be honored, then,” you said, trying to contain your surprise as turned to face him, studying the way his damp hair framed his face and the way his eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that you could never read.  You could never tell what that gaze wanted, what that gaze meant, but you knew what it did to you and your foolish little heart.

Minho’s head tilted ever so slightly as the silence hung in the air. Then, he smiled, brushing the tip of his finger under your chin, “Well, being my social experiment girlfriend has to have its perks.”

The trance shattered, and whatever moment of tension and unexplainable attraction you felt disappeared into the air as you marched towards the bathroom, “I’m glad I got to make use of it before my membership expires tomorrow,” you said, your voice tinged with sarcasm as you shut the door.

A laugh left Minho’s lips as he shook his head, walking into his bedroom and quickly getting into a change of clothes before flopping onto his couch. This experiment has proved to be one of the most difficult experiences in his life. All this time, he always knew what he wanted, and he always knew how to get it. If he wanted someone, he got them. If he wanted to pursue something, he found himself being able to achieve it with just a bit of hard work on his part. 

But with you, he didn’t know what he wanted, nor did he know how to obtain it. When he met you as Jisung’s other best friend, he never once imagined that the two of you would form such a strange yet irreplaceable relationship in such a short amount of time. He liked you, he liked you a lot. But as he found himself falling further and further, he realized that the reason this was so difficult was because he cared about you. His way of living with no strings attached wasn’t going to cut it anymore, especially since he was beginning to notice that many of his strings were tightly wrapped around your fingers. 

And despite this, the two of you were going to have to cut them all off when the morning came.

“Fuck you, Jisung. You probably knew this was going to happen, you little shit,” Minho sighed, lying down on the couch and closing his eyes. Whatever, he didn’t want to think about the goodbye. He’d deal with it when it came.

“Uh, Minmin?” 

“Hmm?” Minho answered you absently, his eyes still closed.

“You can shower if you’d like,” you offered, the couch dipping under your weight as you sat beside him.

“Nah, I’ll just shower tomorrow morning,” Minho said, opening his eyes and physically having to fight back a blush as he saw you, his hoodie practically engulfing you whole and his sweats going past your feet. Oh fuck, did he even think things through when he picked out a spare set of clothes for you? 

You caught his stunned gaze, your cheeks immediately reddening, “L-look, they’re just a little big on me!” You said defensively as you grabbed one of the pillows and shoved it in his face, “Can’t you stop staring?”

Minho laughed, fending off your relentless pillow attacks with his arms, “Sweetheart, I swear! You actually look really cute!” 

“Shut up!” You shrieked, swinging your arms relentlessly as Minho finally had enough letting you win. Lashing out with his hands, he grabbed both of your wrists, stopping their movement and forcing you to drop the pillow as he yanked you forward. With all your momentum going in one direction, your body had no choice but to follow, and when you opened your eyes, you were sprawled on top of him on the couch, his hands still locking your wrists in place.

“Um,” you looked around, further procession the rather awkward position the two of you had taken, “did you mean for this to happen?”

Minho didn’t, but he was nothing if not an opportunist, “You can think whatever you wanna think,” he shrugged, letting go of your wrists as he wrapped a casual arm around your waist, “What? Not comfortable?”

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that the position was actually quite comfortable. Minho was always built like a personal heater and whatever chill you felt from running around in the rain just seemed to melt away as he held you. 

Stop it, the little voice in your mind whispered as you tried not to focus on the fact that your face was inches from his. This date was for you to say your goodbyes, not fall farther into the black hole.

“Comfortable? Hardly,” you scoffed as best you could, pushing yourself up with your hands and curling up on the couch beside his stretched out figure, “You’re all muscle from dancing so much. It’s like sleeping on a rock.”

“Ah, these abs are hard as rock,” Minho nodded very seriously.

“I wasn’t talking about your abs.”

“Then what else can be hard?” He blinked for a moment before his smile turned unbelievably devilish, “My, my, (name)...I didn’t know you were so--”

You grabbed the pillow you’d previously discarded and shoved it into his chest, “Can we watch something?” You interrupted him pleasantly, pretending not to have even heard the beginning of his less than appropriate joke.

Minho huffed, throwing the stupid pillow to the floor as he scooted next to you, “Sure, want popcorn?” He asked, handing you the remote after turning on his TV, “Just find something on Netflix.”

“Anything you don’t like to watch?” You asked, browsing through the selections.

“Nothing horror related,” he answered as he pushed himself off the couch, heading to the kitchen.

His reply felt strange to you, and you frowned, turning around to look at him, “But don’t you love horror movies?” You asked, remembering very clearly that Minho and Jisung had first met because they both went to the same viewing of a new horror movie that you refused to go to. 

“Yeah, but you don’t, right?” Minho pointed out before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly and disappearing into the kitchen area as you were left reeling at his almost blasé answer, struck by how much he’d grown to learn about you and how much he'd grown to take your feelings into account. 

Now that you thought about it, you realized how much Minho's personality had changed and affected the way you did things, not in a controlling way, but in a way that you found yourself thinking about him when making decisions. When you made your weekly batch of bread, you tended to lean towards milk bread because it was Minho’s favorite. When you went out for dinner together, you thought about what he enjoyed before picking a cuisine. When you browsed for cute accessories, your taste gravitated to cats because they reminded you of him.

Holy fuck, how deep in were you?

“You didn't pick anything yet,” Minho noticed as he poked his head out from the kitchen, waiting for the popcorn to finish. 

“O-oh right,” you fumbled with the remote in your hands as you scrolled through the selections. 

Minho hummed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Hmm…? What were you thinking about, kitten?”

“Nothing, stop being nosy,” you answered with an annoyed edge as you found something that piqued your interest, “Hey, wanna watch Bridgerton? I heard some good things about it from my friends.” 

"I heard it's a bit of a shitshow," Minho commented as the microwave beeped and the smell of buttered popcorn filled the room. Grabbing the bowl and taking a few pieces for himself, he returned to the living room, jumping over the couch and plopping down beside you. 

You tried to ignore how casual it felt for him to just throw an arm around your shoulders to pull you close, focusing on the TV, “Wanna check it out to see which review is accurate?” 

“Sure, whatever you want, kitten.” 

As the two of you powered through episode after episode, it became clear that both reviews had some merit, as the series was a bit of a shitshow, but one that you wouldn't be able to stop watching. Minho and you found yourselves rather invested in the story and the characters, letting out a huge “finally” when the two leads confessed their genuine love for one another. 

“Another episode?” You asked after a short bathroom break, falling into his arms even more so than before and practically snuggling into his warm chest now. 

“Go for it, sweetheart. I have all night.”

“So do I,” you chuckled, and pressed the play button. 

However, things started to take a weird turn after you reached the middle mark of the series. Bouts of contained love had been released, and there were beginning to be many scenes that weren't quite appropriate for general audiences. You quickly realized that this was probably not the show you should've picked to watch through straight-faced with your lovely social experiment boyfriend. 

You held your tongue for most of them, just wanting and wishing for them to be over as soon as possible, but when positions started to turn towards an even more peculiar direction, you couldn't help but make one rather underhanded comment. 

“Ugh, forget the literal fanfic fake dating trope they had going on. This is probably the most unrealistic part of the whole show,” you said with mild disgust as you watched the female lead gripping on the rails of the staircase. 

“Oh?” Minho perked up at your comment almost too eagerly. Like you, he had also been suffering from the tragic case of watching a dirty scene with his totally-fake-but-also-somehow-real girlfriend, and felt a crash of relief when you spoke up about something, “And why is that, kitten?”

A noise of disbelief choked out of your throat as you gestured at the scene before your eyes, “I mean, look at them! Can you possibly expect me to believe that she feels comfortable in that position, much less enjoy it?”

Minho shrugged, “You’d be surprised how much you can ignore when you’re in the moment.”

“I don’t believe it,” you scoffed, grabbing a handful of popcorn, “At least, I’ve never had such an experience before.”

The conversation was dropped then and there, and the show continued without further criticism. But halfway through the next episode, you began to feel that you were being watched, and sure enough, Minho was gazing at you with an unreadable expression, deep in thought.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, chuckling awkwardly, “Do I have something on my...Min?”

Your eyes widened comically as Minho suddenly shifted on the couch, leaning impossibly closer to you and gently cupping your jaw with his hand. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck fuck fuck. Had he lost his mind?! 

Minho seemed to answer your silent question as he stopped right before his lips could brush yours, and his eyes searched for any fear or hesitation in your expression, “Is it true?” He asked hoarsely, his words no louder than a faint whisper.

“What true?” You murmured back, looking up at him through your lashes.

The man gulped, trying to hold onto whatever semblance of control he had left in his body, “What you said earlier...about never having such an experience before.”

Oh, your cheeks reddened as bright as apples, “Why do you have to bring it up again, idiot?!” You felt your voice fail you as Minho tightened his hold on you.

“So it’s true?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “Yes, it’s true! What does it have to do with you, asshole?”

Minho sucked in a breath, studying your face as his eyes shone with gentle adoration and tenderness that you didn’t even know he could possess, “Can I kiss you, (name)?”

Your name. It was your name. Not sweetheart. Not kitten. Not any other petname he could give anyone that he pleased. He uttered your name. He was asking for your permission. And like a sailor drawn in by the siren’s song, you had no hope of escaping now. 

“Yes.”

Closing the gap, your lips met as the two of you finally succumbed to the growing tension that festered with every meeting, every touch of your hands, every quip thrown both ways. Minho caressed your cheek as your hands slid to his shoulders, reveling in the kiss that was such a long time coming. 

When he finally pulled away to let both of you catch your breaths, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes blown wide as he stared at you underneath him. Swallowing, he brushed the hair away from your face, his heart warming with unrestrained affection as you leaned into his touch instead of pulling away, “Can I give you that experience you’ve been lacking?” He asked, a coil of anxiety rolling in his stomach as he studied your face for every miniscule reaction.

Any inkling that you didn’t want to, any inkling that you were only going to along to please him, he’d end it all. Minho knew very well that he was walking on a tightrope of maybe losing you forever. 

But to his surprise, you didn’t look fearful or uncomfortable, only a bit uncertain, “T-this is our last night though, a-as…” you trailed off, not wanting to make those thoughts a reality, just like Minho had been actively avoiding the topic as well.

“I know, I know,” he sighed, stroking your cheek absently with his thumb, “Maybe...we can think of this as a goodbye.”

You smiled, “It’s one hell of a goodbye,” you teased, making him chuckle. It was definitely one hell of a goodbye.

“Do you want it?” Minho whispered, hovering over you, “You say the word, and I’ll back off. Promise.”

Sucking in a breath, you decided not to live by your head anymore. With Lee Minho holding you close, kissing you silly, what was there to refuse?

“I want it,” you murmured, “I want you.”

This was the right choice, you told yourself as Minho carried you to his bedroom, treating you with a delicacy and gentleness that you’ve never experienced before. It was the culmination of your feelings for him. Maybe, when the morning comes, these feelings would wash away with your bouts of pleasure. Maybe, when the morning comes, you wouldn’t be as deeply in love with him as you were now.

Right?

epilogue.

When you woke in the morning, the rays of sunlight spilling in through Minho’s dark curtains, you were almost stunned by how very wrong you were. As you turned your head, finding yourself face to face with Minho, fast asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, you knew that you were not only still in love with Minho, but you were more in love with him than you were the night before. 

And boy, did that terrify you to your very core.

Fuck! This wasn’t supposed to happen. The experiment was over, right? There wasn’t a purpose that pulled you two together anymore. There wasn’t a purpose for Minho to feel any sort of attraction to you anymore. 

Too terrified to face the love of your life when he woke, you did the only thing you knew how to do.

And you ran. 

Detangling yourself from Minho as gently as possible, you slipped out of his bed, grabbing your clothes from where they’d been haphazardly discarded around the room. You changed in record time, anxious to avoid making sound or staying around until Minho woke. It was only 8:30 in the morning, though, and you knew that Minho naturally didn’t like to wake before 9:00, so you had a bit of time.

You wanted to leave as soon as you finished changing, but your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you disappear without some form of gratitude. For the night before or for the way he’d treated you the whole month, you didn’t know. But either way, you grabbed a couple of ingredients that he had in his refrigerator and fixed him a hearty breakfast before heading to the door. You only looked back once before officially steeling yourself to disappear from Lee Minho’s life, at least until you’d be able to resolve these naive and yet deep-seated feelings you had for him.

For the rest of the week, life went on as normal for you, as if your one unforgettable month with Minho had all but faded into the wind as you had hoped that night. You finished your final entry in the diary and handed it back to Jisung the day after the experiment ended. If he had questions as to why you’d disregarded the original plan to hand yours over along with Minho’s at the same time, he didn’t bring them up. 

“Did you at least have fun, (name)?” Jisung asked before you could turn around to leave. 

You hesitated, quickly realizing that the fact that you couldn’t answer the question immediately gave away your uncertainty. After a long moment of thought, you nodded.

“Yeah, I did.”

You really did, though. There was no point lying to yourself about that when you were already having such a hard time pretending that your very real feelings for Minho don’t exist. 

Speaking of Minho, you spent much of the week trying to cut him out of your life as much as possible, which was proven to be rather difficult since the two of you had such a close friend in common. You could tell that Jisung was getting a little sick of seesawing between his two best friends without knowing why the two of you were acting this way. Even back when the two of you were basically the worst of enemies, neither of you ever actively tried to avoid seeing the other.

But now, you were avoiding Minho like the plague. You avoided his school building entirely, and if you happened to see him walking down the street by some unlucky miracle, you’d bolt in a random direction and hide in a store until you were sure he was gone. 

It was a lot of effort, and you weren’t even sure if it was working, since your feelings for him seemed to grow even stronger the more you were away from him.

There was just worry that festered within your heart, this genuine concern you had over his wellbeing now that you weren’t able to check on him every day. Was he eating well? Was he skipping breakfast now that you stopped giving him your milk bread? Did he pass that exam he was worried about?

It seemed your feelings for Minho were going to need a little more than distance to disappear. 

After two weeks of moping and frustratingly obvious heart sickness on both sides, Han Jisung finally had enough with his idiotic best friends. 

You opened your door in surprise as Jisung stood at the entrance of your apartment, an unusually angry expression on his face, “U-uh, Sungie? You good?”

“Do I look good?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “How the fuck do you expect me to be good when I’ve been fucking tiptoeing between you and Minho for the past two weeks?!”

You flinched at the very mention of his name, “I’m sorry. I promise everything will go back to normal soon.”

“With the way you’re doing things, I don’t think that’s going to happen, (name),” Jisung rubbed his eyes tiredly, and you finally noticed the deep eyebags he had, indicating several all nighters, “I finished writing my thesis paper.”

“Oh, congrats.”

It was easier to muster up a smile at that statement, since you were genuinely proud of Jisung for such a daring project. 

“I also read both of your notebooks.”

Fuck. That was a necessary part of writing that paper. 

You nodded, trying to keep your cool, “Okay? Did they not have enough information?”

“Forget the stupid project for one fucking moment, please,” Jisung interrupted before sighing, “At first, I thought the awkwardness came from the fact that you still hate each other, but it turns out it’s just the opposite.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jisung threw you a long look, as if silently weighing several options in his head. You could practically see his thoughts running a mile a minute, and all you could do was stand there as he finally reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar notebook.

“This--” Your eyes widened as you gazed down at the name written in Sharpie, a name that decidedly wasn’t yours, “Jisung, you can’t--”

“Yes, I know that as the operator of this experiment, giving out information that I’d originally stated was confidential is absolutely against everything that science stands for,” he said wearily, “But as your friend and Minho’s friend, this is the right thing to do.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Read it, dummy. I could tell you what’s inside, but I don’t think you’d believe me unless you saw it yourself.”

Jisung grabbed your wrist and pressed the little notebook into the palm of your hand, “I think you’ll know what to do after,” he smiled gently, his eyes filled with earnest care as he gave you a quick hug and made his way down the hall, leaving you to stand at your door holding Minho’s grey project notebook. 

With nothing else to do, you entered your apartment again and plopped down on the couch, notebook in hand. Did you even want to see it, Minho’s unadulterated truth? A part of you wasn't, but curiosity always killed the cat, and you found yourself gingerly opening the first page. 

Nothing was far from what you expected at first, since it matched quite well to your own experiences. First blatant dislike, then grudging respect, and finally, a growing fondness. You found yourself smiling as you read about how much Minho actually adored the bentos you made, even though he never made his thoughts on it entirely clear to you. 

Then, you finally made it to the last page: Day 31. You found yourself stopping short, your heart beginning to race again as your eyes scanned the first few words. 

~

lee minho: day 31 + 2 days 

action(s): last date 

notes: yeah, i know this entry is late, but i just needed some time to collect myself. 

she left in the morning before i could wake up. i can’t say i was surprised, since i told her the night could be our goodbye, but i’d hoped in some part of me that she’d stay, that we’d just carry on with the rest of the month like the ending date didn’t exist. she made me breakfast, though, so at least i know she wasn’t disappointed or upset with me about how far things went. at least i hope.

fuck, jisung, i can’t stop thinking about her. it’s been two days already and nothing i do can make me forget her. the last night just made things infinitely worse. i played with fire and im getting burned for it. i can’t get the way she felt out of my head, the way she would also look into my eyes and see me for what i am inside, not just what i look like. i miss her milk bread, i miss seeing her outside the dance studio. 

jisung, i think i love her. no fuck it, i do love her, and there’s nothing i can do anymore. she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me based on how she’d been avoiding me like the plague whenever i see her on the street. and now, i don't even know how much of what she felt, how much of what she did for me was real. did she put in so much effort because she wanted you to be happy? or was the way she hugged me, the way she spoke to me, was it all real?

it doesnt matter now. 

~

By the time you made it to the end of the page, your eyes were filled with tears and your vision blurred over. Minho...he loved you? Had you been so absorbed with wallowing in your own misery that you failed to realize that your actions were hurting him? 

Panic filled your very being, and as Jisung had predicted, you knew exactly what you had to do. You had to make amends, apologize for your actions, and at the very least, express your own feelings to him directly, even if it was too little too late. 

With the notebook clutched tightly in your hand, you grabbed your purse and rushed out the door, still putting on your boots as you hopped to the elevator. Which bus did you have to take to get to his apartment? First the #2 and then transfer over to #13...right.

You bolted out of the lobby, feeling the rush of cold air seep through your bones, but you hardly found it in yourself to care. You ran to the bus station, anxiously shuffling on either feet as you waited for the next #2 line bus to arrive. When the bus finally arrived, you were already standing at the edge of the sidewalk, too jittery to sit. The doors slid open, and before you could barge inside, your jaw went slack as a familiar figure stepped out of the bus, his own eyes widened as they caught yours. 

What was most interesting, however, was the familiar grey notebook that he clutched in his hand, one that was painfully identical to the one you were holding. 

The two of you stood in an awed silence as Minho got off the steps, and the bus drove away. Immediately, you felt a wave of concern as you looked him over from a distance. Did he lose weight? Was he getting enough sleep?

In the end, Minho was the one who spoke first, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Judging by the notebook in your hand, I’m assuming that Jisung fucked us both over?”

“Y-yeah, sort of,” you answered, surprised that your voice didn’t completely fail you in such an important moment. 

Minho seemed to wait for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he spoke again, “Um, I read it. Your diary entries.”

That wasn’t a surprise, of course, see that you read his, but you couldn’t stop the wave of flushed embarrassment from washing over you as you thought about all the embarrassing things  you wrote about him, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking sheepish, “Do you really think I sound like an angel when I sing?”

Oh, if you could hide yourself six feet under, you would have. But you could nod shamefully, “Yeah.”

“Do you really like it when I cuddle with you and pull you onto my lap?” 

Was this your punishment for not being honest upfront? “Y-yes! Now can you please shut up--”

“Do you really love me?” 

The wind was knocked out of your lungs as you finally looked up to stare at Minho, whose face was unreadable as always. He held up the notebook and repeated his question when you couldn’t find it in yourself to muster up an answer, “You said in your final entry that you were in love with me, that you loved every part of me inside and out, and that our final night together just made everything so much more real. Is it true?”

Your eyes filled with pain as you choked out softly, “What will you do…if it is?”

Minho’s expression didn’t seem to change, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes seemed to return to their usual sparkle just a little bit, “If it is true, then I’d call you an idiot for ghosting me.”

“R-right--”

“And then I’d walk over to where you’re standing. I’d wrap my arms around your waist like the way you love, and I’d kiss you silly. I’d tell you that I’m totally and completely in love with you, as you probably already know from my diary entires, and I’d ask you to be my real girlfriend,” Minho spoke, his voice filled with meaning as his grip on your notebook tightened, “Now tell me, is it true?”

You couldn’t even remember how to breathe as you stared at him, the cold winter wind making his cheeks so delightfully rosy that all you wanted to do was to kiss them gently and warm them up with your mittens. And as he gazed at you, the sincerity pouring out of his posture, his words, and his eyes, there was no way you could continue lying to yourself. 

“It is true,” you said, your eyes filling with unshed tears as you gripped at his notebook, “I’m in love with you, Lee Minho, and it’s tearing me apart just like it’s tearing you apart. I want to love you for real, I want to date you for real, I want us to be real.”

Minho took three large steps forward before he was right in front of you and his lips crashed against yours in a breathtaking kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist like he’d promised, and yours cupped his cheek as he kissed you with unrestrained fervor. 

Wow, he really did kiss you silly.

“No more rules, no more of this social experiment bullshit,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “Do you want to be my real girlfriend, (name)?”

What was there to refuse? 

.

the enemies to lovers project: [success]

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x y/n #skz x reader #lee minho imagines #lee minho scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids x reader #dream type: oneshot

[bluebellhairpin]

The Ex

Helmut Zemo X Reader

A/N: Certain members of my family will be squirming in their seats just ‘cause I posted this, I can feel it. - Nemo

Summary: After years of nothing, your ex-fiancé rocks up at your front door with some friends hot on his heels. But the front door isn’t actually yours, and his friends aren’t really friends. Trouble just seems to follow you, especially when trouble is supposed to be in a high-security German prison. 

Warnings: Implied nudity (mc’s in a bathtub, and I’ve never met a person who bathes with clothes on). TFATWS Spoilers. 

Listening to: ‘High Enough’ by K.Flay - ‘The world is a curse, it'll kill if you let it.’ 

Masterlist

You knew you should’ve left your phone out in the kitchen. You knew, and yet you didn’t. 

Technically nothing bad would’ve happened if you hadn’t. Technically Helmut Zemo was supposed to be in prison. Neither of those things were what actually happened. 

So, instead of grasping the glass you were reaching for, you took the ringing phone instead. Grumpy at the prospect of talking to someone while you were enjoying your bubble bath, you made it clear to the person on the other end that you really were… grumpy. 

“You have five seconds, if you don’t explain the purpose of your call in that time I’m hanging up.” 

“That’s not the greeting I’d expect you to give your fiancé.” 

“Ex-fiancé.” A beat passed, as if the weight of your correction hadn’t hit until now. “You have gall calling me, you know that?” He hummed.

“Yes well,” he said. “Oeznik said you’d broken into my place at Riga, and have taken residence there for the past five years.”

“I didn’t ‘break in’, no one moved the key.” you said, swishing some bubbles around your knees. 

“You hid the key, no one else knew where it was.” That made you giggle, sinking yourself further into the warm water. 

“I did.” you said, “Is that why you called, to kick me out now that you’re on the run again?” 

“Yes, and no.” You could almost hear a grin on his face too. “I’m outside, with a few... Friends. I figured you’d appreciate the knowledge that you are about to get invaded.” You groaned. 

“Really?” 

“What, are you not home?” he asked. “We don’t have a key so I’d appreciate it if you came back.” 

“No, it’s just,” you sighed, “I just got into a bath, Zemo. You have the most awful timing.” 

“Normally I’d be rather happy to hear that, but considering the company I’d rather you hadn’t done that.” 

“Oh yeah right, as if you told me you were coming before now!” Silence passed after your little outburst, and you could hear someone talking to Helmut on the other side of the phone.

“Does that mean we can’t come in?”

“Just come in.” you said, hanging up and almost throwing your phone over onto the countertop. You rubbed your fingertips into your temples, then submerged into the water. 

It was peaceful under the water, but your ex was outside - soon to be inside - and you weren’t sure whether to feel anxious, annoyed, happy, or all three. No matter what you felt, the peacefulness wouldn’t last. Especially since you did need to breathe. When you resurfaced, you were met with eyes - and a head - poking out to greet you from behind the bathroom door. 

“What, missed me so much that you can’t wait until I look presentable?” 

“I think you look fine.” he said. Of course he thought that.

“You aren’t allowed to think about what I look like.” you said, “Now hand me that towel.”

Luckily for you, and probably for the others in the room also, you didn’t waste time in getting from the bathroom to your bedroom. You decided, for the sake of spite, to dress up for the occasion. 

Nothing too fancy, of course, but enough to make you look a million bucks. 

So when you stepped out of your room, hair still wet and a little messy, you had the attention of the room. 

“(y/n), these are the boys. Boys, this is my fiancé (y/n).”

“Ex-fiancé, Zemo.” you said, glaring over at the man, “And you don’t get to call me by my name anymore.”

“Great, back to square one with Bloody Mary.” he mumbled. 

You ‘tsked’ him, ignoring his comment, and turned to the other two men. 

“Hi,” you said, smiling and holding a hand for them to shake, “You can call me Bee.” 

“I’m Sam, that’s Bucky.” One said, standing to shake your hand before nodding his head over at the other. You looked over his shoulder to Helmut. 

“I didn’t know you had friends fresh out of prison, let alone such handsome ones.” you said, reeling in amusement as he shook his head at you, “Are they as deadly as their looks?” 

The room went silent, and you laughed to yourself. 

“So you and him, were…” Bucky broke the quiet, meshing his fingers together.

“Unfortunately yes.” you said, smiling with a sickening sweetness over at your ex. “The love of a lifetime and then he decided to go get himself thrown in prison.” 

“Sounds romantic to me.” 

“Mhm, very.” 

“So what are you all doing here anyway? I doubt you’re just on holiday.” You said, sitting yourself down on the end of the couch. Helmut came to your side, placing a glass full of amber liquid in your open palm. 

“It’s a long story.” 

“This is a big glass.” you said, swishing said contents in front of Sam. “I’ve got time.”

Super soldiers were back. 

Helmut wasn’t happy about it. Neither were Sam, and Bucky was much the same even if he didn’t say it himself. No matter what they thought, or your past, you didn’t want to get involved. It seemed awfully messy for being something so apparently simple. 

It wasn’t simple. 

So when they came back after an outing to try and talk down Kari Morgenthau, and Helmut had a sore head, you weren’t entirely surprised. 

This time you handed him the glass of amber. 

“Thank you.” he said, taking it and the wet cloth from your hands. 

“You know, I’ve never met this new Captain America, but I can’t say I trust him.” 

“Why?” Sam said, turning in his seat to look at you as you sat at the desk behind the couch Helmut was reclining on. 

“You want the serum destroyed, right?��� you said, “And Zemo was doing that. So why did this Walker guy throw his oversized metal frisbee at him?” you finished, pointing your pen over at Helmut. Both you and Sam watched him as he took a sip of his drink, then put it down again. 

“I don’t know why he did that.” Sam said, turning back to the computer again. 

“You do.” You said. “We all do.”

#helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo one shot #baron helmut zemo one shot #tfatws x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier x reader #tfatws one shot #the falcon and the winter solider one shot #baron zemo x reader #zemo x reader #marvel x reader #marvel one shot

[flowerwrites06]

thinning thread — jjk

Plot: In the heat of a tumultuous rough path in their marriage, Jungkook is handed their last resort. 

Pairing(s): Jungkook x Writer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 2k+

Genre: Marriage!AU 

Tags & Warnings: angst, rough marriage, divorce, explicit smut 

Authors Note: sorry the reposting has been a little slow, everyone! the end of feb was a little rough but I’ll try to get the fics out as soon as I can. 

ALSO requests are currently open and they’ll close on Sunday! So be sure to fill the request form HERE

Days turned to, weeks turned to months the blanket of home they knitted together now stripped to nothing but a pathetic string. Both of them dangling and swinging on it pretending that the world around them didn’t just crumble beneath their feet. It started with regular fights over the lack of time they spent together; the usual reason most couple would go through a lovers’ spat. Then fights were followed with silent treatments lasting days on end to point where one of them would be out of the house completely.

Paranoia kicked in soon afterwards as Jungkook saw Belle chatting with one of her clients leading to yet another exhausting argument about her supposedly cheating. Jungkook left home that night for three days until he came back without saying a word. Belle spent more nights in her office using a glass of wine to loosen herself up and get some sleep while writing herself to near madness.

Her publishing company even asked her if she was okay after her latest manuscript submission stating it had a lot more disturbing themes than her usual works. Belle simply stated that things changed. Happiness wasn’t a fucking commonality anymore and the themes she wrote now seemed more realistic.

Jungkook spent hours in the gym, punching bags until the skin on his knuckles ripped apart breaking himself down enough to get some damn shut eye. He was getting a lot more complaints from his producers these days saying he had too much of a short fuse nowadays. Which, to prove their point, he ended up snapping and earned himself a break away from sending in anymore songs until he got himself sorted.

Swinging and swinging on this thinning thread, it all dwindled down into one night.

Instead of going back to her office for the night, Belle paid a visit to her lawyer about a set of paperwork that she needed organized. Thankfully the name she made for herself allowed the time to finish all these documents were significantly lessened. The next day after making her request she was able to have the papers in her hand.

-

As she walked into the apartment the woman realized how long it had been since she walked into their home at this hour. The twilight sky looked like a painting through the large panned windows, creating a beautiful silhouette of the city buildings. For a moment Belle could have smiled until she heard chain clanging and something thudding.

Jungkook began his attack on what could have been his fifteenth punching bag this fortnight, not caring about the world around him.

She sighed, placing her bag on the kitchen counter before stomping over to the man with her brown envelope in hand. “I need to talk to you.” Belle announced trying to sound louder than the punching bag thudding and clanging.

The man gave the bag one harsh punch before letting out a deep sigh, a droplet of sweat . “I’m not in the mood.” He mumbled immediately causing a rush of fury in her belly.

Belle tightened her jaw her whole body urging to just throw the papers on the floor until he sees it. But she took a long, drawling breath as she walked closer to the male who proceeded to assault his punching bag. “This is important.” She spoke firmly. “Just listen to me for one second.” She pursed her lips when Jungkook finally held onto the punching bag to pause for a moment.

Though the male still glared at her a little making her heart drop.

She remembered when he used to look at her with eyes soft and sparkling. Now all she felt was hate radiating from him. Belle handed the envelope over which he accepted, ripping off the top carelessly before pulling out the papers.

Jungkooks’ brows furrowed when he skimmed through the contents of the document. “What the hell is this?” He fumed.

“Divorce papers.” Belle replied simply.

He tightened his jaw still staring at the words on the pages instead of looking up at her. “I need a pen.” Jungkook muttered quietly before walking past her towards the living room.

Chest clenched tightly but she let out a quick breath before following him along watching him walk towards the sitting area.

Belle’s brows furrowed when she noticed they were walking away from the staircase to the study to get a pen. Instead she saw Jungkook pad towards the couches, to the fireplace sitting in front of them still running to keep the place warm and cozy. Even though the atmosphere was anything but that.

It didn’t take long until finally she saw Jungkook tossing the papers and empty envelope right into the fire. Stammering she watched the flames rise higher before dissipating the documents, their names burned away achingly slow. “Jungkook.” She tried to move past him to grab the remnants of the papers but both her arms were grabbed to keep her in place.

“Are you trying to hurt me now? Huh?” Jungkooks’ eyes burned into hers, hair matted to his glistening forehead.

Belle yanked out of his grasp which made his move his arms but he still stood dangerously close. “Don’t try to make me look like the bad guy here.” She seethed. “We’ve tried to fix this but it’s not working. You didn’t even want to talk to me when I walked into the room.”

“Because I thought you were going to start up another fight which clearly you were.” He gestured harshly towards the fireplace.

“Do you have a better idea?” Her vision grew blurry. “Because I don’t want to wake up another morning feeling like you hate me.” Belle hadn’t spoken about her feelings to the man in a long time. So long that expressing it now made her feel utterly exposed.

“You really think I hate you?” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth. “You really think I’d still be in this apartment because I fucking hated you?”

“When was the last time you told me you loved me then? Hm?” Tears streamed down her face, mascara smudging at the corners of her eyes a little. “When was the last time we actually spoke to each other without yelling or crying?” Belle sobbed out.

“That doesn’t mean I stopped loving you.” He protested, his eyes glistening even in the dimmed warm light. “How did you even think I would sign those papers, huh?”

Belle shrugged weakly, smiling a little sadly. “Maybe you’d be happier without me.”

His eyes twitched as he pursed his lips together tightly. “Would you be happier without me?”

Her heart felt tired at this point tightening around itself as if trying to push out all the hurt or keep it all in. Happiness wasn’t a commonality for sure. But would it be any better if she couldn’t see him altogether? Spending years thinking of what could have happened if they just—kept holding onto that thread?

Without uttering a single word, Belle merely shook her head. In a second she was reminded at how well Jungkook still was at knowing what she needed right at that moment.

A small tear escaping down his cheek, Jungkook grabbed her by her cheeks and pressed a warm kiss against her lips. He could taste a saltiness on her dampened lips before his hands trailed down, wrapping them around her waist to cancel out any distance between them. He was fucking done being so far away from his baby, unable to touch her because they were too stubborn to say sorry. With a swift motion he picked her up and impatiently pressed her down against the fluffy rug.

Belle pulled at her scarf which was quickly pushed away and her cardigan lay as a blanket underneath. Fingers hooked on the hem of his cold T-shirt before pulling it over his head and discarding no one cared where. She felt his nails firmly graze up her thigh, hooking onto her panties and pulling it down only one of her thighs roughly. The thin piece of clothing dangling on her left ankle as Jungkook devoured her lips not wanting to unlock their tongues dancing.

His bulging shorts rubbed against her bare core making her moan against his lips. Jungkooks’ still wrapped hand pulled at her hair to press her further down on the floor. He watched her mouth part, small gasp passing through as his hips rubbed against her pooling core. “Look at me.” He spoke in a raspy voice, lust blown and glossy eyes piercing into her. “I want you to look at me.” He whispered, forehead pressing together as he carelessly pushed down his shorts to let his desperate cock free.

Belle felt his thick, wet tip rub up and down her sleek heat, walls already clenching to a get an aching taste of him inside her again. “Please—” A choked scream broke out of her when the man slammed into her. Her pussy swallowed up every inch of his cock, aching a little after being long-deprived from the stretch. She kept her gaze did not waiver however watching him contort his face in pleasure.

Jungkook could barely hear himself think after feeling his whole member hugged by that familiar heat. So deliciously tight and warm, he could stay like this forever if he could. “Fuck I missed you.” He whispered, hot breath hitting her face before he kissed her again, sighing in relief as he began thrusting into her. Every snap of his hips hit hard and deep wanting to make his movements embedded in their minds so they forget just how fucking good they felt together.

She grabbed onto his shoulders for dear life, legs spread out welcomingly for him to destroy her desperate heat. All her long hibernated nerves now jolted awake by the beautiful friction between them, electrifying her body.

He pulled apart the front of her dress, a few buttons flying off but Belle couldn’t care less. Neither of them could. This was the closest they had been in months. Nothing was going to stop them from spewing out all their bottled frustrations.

Belle felt his hot mouth press wet kisses on the curve of her breast, teeth grazing against the tender skin making her smile in bliss. Fingers gripped at the roots of his slightly damp hair reaching down to kiss his head. A gasp caught in her throat when he thrusted into her faster pushing to the limits of her release but she pushed him away.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed out staring at her confused but he quickly saw what she wanted.

Belle pushed on his chest to make him lie on his back before straddling him, the panties on her ankle slid away. She raised herself over his erect cock and slowly let her core devour him again causing a small groan under Jungkooks’ throat. His hands instinctively moved under the skirt of her dress, squeezing her bottom. Still her eyes fixated on him as her hips swayed, feeling his tip rub against her sweet spot making her legs melt.

She moved her hands to where his were and Jungkook immediately intertwined their fingers together. Belle carefully unwrapped the black cloth around his knuckles as the male sat up now, wanting to feel her closer.

Pressing a small kisses on his healing wounds, she quickened her pace.

Jungkook grabbed the back of her neck and intoxicated her with another kiss while his other hand guided her hips.

Belle held onto his shoulders now and bounced on his cock, the sheer pressure against her sweet spot could throw her over the edge in minutes. Arms wrapped around him as her teeth sunk into his skin, muffling her moans. Fingers ran through the hair on the back of his head, lips pressing messy kisses on his neck and cheek. “I love you.” She whispered in his ear.

The male grabbed the side of her neck again forcing her to meet his gaze. Thumb brushed the corner of her teary eyes, mascara smudging across her temple on his finger pad. Lips were barely hovering one another as Belle slowed her thrusts. “I love you too.” He sighed out the words, grabbing bits of her hair before pressing on her warm lips. “I love you so much.” His latter words were mumbled but Belle still heard them.

A small sob shook through her seeing that warmth again. One she hadn’t seen it in so long that it almost felt like dream but Jungkooks’ hands on her skin reminded her it wasn’t. This was all real.

Jungkook turned her around to lay on her stomach, legs straightened out and spread so he could sneak in between. His cock slid in on its own at this point with how fucked out her heat was and he didn’t waste a single second longer to continue the pace. He leaned into her, kisses lain on her shoulder and sweet words whispered in her ear.

He intertwined his fingers with a hand and Belle hugged it closer, his sweaty torso pressed firmly against her back as the onslaught of thrusts began. It was slow but it dug deep into her core and steadily patterned. Her belly pressed against the floor made it all the more easier to rub against her sweet spot and create some friction against her clit.

“Don’t stop.” She whispered giving Jungkook even more determination to torture her core with incessant pounding. Warmth gathered around her leaking heat and pleasure tickled under the skin of her thighs causing her moans to shake.

Jungkook drilled into her, his own moans melting with her as his climax now flooded his entire form, his hand gripping onto hers like it was a part of him.

Belle cried out, trying to muffle the pitch by pressing her lips against the back of his hand. The heated release making her legs shake under him uncontrollably. Cheek pressed against the rug now, she bit down her bottom lip, tears still flowing out of her from the force of her orgasm mixed with everything else.

He filled her up with his release uttering the most delicious whimpers and moan before kissing her cheek softly. “You okay, baby?” Jungkook whispered, caressing her tear stain cheek.

Belle smiled quickly, nodding even though fresh tears still fell turning to face him properly. “I’m glad you didn’t sign it.” She giggled through her light sobs.

Jungkook chuckled leaning in and lay a soft kiss on her salty lips. “I’d never leave you, baby.”

“Promise?” She asked in a whisper.

“Promise.”

Another thread now knitted with the one they had been dangling on, making them that tiny bit stronger than they were yesterday.

#jungkook #thebtswritersclub #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #husband jungkook #marriage au #bts marriage au

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 5.5 Bonus

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language Warnings: None Summary: Local feral human spends some time with their new family. Four short bits featuring Daphne (Maiden OC), Bela, Lady D, Daniela, and a surprise guest. Enjoy. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly, 4: Portraits For Ghosts, 5: Heart Of The Matter

5.5: Family

i.

“Wait, you’re telling me that you came here willingly?” You asked, mouth agape, eyes wide. It felt like every time you talked to Daphne she had something incredible to say. Which was, of course, why she was your favorite maiden to talk to. That, and the fact that she had adapted so quickly to your ‘charming personality’. So far she was the only servant you had been willing to be honest with. Mainly about your feelings regarding your blood bond, but also just about your relationship with Cassandra in general. Something about Daphne simply made her incredibly approachable. From what you had heard, you weren’t the only one to think as such, with her being fairly popular among the castle workers.

“More of us do than you might expect. Some consider it an honor to serve one of the four Lords, and Castle Dimitrescu is certainly… nicer than either the factory or the reservoir. Personally, I came here for a friend of mine. She, well, had less of a choice. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being here without knowing anyone, so it felt like I only had one option. Can’t say I regret my decision, if you can believe it,” Daphne explained, folding laundry all the while. At the same time, you carefully sort through the not yet washed clothing, separating them into two baskets. After all, you wouldn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to end up with a pink dress! Technically this wasn’t your job, nor did you have a job at all, but you hated having idle hands- especially when talking to someone who was working. At first Daphne had protested, but she had given in upon realizing just how stubborn you could be.

“That’s… impressive. I mean, holy shit, that's a real ride or die friendship right there. Is she, uh, is your friend still, you know, around?” You stuttered, cursing your tongue for asking such a thing. If the answer was no, you were going to feel like a real asshole. Which, admittedly, you had a tendency to be. But this wasn’t one of the times where it was intentional. Thankfully, Daphne is all smiles, and even seems amused by your spluttering.

“Yes, we’re even roommates. Well, us and five others. Possibly with a sixth one on the way, if we ever get someone to fill the empty space,” she replies, pausing to think. Then she’s back to work, refusing to waste any time. “Speaking of roommates… I know I said I’m not one for gossip, and I meant it, but a little songbird told me that Cassandra seems to be in a much better mood these days. Are the two of you, well, getting along? It would be nice to know that soulmates can overcome even the roughest of introductions.” There’s a hint of something odd in her tone, and you take a moment to wonder what she’s (unintentionally) hinting at. Had she met her soulmate, only for things to go poorly?... Before answering her, you make a mental note, deciding to see if any of the other maidens had a scar across their nose.

“It’s not like she and I are dating or anything. We’re just, you know, not hating each other. Currently,” you said, shrugging. But Daphne raises an eyebrow at you, and you find yourself instinctively feeling guilty, somehow feeling small next to the shortest person you knew. “Alright, alright, we might have… Okay we kissed. And promised each other not to die, because having your soulmate die hurts like hell. Also maybe she showed me her mom’s art collection and I made a joke about the titty sculptures because holy shit, this house has a lot of titties.” At this, Daphne bursts into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

“Amen to that, for sure.”

ii.

“So… fan of science, I see,” you say, awkwardly, bouncing a little on your heels. Next to you is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, who had unexpectedly joined your table in the library. There were several other places she could have sat, with both more comfortable seating and more workspace, but for some reason she had chosen here. So far she hadn’t said a word. Hell, you hadn’t spoken to her since your first meeting, where she had suggested killing you. Naturally, you weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Something told you that she felt much the same about yourself.

“Fan of oversimplification, I see,” Bela counters, after a few tense seconds. Then she sets down her book- a heavy text about Romanian avian fauna- to give you her full attention. “It would be more accurate to say that I enjoy studying biology, particularly the branch of zoology.” Well, this conversation was certainly… happening. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether she was legitimately judging you, or merely chaffing you for her own amusement.

“You’ll have to, er, forgive me for being overly broad. Consider it a side effect of my nerves, those themselves being due to our unsavory introduction. In case you don’t recall, you put that sickle of yours into my shoulder,” you reminded, with a sarcastic smile. To your surprise, Bela chuckles at this, almost as if fondly remembering the incident. Seriously, you think, why did my soulmate have to be from this family?

“Staying silent was an option. Perhaps that would have suited you better?” Bela says, now clearly teasing, smile much more genuine than your own. Knowing she had a point, you’re quick to blush, mildly embarrassed.

“Touche. I am curious, however, why you decided to sit next to me in the first place. I certainly wouldn’t have tried starting a conversation if you hadn’t,” you explained.

“Like I said… I enjoy studying zoology,” Bela replies, with a sly grin. It takes you a few moments to understand the intended implications. Once you do, however, you’re giving her a hard stare. Then you scoot your chair a few inches away from her, in exaggerated movements. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. Though you certainly are an interesting human. Much more, hmm, cheeky? Compared to the servants, at least.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that they simply prefer being alive, as opposed to not being as snippy. Except maybe Daphne, now that I think about it. Very sweet, that one,” you muse. “Regardless, I think I’ll return to my book now, for it lacks a tongue, and is therefore less likely to taunt me.” Doing just as you had said, you open the book, holding it a bit higher than what would be comfortable, so that it becomes a ‘shield’ of sorts. Nothing was quite as satisfying as subtle body language.

Accepting your words with a shrug, Bela also resumes reading, turning to a bookmarked page. Roughly an hour of relative quiet passes. Neither of you so much as glance at each other, not even when she drops the pen she had been taking notes with. In the end, you are the one who leaves first, and finally the silence is broken. You give your goodbyes, and Bela returns them politely. Though you do not know it, she sets her book down as soon as you leave, pausing to think about you. Now that things had ‘calmed down’, it was reassuring for her to know that you weren’t always full of spite. Still, you held onto your cleverness (for the most part), leaving her with no doubt about the universe’s decision. You were her sister’s soulmate.

iii.

“It’s official: I’m lost in a creepy castle. The universe hates me. Probably should have realized that sooner, considering how it decided to introduce me to my soulmate,” you mutter, scowling deeply, as you wander unfamiliar halls. How had you even gotten lost? Sure, you had taken a wrong turn, but it hadn’t taken long for you to realize your mistake! Evidently you somehow managed to make another one while backtracking. Now you were standing in the center of the corridor, hands on your hips, desperate for some maiden to come rescue you. What you really didn’t want was Cassandra to find you, because she’d make fun of you for the rest of your life. It’s not like she had specifically joked about you getting lost before. Except that was exactly what had happened.

A few minutes pass uneventfully. There aren’t even any distant sounds of life; no footsteps, nor echoing voices, nor the squeaking of floorboards. All you can hear is your own breathing. As well as the occasional sigh, admittedly. By this point, there’s a part of you that’s starting to panic. After all, there was a chance that the castle was big enough for certain sections to be abandoned. Hopefully that’s not the case, you think, I mean, they’d cut the power to those parts, right? Here’s hoping… With that in mind, you get back to wandering, figuring that you’d have to eventually run into a familiar landmark. Or better yet, someone who actually knew the castle’s layout.

When salvation at last reveals its holy visage, it is not in the form of a lowly servant, rather the muffled voice of none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. Neither her exact words nor who she’s speaking to is clear. At first, you can’t even tell where her voice is coming from, but you quickly approach one closed door, then another, searching for the source. Several doors later you’re certain you’ve found her. By then you can tell that she’s not alone. Not wanting to seem rude by interrupting, you take a few steps back, leaning against the wall to wait. For the most part you still cannot make out what’s being said, but a few words do reach your ears.

“-expected more from you. How am I-” the voice gets cut off, not by Alcina, rather a sudden gust of air, akin to massive wings flapping. When the speaker continues, they are both louder and angrier. “Someone is listening. Have you not taken steps to ensure our privacy?” Then the door is swinging open, revealing your soulmate’s mother. At first she’s practically shaking with rage, but her expression turns to shock when she sees you.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Cassandra?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, clearly stressed, as she steps into the corridor. There’s movement behind her, although you cannot make out any details. Besides, you’re quick to answer her, wishing to avoid her wrath (and that of whoever she was speaking to).

“I’m so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu, I was walking from the dining hall to Cassandra’s studio, and I took a wrong turn. I’ve been wandering for half an hour now. When I heard your voice, I thought perhaps I could, well, enlist your assistance. But you were busy, so I figured I’d wait outside. If I had-...” you pause, gulping, as the other figure steps into view. It’s a face you’re all too familiar with. One that popped up countless times through the village, and again throughout the castle, the owner’s name always spoken with acclaim, with worship. Mother Miranda, in the flesh, wings spreading out behind her, somehow cutting a more impressive silhouette than even Lady Dimitrescu. Instantly you’re falling to your knees, knowing that your sharp tongue was no match for this practical goddess.

“Who is this, Dimitrescu? Why isn’t their blood staining your claws?” Miranda questions, gaze never leaving your trembling form.

“This… this is one of my daughters’ soulmates. They were brought in with the last group of sacrifices,” Lady Dimitrescu explains, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Twas a true testament to Miranda’s power, as well as her influence, that she could make someone so powerful seem so weak. Which was exactly why you were shaking with anxiety. But to your surprise, the goddess does not immediately order your execution for your trespass.

“And already they know their place, hmm? Kneeling before me?” Miranda says, a strange smile dancing on her lips. Whatever anger she had been feeling a minute prior had faded, though you couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. Regardless, both Alcina and yourself are quite relieved, though neither of you are quick to show it. “Either they have a good head on their shoulders, or you still take care of some of your duties. Very well, they may live. For now. But I expect next week’s report to be far more favorable. I don’t need to remind you of the price for failing me.” With that said, Mother Miranda turned to leave, a swirling mass of dark feathers flying past you.

A minute passes, maybe two, before either of you feel capable of speaking up.

“Let’s get you back where you belong, yes?” Lady Dimitrescu says, quietly, before placing her hand on your shoulder to guide you. Tension hangs clear and heavy over both of you. Even as you walk down corridor after corridor, the feeling does not ease. At least not until you’re back in familiar territory, near where you had originally made your mistake, finally able to breathe a little. It’s here that Lady Dimitrescu pauses to speak once more. “Tomorrow I will assign one of the servants to give you a tour, in the hopes that this does not happen again. Furthermore, I ask that you forget everything you heard earlier, for it is neither your business… or my daughter’s.” You’re quick to nod, and with that she bids you farewell, leaving you alone. Now, you think, was it left from here, or right?

iv.

“I’m just going for a walk. Why do you care so much? It’s not like it’s any of your business,” Daniela assures you, despite the fact that all you had done was say ‘hello’. If this was her attempt at casting aside suspicion, she had done a terrible job of it. What made her so nervous? Was it even worth investigating? Only one way to find out.

“You’re rather bundled up, planning on being out for long?” You ask, trying to sound casual, leaning against the wall as you did. In response, Daniela pretty much stomps her foot. There’s something odd in her expression, however, that implies your question hit a soft spot. Certainly wasn’t what you had expected. “Don’t mind me, just trying to make conversation with my soulmate’s sister. Speaking of her… have you seen Cassandra? Is she, perhaps, going with you?” A little misdirection never hurt anyone. Probably.

“No!” Daniela replies, fast as a gunshot, too much emphasis to be unintentional. But she realizes her mistake as soon as she’s made it, and makes a clear effort to relax herself. “She’s probably in her studio, doing whatever it is she calls art, on the other end of the house. Besides, I don’t want any company for this walk.” For a moment you merely squint at her, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, you decide that it really is none of your business, being more than satisfied by what teasing you’ve already done.

“Alright, alright. Well then, I’ll leave you be. Just… be careful, yeah? If you get hurt, and your mother finds out that I didn’t stop you from going… not sure Cassandra could save me,” you say, with a shrug. At first Daniela can’t decide whether to be upset or relieved, but she seemingly settles for the latter, giving you a brief nod before heading outside. As the door shut behind her, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done the right thing.

#cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #yeah I'm back #don't be weird about it

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Three

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: so yeah this isn’t my best work bc i havent been feeling great lately but i hope you guys can stay patient with me until i get my shit together. we’re almost to the end🤞

***

Sitting crammed between Elain and Feyre on the gray couch in Lana’s office, Nesta has to cross her legs prettily and pretend she doesn’t want to peel out of her skin right there. She doesn’t know what she was thinking when she invited her sisters to one of her therapy sessions, but she’s assuming it would be considered rude to kick them out now.

“Who wants to speak first?” Lana’s bob swings as she looks at each of them. The office is ice cold today, and Feyre and Elain’s presence doesn’t help the chill in the air.

Nesta crosses her arms before she can be asked to speak. “No, thank you,” she says. She knows everyone probably expects better from her, but no way in hell is she going to be the first to open up in front of this crowd. “Feyre,” she turns to her youngest sister instead, “why don’t you say something?”

“Actually, why don’t you set the example, Nesta?” Lana gives her a look, making her cheeks redden with irritation.

“Fine,” Nesta grumbles. She clears her throat. “As you can see, I have made moves to reconnect with my sisters. I invited them here because I hoped that therapy would bring us closer and also make them more… tolerable.”

Elain coughs, “Bitch.”

Nesta smiles tightly. “Elain could especially use this, I think.”

Lana is already frowning. She never frowns this early into a session. “We’ll start with an easy question, then. What’s been on your mind lately, Nesta?”

Nesta purses her lips, pretending to think. “Nothing important. I’m looking at jobs for the summer. I think Azriel keeps sneaking money into my purse, and it’s starting to become more than a little condescending. I caught up with some friends from school, and I was polite enough to pay for lunch.” She mentions off to the side to Elain, “Lucien was there, too.”

“Why would I care?” Elain sneers. She spies Lana’s disapproving look and lowers her head demurely. “Sorry,” she murmurs.

“That’s alright,” Lana says. “Why don’t you go next?”

“Me?” Elain’s head snaps up, and Nesta holds in her snicker.

“Start by describing your relationship with Nesta. I heard you two used to be very close.” Lana uncaps her pen, preparing to write.

Elain flushes lightly and folds her hands. “That was when we were children. The only thing keeping us together was that we shared a home. When we stopped living in the same place, some of us had no problem leaving others in the dust.”

“You can use my name,” Nesta rolls her eyes, “I’m right here.”

From the corner of her vision, Feyre cringes.

“Are you saying you feel abandoned by Nesta?” Lana continues probing.

Elain’s answering silence tells more than enough. Therapy must actually be paying off, though, because Nesta only thinks about interrupting and defending herself for a second before shaking it off. Her mind focuses on the word abandonment instead.

Lana is focusing on the same thing, because she leans closer and says, “Being abandoned bothers you?”

“I never said that,” Elain says indignantly.

“It would bother most people.”

Nesta watches Elain sigh and blink her big doe eyes at Lana. She’s always been able to use those eyes on anybody for anything. “I just don’t understand why I’m the villain for expecting a little loyalty,” Elain says sweetly. “Especially when you take a look at this face.” She cups her round cheeks. “You know psychology. How could you abandon this face?”

Nesta’s jaw hangs open. “Are we still talking about me?” She remembers Cassian telling her the story behind Azriel ghosting Elain, and a pang of guilt and pity hits her. She still hasn’t talked with Elain about why Azriel left Velaris, and she knows she won’t be able to decide whether to spare Az or not until she does.

“So that’s my turn,” Elain finishes up. “Feyre can go next.”

Lana is writing something sharply on her notepad, but she nods coolly. “Feyre, how would you describe your relationship with your sisters?”

“Oh, we don’t have time for all of that,” Feyre laughs awkwardly and waves a hand.

Nesta agrees, but the look Lana gives Feyre tells her that yes, they do have time.

Gulping, Feyre glances around. “Well, I was born last, so I guess that made me the outsider of the family. I never had much in common with my sisters, but now that we’re older I… hoped that we would grow past that.”

Translation: she hoped that once she found her happy ending in Rhysand’s arms, poor little Nesta and Elain would happily assimilate into her new community of wealthy friends, putting the cherry on top of her perfect life. And while Elain did that exact thing, it’s always bothered Feyre that Nesta won’t do the same.

Feyre continues, “I admit I’m not the best at understanding Nesta. Elain and I get along fine now, but Nesta…” Feyre meets her eyes. “It’s like nothing we do is enough for her, but for some reason I can’t stop trying.”

“Whose fault is that?” Nesta mutters.

“You want her approval,” Lana hums, taking notes.

“Is that what it is?” Feyre looks away.

Nesta refrains from saying yes, that’s exactly what it is, and it’s not my problem if you keep looking for something I can’t give.

“What are your feelings about that, Nesta?” Lana turns her focus to her. “Remember that this is a safe space.”

It really isn’t, not with two siblings holding long term grudges against Nesta. But once and for all, she’s going to set the record straight. “I spent most of my life being a bad sister.” Nesta’s voice is apathetic, straightforward. “I let Feyre take the burden of providing for us even though I was the oldest, and I didn’t know how to be anything other than cruel to my family. So once I had the means to do so, I cut everyone off for all of our sakes. I still don’t regret it, because being a stranger is better than being a bad sister.”

In that way, Nesta is a bit like her mother. Nesta was angry after her death, but she knows she would have been even angrier if Magdalene Archeron had lived and continued to be a disappointing parent. In that way, both of them are wise for leaving their families when they did.

“Or you could just be a good sister,” Elain interrupts with a drawl.

Nesta smirks bitterly at her. “I’d rather die.”

Feyre takes in a breath. “Why? Why are you like that with us?” She blinks furiously, and Nesta can see the simmer of her emotions. “It was okay when we thought you hated everybody, but you don’t. You only hate me and Elain.”

Nesta looks to Lana for help, but her therapist is sitting this one out. She sighs through her nose. “I don’t hate you,” she says, even though they might never understand. The next line comes with great difficulty. “I’ve loved you since before I even knew what love was. But I don’t like you very much, Feyre, and you don’t like me, either. Please stop trying to change that.”

When she finally meets Feyre’s eyes, though, they’re glimmering with tears. “How can I stop trying to change that?” Feyre whispers. “How can I give up on us like that?”

For Nesta to give Feyre and Elain the relationship they want from her would require nothing but lies on her part. And as much as she wishes she was capable of lying about this, she can’t do it.

Looking away and down at her hands, Nesta mutters, “It’s not fun for me either, but it’s how I am. I can’t be easy or friendly with you. I hate watching you try to make me be easy or friendly.”

Nobody says anything to that, but when Nesta looks up again Lana gives her a remote nod that Feyre and Elain don’t catch. Thank you for your vulnerability, it says.

“You said something interesting, Nesta,” Lana breaks the silence. “Did you see your sisters as your responsibility to raise?”

Nesta shrugs. “I was the oldest,” she repeats.

“Your father was the oldest.”

“He wouldn’t do shit even if you held a gun to his head, so I was up next.” Though Nesta hadn’t done shit either. Neither had Elain, but the rules have always been different for her. Elain redeems herself to others by handing out sunny smiles and pretending to have the intelligence of a fawn.

Lana stares at Nesta until Nesta’s skin starts to heat. “What?” she says defensively.

Ignoring the other two women in the room, Lana leans forward. “You told me once early into our relationship that part of the reason you left Tennessee was to get away from your sisters. You said you were heartbroken when they ended up following you here.”

Nesta doesn’t breathe or look to see her sisters’ reactions.

“Now I’m going to ask: did you really want to get away from your sisters, or did you want to escape the feeling of failing them?”

Nesta doesn’t know how to answer, because to her they might as well be the same thing. Having Feyre and Elain around is like having a weight tied to her chest. The lingering guilt every time Feyre is in a room, her existence screaming I’m the reason you’re still alive. Elain’s constant expectations of unconditional support and loyalty, whether it’s reciprocated or not. It’s all so heavy. And it all goes back to the fact that the three of them were once just helpless children.

If she couldn’t take care of her sisters, how is she supposed to take care of any child, ever?

Nesta releases a weary sigh. “You’re going to bring this up the next time we have the baby talk, aren’t you?”

Lana’s eyes sparkle. “Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet.” But Nesta can see from where she sits that her therapist’s notepad is covered in bullet points.

***

“I need to use the bathroom.” Feyre is hopping back and forth on her feet once the session is over. “You guys head down to the parking lot without me.” She exits in a rush, leaving the two sisters alone. Nesta hisses in frustration, nearly chasing after Feyre so she won’t have to face the inevitable awkward conversation with Elain.

By the end of the session, it was Elain that broke and pleaded with Nesta, “Don’t do everything we want, then. Just keep doing better, the way you’ve already been doing. I’ll be happy with just that.”

Nesta was surprised that Elain had even noticed her efforts, but she retorted, “And how do you plan to do better?”

To which Elain twirled her hair and murmured something halfheartedly about, “I might be more open to taking criticism or whatever.”

Though it was the absolute bare minimum, it was still a relief for Nesta to hear Elain admit that she has flaws worth criticizing.

Now, Nesta clutches the straps of her purse and turns for the stairwell leading to the parking lot. Elain follows without comment.

Inside the stairwell, Nesta asks, “Have you spoken to Azriel since he left Velaris?”

Elain looks surprised at the sudden question, and doesn’t remember to be guarded when she answers, “No. Why?”

Nesta shrugs, her heels thumping loudly on the linoleum stairs. “Because I know what happened between you two. I know why he left.”

Elain halts midstep, grabbing Nesta’s arm and turning to face her with wide eyes. “What do you mean, you know? He told you?”

“He told Cassian, and Cassian told me.” Nesta hardly cares that she’s being a poor friend to Azriel by spilling all this to Elain, and continues, “If I had known he was such a coward, I would have kicked him out of our place a long time ago… but I figured I would get your input on it first.”

She’s never seen Elain look so genuinely pleading before. “Get my input on what?” Elain breathes. “What did he say about me? Was it something I did?”

At that torn face that borders on heartbroken, Nesta decides that she’ll do more than kick Azriel out of the cabin. She’ll kick him off the whole mountain.

She shoves Elain’s back to get Elain detached from her and moving down the stairs again, and as they walk, Nesta spills everything she knows. She tells Elain about Rhysand’s talent of shoving his nose into places it doesn’t belong, and how one conversation with him managed to convince Azriel to ditch Elain for good. She tells her about how instead of having a straightforward conversation with Elain, Azriel chose to leave the city and hide out in the mountains like a pussy. She might sound blunt, but Elain needs blunt. She needs to know the unfiltered truth of things.

By the time they reach the floor where their cars are parked, Elain is silent. “Did he really say that?” she finally asks quietly. “He said he wants me to hate him?”

“That’s what I heard.” After a moment, Nesta feels the need to add, “You should hate him, though. He fucked up bad.”

When Elain continues strolling for their cars without replying, concern bites at Nesta. “You are mad at him, right? And mad at Rhysand? You’re not going to forgive them, right?”

“I’m not a total pushover,” Elain snaps. She stares at the cement ground as they walk. “I’m just… more disappointed than anything else. He gave up so easily.” She chuckles without humor. “It sounds like he was looking for an excuse to get away from me.”

Nesta frowns. “I don’t think he would’ve spent so long moping around our house if he wanted to leave you.” Though they can never truly know what Azriel was thinking or feeling until he grows a pair and talks to Elain. Still, she shudders at having to defend him.

“I take it he doesn’t mope anymore?” Elain says.

Nesta doesn’t know how to answer that truthfully. She knows there’s more to Azriel than he lets her and Cassian see, and she knows he’s gotten better at keeping his feelings to himself. So she says, “It looks like he’s doing better, but I really don’t know.” They reach Elain’s car.

“Were you in love with him?” Nesta suddenly asks. Or worse, is she still in love with him?

Elain digs around for her keys in her purse. “You know how I am. Of course I was.”

“Not anymore, though?”

Elain looks up, keys now in hand. “It’s hard to still feel love for someone I haven’t talked to in two months.”

Then it wasn’t real love. Nesta is relieved, even though it doesn’t change the fact that Elain is hurting either way.

Elain jabs her keys at Nesta and says sharply, “Don’t you dare punish him for what he did. That’s for me to decide on.”

Nesta’s brow creases in refusal. “I’ll do what I need to do, and you do you.” She’ll have to be careful with her plotting, though, considering Azriel is Cassian’s brother.

“No.” Elain surprises Nesta with the force in her tone. “He’s your roommate and your friend. Keep treating him like it.”

Elain makes it sound easier than it is, and Nesta wants to argue until she sees Feyre heading down the parking lot toward them. “Fine,” she grumbles halfheartedly.

Elain gives her one final long look, not of threat but something else. “Thank you—for inviting us today.” That’s all she says before getting in the driver’s seat of her little red car. At the same time, Feyre catches up to them.

“Where are you parked?” Feyre pants as she approaches Nesta. She sounds a bit out of breath, like she ran to get here before Nesta could drive off alone.

Nesta points down the lot to where her scrappy old car is waiting for her, and Feyre straightens up with a grim smile. “I’ll walk you.”

Nesta knows that arguing isn’t worth it, so she allows Feyre to trail her the rest of the way to her car. Once they reach the old thing, Nesta gives a curt goodbye and heads straight for the driver’s door. Before she can touch the handle, Feyre attacks her from behind with a hug.

“Get off me, freak!” Nesta tries to jostle her way out of Feyre’s arms. She tries being nice to her sisters one time and this is what she gets—

Feyre only squeezes her tighter. “You don’t have to hug back. Just let me love you my way.”

Nesta squirms for another second before stilling. Swallowing tightly, she stares at the reflection of herself and Feyre in the car door window. One of her hands goes to where Feyre’s hands are clasped around her stomach, and she stands there without moving. She can’t remember the last time she shared affection with a family member like this, but it must have been before their mother died.

The warmth at Nesta’s back doesn’t leave, like Feyre is trying to pour all her understanding into the hug. Silently saying, I’m finally starting to get it.

In a way, Nesta is starting to get it, too. After all, how do sisters with such a complicated history begin to forgive each other?

Not by apologizing, but by doing better in the future.

***

On her way home, Nesta remembers at the last minute to stop by Gwyn’s apartment to pick up one of her sweaters. She doesn’t know when Gwyn started raiding her closet like it was a free mall, but she has a school event next week and doesn’t plan on letting her nicest clothes rot at Gwyn’s forever.

Nesta enters using the key beneath the doormat, knowing Gwyn is at work and won’t mind her stopping by. She scans the living and dining areas for a glimpse of brown cashmere, but only finds scattered books and a disorganized mess. Her fingers twitch with the urge to stop and tidy up the place, but she continues hunting for the sweater. Gwyn promised it would be waiting in plain sight for her.

Realizing the scatter-brained girl probably forgot to put the sweater out for her, Nesta pauses in the hallway leading to Gwyn’s bedroom and bites her lip. She doesn’t know if bedrooms are off limits or not, considering how often Gwyn and Emerie have barged into hers, but she knows she doesn’t want to make a second trip here just for a sweater.

Without giving it further thought, she strides into Gwyn’s room—

And yelps to find Gwyn on the bed.

Except she isn’t alone, and there’s definitely another body under the dark green blanket with her, and whoever it is definitely has their head between her legs.

Nesta spins away at the same time she hears Gwyn’s cry of surprise. She braces one hand against the doorjamb and presses the other to her freezing cold face, not having any words for what she just saw.

“Nesta?” Gwyn calls from behind her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, have you seen my sweater? It’s the expensive one.” She’ll just grab it and leave. Or maybe she’ll just leave—yes, that sounds like a good idea.

“Nesta?” a new, deeper voice repeats.

Gwyn hisses, and Nesta freezes because she recognizes that voice. She wants to be wrong so badly, but she has to whirl back around to confirm for herself.

“Azriel?”

***

a/n: i decided to cut this chapter short and add an extra one to flesh out my silly little gwynriel subplot. so if there’s anything specific or random you wanna see happen in the next chapter tell me bc i might have space for prompts!!

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook a favor: @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea

#ncssianwrites #a favor #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

[jeongvision]

🗣 TEACHER!AU WITH JOHNNY

PART TWO! LET’S GET IT!

pairing. history teacher! seo johnny ✗ english teacher! fem! reader (ft. english teacher! mark lee)

genre. fluff, slight humor, high school teacher au, non idol au

warnings. some cursing and super soft hours after this huhu <3 and not proofread but we can discuss that later

author’s note. this is an continuation to this blurb! this could be read as a standalone but regardless i hope this brought a smile to your face bc it certainly did for me <3

You should’ve seen it coming. Damn it, it was right in front of you all along, so why didn’t you see it in the first place?

You and your students have been grinding nonstop for the past couple weeks to prep them for the AP English IV exam. There was a time where you requested two days off from work for emergency purposes (thankfully it was nothing too major) leaving you to ask your coworker- Mark, another teacher in your department -to help fill in your students on materials needed for the exam.

Everything was perfectly fine when you came back, your coworker going beyond your expectations in taking care of your students. However, one thing you failed to take notice of is the recent changes the college board made in their AP exams, including the course you teach. After reviewing some of the revisions they made, you felt your heart drop.

They’ve added three additional sections to the exam, meaning an additional two weeks is needed to cover the materials for your students to grasp some sort of mastery on those concepts.

You have four weeks left until the exam, and you’re already compacted those remaining weeks with other necessary materials for the exam.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured under your breath.

Running your hand through your hair, you let out a tired sigh. It’s already bad enough that you have to work overtime in making revisions to your lesson plans. However, it’s worse to see the crestfallen looks on your students’ faces when you dropped the news on them. They’re already tired enough from dealing with other classes and extracurricular activities. On top of that, you know most of them are stressing about their acceptance letters from their colleges.

You dropped the pen in your hand and rubbed both of your eyelids. Relax, y/n you told yourself. Don’t worry, you can do this. You heard the door behind you open, meaning someone walked inside the teacher’s lounge.

“Hey, y/n. What’s up- Woah, woah, WOAH! What do we have here?” the person exclaimed. You let out a chortle. You could distinctively point that voice out from anywhere, and you’re sure as hell that the state of your workspace is nothing short of hell. Taking your hands away from your face, you crossed your arms and leaned back a little in your seat to look up at the latter.

“Well, hello to you too, Mark,” you chuckled. You both gave each a fist bump before he sits down in the empty chair beside you.

“What the hell happened here?” He grabs some of the documents splayed out before you, eyes scanning through the materials that you’ve scribbled on in the past hour. “Wait, what? They added new things to the AP exam?”

You sighed and nodded dejectedly. “Yep. And somehow, I gotta squeeze all those materials into my lesson plans before they take it next month.” You rested your arms on the table and rested your head on top of them. “At this point, I just want to light myself on fire and call it a day.”

Mark lets out a cackle besides you, prompting you to smile. You’ll never mention it to him, but his laughs and smiles are always infectious. It’s what makes him so well-known and loved in the English department in the first place, both faculties and students.

“Please don’t do that. We love you too much to let you do that to yourself,” he responded.

Sitting back up in your seat, you take a glance at the clock. Just four minutes before the section ends and you have to go back to teaching your classes again. You heard your coworker clear his throat, bringing you to face him.

“Do you need help with any of this?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, Mark. I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to bother you with my workload.”

“No, really. It’s fine, y/n. I only teach honors and they’re all pretty ahead in their assignments, so I have some free time if you’d like.”

Just like that, you swear you could see a halo shining above his figure, your world much brighter and clearer than it was this morning. “Oh my god, yes please.” You shifted through your papers, searching the remnants of the piles before handing it over to him. “Can you please go through these and grade them for me? Here are the answer keys for them.” After debriefing him for that stack of papers, you gave him another one. “And for these, can you make some copies for me? I need them tonight so I can plan for tomorrow’s class.”

He listened attentively to your commands, taking a mental note and nodding each instruction given to him. “Okay, got it, y/n. I’ll get these done and hand them over by the end of the day.”

You’re gawking at him, surprised that your coworker is willing to lend you a helping hand. You could honestly cry out tears of joy right now, but timing refuses to let you do so as the bell rings, marking the end of a period. You both stood up in your seats and grabbed the papers on the table into a neat pile. You let out a content sigh as you both walked out the teacher’s lounge.

“Thank you so much, Mark. You’re the best,” you exhaled. Outside your classroom, you already see some students entering inside as you left it unlocked, free for them or your coworkers to enter as they pleased. You both stood next to its entrance before he shrugs his shoulders at you.

“Hey, I mean it’s what I do best, right? Being the best.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove, earning a laugh from him. Saying goodbyes to one another, you walked inside your classroom. You nodded to the students present. “Afternoon, class,” you greeted.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/n!”

“Miss Y/n, there’s a bouquet of flowers on your desk,” one of your students called out. You raised an eyebrow. Flowers? Looking over to your desk, your student was certainly not lying and neither are your eyes. Perched in the middle of your desk lies a vase filled with varying colors of tulips. Petals are in full bloom and the stems are clipped uniformly. You walked over and saw a notecard attached to one of the flowers.

“Who is it from, Miss Y/n?”

“Yeah! Who got you flowers?”

You looked up and realized more of your students are present, capacity almost at its max. Class was starting soon so more and more are rushing in to see the surprise gift settled on your desk.

“Is it Mr. Kim in the science department? I saw you two walking together in the hallways last week.”

That assumption piqued your interest. “Wait, Mr. Kim? The physics teacher?” you asked. The student, Krystal, nodded, causing you to huff incredulously. “Krystal, please. We’re merely just friends.”

Another student chimes in. “Friends don’t lock arms with each other at work.”

“Jongin, please. Your last girlfriend only stayed with you for a month and she started dating an upperclassman a week later.”

“Hey—”

“Guys, calm down,” you interjected. “As much as I love you crazy bunch, I am still your teacher. Therefore, what occurs in my personal life stays private, and how much I am willing to share with you all lies in my discretion.” But unbeknownst to you, one of your students sneaks behind you to get a glance of the card, discreetly reading the contents:

‘The best deserves nothing less than the best.

Yours truly.’

The student, Luna, almost lets out a squeal. “Guys! Guys!” You jumped in shock, startled by her sudden presence and her high-pitched voice. “I think it’s Mr. Lee! The other English teacher!”

All attention is now on her, excitement filled in the air.

“Mr. Lee? The one that teaches honors?”

“The one with boba eyes?”

“The one that laughs at everything?”

Luna nods to each question, visibly thrilled with the subtle jump in her steps as she walked towards her classmates. “Yes! I heard Miss y/n calling him the best earlier and Mr. Lee joked about being the best! And in the card, it said ‘the best deserves nothing less than the best’.” The bell rang, marking the beginning of the period, but that didn’t stop your students from chattering with happiness, faces completely wiped from fatigue and stress of the upcoming exams. Some students entered your classroom late to the discussion, prompting other students to fill them in only to also be electrified by the ‘news’.

You run a hand through your hair again and sighed. Not this again, you thought to yourself. But just before you could jump in to stop all this chaos, you heard someone knock on your open door, diverting your attention and your class’ to the intruder.

“Well, good afternoon, class,” the person chuckled. “Why’s it so boisterous here? Did I miss a party or something?”

Of course, what better person to appear now of all times? It was none other than the infamous history teacher, Johnny Seo. You rolled your eyes before laughing. Coincidence, my ass.

“Mr. Seo! Someone gave Miss Y/n a bouquet of tulips! She has a secret admirer!” Luna stated.

He raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Oh, does she now?” He looks back at you with a grin. “Did Miss Y/n find out who this secret admirer is?”

“We think it’s Mr. Lee from honors English.”

“And what makes you think so?”

“Because we heard her call him the best earlier before class started, and the notecard called her the best.”

“Coincidence? I think not,” Jongin nodded.

All of the students followed along in unison, profoundly proud of their assumptions that left you shaking your head in disbelief. Surely, you had a smile on your face, but it’s surprising to know how your students are able to make such large assumptions based on groundless evidence. You sat down in your chair and turned on your computer, getting your lesson plan ready for the period as your students entertained themselves with Mr. Seo.

Johnny takes it all in, nodding to all of them before walking up behind your desk. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that you don’t pester too much to Miss y/n about it. You know how much she likes to keep her life private.” While you were browsing through your saved files and pulling up powerpoints, you felt the latter tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Right, Mrs. Seo?”

And just like that, your hands stilled. Wait, did he just—

“Hold up..”

“What?”

“Did you just—”

“Mrs. Seo?”

“Huh?”

You squeezed your eyelids shut. Oh my god, here we go again—

“YOU GUYS ARE MARRIED??”

jeongvision’s milestone event!

#johnny #nct johnny #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #johnny x reader #johnny x oc #johnny fluff #johnny smut #johnny suh #johnny seo #johnny angst

[britishassistant]

So imagine that Reporter Yuu and Student Yuu have to meet up to drop off the heads to their respective worlds , V!riddle and s! Riddle are comparing which version of aduces is worse. V!leona is telling s!leona to drop out. V! Azul and s! Azul are comparing business models and leech twins. V!jamil is flexing his independence on s!jamil, whose planning to hex him to hell and back. V! Vi and S! Vil are being shady drama kings towards each other. V! Idia and S! Idia are swapping anime recommendations and ortho upgrades. And v! malleus and s! Malleus are having an argument over favorite gargoyle architect or something lmao

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Riddle is a little confused by the fact this supervillain in a half red and white mask insists on talking to him about Ace, Deuce, Trey and Cater, while simultaneously insisting that he has no relation to him.

All the same, he advises the supervillain to tell Dr. Rosehearts to try talking to his mother— it was hard for Riddle to do over the holidays, but he at least managed to get her to look at him and see him as himself rather than as her “project”, even if it was only for a moment.

It’ll still be hard from here, but Riddle knows it’s better than just blindly following his mother’s rules and letting her have her way.

Royal Flush is taken aback by the words from his younger self. Personally, he’s unsure if that will really change anything, or just make his life harder than it has to be, but if there’s a chance...

Leona isn’t sure whether to be offended or not when King tells him to either graduate or drop out of Night Raven College already. He’s leaning towards it on principle, because this adult version of him is just presuming to tell him what to do with his life.

King asks him if he has any better ideas for flipping the bird to Farena—after all, sitting around on his ass is the same as admitting his goody-two-shoes brother has already won by doing nothing, isn’t it? King has an entire evil lair and an army of minions at his fingertips, and his version of Farena is forced to deal with him disrupting the peaceful little realm he inherited, unable to bring King to heel or make him toe the line.

An evil kingdom of his very own that can’t be taken away from him.

Leona points out that King still has to babysit Cheka. King changes the subject.

Octo Dealer places his hands on Azul’s shoulders and offers his sincere commiserations for having to deal with the younger Leeches.

He then tries to make a contract with him to ‘make poor unfortunate Azul’s life easier’.

Azul smiles thinly and offers a counter-contract to take the adult Leeches off of Octo Dealer’s hands if he believes dealing with them is so difficult. Azul can personally think of several things he could achieve off the top of his head if he had adult versions of his friends under his control, and the competition would be interesting enough that he could play them off each other masterfully...

Octo Dealer has never felt so proud.

Snake Charmer is pretending that he’s conversing with the younger version of a hostage he’s taken while talking to Jamil, not that he thinks for a moment that his younger self actually buys the lie. But both of them know the importance of keeping up appearances in front of others, so neither address what both know.

Of course, Snake Charmer can’t resist taking advantage of this to subtly boast about all he’s accomplished, partly to challenge his younger self to aspire to the same heights, partly because he can’t resist showing off to someone who knows his true identity but cannot expose him. He has freedom, the power to do whatever he wants whenever he wants, followers who are lousy with loyalty, admirers throughout the city and nemeses who cannot touch him no matter how they wish to bring him down. But a mere babysitter to a spoiled heir wouldn’t know what that feels like, now would they?

Jamil grits his teeth behind his calm smile, and rolls his magic pen between his fingers.

He retorts almost innocently whether all those things are really accomplishments if they can only be achieved while hiding behind a mask and fake facial hair.

The way Snake Charmer’s eyes narrow at him as he smiles back lets Jamil know he’s won this round.

Vil admires the high quality of Poison Queen’s costume and persona, even if he personally scorns the ugliness of stooping to supervillainy to try and surpass a rival who’s little more than a glorified flasher with good publicity. He’d hoped his older self would have the dignity and beauty to be able surpass someone who plays around in bows and frills.

Consider the costume itself—if Poison Queen could use their skills in designing to market a line of clothes aimed both at consumers and costume departments, whoever his civilian identity is would have his prestige boosted to new heights the likes of that crass ‘White Neige’ could never hope to reach.

Why waste all this talent and effort on supervillainy instead?

Poison Queen scoffs at Vil’s moralizing, making a snide comment about the rasp that’s audible when the little prefect from Vil’s school breathes and talks. It catches them off-guard a lot when they hear it, so it’s a new development, one that’s been induced artificially rather than developed naturally. What, exactly, would Twst!Yuu have needed to be exposed to in order to develop an affliction like this? Some kind of airborne toxin perhaps? A potent one, to be sure, requiring extensive and perfectionist experience with poisons to be able to brew something that left that kind of damage. But what circumstances would have necessitated the creation of such a thing, hm?

Vil goes quiet after that. Poison Queen takes it as a sign of victory. It may be ugliness, but Vil of all people shouldn’t pretend that he’s free of it. Hypocrisy is the ugliest thing of all.

Idia has some questions for Charon about the few robots he caught sight of in the lair before escaping to go to Yuu’s apartment. Charon, who has never been to Yuu’s apartment in person, starts muttering that it’s typical that even an alternate version of himself has better luck than him.

Idia struggles with this idea for several minutes.

Eventually Charon grows impatient enough with his blue-screening that he orders Idia just to ask what he was going to ask. He softens a lot once Idia begins asking about how to reproduce some of the taste sensors and digestive systems of the giant robotic three-headed dogs so that Ortho can eat candy with him while they play games together.

They quickly descend into a jargon-filled back and forth as they debate about how to best merge the technology of the supervillain world with the magitech of Twisted Wonderland so that Ortho not only can eat candy, but convert the sweets into fuel to supplement his current power source.

Twst!Yuu is very confused at how two people can hold a conversation entirely through tablets while standing right in front of each other and looking at each other.

Tsunotaro and Malleus appear to get along at first, chatting quietly about the different gargoyle architecture available in each of their universes, and if the loneliness ever gets more bearable.

And then R!Yuu claps their hands and says everyone needs to get a move on back to their home dimensions as they’re burning daylight, and Tsunotaro nods, picks up Twst!Yuu, and tries to walk back through the portal to the supervillain universe with them safely tucked under one arm.

When R!Yuu grabs him and asks what does he think he’s doing, Tsunotaro just blinks owlishly. “That dimension isn’t suitable for this child to grow up safely in. Wouldn’t it be better to taken them home so we can look after them together?”

R!Yuu is reduced to sputtering at the insinuation, the other supervillains feeling supremely irritated at the display.

Malleus seizes onto Twst!Yuu’s arm. He refuses to just stand by and just let his older self take away his first friend. Tsunotaro asks menacingly if his younger self really thinks he’ll stand a chance against an adult fae’s power, if he can’t even protect one human.

From there it devolves into a standoff between the two powerhouses, the other NRC students preparing to draw their magic wands if it turns into a fight for the prefect, Reporter Yuu trying desperately to get Tsunotaro to just let the other version of themself go before the colliding magic and superpowers do something catastrophic to both portals.

It only calms down once Twst!Yuu pipes up that while they appreciate the offer, they want to go back to Night Raven College with their friends, pointing out that they’d be even less safe as the child of a supervillain in a world they have no idea how to navigate than they currently are as just a magicless student. Besides, they say, a thumb brushing over the bandages on their throat. They have a friend they need to go talk to. If they just left without doing that, they’d probably hate themselves for it for the rest of their lives. They can’t turn their back on him and leave him alone.

Between the two Yuus, Tsunotaro is convinced to reluctantly put them down and let them return to the other students. He’s sulking a lot though.

#ask #twisted wonderland #twst #supervillain au #switcheroo #riddle rosehearts #royal flush #leona kingscholar #king #azul ashengrotto #octo dealer #jamil viper #snake charmer #vil schoenheit #poison queen #idia shroud #charon #malleus draconia #tsunotaro #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter four: "Hurt"

Words count: 13,7K

The gif is mine ✨

Warnings: Hardcore Spencer trauma. Mention of drug abuse,  torture, Criminal Minds usual case triggers. Spoilers of Season 2 E14/15 Criminal Minds.

Summary: An unsub abducts Spencer, and reader blames JJ for it.

A/N: Have you ever wished you were there to save Spencer from Tobias Hankel? I know I have. I know reader wants to... I'm dying to know what you'll think of this chapter! Sorry if it's a little too graphic, writing Spencer's POV of this episode was really hard.

Series Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

(Y/N)'s point of view

I remember the day Emily Prentiss arrived. We had a case in Saint Louis. Two serial killers, 'cos it couldn't just be one asshole making everyone miserable. And on top of all, Hotch was confused and upset 'cos he never signed Emily's transfer to the BAU. It was like someone was trying to force her into the team, and we all thought it was weird.

We left the bullpen off to the case and left Prentiss in the office, not knowing if she actually got the job or not. I know Elle and I weren't incredibly close, but it still felt weird to think someone might join the team and try to replace her. It didn't work that way in that job. It didn't feel right at the moment.

There is something I also distinctly remember about that day: Gideon talked to me. And not only that, but he actually trusted my knowledge. We hadn't been on the best terms for a few months, so that approach meant a lot to me.

We were at the police station. Reid and I had been analyzing the letters one of the killers had sent to a journalist to find something that might help us catch him before there were any more victims. That's when JJ and Jason walked in, and he asked about our progress.

- "He only sent this to an individual, which shows he is not confident enough to initiate contact with the masses."- Spencer explained as he projected an image of the letter on the wall.

- "Emotional indicators are analyzed through slants, and you can see the shooter maintains vertical, narrow letter writing, and both are signs of repression"- I said and pointed at the image on the wall- "And the pressure, if you look closely, it's excessively heavy, which shows that he's uptight and can easily overreact."

Gideon looked at me and nodded. It was my cue to keep on talking. For once in a long time, I was feeling approved by him.

- "You got all that from his handwriting?"- JJ asked me, surprised. Reid looked at me from the other side of the room, and I could feel his smile reflecting how proud he was of me.

- "Graphology is an effective and reliable indicator of personality and behavior."

- "But my writing is always different,"- she added, and I nodded. I was waiting for that comment.

- "Yes, because it represents your emotions at the moment, just like your facial expressions parallel the way you are feeling while you are speaking."

- "What else can we know about our unsub from this?"- Gideon asked me.

- "Well, our killer uses simple statements, all first person, like "I won't be ignored," which means he's obviously tired of feeling this way. He may have a job in solitude or one that he feels strips of his identity. His work might require him to wear a uniform, something that shows absolutely no individuality, or he may be overqualified for his menial job and feels that he doesn't get the respect that he necessarily deserves."

I made a pause and waited for his words. I was giving my best, and I swear I was still hoping I could ever get Jason Gideon's blessing.

- "I think we are ready to give a profile,"- he said and nodded.

And damn, that felt good.

When we were back in Quantico, Hotch had a long and clearly awkward conversation with the section chief, Erin Strauss. She was scary. She was clearly trying to get rid of Hotch, questioning his work daily, decisions, and how he managed the team. Why? I have no idea.

It felt she forced him to accept Prentiss into the team. We were one man down after Elle left. Ok, one awesome woman down, so we definitely needed some help. And Emily was a great addition from day one.

We clicked right away. Prentiss was funny, smart, but most of all, she constantly had to prove she deserved to be there. Just like me. Gideon gave her the cold shoulder from day one, and that I could relate. The only difference was that she won him over in a few days, though. I was still trying to win that battle.

Garcia decided we needed a girl's night, and she hosted the first of many "BAU Girl Power get together." Basically, it was us at Penelope's place drinking and talking.

That first night, we updated Prentiss with everything that had happened with Elle. She wanted to know everything about us, what we did, how long we've been on the team, and how we all got along. It was sweet and fresh. After that year in the BAU, I had already learned to enjoy the sweet things in life. Like getting drunk with my work girlfriends.

- "So, does Hotch ever smile?"- Emily asked, and we all laughed at the very same time. Yes, it was getting late, and we weren't as sober as we should have been.

- "He does! he does!"- JJ assured us- "You should see him with his baby."

- "He is a dad?"- Emily was shocked. I was surprised too when I found out Aaron was married and with a baby. The amount of time he spends at work always made me feel he had zero personal life.

- "And has a beautiful wife"- JJ added- "He is always laughing when he is with her and baby Jack."

- "I guess this job can drain the happiness from your day... "- I thought out loud, but before anyone could say anything about my dark and bitter comment, my cell phone rang.

- "Hey honey bunny, everything ok?"- I stood up and walked to the kitchen. I didn't want to interrupt the girl's conversations.

- "Yes, I just wanted to make sure you were drinking enough water between drinks"- I laughed and shook my head. Only Reid could call to say such a thing. He was the sweetest friend on earth.

- "Yes, I am, don't worry. I'm not going to be hungover or drunk tomorrow. I know you are excited about the new exposition."

- "You are gonna love it!"

- "I am sure I will"- and I wasn't kidding. I loved when he dragged me to the Smithsonian or any museum for some nerdy fun.

- "Have fun with the girls."

- "What are you doing, by the way?"

- "Just reading a little, you left your complete Sherlock Holmes collection here, so I'll be solving mysteries while you get drunk."

- "Don't have too much fun without me"- he chuckled and ended the call. I smiled and walked back to the girls looking at me with a funny grin on their faces.

- "Was that your boyfriend?"- Penelope asked me, and I frowned right away.

- "No, it was Reid. He just wanted to confirm we are going to the museum tomorrow."

- "Wait"- Prentiss narrowed her brows and looked at us confused- "Reid ain't your boyfriend?"

JJ and Garcia's laughter was epical, as well as my frown. They nearly gasped for air while Prentiss and I waited until they calmed down.

- "No"- I finally answered- "Reid is not my boyfriend."

- "He is more than that; he is her work husband,"- Penelope clarified, and I turned to her with my mouth wide open, shocked.

- "What the fuck? Reid ain't my work husband. He is my best friend!!"

- "Yes, and you happen to call your best friend "honey bunny," right?"- JJ questioned, just like she had a few months before when we were alone in our room away on a case.

- "Reid is my best friend, and yes, I call all my close friends by weird pet names. You will get one too if you are lucky."

- "But I thought"- Emily continued- "I mean, he looks at you like you are his sun."

- "No, Prentiss, the only coupe in this team is the one between "chocolate thunder" and "baby girl" right here"- I pointed at Garcia, and she just blushed and covered her face.

- "My love for Derek will burn forever with the intensity of a thousand suns. I mean, have you seen that man? he was made by the gods and sent to earth just to give my existence some sense"- we all laughed at those cheesy words, though Pen was serious about them.

- "But, have you ever...?- JJ looked at her and made a pause. We were all looking at every single facial movement or behavior she might show to read her body language."

- "My relationship with my loverman could never be tainted by something as mundane as sex."

- "Like you wouldn't lick honey from that six-pack and ride that thunder."

The words just left my lips, and I blame the buzz. BAU (Y/N) would have never said that. Drunk (Y/N) would, totally.

The girls laughed until tears fell from their eyes, and I just chuckled, honestly happy to make them laugh. I had been more of the real me than I had ever actually been around them in nearly a year.

- "Hello?"- my phone rang again when I was walking out of the bathroom. And this time, it was Paul.

- "Hey babe, what are you doing?"

- "Hey, I'm..."- I looked at the girls in front of me and sighed- "I'm stuck with paperwork"- and they turned to me immediately. I could read the "What the fuck" on their faces.

- "Well, I'm at Rob's in case you feel like dropping by. We are writing a few songs."

- "I'll text you if I finish with this early, but... have fun."

- "Ok, bye"- I hung up and sighed.

- "And that was..."- Prentiss asked, frowning.

- "My boyfriend,"- I explained and grabbed another beer

- "Sure, I could feel the passion,"- Garcia joked, but I just didn't think it was funny.

I knew my relationship with Paul wasn't alright. Actually, things with Paul weren't. Period. We were done, it was apparent, but still, neither of us had said it. That relationship was just a few phone calls every once in a while, only to make small talks. When we were together, we would just watch a movie, eat something, drink a few beers, and that was it. It had been a long time since we had sex or even made out. I don't know why I didn't end it sooner. I guess I was just afraid to do it.

But I let more months pass before I actually did something.

Spencer's point of view

I'm not proud of what happened that year after Prentiss joined the team. I think that year changed me profoundly, and a part of me never fully recovered afterward.

Maybe it had to be that way, and it was something I had to go through to grow up. I guess I'm still trying to make some sense of all the misery I put my friends through. Mostly (Y/N). She was in hell with me.

A few weeks after New Year, we started working on a case. Someone was killing wealthy people in their own homes. At first, we thought there were two unsubs, 'cos one of them called 911 after killing, and you could hear them struggling and arguing. But no, it was just one.

Tobias Hankel was a delusional serial killer. He had split personalities, not two but actually three. His father, the one who tortured me. The archangel Raphael, who was trying to make God's will, killing people. And himself, who wanted to save me, but instead, he nearly destroyed me.

What do I remember about the day he kidnapped me? I remember I was stupid enough to try to catch an unsub alone, just to prove I could take care of myself on the field. Hotch sent me and JJ to talk to Hankel at his house, 'cos apparently, he might have seen the unsub months earlier. But no, he was the unsub, and neither JJ nor me could stop him.

We hid in a barn, and I was so eager to prove I could catch him; I told JJ we had to split up to cover the place. I was counting on Hotch to get there with the team sooner than they did, and before I realized it, I was in the middle of a cornfield, and Hankel was pointing at me with my own gun.

I was sure I was going to die right there. All of Hankel's personalities were struggling inside of him. I couldn't stop thinking about why I thought I could do it on my own? Why had I been a reckless asshole? Was it because I wanted to prove I was an excellent SAA? Because I wanted to impress JJ? Maybe I tried to convince myself I could do the same job my team did. I knew I wasn't the most physical person, but I had a gun. I had been trained to capture killers.

Yes, I was an asshole that day, and I've regretted everything that happened that night many, many times in the following years.

When I woke up, I was tied to a chair, and the archangel Raphael had taken Hankel's mind completely. The room was dark, and it smelled awful. He was burning fish hearts and livers, 'cos he believed it kept the devil away.

I was confused and lost. My head was spinning, and my heart was about to burst into my chest. I knew I could die any second now. Raphael wasn't the one to show mercy. That's what I had learned from all the videos Hankel had uploaded to the web. He had shared with the world every murder they had committed to show the other sinners what was going to happen to them.

- "They believe you can see inside men's minds"- Raphael looked at me with dark eyes, implying he meant Tobias and his father

- "It's not true. I study human behavior."- my voice was shaking. I knew I had never been more scared in my entire life. He took out a gun and showed me one bullet.

- "Do you know what this is? It's God's will."

Things didn't look good for me. He put it in the cylinder of the revolver and spun it. He was going to let my life to luck.

- "You don't have to do this"- I tried to talk him out of it, though I knew it wasn't going to work.

- "No go, sinners, to your God."

And he pressed the trigger.

What went through my mind the seconds that passed between having the gun pointed to my face and realizing I had lived? My mom. All I could think of was how my mom would react to the news of my death. I could never bear to hurt her like that. I couldn't die. I couldn't leave her alone.

I sighed, relieved, and bit my lips not to cry. Raphael looked at me with a blank expression and walked out of the room. I had survived for now.

I struggled with my handcuff, but it was useless. My head was killing me. I could feel the open wound on my head, still dripping blood on my temple and head. I tried to focus on the pain for a few minutes, just to make sure I was awake. It was a nightmare, and keeping myself sane and conscious under those circumstances was nearly impossible.

How was I going to get out of there alive? Did the team know where I was? I had no idea where I had been taken. I had been unconscious the whole way. It was dark, and I couldn't see much around me. I wasn't afraid of that darkness. I was more fearful of the man that left me alone, 'cos he was armed and mentally unstable. Darkness had nothing on him.

I had to focus on the things that kept me sane. The things that made me want to get out of that room alive.

- "My name is Spencer Walter Reid. I'm twenty-five years old, my mother's name is Diana Reid, I was born in Las Vegas, October 28th, 1981."

I closed my eyes and tried to think of all the things that made me happy.

- "I work at the BAU, my best friend's name is (Y/N), and she sits at the desk in front of me. Derek Morgan is the closest I've got to an older brother."

He was. He still is. You have to be close to dead to start seeing things clearly sometimes. Derek was my brother. He treated me like a kid, but a kid brother. He was always teasing me, trying to teach me how to pick up girls, trying to drag me to the gym with him. Derek was a good friend, we were very different, and I knew if we had been classmates in high school, we would probably never have talked. He was a jock, and I was a nerd. But life had brought us together. And now I couldn't think of a better friend than him.

I tried to focus on my happiest memories. My birthday came to mind. The guys had planned a Halloween-themed birthday party at the conference room of the BAU. Of course, Garcia baked a cake and (Y/N) helped her decorate it. It was incredible, 'cos it was covered with tiny gourds and skulls.

- "Frank and Mikey sent you these,"- she announced after everybody had given me their presents. I wide opened my eyes in shock 'cos I had no idea her friends knew it was my birthday or even cared about it.

- "Why?"- I had to ask.

- "'Cos they think you are amazing. They actually wanted to come over to your house and have a few beers tonight."- I opened my mouth to say something, but Derek interrupted me.

- "Pretty boy is gonna get to work hungover again."

- "Shut up"- (Y/N) and I said at the same time, making everybody chuckle. I opened the present her friends had sent me and laughed right away.

- "Lucky Doc"- I read and took out of the bag a Sports Illustrated issue with Lila Archer on the cover. My cheeks turned red immediately.

- "Frank still hasn't overcome that story. I think he will hate you forever"- (Y/N) laughed (along with the rest of the team) and gave me another present.

- "They also sent you this. They said you were going to like the man in black"- it was a Johnny Cash's vinyl- "Frank picked it. He thinks he is some sort of musical psychic that can read people's taste in music."

- "We should get together and have a few beers one of these days. I need to thank them for these."

Gideon looked at me in silence as soon as I said those words. But I didn't care if he disapproved. I was going to be (Y/N)'s friend, whether he liked it or not.

He is the closest I've had to a dad in the latest years. He cares about me, and he tries to make the best of me that he can. Yes, he can be too apprehensive. I think that's a way to put it. But only because he wants me to be the best profiler I can be.

I never thought I would end up working at the BAU. I never thought I would love the job I do as much as I do. Back when I was in college, I thought I would dedicate my life to finding a cure for schizophrenia, but I ended up hunting serial killers across the country.

And though I was about to die, I didn't regret any of the decisions that led me there.

The morning found me shaking, cold, and scared. I was in a small cabin in the woods. Just like the worst and more cliché horror movie ever made. This was my own horror movie.

- "What are you staring at, boy?"- Tobias opened the front door carrying logs for the fire. His voice had changed yet again, so I knew it wasn't the same person I had talked to the night before.

- "You are not Raphael."- I whispered, looking at every movement he did.

- "Do I look like Raphael?"- had I insulted him? I couldn't tell. He turned to the fire, and I took a deep breath, doing my best to stay calm.

- "Thank you for burning those, for keeping us safe."- I said, looking at the fish hearts and livers he was preparing to put on the fire.

- "Don't try to trick me."

- "I would never try to trick you."

- "You are a liar."

- I'm not a liar."- it was hard to stay calm and not start screaming for help or mercy, but I knew that was going to take me nowhere with him.

- "Lying is a sin."

- "I'm not a liar."- he walked closer to me, and sat right in front of me, held my leg up, and grabbed my foot.

- "This will be over quickly if you just confess your sins."

- "I am not a sinner"- I whispered again. He took off my shoe.

- "We are all sinners."- it didn't look good for me, not at all, and I knew I had to talk to him with his words with his beliefs to save my life.

- "The Lord spake unto Moses saying "Speak unto all the congregation of the children of the lord" and say unto them, ye shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy."

Hankel, this time in the personality of his father, looked at me surprised. I might have done something right, 'cos he stopped moving, and for a second, I thought it was going to be ok.

- "You know Leviticus."

- "I know every word of the bible. I can recite it for you."- but his eyes turned dark again.

- "The devil knows how to read too."

- "I'm not a devil, I'm not a devil2- I repeated, and couldn't stop shaking, 'cos my life on the hands of a sociopath.

- "I'm a man, my name is Spencer Reid, and I have a mother, and I have a father just like you, and they taught me the bible, let me recite the bible."

My voice cracked at the knowledge of what he was going to do. He stood up, still holding my foot. He was going to torture me, he was going to try to break me, and I had to be strong. I didn't know how I would find the strength, but I had to be strong.

- "Time to confess, Spencer Reid"- and without further notice, he slapped a log against my foot, making me scream in pain. It hurt from the tip of my toes until the back of my skull. I hadn't felt that kind of pain, and it was worse knowing he was just getting started. Tears started falling down my cheeks in no time.

- "Confess!"

- "I don't have anything to confess."- I whimpered and closed my eyes, 'cos I knew he was going to continue his torture. And so he did. The pain was excruciating. I was sure I was going to pass out

I tried to go to a happy place in my head, somewhere when I could hide from all that pain. It was too hard, though. It hurt too much. I kept repeating over and over again I wasn't a sinner, begging Hankel for mercy, as he shouted I had to confess.

I made an effort to think about what he might want me to say. What did he want me to confess? Which sins was he talking about? But nothing came to my mind, nothing but the pain and the fear of dying.

(Y/N)'s point of view

The second we reached Hankel's cabin, I started looking for Spencer. I had a horrible feeling about it. Morgan and I headed it to a barn with Prentiss. There was no sign of anyone. It was dark and quiet. Never a good sign.

- "Shit!"- I whispered, staring at three dead dogs and a bath of blood in front of me. There laid the body of another victim that was missing from Hankel's last attack.

- "FBI!!"- JJ shouted suddenly. She was pointing his gun to us, clearly in shock- "Don't move!!"

- "JJ, it's Morgan, (Y/L/N), and Prentiss! Don't shoot"- Derek tried to calm her down, walking towards her- "Are you hurt?"- she lowered the gun and stared at us. You could read the fear and the trauma in her eyes.

- "Tobias Hankel is the unsub,"- she whispered as Prentiss rubbed her arm sweetly, trying to comfort her.

- "Yeah, we know"- I moved towards her too and put my gun back into the holster.

- "And we thought he was just a witness"- we looked around, and JJ pointed at the dead dogs.

- "JJ, where is Reid?"- Derek asked her, but she just continued talking.

- "They completely tore her apart"

- "JJ, look at me,"- I said and held her arm carefully- "Look at me, where's Reid?"- she was shaking, and her voice was cracking. I knew she was making her best effort to pull herself together.

- "We split up. He said he was going to go in the back."

And there it was. That was the reason why I had a bad feeling all along. Derek looked at me and nodded as we read each other's minds. The two of us turned around and ran outside, leaving JJ with Prentiss, waiting for the medical team and ambulance to check on her wounds.

Gideon and Hotch were inside the cabin, looking for Hankel, but there was no one there. And there was no sign of Reid behind the barn either, in the cornfield, or anywhere in the perimeter. Reid was nowhere to be found, and I started losing it little by little. I tried to repeat myself the words Hotch had said many times during my year in the BAU: "when you are out there with the team; your mind has to be one hundred percent on the case." But the case had never included my best friend missing before.

- "Hey, is there any sign of him yet?- I asked the police chief as I reached the ambulance. He was there talking with JJ, making sure she was ok.

- "We got every one of our units on the road. He won't make it far"- I nodded and watched him walk away. I knew he thought I was talking about Hankel, but I actually meant Reid.

I turned to JJ and moved a little closer to her. Her eyes open wide, staring back at me.

- "You can't find Reid?"- I just shook my head and tried to sound as casual as I could, not to freak her out. She was still in shock. I didn't want to make it worse.

- "Not yet"

- "(Y/N)"- Derek held my arm and forced me to walk away from the ambulance.- "Reid followed him into the cornfield. It looks like somebody got dragged."

My heart stopped. Did the psychopath hurt Spencer? Did he kill him? Did he torture him? Was he hurt? Was he alive? Where was he? Derek looked at me, and I nodded. I bit my lips and took a deep breath. Hotch's words were my mantra now: "your mind has to be one hundred percent on the case."

- "Are you sure?"- we turned to the police's chief, overhearing his conversation- "We are on our way now."

- "What's going on?"

- "The sheriff down two towns over, he just gave directions to a man who fit Hankel's descriptions. It's to a motor lodge in fort bend."

- "Let's get Hotch and Gideon"- Derek held my arm and walked with me to the cabin. We had to find Reid, and we had to do it fast.

That was the worst night of my life. The first worst night of my life, to be sincere. I didn't close an eye. I went through every paper, every note, every detail in that cabin, trying to find a clue that could lead us to where Tobias had taken Reid.

I felt someone had ripped my heart from my chest. I had to think straight, and to do it, I had to keep a cold head. But as the hours passed, it became a more demanding and more challenging task to complete. I knew the whole team was suffering, but that didn't ease my pain. And I knew JJ felt guilty, but that didn't stop me from blaming her in my mind. She left him alone. I would have never left Spencer alone on the field.

- "(Y/N), you should try to get some rest."

Derek whispered as he sat on the floor next to me, where I had been sitting for the last half hour, reading Tobias's old diaries. Nothing but fear of his father, mentions of Dilaudid use, and bible transcriptions.

- "I'm ok,"- I answered and didn't even take my eyes from the pages.

- "(Y/N), I mean it"

- "I'm not going to rest if he is out there in the hands of a psychopath, Derek"- I had to bite my lips and shut the fuck up, 'cos if I said one more word, I knew I was going to burst into tears.

Morgan just wrapped an arm around my shoulders and moved me closer to him. That was the first time I let him hug me, and it felt good to know I wasn't alone in my desperation. I knew he loved Reid like a brother, and neither of us was going to stop until we found him.

- "Welcome to our nightmare"- JJ's voice broke the silence we had been into for the last hour when Hotch walked into the cabin with Penelope.

It was morning already. There were still no signs of Reid. Prentiss, Gideon, JJ, and I had been sitting at the table, reading everything we could.

- "His computer is an extension of his brain. I need you to dissect it,"- Gideon whispered to García. You could feel the concern in his voice. She just nodded in shock and turned to Derek, who held her hand and helped her get set up in the computer room.

- "So, nothing new since I left?"- Hotch asked and looked at us. I just shook my head and continued reading.

- "Well, the good thing is the guy documented practically every second of his life"- Prentiss words took me from the pages I was reading. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. The concept of "good" was poorly used in that phrase.

- "The bad news is, we are still un-piling,"- she added and sighed.

- "From the looks of it, he hasn't left this place in years,"- JJ managed to say. She made her best effort to be useful, but she was in worse shape than everybody else. Yet, that didn't make me feel bad for her. I was mad at her and kept making my best to put it aside, 'cos my head had to be in the case.

- "He knew he could pretend to be looking for a motel and throw us off his trail,"- Emily inferred, but I shook my head as soon as I heard her.

- "No, no, no, it's more than that!"- I shook my head and took a deep breath- "Sheriff's office, 911 calls, every time he engages the police and gets away with it... he reassures himself, God's on his side. Not ours."- I added.

Gideon nodded, and we shared a moment of agreement. He was as worried as I was. I could feel it. I'm not saying the rest of the team wasn't, I'm saying Jason was as fucked up as I was, and I could sense he was having the same trouble I had making sure my head and not my sentiments were into the case.

But if anything happened to Reid, I didn't know what I was capable of doing.

At a certain point, I got sick of reading and not doing anything and decided to look around the house again if we had missed anything. Derek went along. One part of me felt he wanted to stay away from JJ too. Maybe he was as mad as I was about her leaving Reid alone. I know I couldn't blame her, but I did it anyway.

- "Guys!! I think I've got something!"- Derek yelled, and I ran over. He opened a door that led to a basement. I walked right behind him, pointing my gun and my flashlight all over. But there was no sign of Reid.

- "Tobias Hankel!!"- Morgan shouted. Someone was sitting in what looked to be a gigantic freezer- "Tobias!"- but we didn't get any response. I took a step closer and examined carefully.

- "Morgan, I think we just found Hankel's father."

Spencer's point of view

On my second night in that cabin, I met Tobias. The third personality of Hankel walked into the room, carrying what seemed to be a dead deer. He looked as frightened as I was.

- "You need to eat."

- "What's your name?"

- "Tobias."

- "Tobias, who was here before?"

- "Probably my father."

He looked at me up and down, and he immediately understood what he had done to me. It was scary how he could dissociate. Someone with multiple personality disorder is usually unaware of the other personality states and memories when an alter is dominant. In this case, Tobias knew the other personalities but considered them different persons. He didn't think they were all in his head.

- "I'm sorry if he hurt you."

He looked at me like he understood everything I had been going through. Maybe he had been through something similar when his father was alive. Perhaps he had been a victim of Hankel as well, and that's what triggered his psychopathic nature.

He walked over and took out his belt.

- "What are you doing?"- he wrapped it around my arm, and I started begging him to stop.

- "It helps"- he took out of his pocket a needle and a small bottle of what seemed to be some kind of drug.

- "Don't tell my father. He doesn't know they are here."

- "Please, I don't want it, I don't want it, please"- I cried and begged.

- "It helps. I know"- it was the last thing Tobias said before the needle found my vein.

And he was right. It helped. Every single amount of pain I was feeling disappeared. My brain shut down. Somehow, everything was ok. I never had in my entire life felt so good before.

My mind kept flashing memories of when I was a kid. I kept seeing images of the day my father left and how he called my mother crazy.

- "You are weak"- mom spit those words after he refused to take me with him. I know she said it not because she didn't want me with her, but because mom knew she was sick and wanted the best for me. And he refused.

- "I'm not weak."- I whispered as I looked at her smiling back at me.

- "I know, honey."

I don't know how long I was drugged, but when I woke up, Tobias wasn't there with me anymore. It was his father.

And the torture continued.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Gideon was trying to convince me to go out with Prentiss and JJ to see a Narcotics anonymous's contact that might give us more information about Tobias. Emily had found some flyers about it in his room, and it could be the only lead we had to find him and Reid.

- "You need to get out of this house for a while"- he whispered and tapped on my back.

I knew he wasn't the one to be loving or physical with people, less with me. But that moved me. I turned to him and my eyes watered up. I was scared, and I couldn't hide it anymore. The more hours passed, the fewer the chances were to find Spencer safe. Alive.

I felt his arms around me suddenly, holding me tight, trying to keep the pieces of me together. We were alone on the porch, and though I didn't want to fall apart, I couldn't hold it anymore.

Jason didn't say a word. He just hugged me and let me cry for a few minutes. I didn't say anything either. I actually couldn't because I was overwhelmed with everything.

- "Are you ready, (Y/N)?"

Prentiss whispered as she walked over with JJ. I turned my back at them for a second to hide the tears that kept falling down my cheeks. I knew it was a shitty thing to do, 'cos it was obvious I had been sobbing, but they gave me the courtesy of not saying anything.

- "You go, I need (Y/N)'s assistance with some diary entries"- the two of them walked away quietly, and thankfully, didn't argue with Gideon.

- "Thank you,"- I whispered and felt his hand on my shoulder one more time.

- "You are doing a fantastic job,"- he said and turned around.

I wish I could tell you that made me feel better, but instead, I just thought I had the duty to bring my friend back home safe.

It had been at least an hour since the girls left. Morgan, Hotch, Gideon, and the police chief were in the living room with me, reading. I sipped my hundredth cup of coffee and re-read the same diary entry for the third time.

- "There's something weird going on here."- I thought out loud and walked towards Gideon

- "You think?"- the police chief turned to me and raised an eyebrow, ironically.

- "No, seriously, check this out. This journal is filled with religious ramblings. He notated hour by hour: "November 15th, 3:17, if ye offer a sacrifice of peace offering unto the Lord, ye shall offer it at your own will", and it goes on and on: 5:04, 7:41, 10:22, 1:42."

I made a short pause and looked at Gideon and Hotch. They didn't get where I was going.

- "But then, it goes blank for days."

- "Maybe he got sick of writing"- I seriously hated that police chief.

- "I think I got it"- Hotch whispered- "Journal entry: "December 6th. Father is sick. He wants me to put him down. I say thou shalt not kill. He said, honor thy father. Must pray for guidance."

- "So he kills his father as an act of mercy?"- Gideon asked, knowing the answer.

- "This is two months ago. Tobias Hankel's father had been dead for four months already."

- "That's exactly it"- I murmured, thinking Tobias Hankel was way more fucked up than we thought.

- "Look at the floor"- Derek pointed at a chair and moved it- "These scuffs marks are fresh. It's like two people were pushing the chairs constantly, trying to fight for control."

- "So?"- I swear to God, that chief was driving me insane.

- "This journal matches Charles Hankel's handwriting, but it was written after he died"- I explained. Still, it felt he wasn't following me.

- "What do you mean?"

- "Upstairs, Tobias' bedroom got junk piled from floor to ceiling, but the other bedroom could pass a military inspection."

- "So, are you telling me one of Tobias' personalities was his father?"

Apparently, I had to draw a picture so the chief would get it. Fortunately, Gideon continued explaining the whole problem before I lost what was left of my patience.

- "Well, Tobias was raised with a strict religious code, black and white, right and wrong. When his father asked Tobias to kill him, something had to give."

- "His brain couldn't handle the moral contradiction, so he split into two personalities to keep his father alive."

Hotch tried to put it most easy and simple words possible.

- "So, who is Raphael?"

- "My guess, he is a mediator between the two"- Gideon nodded at my words and sighed.

- "Angels have no human emotions, live or die. They don't care, as long it's God's will."

- "We need to start profiling Tobias' father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid."

Finally, I felt we were going somewhere.

When Emily and JJ came back, they gave us the news. Tobias was addicted to Dilaudid, which explained the fracture in his mind, and how he lived with three distinct personalities.

The police chief announced a computer store robbery, giving us some hopes that Tobias would use them to track him down.

- "Guys!! Guys!! get in here!!- I heard Derek shouting and I ran to the computer room. I felt sick in the stomach in less than a second. There he was, Spencer. My Spencer Walter Reid, tied to a chair, bleeding, shoeless. Clearly tortured.

- "He's been beating,"- I whispered, feeling my eyes water up. I would have given anything to be there instead of him.

- "Can you track him?!"- JJ yelled by my side, and I nearly smacked her. That's how sensitive I was feeling.

- "Hankel's only streaming this to his home computer."- Garcia whispered. And my heart dropped with those words.

That wasn't what I was supposed to hear. We were supposed to find him and bring him back safe.

- "This is for us"- Gideon didn't take his eyes from the screen- "He knows we are here."

- "I'm gonna put this guy's head on a stick"- Morgan was so mad I believed him. I wanted to do the same, if worse.

- "I'm gonna kill him myself as soon as we find him,"- I said and felt Aaron's hand on my shoulder as he asked Garcia

- "Why can't you locate him?"

- "He's rerouting to a different IP address every 30 seconds. I can't track him."

It knew it had to be hard if Penelope couldn't find her, but that didn't help. If anything, it made everything worse. I felt powerless. Hankel couldn't be more intelligent than us.

Spencer's point of view

- "Are you ready, boy?"- Hankel pulled my hair and forced me to look at him. I was still as high as fuck, but knew I was about to be tortured again.

- "Ready for what?"

- "My weakling son thinks God gave you to him for a reason"- if the reason was to get me into drugs, then the answer was yes.

Hankel placed a video camera in front of me.

- "Can you really see inside men's minds?"- he asked me and made a pause, pointing to three screens- See these vermin?

It took me a second to realize he was showing me images of real people. He had put cameras in those people's houses. How? When? What kind of sick game did he want me to play with him?

- "Choose one to die. I let you choose one to live."

- "No"- I didn't even think about my answer.

- "I thought you wanted to be some kind of savior."

- "You are a sadist and a psychotic break. You won't stop killing. Your word is not true."

I don't know if it was because of the drugs or because I hadn't eaten or drank any water in too long, but I was somehow resigned and tired of fighting.

- "The other heathens are watching- Hankel announced and pointed at the camera in front of me."

My eyes fixated on the camera right away. My team was watching me. (Y/N) was watching me. I didn't want to make her worry even more. I needed her to know I was ok. I know I wasn't, but I didn't want her to worry about me.

- "Choose a sinner to die, and I'll say the name and address of the person to be saved"- Hankel was sick. It was all a game, and religion was just an excuse to kill.

- "I won't get to choose who gets slaughtered and have you leave their remains behind like a poacher."

Hankel didn't like my answer, 'cos he grabbed me and pulled me up, looking into my eyes, insulted, annoyed, losing his temper.

- "Can you really see into my mind, boy?"

He was honestly scary, and it petrified me to think he could execute me right there, in front of the team, and I could never tell them how much they mean.

- "Can you see I'm not a liar?!"- he insisted. I nearly whimpered but made my best not to break- "Choose one to die and save a life. Otherwise, they are all dead."

He dropped me on the chair and turned around. It was clear he wasn't joking. I took a deep breath and nodded.

- "Alright, I'll choose who lives."

- "They are all the same"

My eyes traveled across all the monitors. It was nearly impossible to pick one person to live, knowing all the other people there would die. Hankel was sick, and I had to set a plan to escape because otherwise, I would end up dead.

- "Far right screen,"- I whispered. He turned around and nodded.

Then, he recited the name and address of the woman on the screen. I prayed for the team to find her before Hankel came after her too.

No. It wasn't Hankel this time.

- "Raphael,"- I whispered, and he nodded. I looked at the screen again. The woman we were watching picked up the phone. She was in her kitchen. He walked around, frowned, and turned to her computer. In a second, she had turned it off. My team had reached her. She was safe, I hoped.

Hankel turned the camera off and looked at me.

- "You've done your part. Now it's my turn."

I knew what that meant. It wasn't good.

He left the cabin, and all I could see were the monitors in front of me. Those people were going to die. They were going to die because I didn't pick them. I killed them. You don't need to pull a trigger to kill someone. I could never forget those words. And this time, they meant more than anytime before. I didn't press a trigger, but I had killed two innocent people. And I actually had to watch them die.

When I saw Rapahel walk into the victims' house, I tried to close my eyes and think of anything else. A part of me kept thinking he wasn't going to kill them. He just wanted to threaten me.

But not. Raphael slaughtered them.

I found myself craving whatever it was that Tobias had given me the night before. The drug in my veins had given me a kind of peace I had never felt. And I never thought I'd have either. The type of peace that can be addictive, 'cos it turns your head off. And God knows, sometimes I needed to turn my head off.

Remembering everything that has ever happened to me, especially all the awful things, wasn't a gift. It was a burden. And whatever it was that Tobias had put in my veins, it had taken that burden from my shoulders, at least for a couple of hours.

Who wouldn't want some more of that peace?

- "Reid!"- Gideon's voice took me from my thoughts. He was sitting right in front of the camera in the victim's house. He was there with Hotch and the police, investigating the crime scene.

- "If you are watching this, you are not responsible for this. You understand me? he is perverting God to justify murder. You are stronger than him. He can not break you."

I know he meant it. But I couldn't believe any of that, not after watching a family get slaughter just because I didn't pick them.

(Y/N)'s point of view

- "I thought you were going to try and get some rest,"- I said as JJ walked to me in silence. I made myself my hundredth cup of coffee, and she just showed up next to me, trying to engage in conversation, I guess.

- "Everybody else is working. I should be too."

- "We can handle it,"- I whispered and refused to look at her. I swear I was trying not to hate her, but it was getting harder and harder with every hour that passed without finding Reid.

- "It's funny, I keep thinking the one thing we need to crack this case is... well... Reid"- she chuckled, nervously and I just looked at her and nodded. I didn't even smile. I didn't move a muscle.

I didn't want to be with her, or anyone, as a matter of fact. And I wasn't going to hide it anymore. So I tried to walk away.

- "You think Reid and I should have stayed together at the barn, don't you?"

I stopped walking and looked at her. You could tell she was having a hard time facing the whole situation, and most of all, you could tell she felt guilty.

That really didn't stop me from being mad at her. I was trying to be the better woman during the investigation, but the uncertainty was getting on my nerves.

- "JJ, go get some rest,"- I tried to answer calmly, but I knew I was looking at her like she was dead to me.

- "I can tell that's what you are thinking, so..."

- "I just wanna get Spencer home safe."

- "But... if I had his back like I was supposed to do, he'd be here now"- and that was enough.

- "JJ, what the fuck do you want from me?"

- "I just...."- she was about to cry, you could tell- "I want someone to tell me the truth."

- "You want the truth? Ok, there you go: I would have never left him alone. None of this would have happened if I had been the one with him out there! 'cos I would never let anyone or anything hurt him!!"

I shouted. All the anger I had been feeling those days was finally getting off my chest. And fuck, it felt good.

- "You fucked it up, JJ, and if something happens to Spencer, I am never going to forgive you, never!"

JJ bit her lips, trying her best not to cry. But I still couldn't feel sorry for her.

- "Is that the truth you were looking for?"

- "(Y/L/N)?"- Hotch stood next to me with the most annoyed look in his eyes.

I knew I was out of line, but this wasn't about work anymore. This was personal. This was Reid we were talking about, and JJ had fucked it up. There was nothing to discuss.

- "What? You sent him with her, now she is here, and he isn't. What else is there to say?"

- "(Y/N)!"- Hotch followed me as I stormed out of the kitchen and out of the cabin- "(Y/N)! stop!"

- "What?!"- and I simply snapped- "Are you gonna suspend me for telling her the truth? Are you going to fire me for losing my shit while working a case!? Fine! I don't care! I don't give a fuck! All I care about right now is that my best friend is missing, and a fucking psychopath has him! That's all I can think of. That's all I've been thinking about for the last two days!"

I was yelling at Hotch. I was yelling at my unit chief. I was fucked. I knew he was going to fire me after that. But I couldn't help it. I was going insane. Tears kept falling from my eyes as I held my cup of coffee tight, holding onto it with my life.

- "(Y/N), we are all worried about Reid."

- "I know you are all worried. I am too, and I'm also afraid and mad and going fucking insane knowing I am standing here not knowing what to do to save him."

- "That doesn't give you the right to treat JJ like this is her fault"- I don't know if he was talking like my unit chief or like a father figure trying to end a fight between two of his kids.

- "Did she stay with Reid?"- I simply replied and looked at Hotch in the eyes- "Did she?"

- "She is not the only one who feels guilty, so do I. And I know I won't forgive myself if anything happens to Reid."

Hotch made a pause and tried to find a way to say what he wanted to say. The door opened, and Gideon walked to us. He knew what was going on, and he didn't say a thing. I was sure he had already heard everything. We weren't actually arguing quietly.

- "We are not getting any closer,"- Aaron finally said.

- "Reid is brilliant. He'll figure out how to survive"- Gideon's words were way more hopeful than my thoughts. In my mind, Reid was too scared to think of a way to escape.

- "You know, I always take advantage of Reid for his brain. But I never actually teach him how to deal with things emotionally."

Hotch whispered, and his words were filled with regret. I was filled with anger and anxiety, and I know the two of them felt the same. But they way better at handling their feelings.

- "Lead by example,"- Jason answered, probably trying to make him feel better.

- "What kind of example is that?"- I simply replied, and both of them stayed in silence.

I don't think my words helped Hotch, but I wasn't trying to do that either. I was just honest. And Hotch's emotional assistance was shit on the field. Even Gideon was better.

- "He'll make it,"- Jason reassured us and nodded- "Now stop arguing and go back to work."

Spencer's point of view

I was glad when Tobias came to me that night with a needle in his hand and put the drug into my vein. I needed some release after watching a family die 'cos I didn't save them.

- "I'm sorry I had to leave"- he excused himself, preparing the drug next to me.

- "You can leave again, and you can take me with you,"- I begged in a soft voice.

- "My father would be angry,"- he replied and didn't even look at me. This time, I didn't even argue when he wrapped the belt around my arm. I was even a little eager he'd do it faster.

- "Not if he can't find us."

- "He always finds me."

- "If you tell me where we are, my friends will come, and they'll save us."

He gave me a look, mixed with horror and resignation. It broke my heart to think for a moment of all the horrors that lead Tobias to be as sick as he was.

- "We can't be saved,"- he simply replied.

- "We can, we can, I promise. If you tell me where we are, I'll save us both."

- "Listen to me. It's not worth fighting."

Somehow, I understood why he said that. I was afraid and shaking but still did my best not to think of all the pain I was in, of the terror that haunted me day and night.

- "Tell me it doesn't make it better- he said and showed me the needle."

I couldn't say no, 'cos he was right. It did. The drugs made his horrible situation bearable. I could understand why someone decided to use something to avoid the pain. I had faced all and each one of the pain and horrors in my life sober. It was time life was a little bit sweeter, in a sick way.

I remembered being twelve. Mom had had one of her episodes the day before, she was in bed, and I woke her up. I walked into her room and opened the curtains. It was already five in the afternoon, and she still refused to get out of bed.

- "The doctor says you need to get out of bed,"- I argued when she repeated she was just resting.

- "I've been reading"

- "He says you need exercise"- she sighed and tried to make a joke.

- "That's because his idea of good literature is Our bodies, ourselves."

- "Well, he is your doctor."

- "He is a neanderthal"- I gave up and started walking out of the room. She just laid in bed and looked at me.

- "Where are you going?"

- "I'm going to see if Jeff wants to play"- Jeff was our next-door neighbor and my only friend growing up.

- "Come here. Let me read to you."

I know Garcia made fun of me when I said my mother used to read me Valentine's sonnets when I was a kid. Most people think I have a weird relationship with mom, but they don't understand what it was like growing up with her. They don't know what it was like for a twelve-year-old boy to finish high school, facing bullies. Handling the pressure of being a kid genius and the fact I had to take care of a schizophrenic mother.

How come I didn't start using drugs earlier?

I remember that afternoon I sat next to my mother, and she made me pick one of the many books she had with her on the bed. I choose Proust. I knew she loved it. I loved it as well.

"For a long time, I used to go to bed early. Sometimes, when I had put out my candle, my eyes would close so quickly that I had not even time to say, "I'm going to sleep."

I can still hear her voice, reading to me. Both of us avoided reality for a while, hiding in the books. I always do it regardless. I hide in the books to forget. I hide in knowledge to avoid acknowledging the real personal issues I have. I hide in my work saving people when no one ever saved me.

I work catching psychopaths when I know I might actually have a mental issue myself. I might end up just like mom, and it frightens me so much; there are many nights I can't even close an eye. If I get sick too, then no one will take care of her. I am the only one in her life. And she is the only one in mine.

She and (Y/N), but there is no way my best friend would ever take care of me if I got sick. Not because she wouldn't want to do it, but because I would never let her. I don't want to be a burden in her life. And she would hate me, I know. And I could never live in a world where (Y/N) hates me. Not then, not now.

(Y/N). She is the best thing that happened to me in the BAU. Yes, I had a family with my team, but she was different. She was my life. She was the reason why I smiled. She was the one person that made me feel I was important to someone. I knew the rest of my friend loved me, but I loved her.

That was it. I loved (Y/N). And I was scared I was never going to see her again.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I was standing next to Penelope. She kept trying to force me to eat. She knew I was living on coffee, but I just couldn't swallow anything. She held my hand as the two of us stared at the screens, hopefully waiting for Hankel to make contact again.

- "Any more signs of Reid?"- JJ walked over to us slowly and looked at me, afraid I might snap on her again. I just shook my head and sighed, doing my best to be nice to her.

- "He just posted the last murder online."

- "It had over 17 thousand hits in the first twenty minutes,"- Penelope added, and her voice was so full of revulsion. It was clear she couldn't handle the horror in the human mind.

- "I want to see it,"- JJ said, and I frowned, confused.

- "No, you don't,"- Garcia answered and looked at me- "Come on, munchkin, just eat one cookie, please."

- "Don't tell me what I want and don't want!"- JJ's tone shocked us both. She was severe and angry. She was rude at Penelope, and for a second, I almost snapped again.

- "If I can't watch this..."- JJ whispered and glued her eyes on the screen- "I have no business being in the field."

She looked at me when she was done talking, and for once during those awful days, I felt some kind of compassion for her. She had to be feeling like shit, no doubt, and no matter how mad I was at her, she was still my friend, and I didn't want her to suffer either.

- "JJ, it's not a competition,"- I tried to say in the softest voice possible.

- "I... I need to see it."

- "If you stop being affected by things, you lose parts of yourself, you know."

It was somehow ironic that I was the one saying those things. Me of all people in that team. Me, the one who was afraid the most of losing herself in work.

- "Show me"- she finally looked at Garcia, ignoring my words, and Penelope pleased her. She pushed play and simply said

- "I won't watch this with you."

García held my hand, walking me out of the room, leaving JJ alone in the room. She sighed and wiped the tears that started falling down her eyes.

- "I don't know how you do it either"- she whispered- "I don't know how you watch those things every day and don't go insane."

- "If it makes you feel better, I don't know how I do either, and it scared me to think my heart might be numbing with each case we solve. With every psychopath we catch."

- "We are gonna find him"- she assured me and held my hands tight- "We are bringing him home safe, I swear."

- "Let's go find Gideon,"- I said, nodding at her words- "He needs to know Tobias posted the last murder."

Jason was mad, beyond furious. He was losing it. Derek and Prentiss kept trying to crack Hankel and discover where he had taken Reid. Meanwhile, Garcia, Gideon, and I made our best to take the video of the murder from the web.

- "I have a list of everyone from the file-sharing chain. I could send out a mass warning that the video is actually a virus,"- Garcia said and started typing as fast as possible. I just stared at the screen, waiting for something, anything to happen.

But I wasn't waiting for what came next.

- "Confess your sins"- Hankel's voice made me jump, and the sight of Reid, still tied to that chair, bleeding, and being tortured, broke my heart again.

- "Confess!!"- that sick psychopath shouted and hit him.

- "I haven't done anything,"- Spencer sobbed, but it was useless. Hankel kept punching him, over and over again, even when my best friend begged for mercy.

I felt Jason hold my hand as I was holding Garcia's. The three of us felt powerless, useless, angry, and scared, all at the same time. I couldn't bear to watch Reid being tortured, but at the same time, I was so glad he was still alive.

That until Hankel beat him so hard, he pushed him back in the chair, and Reid started convulsing.

- "He is killing him,"- Penelope cried, and I closed my eyes, biting my lips. Spencer was choking, and that mother fucker just stood there, watching him die.

- "That's the devil vacating your body"- he spit those words as Reid simply passed out. I didn't know if he was dead. I didn't know if he was going to make it. Shit! I didn't know anything.

I let go of Jason and Penelope and stormed out of the room. I was unprofessional, and I knew it, but I knew I would quit if anything happened to Reid. I wasn't going to stay working at the BAU if Spencer died.

- "Are you ok?"- Derek grabbed my arm. I just broke into tears and held him tight. He wrapped his arms around me and let me cry.

- "He's dying! We can't find him!!"- I sobbed against his chest.

- "(Y/N)! (Y/N)!"- I heard Penelope yelling as we all rushed back to the computer room. Hankel was giving CPR to Reid, trying to bring him back to life.

- "Come on, come on, please,"- I begged as I watched him pushing his chest over and over again until Spencer woke up, gasping for air.

- "Thank God!"- Hotch sighed and rubbed his hands against his face. The whole team let out a breath of relief simultaneously, and I kept watching Reid. His opened eyes gave me hope.

- "Wait,"- Prentiss said suddenly- "When was the video of the last murder posted?"

- "Nine thirty"- Penelope answered

- "And when was the time of death?"

- "The 911 call came in at 9:04, and the murder must have been moments later."- Hotch added and didn't even turn to look at Prentiss. We were all still shocked looking at the screen.

- "That's just a 19 minutes difference,"- I said and turned to García- "How long would it take to post that file?"

- "Two or three minutes."

- "Let's call it two,"- I said, getting excited- "You figure a maximum of 60 miles an hour in a residential area. That means Hankel has to be within a 17-mile radius of the crime scene."

For a second, I felt I was rambling facts just like Reid would. It made me miss him even more.

- "García, can we see it on the map?"- Aaron whispered. He was clearly affected, and it also made me feel selfish, knowing I had made a tantrum with the whole team, forgetting they were suffering as well.

- "Call chief Farraday"- Jason commanded as soon as we saw the map of the area on the screen- "I want that area locked down like it's martial law."

JJ stood up and grabbed her phone but didn't make the call. García warned us something was going on with Reid and all of us stared at the screen in silence.

Spencer was on his back on the floor, still tied to a chair. It was clear he wasn't fully conscious of what was happening.

- "You came back to life,"- mother fucker Hankel said, spitting the words in anger.

- "Raphael,"- Reid whispered, recognizing one of his personalities.

- "There can be only one of two reasons."

- "I was given CPR,"- my friend whispered, but it was clear that wasn't one of the psycho's options.

- "There are no accidents. How many members of our team are watching us right now?"

- "Seven."

- "The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail, and they were thrown to the earth."

- "He thinks it's the revelations"- Hotch explained- "The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death."

I didn't know much about religion, but it didn't take a genius to figure out he didn't believe we were the good guys.

- "Tell me who you serve."

- "I serve you,"- Reid answered right away. His voice was a whisper. He had to be exhausted.

- "Then choose one to die"

- "What?!"

- "Your team members, choose one to die"- I knew what he was going to answer at that, and I didn't want to hear it.

- "Kill me,"- he replied immediately, and I closed my eyes, unable to watch what would happen next.

- "You said you weren't one of them."

- "I lied."

- "Your team has seven other members. Tell me who dies."

- "No"- Penelope gasped, and Prentiss cursed. I opened my eyes and nearly fainted. Hankel had a gun pointed against Reid's forehead.

The silence amongst the team was unbearable. Neither of us knew what to do. We were all panicking, praying, desperate.

- "Choose and prove you'll do God's will."

- "No."

Neither of us moved. Neither of us breathed until Hakel pulled the trigger, and no bullet came out. I nearly sigh, but it wasn't over.

- "Choose"- he repeated

- "I won't do it"- Hankel didn't even wait. He just pulled the trigger, and we all jumped at the same time. He was safe again.

- "Life is a choice."

- "No,"- Reid repeated once again. And Hankel pulled the trigger for the third time.

- "Choose"- and for the first time, Spencer made a pause. Was going to pick one of us to die?

- "I choose"- the whispered- "Aaron Hotchner."

Derek and I looked at him, and his pale face didn't move a muscle.

- "He's the classic narcissist. He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4 "Let him not deceive himself, and trust in emptiness, vanity falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense."

Hotch stormed out of the room as Hankel pulled the trigger one more time and shot the wall.

I felt I was going to puke. If Reid hadn't picked one of us, he would be dead.

- "For God's will,"- the mother fuck said, as he put another bullet in the gun after removing the casing.

I couldn't look anymore. I followed Gideon and Derek to find Aaron going through all Tobias's diaries on the table.

- "I'm not a narcissist,"- he said as soon as he saw us.

- "Come on. Look, you can't think anything from that"- Jason tried to calm him down, in case he was somehow affected by what Reid had just said on camera- "He is not in his right mind, Hotch."

- "No, stop, stop. Alright, everybody, right now: what's my worst quality?"

He had to be kidding. We all stared at him, muted, lost in that conversation. What was his point? Neither of us said a word. We just looked at each other, confused and awkward.

- "Ok, I'll start. I have no sense of humor."

- "You are a bully,"- JJ added.

- "You can be a drill sergeant sometimes,"- I said, and he nodded.

- "Right."

- "You don't trust women as much as men"- you could feel it in Prentiss's voice. That one was personal.

- "Ok, good. I'm all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team because I don't, ever. Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that. He also quoted Genesis chapter 23, verse 4. Read it."

Hotch gave me the book. He wasn't even breathing as she spoke. He was in a hurry. We were all.

- "I'm a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead of my sight."

- "He wouldn't get it wrong unless it were on purpose."

- "He is in a cemetery."- I said and looked at him. He nodded, and I swear to God, I saw a slight smile on his lips. That smile was hope. We were getting closer.

Spencer's point of view

I took a sip of water. I hadn't drunk in days, and my throat burned. I was still a little lost, still a little off.

- "Tobias, is that you?"- I saw him nod, sitting next to me. He moved the cup of water closer so that I could drink some more.

- "Thank you,"- I whispered and looked at him- You saved my life- he stared down at the ground and finally whispered

- "I'm sorry."

- "Why?"

- "He'll win in the end."

It was sad to see Tobias Hankel's good person locked inside a sick mind that also held a psychopath like his father.

- "Tobias, I need to know something. It's important. Are we in a cemetery?"- and he nodded. I smiled at him and sighed, relieved. Help was coming. My team was coming.

- "I used to come here to get high."

- "I was right."

- "No one bothers you here. I never told anyone about it."

He wrapped his belt around my arm, and I turned to him, still smiling. I didn't know if I were happy I was right or glad I would get high again. Maybe both. Maybe the second 'cos the minute that needle got to my vein, that sweet, sweet release felt like a bath of joy that washed away any pain, regret, or guilt I could have ever felt.

Guilt. I've had my share of that. I remember the day I had my mom admitted to the hospital. She hadn't eaten in days. She wouldn't take care of herself, and they're just so much I could do. I wasn't able to keep her safe from herself, from her mind.

- "What are these men doing here?"- she asked me as I walked with two nurses into the study. She was writing and reading. It was all she did, preparing lectures for classes she didn't have to give, in imaginary campuses.

I stood in front of her and hesitated for a second. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, telling mom I was taking her away from her own house.

- "They are from the hospital. They are here to help,"- I whispered and looked at my mother's confused expression. She was so thin. She looked so sick. I felt so guilty I couldn't do better for her.

- "I don't need help, and you can't be here without permission, tell them, Spencer."

She looked down at her books again and tried to continue writing. I took a deep breath, I knew I would break her heart, but there was nothing else I could do.

- "I called them"- she looked at me in pain. Deep, honest pain. Like I had just shattered her heart. Which I had done.

- "Spencer"- she simply whispered and stared into my eyes, begging for an explanation. I was trying my best not to cry. I had a whole speech prepared. I was going to tell her how much I loved her. I was going to explain to her how good it was for her to be in a place where someone could continuously take care of her. I had facts and statistics, but all I managed to say was:

- "I'm doing this for you."

And I felt like a liar. 'Cos, there was a part of me that was doing it for myself too.

- "This isn't legal"- she shook her head in shock and kept trying to find a good explanation to what was going on.

- "Your son is eighteen, ma'am. He can act in your welfare,"- one of the make nurses explained to her.

- "You need help,"- I said and prayed she could understand. But she just burst into tears and begged.

- "I wanna stay here!"

- "I'm... sorry, mom."

- "Please, these are my things, this is my life..."

Those men took her. They took her from her house and put her in a hospital. No. I put her there. I put my mom in a hospital so I could live my life, 'cos I am selfish and couldn't take care of her anymore.

- "Spencer, please, don't do this to me."

Those were the words that haunted me day and night. And my mother's crying face, begging me not to take her from her own house.

What kind of a son am I? I did that to her. I put her in a mental place 'cos I couldn't deal with her disease anymore. 'Cos I didn't know how to take care of her.

- "What are you sorry for, boy?"- I heard Hankel ask when I woke up. I was muttering, "Sorry" as I came back from my trip.

- "I sent her away."

- "Who."

- "My mom. I couldn't help her."

- "Is that a confession?"- I nodded and looked around, confused. Lost. High- "You know the bible. Exodus 21:17"

- "And he that curseth his father or his mother shall surely be put to death,"- I whispered, scared and full of regret.

I heard him walk towards me. He kneeled and uncuffed me. I didn't know what was happening. Honestly, I was still too high to get what was going on around me.

- "Grab a shovel,"- he commanded and walked outside.

I was too weak to dig fast. I don't know how I was actually moving, but I was digging my own grave. I never thought I would ever end up doing such a thing. It's not something you think about, actually. Not unless you work in the BAU. Here, you start analyzing and considering the way you'll die: 'Cos you could, every day.

- "I ought to bury you alive in there, give you some time to think about what you've done,"- Hankel said and looked at me while I worked, playing with a knife.

- "I know what I've done."

- "Don't talk back to me! Dig!"

I pant and kept moving, very slowly, trying to buy myself some time too. I was sure the team was coming to get me any minute now. I was counting on them, though the more I thought about it, the less worthy of salvation I felt. Maybe I deserved to die after all.

I was almost certain I had seen some lights moving in the back. Flashlights. But it could be my mind playing tricks on me. I was too tired. And still too high, too.

- "Dig faster!"- he commanded me as I moved, losing my breath.

- "I'm not strong enough"- I cried, 'cos I felt like that. Like a failure, a child that aimed to be a grown-up and failed miserably. A bad son. The worst agent. A fake that deserved to die.

- "You are all weak!! Get out of there!"

Hankel took off his coat and left it on the ground. I slowly moved so he could dig for me, but the lights in the back took my attention, and he noticed. As soon as he turned around, I quickly grabbed his coat and reached out for the gun.

- "You've only got one bullet, son,"- he said as he looked at me. And I just pulled the trigger.

I shot him. I killed him. Hankel. Raphael. Tobias. I freed Tobias. Or at least, that is what I wanted to think.

- "Reid!!"- I heard (Y/N) yelling as I crawled to Tobia's body. He was still awake. He was himself.

- "You killed him"- he said, and he was relieved- "Do you think I'll get to see my mom again?"

- "I'm sorry,"- I whispered, and he was gone.

- "Reid!!"

(Y/N) yelled and ran over. She kneeled next to me and held me in her arms. I couldn't move, because for a few seconds, I couldn't believe she was real. She was there.

- "Honey, honey, are you ok? Can you hear me?"- she said, and tears started falling from her eyes- "Honey, it's me."

I just looked at her and hugged her. I hugged her as my life depended on it. There she was, next to me, finally.

- "I thought I was never going to see you again,"- I whispered and sobbed.

The urge to kiss her filled my whole body. I needed to taste her. I needed to show her how much I had needed her those days. But I knew I couldn't.

I didn't want to let her go. I didn't for a few minutes. I just hold onto her for my sanity. She kissed my forehead, cupping my face with both hands.

- "I'm so happy to see you. I'm glad you are ok... let's go to the ambulance, ok?"- I nodded but didn't let her go. I felt I could hold her forever. I wanted to keep her close for as long as I lived.

But the rest of the team gathered around us, and I wanted to thank them too. I needed to thank Hotch. So as soon as I let (Y/N) go, I wrapped my arms around him.

- "You alright?"- he asked me.

- "I knew you'd understand,"- I managed to say with tears falling from my eyes and a knot in my throat.

For a moment, I thought I was never going to see the team again. My family.

JJ held me close and apologized. I knew she felt guilty for leaving me alone, but I was the only one culpable for what had happened. I wanted to prove myself, and all I managed to do was prove I was a fool. A useless SSA.

- "It's alright, it wasn't your fault,"- I said and did my best to smile at her. But I know I failed. Gideon grabbed my arm and nodded.

- "Let's get you out of here."

- "Please,"- I whispered before we started walking- "Can I have a second alone?"- he looked at me and nodded, looking at Tobias' body lying by our side. He walked away, and I kneeled next to my capturer.

But instead of paying my respects, instead of cursing. Instead of anything, I took the Dilaudid bottles from his pocket and put them into mine.

And that's how the real hell started.

--

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @svveet-peas @muffin-cup @shilohpug

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: May 5th, 2021

#Spencer Reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #babymetaldoll writes #cm fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #Emily prentiss #Aaron Hotchner #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #babymetaldoll edits #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction

[reidsconverse]

matchmaker • spencer reid

Spencer X Fem!reader

Warnings: None!

Based on this request: Omg blurb where the team is having a night out and the girls and the guys are separated at the bar hanging out and all the girls are talking about who the hottest guy is and everyone says Derek and reader says she thinks spencer is hotter and everyone is kinda shocked and then Penelope tells him/tries to get them together?? (sorry its almost a month late anon)

“Oh my god, look at him go.” Garcia said, pointing at Derek who was currently in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by girls. This came as no surprise to any of you, he was known for his good looks and charming personality, both of those combined made him a catch to most girls.

“God, theres a reason he’s the most attractive guy on the team. Oh look at him move!” She squealed which made you giggle. Yeah, Miss Penelope Garcia was most definitely drunk.

“Hey,” Emily said in disagreement, she was equally as drunk which led to her having even less filter than normal, “Hotch is up there, something about how he’s always so tense just does it for me. I just wanna hold him down, loosen him up and show him who’s actually in charge, y’know.”

JJ groaned in disgust, not wanting to think of her superior in that way, “Ok Emily, time to slow down.” Her mom side coming out as she slyly replaces Emilys vodka with some water.

“What about you Y/N? Derek or Hotch... ooo what about Papa Rossi...? Garcia asked animatedly, wiggling her eyebrows and laughing at her addition of the older man who honestly, you viewed as a father.

“First of all, please never say that again. Secondly, none of them.” You said, taking a sip of your drink, now you certainly weren’t sober, but you also weren’t the drunk enough to reveal your secret crush... or so you thought.

“Oh come on,” JJ spoke up, “you’re telling me you find neither of them attractive.”

“No Jennifer, I just don’t think they’re the most attractive...” You said, a slight smile on your face.

Emily adorably scrunched up her face in confusion before it hit her. “No way... Dr Genius, really?” She didnt mean it in a bad way, you had just never outwardly expressed anything but a friendly interest in the doctor.

You felt the 3 girls stares boring into you and you caved. “Ok Ok, yes personally its Spencer. I’ve liked him since I first started but he would never be interested in me so lets not discuss it”

Penelope’s face lit up at your confession, completely ignoring your request. “Ooooo y/n, oh you have to tell him, oh you’d be so cute together.” Her voice was progressively getting louder and you didnt wanna risk anyone overhearing.

“Pen, seriously, he wouldn’t be interested, I mean he can do so much bett-“ You started, before you were cut off by Penelope.

“Dont be ridiculous, have you seen the way that boy looks at you, he’s totally into you.” She said, and before you could realise what was happening, she was calling him over.

“Penelope no what are you do-,” You began to protest but stopping when he approached the table. “Hey Spence.” You waved up at him, earning a smile in return.

“Hey! What’s up?” He asked.

“Reid, JJ was just about leave and she’s mine and Emily’s ride so I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind keeping our good friend Y/N here company” She said, slightly slurring her words and smiling as she looked back and forth between you and him. Oh my god you were gonna kill her.

“Uhh, sure yeah I have to wait for Derek anyway, I promised to drive him home.” He said, nodding towards the man in the middle of the dancefloor, clearly too drunk to be driving himself.

Penelope glanced at the other two girls, who quickly began gathering their things in order to leave. She placed a hand on Reids shoulder and smiled at him. “You, Spencer Reid, are a good friend.” She said before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Maybe even boyfriend.”

She pulled away before you could say anything back, giggling to herself before wishing us goodbye and joining Emily and JJ by the door.

You watched them leave, as Spencer took a seat next to you, “Sooo... how’s your thesis going?” He asked, genuinely interested in your work which made you smile, Penny was right about one thing, he was a really good friend.

“Uhh its ok, research is a killer and I kinda hit a dead end but i’m getting back into it.” You replied, and he nodded. It was quiet for a second as you fiddled with your glass.

“I-“ “So-“ You both said at the same time, making you laugh nervously.

“You first.” You offered, and he nodded. He also seemed nervous about what he was gonna say which made you curious.

“I- uh, I kinda overheard your conversation earlier...” He said, and your smile instantly dropped, and you could feel your stomach churning. He knew your secret, he knew that you liked him.

“Oh my god, Spencer i’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You said, about to begin a rambling of apologies when he quickly cuts you off.

“No! No you didn’t. I just, it was unexpected. Why would you think I wouldn’t be interested?” He asked, head tilting to the side as he looked you like a small confused puppy.

You looked down at your glass and sighed, “C’mon Spence, you’re you...” His confused silence made you elaborate, “You’re amazing Spencer, you’re kind, smart, funny and... and frankly you’re incredibly attractive. You’re way out of my league.”

You looked up when you felt his hand gently graze yours, Spencers aversion to touch was well known by everyone at the fbi, so this physical...almost intimate contact came as surprise.

“I- I’m not good at this,” He stuttered and it was your turn to be confused but luckily he continued. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love you from the first day we met and... I know that might be ridiculous to say because we havent spent much time together and love at first sight isn’t that common, actually a study showed that-“

Whilst you normally loved to listen to your favourite genius ramble on about facts and figures, right now all you wanted was to tell him you loved him too, honestly it felt like a pinch me moment and if it weren’t for the warmth of his hand against yours, you would’ve thought it was a dream.

“Spencer,” You looked up at him and smiled, gently squeezing the hand that was holding yours as reassurance... to tell him it was real, “I love you too.”

He slowly leaned in, his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes silently asking if it was ok to kiss you and you didn’t hesitate to pull him forward and do what you had been waiting forever to do, your lips moulding together perfectly as if they were built for each other.

Little did you know that Derek was filming the whole thing to send to Garcia, who no doubt would not stop talking about what a matchmaker she is, and truthfully shes a damn good one.

#3 posts in one day??? #my hotchniss heart won this one sorry #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg fluff #criminal minds #my works!

[mittensmorgul]

it’s a bummer to see you can’t enjoy the ending. I hope someday you can come around it it. It wasn’t perfect but it didn’t nuke its integrity. i think the heart of the show really shines through and it’s a shame that it’s not being appreciated bc there’s so much shipping drama 😣

Hi there!

I... first of, I really need people to understand this... the travesty of the finale for me has almost nothing to do with “shipping drama.”

Yes, I see the wild conspiracy theories flying around, and I’m honestly concerned for some of those folks and hope they can find a way to make peace with this in whatever way they can, because we aren’t likely to ever get a better answer than that this is legitimately the ending that Dabb thought was best, despite years of us seeing the best of his writing choices and guiding Sam, Dean, and Cas to grow past the roles that Chuck would’ve forced them to fulfill, and that at the end it fell flat because he couldn��t actually come up with a better ending than “this was always their destiny, free will is a lie, and these characters had nothing outside of the revenge quest they’d been raised for since birth and manipulated into over and over for the entertainment of a vengeful god.”

I can see how “surface level” viewers would feel that this one basic narrative point was satisfying, that Sam and Dean had grown beyond their own hopeless cycle of self-sacrifice that had driven the narrative for so many years. The fact that they both acknowledged that they should allow their stories to end in that way was satisfying... but only in the shallowest and most detached read of the narrative. Like, is this really the ONLY thing these two characters learned in the last 15 years? If so, that is BEYOND depressing af.

And even THAT message lost all narrative weight when the two of them were once again reunited in death, as if nothing else had ever mattered in their lives. As if neither of them had ever outgrown the codependency that had driven so many of those previous self-sacrifices and refusals to let go of each other even in death.

So yeah, in the absolute most basic sense, I suppose I can see how casual viewers or people who aren’t actually invested in these characters could find that at least narratively coming back to a starting point.

But narratives don’t actually work that way, and that’s not the point of watching fifteen years of story develop in between.

This story wasn’t JUST about Sam and Dean needing to accept that death might be okay actually.

This story was also about free will, fighting for humanity as a whole but also their OWN humanity and self-identities. In Dean’s case, the absolutely transformative growth from feeling like nothing but a hammer, a killer, a tool to be used. And then less than an episode and a half later, after finally accepting that truth into his heart and using it to defeat the original creator and reclaim the story of his own life for himself... he gets pied in the face after flippantly talking about his destiny and having no choice, and then three scenes later he literally dies impaled on a great big nail... like a hammer...

So I would kindly ask folks who feel satisfied by that shallowest possible takeaway of this episode, and maybe invite folks to look just under that surface. Try to understand why loads of us will NEVER feel satisfied with this ending, and why it truly does feel like the most hopeless version of the story. Like even in defeating Chuck, they could never be allowed to own their own stories and what happened to them after that point was just a twisted version of the “destiny” that drove Chuck’s entire plotline for them anyway.

Please understand where we’re seeing this as horrifically painful irony rather than some beautiful circular narrative about letting go.

For a lot of us, the shipping stuff would’ve been the cherry on top of the sundae. We would’ve been happy with a scoop of plain vanilla, though. We would’ve been happy for anything that honored the journey to freedom, and the choice at any sort of a different life of their own making than literally falling back on a nail fighting off one of John’s unresolved hunts and a vampire who had literally never been named in canon before, yet who Dean instantly recognized somehow... 

but sure, for those of us who felt that “the heart of the show” was all the stuff that the finale actually erased-- that “family don’t end in blood,” and that this was actually not a show about just two brothers but the love of their found family and coming to terms with the choices they actually HAD made for themselves versus the narrative that Chuck kept centering them in DESPITE what they would choose for themselves, the finale basically told us no, everything you ever found of value in this story actually meant nothing. It told us that Chuck’s story for them was their only truth in the end, and their only freedom was to be found in death.

Please, I am begging people, stop trying to gaslight us that this was some beautiful ending. Maybe think for a second that “your read” of the narrative that allows you to find peace with the ending is not what we saw and loved about this story for the 326 episodes leading up to this finale.

And please try to understand that we were not wrong to see the entire narrative through this lens. Because we were literally validated IN CANON, and told that we understood the depth of the story and the characters just fine, actually. There’s literally ONE episode of the entire series that burns it all down in a bewildering pile of wtf. And that’s #327. That throws that entire read out the window to well actually us all back into Chuck’s literal ending... This was literally the ending Chuck wanted to force them to enact for him, and it’s what ended up happening even after they defeated him-- the ultimate Big Bad of the entire series should’ve been defeated, but instead he pulled off one final victory over the entire story.

Becky: No. You can't-- Chuck: I did. Becky: Y- This is just an ending. Chuck: Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna get there, but I know where I'm goin'. Becky: B-But it's so... dark. Chuck: But great, right? I can see it now -- "Supernatural: The End". And the cover is just a gravestone that says "Winchester". The fans are gonna love it. Well? Becky: It's awful! Horrible. It's hopeless. You can't do this to the fans. What you did to Dean? What you did to Sam? Chuck: There, see? It's making you feel something. That's good, right?

and

Dean: Well, what now? You're not gonna dust us. Chuck: Oh, yeah? Why not? Dean: Because you're holding out. For your big finish. Yeah, we know about your galaxy-brained idea, how you think this story is gonna go. Sam got a little look into your draft folder. Chuck: Sam's visions -- they weren't drafts. They were memories. My memories. Other Sams and other Deans in other worlds. But guess what. Just like you, they didn't think they'd do it, either. But they did. And you will, too. Dean: No. Not this Sam. And not this Dean. So you go back to Earth 2 and play with your other toys. Because we will never give you the ending that you want. Chuck: We'll see.

And even in DEFEAT Chuck thought he understood these characters, thought that having rendered him powerless they would finally take their revenge and kill him, but they didn’t, because he never actually understood these characters at all. And the story he tried to force them into from day one was never about THEM, it was about HIM. 

And then Dean gets like two whole days of freedom and choice and is apparently incapable of making any of the choices that don’t throw him immediately back into Chuck’s favorite story. Like none of that resolution in the previous episode meant anything at all. He even SAYS it in the finale:

Dean: Yeah, no. I think about 'em, too. You know what? That pain's not gonna go away. Right? But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.

And then two scenes later the show gives us the Nelson Muntz HA HA and Dean is no longer living, and Sam is left to carry on as a shell of himself and wander off into Blurry Wife Land to devote any even remotely content moment of the rest of his years to raising a  Replacement Dean to fill the void, and is never able to pick up the pen to write anything better of his own life than Chuck would’ve dealt him in the first place.

So I’m glad that top-layer takeaway is sustaining and enough for you. It wasn’t, and will never be enough for the rest of us.

What was actually real in all of this? We were.

Until we weren’t.

And that’s honestly a shit message to be pushing on people in the wake of it all. So please stop.

I should actually thank you for the kind intent with which your message is phrased, but that doesn’t make it feel less hilariously awful. Though I chose this one to reply to as the least insulting of all the messages currently in my inbox on this subject. So thanks for that, at least.

#spn 15.20 #aka that one episode of supernatural that doesn't really exist #because you either get to have the first 326 or the finale #they're literally narratively incompatible in all but the shallowest possible takeaway here #i chose the other 326 because those are where the actual heart of the show lies #it was set on fire and buried in 327 #Anonymous