#was what i named this file moths ago

[valfeathers]

girl boss + her serial killer

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Contained Monstrous Family  

Thinking about being born into a monstrous family

You, a baby human lovingly in the arms of a vampire man and his werewolf husband 

“Aw isn’t our little peony just perfect!”

“Another gorgeous cub, in our pack. Good job hon!”

“Thanks!”

Inside your opulent crib with a bone ladden mobile above you and the heads of two of your eldest siblings show

“They haven’t got nearly enough fur!” your moth brother says 

Your basilisk sister scoffs,” Or any scales for that matter!”

Life is lovely for awhile 

You’re the apple of everyone’s eye as the youngest of the family

But it’d be early on when you’d discover that wasn’t all that made you different

If they had been more careful perhaps you wouldn’t have discovered what the family hunts were all about 

Chasing humans–creatures just like you–for sport

Who could blame 5-year-old you?

The school lessons you’d sneak to listen to always said to call the authorities if something was wrong

You can vaguely recall the events that followed your brain clearly walling off the memory out of guilt

Time has passed and you are a partially thriving adult

Able to support yourself and devote your time to your study of the mythical

In a movement that had recently come to light, plenty of creatures spoken about in folktales were appearing

And your place of work was housing them

Housing was a strong word

maybe detaining and experimenting were better

As part of the maintenance crew, your job is to upkeep the creatures by their specified scientists demands

Occasionally offering your observations about whatever habits they have when it comes to eating, cleaning, etc.

As someone who’s been working with the facility for a long time so long you may not remember when you’ve become the experienced lead of your department

But you do still interact with the creatures specifically the most high-priority or high-maintenance ones

And like any other, you’ll report for duty with the newly acquired vampire 

Apparently, they’ve been talked about for their violence and intelligent ramblings

Claiming it was married to an earlier capture and the father of some others

So far it drained forty of your employees 

So now it was time for you to come face to face with this menace

You’ll wave off the security guard as you come up to the window

“Your file says your name is Villar? 

“GRAAGRH!!!”

“We won’t get very far if you keep lashing out like this. I’m in charge of making sure you eat, I suggest you get it in gear if you want to ever to see your husband again.”

At the mention of his husband the blonde vampire deflates

His black scleras morph into white 

He tiredly rests his head against the silver bars despite the skin burning

“You…will let me see him?”

You tilt your head sympathetically,” If you can comply with some of our tests. It’ll be a lot easier to make it a necessity for you two to meet if you cease killing so much of our staff.”

He growls tearing himself from the bars to glare 

“What do I have to do to see him?”

You smile flipping through your clipboard

“There’s three blood tests, four endurance tests, and intelligence quizzes for a start. That sound like a plan?”

The vampire reluctantly nods 

You look back at the camera and begin to walk out 

“Hey! What’s your name so I’ll know to tear your throat out if they lie to me?”

You smile again on your way out hushing the security guard

“I’m (Y/n). Pleasure meeting you Villar.”

The black-haired vampire loses his vitriol as he’s reminded of the little bundle he’s agonized over losing so long ago

“WAI–”

“Doctor (Y/n) your absolute genius has saved this company again.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m just someone trying to have a peaceful work environment.”

As planned you handle the older werewolf man

Violent, giant, and usually rotting in his corner 

He hasn’t moved much until you got involved

*knock**knock*

“Hey bud, I’ve got good news for you.”

At the sound of your voice, the werewolf Rod is at the silver bars, practically grazing them as he gets as close as he can to your little window

“Hello (Y/n), have you been eating well today?”

“Sure did but I have an update about your husband.”

He stills but looks interested

“He’s going to work with us so he can see you.”

“That is…what you want?”

“Yes and for you to do the same.”

He stands tall for once, taking an unusual air of authority

“I refuse to do anything if my conditions are not met.”

“Even if it means not seeing him again?”

He growls and turns away from the window

“Look my Uncle is not going to let me go in alone for your tests. Even if you’ve been peaceful so far, he just doesn’t want to take that chance.”

He snarls at the mention of your uncle 

“Fine. Then come in with twice as many guards but I will only agree if it’s you.”

You thank him for his time, “we’ll have to see what Uncle says.”

When you leave the werewolf man slinks back into his corner 

You’ll have to negotiate with your uncle about the most prized pieces of his collection his facility

Not to count the latest editions claiming to be related to the vampire and werewolf 

The real obsession starts because every member of the original family realizes just who you are 

And using your job as a mediator to piece together how you managed to slip out of their grasp

When Villar and Rod finally meet they nuzzle and kiss each other as they whisper to one another

“That’s them! Isn’t it? Our baby’s okay!”

“I know, now we just have to take them far away from here.”

Thus chaos is bound to ensue as they balance escaping with their long-lost human child 

With promises to pay back your abductor and all these scientists back ten-fold for the pain they’ve brought their little family

Part 2

[blueberry-rose]

Hello!!! It's nice to see new genshin wlw writers!!! I have a request, feel free to take creative liberties with it. Can I have a Harbinger! Reader x Arlecchino, where basically Arlecchino shadows reader to learn from about harbinger duties and responsibilities? The more they're together the more they like and fall for each other.

I struggled a bit on how to write this so I hope you enjoy it.

Arlecchino x harbinger!reader

Arlecchino is 19 at the start of this. Your age is not mentioned but you’re implied to be a little older. Mentions of alcohol.I might have made Arlecchino an angsty teen (but let’s be honest who wasn’t an angsty teen)but the fic is has a two year time skip.

You’re a harbinger and the new fourth harbinger has been assigned to shadow you. She’s so young no older than 20. She was pardoned not even a week ago and already a harbinger. You haven’t been a harbinger for long but you had to work for years to become one. And here’s the new big shot, a criminal turned harbinger.

You got dragged out of your thoughts when your door opened. You set your work down, looking up. She stood there. Her hair was too her shoulders clearly hasn’t been cut in a while, she just got out of jail what did you expect. She wore a suit. “So you’re the new harbinger?” You gathered your work up. Putting it in your drawer.

“Yes.” She had no emotion in her voice. God it was true Crucabena was a monster, you heard rumors about it, but you thought it was over exaggerated. But the look of this girl, it’s clear it’s true, sure she was good at hiding it but you could tell she looked like her whole world has been destroyed. Her voice rang out again dragging you from your thoughts a second time. “my name is Peruer- I mean Arlecchino.”

You laughed. “Not used to the new name? Don’t worry it took me a while too. I’ve read your file, you were raised in the house of hearth. Now you are the knave, and moth-“ she cut you off.

“I’m the father. The title mother died with that woman.” You saw the blacken part on her arms to rise slightly.

“Father? Ok, ok sorry, that woman was a horrible person. But most of us are. You will have to control that anger and curse of yours.” Her fists unclench her face going blank again. You sighed. “I’ll be honest with you harbinger work is not as fun as it seems. We do paperwork I lot, we do get the most important missions. But we usually delegate the work. And if you need anything you can ask me. Now come here I’ll show you most of the work we tend to do.” She walked to your side and watched you. You went on explaining how to delegate work and getting to know your agents to make sure they can handle the work. “Now I do actually have a mission we have to do, it’s nothing too much but it’s something.”

Arlecchino followed you she’s not much younger than you but it’s clear she’s used to shutting up and doing what she’s told. “you can talk, I don’t care if you have questions. You are here to learn not to just mindlessly follow orders,”

“I don’t do small talk, not after her.” Arlecchino clearly doesn’t like talking all that much.

“Her?” It was clear she peaked your interest. Her eyes widened slightly. “Was it a girlfriend?”

“No.” She said it coldly. “She was just my best friend.”

“Did she die, was it the former knave’s fault?” You wanted this woman to open up a bit. Getting to know her was a need.

“Yes, she’s dead, but her death wasn’t that woman’s fault entirely. I killed her.” Her eyes looked dead, it was heartbreaking.

“Oh,” you didn’t know what to say. “Why?”

“Why? Because that woman that I called mother found a it funny to force children to fight to the death.”

“What?” She- she. That bitch. children?” You were surprised this was monstrous. “I’m sorry it must have been hard. Living like that.”

“she impaled herself on my sword. She was mother’s own flesh and blood.” She said all of this with a straight face. Nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you put your hand on her shoulder she tensed, it was clear that she’s been abused. “You don’t have to worry about the old mother. You’re the father of the house now, you can create a new beginning. For the new children as well as the ones that survived her. And rest assured that I will be there if you ever need help.”

She looked at you pushing your hand off her shoulder, it wasn’t hard she just grabbed your hand to took it off. “Alright. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind”

It was like this for a while, she shadowed you for a month before she was allow on her own. You could see her slowly piece her mask together. She was gracefully, and calm. Seeming to be uncaring. You knew better though she seemed to trust you. She comes by your office every once in a while. It’s been about two years since she became a harbinger. And you two ended up on a mission together. It wasn’t hard pretty easy in fact you barely did anything.

“It was nice working with you again, it reminded me of when I was shadowing you.” You smiled at her as she talked.

“You were still piecing together your mask. I think I’m the only one that knows about how angry you were when you got out of prison.”

“I was still a child. I couldn’t help but get mad.”

“Child? you were like 20”

“19 actually, I’m 21 now”

“Oh, a year off forgive me.” You were messing with her. When she stopped suddenly. “Arlecchino?” You looked back at her.

“You’re important to me. You know that right?” You felt your face heat up, Arlecchino’s changed a lot from when you first met her. She was angry, and a reckless teenager, now she was a graceful and calculated woman. “Be ready at 8 pm tonight I’m taking you somewhere fancy to thank you for everything.”

“You don’t have to do that. I swear”

“It’s to late I already have a reservation. Do not keep me waiting.” She walked forward. You walked along side her.

“You don’t take no for an answer do you?” You teased her

“You didn’t say no technically. But no I am taking you to dinner tonight.” She looked at you her Crimson x’s burning into you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go to dinner with you. Fancy you say?”

“Yes I’m taking you to a fancy restaurant, it’s the least I can do, you’ve always did whatever you could to help me and the house. It means a lot to me.”

It was 6:30 when you got home. Arlecchino’s taking you to dinner. You barely had enough time to get ready in fact you barely put on your shoes when you heard her knock. “Come in” you touched up your lipstick as she opened the door.

“Are you ready?” She walked into your room, archons she was beautiful, her once short hair now reached her butt, pulled into a low ponytail. She was wearing her normal suit. While you were all dolled up, in a full face of makeup, your hair curled, a long skintight black dress, black heals and a silver clutch. “Well look at you all dressed up.”

“You told me we are going somewhere fancy. So I dressed up.” You were blushing slightly, Arlecchino is so much taller the you and the way she was leaning on the doorframe had you melting. You forgot when you started to like her, but you never did anything you know she’s not one to form relations. Your relationship with her was purely based on work.

“You look beautiful, truly” there you go again your face is definitely super red. Arlecchino grabbed your hand and pulled to to follow her, you did of course,

“You’re not one to dish out compliments.” You giggled a bit.

“Then you should know I’m being sincere” she didn’t let go of your hand, she held it all the way to the restaurant. She only let go when you were sat, in a private little corner. “Go ahead and pick out anything you want, I’m paying after all” you looked at the menu. Everything was pretty pricey, now with you being a harbinger the price would be no problem but still you live way below your means. So going to fancy places isn’t something you do often.

“I’ll just have the steak.”

“I’ll order the same then” after a bit the waiter arrived.

“What would you like to drink, ladies?

“Just get us on red wine,” the waiter nodded before hurrying off. And coming back with the wine. Pouring two cups of wine, Arlecchino took a sip of wine.

“So why did you wish to take me to a restaurant? Especially such a fancy one?”

“Am I not allowed to treat my closest confidant.” She raised her eyes brow at you, her expression barely changing but enough for you to notice.

“I’m not saying that, it’s just” you sighed. “You treat me so differently from everyone else”

“Well maybe that’s because I think of you differently.” She grabbed your hand. Placing a kiss on it. “And I always have.”

“Arle.” Your face heating up. When she raised her eyes to meet yours. This crimson x’s focused on you. And only you.

“I, you’re not someone I can lose. Ever.” She placed a kiss on your hand again.

[ksmline]

star [bang chan x reader]

you first catch sight of chan at an award show, and you just have to have him.

pairing: stray kids bang chan x female!reader

info/warnings: NSFW!!, reader is an actress but it kind of unintentionally ends up becoming irrelevant to the smut part. porn without plot, inconsistent writing style, kind of rushed, GENDERED TERMS (pretty girl, etc), unprotected sex

word count: 1.6k

it's my first time writing smut so if you're reading this you're just going to have to forgive me.

i only want ADULTS who are 18+ interacting with this post. any minors interacting with this post or following this blog WILL promptly be blocked.

never in your life have you drooled over a man like this. you’re used to people drooling over you— the super hot, super successful mega star actress with a face card so lethal it could kill a person. as such, you’ve never really had to do much of anything at all to get guys you’re interested in. they flock to you like moths to a flame.

this is why you’re in a dilemma now, standing next to this fucking hunk of a man at some award show you don’t even remember the purpose of. you’ve only been able to steal so many glances through your peripheral vision, at the risk of alerting your hyper vigilant fans, but it’s more than enough to send a heat rushing between your legs. the slope of his nose, his pretty pink lips, the expanse of his chest peeking through his loose silk shirt, the veins on his hands … he turns around to say something to his teammate (the blonde haired doe eyed pretty boy with the freckles), and you catch his accent. fucking hell. you want this man. you hunger for this man.

you hear the blonde guy say his name. chan. you don’t think you’ll get to use it tonight; as confident and extroverted as you usually are, chan has sent you into this helpless haze where even if somebody were to say hi to you it’d cause your entire system to malfunction and shut down. you want him to like you so bad. you want him to think you’re pretty and hot and sexy and tell you the things you hear all the time anyway but in a much more intimate way with that sexy accent of his. you want him to take you to bed and have you whichever way he pleases.

you can feel how red your ears are, and you couldn’t have been more glad that your hair is styled down right now. you don’t even know what’s more embarrassing, the fact that you are this horny for a stranger in public, or this girlish, childish crush on him that you developed in under the five minutes that you guys have been standing next to each other. at this point, all you really can do is wait for this whole thing to be over so you can go back home, search his name online, finger yourself to the first video of him you see, and then try to fall asleep and will him away from your thoughts. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. right?

anywho, you somehow make it through the event. it’s mostly thanks to the management reseating the attendees for whatever reason, and chan being at a safer distance from you, but you give yourself a pat on the back regardless. for someone who’s only come to grapple with the concept of having a crush instead of being someone else’s for once just an hour ago, you’ve handled it quite well. as discreetly as you can with a million cameras flashing in your face, anyway.

the show’s over now, and nearly all the celebrities are gone. chan and his group fell back so they could say bye to their fans, but now security’s shooing the last of them out. your team makes to usher you out to your car, and you watch (more comfortably now that your fans are out of the picture) as the stray kids boys begin to file into their vans too. you stare at chan’s back as he hurries behind them, a regretful yearning oozing from your eyes.

your manager is quick to catch on, a devilish smile beginning to play on her lips. you turn around, about to disagree with whatever’s about to come out of her mouth, and— fuck, fuck, fuck.

chan’s coming back. he’s coming back and he’s headed towards you. you don’t even know if he’s going to approach you or walk past you, maybe to go get something he forgot, but you start panicking anyway, eyes darting all over the place to avoid meeting his. christ, you’ve never been such a mess before, especially for a guy. you don’t have time to ponder this now, because chan’s standing in front of you, leaving you to take him in in all his glory. 

you say a quick word to your manager, something about meeting up with her by the car later, and the team disperses. it then takes everything in you to pull yourself together and channel your collected, professional actress disposition before facing chan properly.

 “hi there.” you flash him your best smile. “can i help you?”

“fucking hell,” chan curses, pushing you against the hotel door as he holds your leg straddled around his waist. you keep your mouth on his, pulling your dress up and around your hips. your wet panties grind against his clothed bulge, and he lets out the horniest, most pornographic moan into your mouth. you take this as your cue to finally reach down between you and touch him, palming his bulge. you’re just about to unzip his fly, before he pulls away. 

you must look confused, hurt almost, because he reaches out to caress your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts literally everything you guys have been doing so far. “not like this, baby. properly.” and then he makes you straddle him tighter, carrying you to the bed and laying you down. then he kisses you again, all soft and wet. his hand disappears beneath your dress, stroking your pussy. you lean into him, mouth falling open in much awaited relief. he keeps talking. “need to make you feel good, too.”

and that he does. just as you feel like you could cum just from this, chan pulls his hand away, and proceeds to spread your legs out as much as he can. then he falls back over you, pulling your dress down just enough for your tits to pop out fully. his eyes glaze over. you look divine; baring your wet panties to him, breasts so round and soft and perfect. he licks his fingers before using them to play with your now hard nipple.

“you’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” chan fondles your boobs, patting them gently so they jiggle. you jerk, only being able to nod in your sex hungry state. “i tried so hard to keep from getting hard at the award show. could only think of you and these pretty, round tits.” 

you grab his wrist and shove it inside your panties, using it to get yourself off. “was so wet for you, chan.” your eyes roll back. “the entire award show. i was this wet for you. see? feel. i was— ah, fuck— so wet … almost— almost gave in and t-touched myself in front of everyone. i was— i was so embarrassed, channie.”

“oh my god. fucking hell, me too, baby.” he’s palming his bulge again, touching himself to your words. “kept thinking about what you were hiding under this slutty fucking dress. wanted to see all of you. wanted to see these big, fat tits, and this dripping wet pussy.”

you cum all over his hand, eyes glassy and mouth open. usually, you’d be embarrassed. but not with chan. you feel so naughty, this feels so wrong but you still feel more aroused than you’ve ever been with any man. you show him his hand, all wet with your slick. “look, channie.”

“i’m looking, honey.” he uses his wet hand, rubbing your cum onto your nipples. “can you show me more of you? if that’s okay?” you nod. “good girl.”

chan finally takes off your sopping wet panties, exposing your clit to him, shining with your juices. he pulls you to sit up, reaching over to rearrange you so you’re on all fours. “there we go, pretty girl.” he runs his index finger through your folds, marveling at how much you came. then he presses his tongue to your pussy, licking and sucking at it before adding his fingers to the mix.

“oh, fuck. chan, ah—” 

he brings you to your breaking point once more, before pulling away to unbuckle his pants. he uses the tip of cock and rubs it against your pussy as he strokes himself, both of you moaning like never before.

when he finally enters you, it feels like you’ve ascended. you’ve never taken a cock as big as chan’s before. fuck, you feel so full. he’s a fucking menace, reaching a hand in front to continue rubbing your clit throughout, the other hand fondling your bouncing breasts. this, plus the feeling of his balls slapping against your skin is more than enough to bring you over the edge. 

chan pulls out, pushing you back on to your back. he continues pumping himself with his hand, before cumming all over your pussy with a loud, relieved groan. then he collapses beside you, entire body flushed red as he pants audibly. 

he looks pretty like this, too, you think, and then marvel at how far gone you are. you lean into his warmth, and hesitate before finally reaching out to hold his hand. he’s still for a moment, and you’re about to shyly retract from him before he grabs your hand properly and kisses it with the biggest grin on his face. you’ll figure out your situation in the morning, but right now you’re more than happy to stay with him like this, even more so when he pulls you deeper into him and cradles you gently, letting you fall asleep as he rubs your back.

[bitethedevil]

If you’re taking writing prompts consider-

Raphael reacting to Tav/Durge confessing they’re in love with him

I made it a Durge because I haven't written a lot of Durge stuff (fun fact: the first longer fic I ever wrote was with a Durge warlock that had Raph as a patron, but I never released it). Raph is being a bit of a manipulative dick in this one, but what's new. Also, I'm slow as fuck at replying to my asks (especially prompts)

Love

Clack clack clack clack…clack clack clack clack…clack clack clack clack.

His office was deadly quiet except for the sound of his claws tapping on the hard mahogany of his desk, a dangerous rhythm that she knew immediately what meant the second she heard it. The rhythm echoed her heartbeat as she waited for her patron to say something. She was in trouble.

He was leaning against his desk, looking at her and keeping her in suspense. A cruel smile stretched over his face, as he saw how she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She had defeated monsters, mindflayers, gods…even the biggest monster of them all, her father. Still, nothing made her stomach churn more than the thought of Raphael’s wrath.

The feeling humiliated her as much as it thrilled her and drew her closer to him. She had been a god in her own right with all the lives she took under Bhaal and the cult she had led in his name, but this mere cambion brought her to her knees.

She was like a moth to his fiery flames. Everything about him excited her: his cruelness, his gracious mercy at times, his power plays. He felt like home. There was something safe and known in that cruelty that drew her closer. It was something she understood the rules of.

Click clack…

“I have always questioned your loyalty,” he finally said and moved his claws up to his face to look at them as he spoke. “It is no secret that I am prone to play favorites, but perhaps I made a mistake when I took you in…”

His yellow eyes looked up at her. His comment hit her like a punch to the gut and she knew as well as him that that was the intended effect. She hated the feeling of disappointing him. She hated that she felt that way about it even more. She cleared her throat.

“What is this about?” she asked quietly.

That was the wrong question. She could see it from the way his tail flicked in irritation. She had taught herself every one of his physical cues. They were subtle sometimes, but easier to read in this form. The man had total control over his body, but the devil was just a tad less composed.

“What is this about?” he repeated his question in a smooth, even tone. “Many things, my dear.”

That was another thing she had learned: it was never just one thing. Raphael held grudges. He archived every little mistake in his head in neat files, so he could throw them in your face when you stepped out of line.

“You came crawling to me after your father spat you out, after defying me at every turn and without a crown for me. You begged me to take you in, and yet I question your devotion to my cause. You owe me a grand debt when it comes to loyalty. A debt you have not yet paid back with your services, and one that I now question if you will ever pay back if you keep associating yourself with the wrong people.”

She had wanted to give him the Crown of Karsus. She had liked him even back then. Her companions had fought her every step of the way, and with her dealing with Bhaal, she had too much on her plate to fight them on it.

“It wasn’t my choice, Raphael,” she pleaded. “You know—”

“Yes, yes,” he cut her off impatiently with a wave of his clawed hand. “I have heard all your endless excuses…and I graciously forgave you, didn’t I? You would have been a bloody stain on my carpet long ago if I had not. What I cannot forgive is disloyalty.”

“Raphael, please,” she pleaded quietly. “Just tell me what I have done. I’ll make it right.”

Another flick of his tail. His nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed, but he quickly schooled his features back into one of indifference.

“What were you doing in Waterdeep?” he asked slowly, each word as heavy as a brick.

That was what all of this was about. She had visited Gale. Gale who had been the very reason that the Crown of Karsus did not go to Raphael. Gale and her had started out as friends, but it evolved to something more along the way. It did not work out. Gale was too perfect, too functional for her. She broke his heart, and she would be lying if she said that this fact wasn’t taken into consideration when she gave up on trying to give to the Crown of Karsus to Raphael.

“I was just visiting,” she admitted. “Nothing more.”

“Just visiting,” he repeated with a hint of venom in his voice. “Just visiting an old flame that snubbed your patron of what was rightfully his, is that right? Is he well, our dear Gale? Does his new unburdened life suit him?”

“We are friends—”

“Friends,” Raphael said with a cruel laugh. “How awfully sentimental of you, dear. How soft you have become. I remember a ruthless woman who murdered her way through Baldur’s Gate. That woman, I could have used. It seems that your father has stripped you of everything that once made you interesting.”

That comment made her furious. It made her blood boil, but then why was she on the verge of crying instead? Why did she find herself pleading instead of yelling?

“Gale and I have been through hell and back,” she said. “It doesn’t change my loyalties for you. Please, Raphael.”

“I will NOT be made to look a fool!!” he roared with a sudden fire in his eyes.

The sound boomed through his office. She flinched. His tail flicked from side to side now. He looked her up and down. It seemed to please him how she was turning pale at his words and tearing up. He returned to his calm and collected demeanor as quickly as he got angry.

“Why are you crying?” he asked without a shred of sympathy in the question.

She tried to stop, but she couldn’t. She just wanted him to understand that she was devoted to him, and that this was all a mistake. She had not meant to cross him or make him angry, but merely to visit an old friend. His nails started tapping on the table again as he waited for her to speak.

“Can’t you— can’t you see that I’m only loyal to you?” she sobbed. Clack, clack… “I made a contract with you because I wanted to work for you. I’m yours, and only yours.” Clack, clack, clack. “Can’t you see how I only want to please you? How much I love you?”

Clack.

He froze for a moment at the oddly heartfelt confession that escaped her lips. She had not meant for that to come out, but he was great at pressuring her into saying things she didn’t want to admit. It was a humiliating confession. She hated being so vulnerable and weak. She wished that she could stuff the words right back down her throat. He wasn’t supposed to know.

A smile spread over his otherwise frozen face. He looked her up and down and let out a small huff of laughter. He looked like a man who had just been handed the perfect weapon. His hand left the table and beckoned her closer with a finger.

She walked over to him, unable to look him in the eye. He tilted her head up with a claw under her chin. He towered over her in that form.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

She looked into his yellow eyes. He was smiling at her.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated.

The humiliation in the confession was more apparent this time, and he was eating it up like it was the best meal he had had in centuries. He laughed her straight in the face.

“Oh, dear,” he said with a chuckle. “A creature of habit, aren’t you? You poor girl…”

She swallowed hard. She should have just shut up. His thumb ran over her jaw and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch set her aflame, despite the excruciating embarrassment she was feeling.

“Do I remind you of your dear old papa?” he asked, still smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Is that what this is about? It is always the fathers, isn’t it? Still searching for the approval of a cruel master, even now. Perhaps you haven’t changed at all, my dear…”

She kept quiet. He leaned closer as if sharing a secret. She could smell wine and tobacco on his breath. His thumb rubbed circles on her jaw.

“Tell me,” he whispered to her. “Where did your dear Gale fit into this picture? I’m awfully curious.”

Her eyes flicked to his lips for only a second, but he didn’t miss it by the way his smile widened.

There was only one acceptable answer and she prayed that she would choose the right one. She shrugged.

“He didn’t,” she said quietly.

That was the right answer from the way his smile widened.

“No, I would imagine not,” he said. “Too…boring…wasn’t he? He was not enough of a challenge for you, so you discarded him.”

There was a hint of guilt in her eyes at his words. He tutted gently and caressed her cheek.

“Who could blame you?” he cooed. “People like us won’t concern ourselves with boredom. You were right in choosing to focus on greater things. Gale was easy. Pleasing him was easy. He would not make you fight for it like I will.”

That promise made a shiver go through her. Raphael grabbed her arm and tugged her even closer, until she was standing between his legs with her chest pressed against his. His hand came to rest on her hip. He pressed his forehead against her, his nose touching hers. He was tantalizingly close.

“You are mine then, aren’t you?” he asked. “Only mine.”

She nodded. He gave a dangerous smile.

“You want to please me,” he said. “To make me happy…”

Another nod.

“You love and adore me.”

Another nod. His lips were so close she could almost taste them. His thumb was rubbing circles into her hip. His tail was flicking side to side, but not in rage. It was more like a cat that is ready to pounce on an unsuspecting prey that it had been sneaking up on for a while.

“You will write a letter to Gale Dekarios and say that you are unavailable for any future visits,” he whispered against her lips. “That you have already done plenty for him and that you never want to see him again.”

His lips brushed lightly against hers before he pulled away, stealing her breath. She chased his lips, but he only smiled and pulled away further. She knew she had to earn it.

“Go. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?” he said with a smile and let go of her.

[heerocks]

CURIOUS CAT — the connection

SYNOPSIS! Curious Cat is an app that peaked three years ago where people use it to flirt with their crush anonymously and then suddenly forgot about it.

or wherein, Y/N was devastated when her crush, Lee Heeseung indirectly rejecting her in high school. Three years later, both of them have this unknown beef between them that even their friends don't know the real reason behind. One day, Y/N suddenly remembered and opened her C.C. account, and saw that someone by the name 'Ethan' confessed to her three years ago.

With an envelope of personal paper works safely tucked in between his body and arms, heeseung made his way inside the library. The place witnesses different days into his life, and realizes he has grown fond with that said place especially, it was a non speaking witness to the moments he shared with you that he enjoyed through this day.

Heeseung was met with a familiar scent of books — new or old, a sign of comfort. He turned his head around, scanning the whole place to find you.

Instead of your usual spot near the entrance, heeseung found you on the other side of the room near the wide windows overseeing the greeneries of the university. There's a book in front of you, together with your laptop and several binders as your right hand plays with a pen. You were working so hard, focus on wherever your attention binds, whilst the soft beam of sun shines through the windows and to your skin that makes it glow. Just like an ethereal. How can someone be so beautiful doing something that is so normal? Heeseung thought.

He was in trances that he didn't even realize how you turned your head in his direction to finally grace him with attention. This time it was you who found him. Heeseung observed the next events, it didn't became unnoticed how the world turn into slow-mo when your nonchalant mask changed into a smile, eyes writing pleasure as you focused it onto him.

You smiled, softly whisking your hand to signal for him to come. And just like a moth attracted to a fire, he did so without his eyes wavering away from the beauty you hold.

"We just need to check the outcome before passing it right?" You greeted, not bothering to say an actual greeting deeming that after everything happened — you and heeseung are close enough to do that. You unconciously hummed eyes now focus on the laptop you had in front of you.

Heeseung softly agrees, gently picking up the chair as to not disturb you or the other students trying to study in peace. He then put his bag and the files on top of the table before taking his seat.

"I double checked the files before sending it to your email, you can add things on some parts if you want" He whispered, taking the concept that students should not create any noise as an advantage to lean closer causing his cologne to drown you — in a good way.

Your eyes flickered to him but to his dismay it didn't last long. There's a bitterness arose in his heart, why can't you look at him like what you did earlier? But heeseung misread it.

He didn't know how he affect you in every way possible. The memories that occur in the little grocery store two days ago still fresh on your mind. Replaying every chances it gets — more often now that heeseung, the sole reason why your heart react in an unfamiliar way is just right in front of you.

"Okay, I'll work on it later then..."

"I actually can't stay that long, y/n" He mumbled, trying to squeeze a reaction from you.

"Oh, do you have other things to do?" He again nodded silently observing every move. "That's fine, I still need to stay though. Have an exam coming up."

He smiled before grabbing his bag, sliding it in front of him. "Here," Heeseung said finally getting your attention as put the snacks and your favorite strawberry juice in front of you. "Make sure to take breaks in between."

You squint your eyes at him, "You're suspiciously sweet today. Something's not right..."

Heeseung put his bag to his shoulder before standing up, but clumsy lee heeseung forgot to zip his bag causing some of his things to fall all over the place.

Shit, he mumbled.

The man immediately bend down to pick up his things, his heart almost jumped when he sees you doing the same.

You leaned back to your chair, heeseung following suit as he stood up. He unconsciously swallows as his eyes darts back to you, who silently handing the fallen object back to him. Relief washes over his orbs when it's just a small notebook in your hands. Heeseung smiled, taking the notebook before softly patting your head, "What do you mean? I'm always sweet, maybe you just didn't realize it." He shrugged before stepping away but decided to stop and turn around again, "Oh, and make sure to chat riki. He's been sulking these past few days because he didn't get your number last time and said that he wanted to hang out with his mom again"

"What? But, that was only one time."

"Riki would be hurt if he heard that. Basically, for him... I'm his dad, you're his mom, and he's our adopted child," He said in 'as a matter of fact' tone. "See you later, sweetheart. I'll go to work, now!"

The man can see your cheeks burning and how you decided to fight it by jokingly hitting him which he just laughed at. He waved goodbye before finally walking away outside the library.

Heeseung uncontrollably smiled all the way outside the building, descending through the stairs and onto the street. He just can't help it whenever your face flashes through his mind, you were basically his happy pill everyday. That's a known fact, at least to him.

"You seemed happy these days aren't you, lee?" Heeseung stopped in his tracks, soft gaze shifting into scowl before lifting his head to look at the person.

"...that's none of your business, jeongin"

The man smiled, albeit full of vile. "Is it because of y/n?" He asked pretending not to hear the warning in heeseung's voice. "Well, to be honest, I can easily figure it out."

"Don't even think about going near her agai—"

"Do you really think I forgot what you did to me last time?"

Heeseung scoff, sending sharp beams on its way. "It was just a punch. Why are you throwing a tantrums for something so trivial?"

The blonde haired man walked towards heeseung equating his position.

Jeongin pat his shoulder, "I'm not the only one who has secrets keeping from her. Remember that, cousin."

He was about to walk away but Heeseung thought otherwise. "Just like what I said..." He started, voice louder than before causing jeongin to stop. "That's none of your business, Jeongin." Heeseung turned around walking closer to the other man who turned around to face him. "I don't know why you still concern yourself with y/n. What happened between you two was created because of your lies that also ended years ago. So, just... fucking drop it."

Heeseung keep his sharp stares on jeongin before finally, turning around. The other man, jeongin didn't retort back. His eyes keeping on heeseung's back that was slowly fading into the distance.

Chapter 50 — the connection

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GENRE! smau + written, on crack, slow burn, mutual pinning or past pinning, university au, kinda enemies to lovers troupe, heeseung is a simp, reader is kind of dumb, friends bullying friends

𖥻𖥻 taglist! : @ckline35 @meinapricity @gugudone @xoxodinaryheroes @lov3niki @ahnneyong @raikea10 @bigtoewinwin @tlnyjoong @sungookie @uwudaizy @jeongintwt @paragonofroyalty @captivq @lavisha7 @prdxinvade @lockburn-castle @chaemmie @xtra-cheese @mimikittysblog @zhaixiaowen @pb-n-juju @luvkait @myjaeyunn @redm4ri @oceanyocean @diestheticu @liliansun @yenqa @xiaoderrrr @flower-lise @mymeloem19 @jungwon-kitten @hoonieluv @vantxx95 @asherbl @alexayoonlee @spilled-coffee-cup @mdavt @kyexvly @would-bee @jhopesucker @tiramis-hoon @noascats @beomibeom @iea-tsand @ronnierites @flwrshee

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© heerocks 2023

[dapurinthos]

putting up a pair of flags for galaxies:

“I know dying for the Republic is part of the job description but I would like to file a motion to postpone it.” I stare at Valorum’s face, making full use of the alleged spookiness of my pale eyes in his darkened office. I stare at him like a hawk-bat tracking a shadow moth. He doesn't flit all over the place, but I'm ready to pounce and rip something to shreds. “The job of the Jedi is not to die for the Republic,” says Valorum. There's a cloud around him of not just the creeping darkness present on this planet but a closer misery and the acceptance that comes when a person has exhausted all their options. “Oh?” I tilt my head to the side. I reach back into my memories of paper and ink and let the Force choose my words. “More Jedi deaths in the last twelve years than the previous fifty, wasn't it? Half a year ago? After Naeshahn and Ebor Taulk ended up on your doorstep?” Valorum pales. Master Si’s hand curves over my shoulder now, ready to pull me back. “Araithana, that's enough. It’s not the Chancellor’s fault.” The full-first name rebuke. I bite at the inside of my lips, trying to keep the words from spilling out. I don’t manage it. They slip from my grasp like everything else. “Three weeks.” “What?” Valorum’s response is simply rote now. “The Hutt holiday of Boonta Eve is on the seventeenth. Today is the second. There might be enough time.” “Time for what.” “You have a Sith.”

[hlsecrets]

Real bullies in the fandom.

I saw this drama going on then I joined modding for Hogwarts Legacy. Apparently we have self-called "royality" that think they only can make mods and share them publicaly or just keep them for theirselves (gatekeeping).

I feel bad for everyone that caught their attention, with doing mods they also did before - but never shared.

I looked into the topic, one of them (everyone knows her name now) started drama with writting 20 pages with tons of screenshoots with private messages that preally proved nothing (maybe only mental problems of author). It's unreal that someone spend so much time and effort, to make such ugly bucket of slop about someone, and that they feel proud after doing it.

I'm one of creator in the HL fandom (I'll stay anonymous in this post), and this seriously is discouraging to keep sharing stuff, because we don't know the time the self-called "royality" will be interested in something we just did.

It's disturbing those people want others to feel threatened, you can't even react or you'll get hate as well.

I talked to many people before writting it, and saw the "file", that was disturbing and true harrasement, directed into one of HL creators.

Here is the story that started back in May, if you want to read:

(declaration: I got those discord dm screencaps from person A, when I asked her what happened, 2 moths ago; other screencaps were taken by me and other people)

Person A asked about getting paid commission from tiktok creator (Person B). Send her message, and waited 2-3 weeks to get the answer - people who got this mod before, didn't agree to share this mod with any others.

In the meantime person A looked into the mechanics themselves, and asked few people from modding discord, if they could help her with creating the mod- (she was asked by person B to take down the message, on modding discord), even before she got no answer (to mod request).

For me it feels like one big lie, that they put one to keep gatekeping in the fandom.

Anyway as you can see it was back in May. Then person A got no answer and looks like were still on the hunt of learning how to do this mod. As we know now it was other well known modder who helped her at the end. If I'm right she made video with it, and then more drama started.

She blocked some tiktok creator from said group, when I asked her she said that was not comfortable with them. After what happened I feel like she was right to block them. But after she blocked them there was this post shared all of her social acc's.

I don't know what is with those people and taking screenshoots of everything and everyone, freaks me out .... I looked into screenshoots she posted: and they had be taken months before (January, and post was made in May).

Aparently when she blocked the Person B, she confronted her about blocking her on discord, and after long messages, acused her of writting to her from other acc on discord, asking other people to ask her stuff ??? and harrasing her over a mod. I was long in fandom but I saw no harrasement in messages person A send on her socials. Real harrasement happened from this tik tok group and her file on google, being so obsessed about their gatekeeping. ... I have no words on that.

I had to add, when people were commenting and asking what is happening, it was person B who wrote to completly random people (who commented on posts), telling them awfull things about person A, asking them to unfollow her and send link to her file. She also shared the link on all her socials.

If that is not harrarement I dont know what is.

After months thins cooled down and recently saw Person A posted mod on nexusmods. There again bullies came to start drama again.

Idk what is with this obsession about this mod from that group... since downloads if posted file are hight (lot of us wanted to have it and use it - thats the truth) ... also funny fact is that person B never shared mod for free, for community... and for me that says a lot.

My last comment on this: I dont get why those people are doing stuff like that. We all are in fandom to enjoy the game and modders work. I don't trust any of people who were reacting in that way and causing this drama. And the best thing for all of us is to stay away from them.

Be safe fellows!

[ollie-olliebaby]

"Hello? This is Ollie!" Their voice was chipper as they answered the phone that aftertnoon. Balancing a box of files and a freshly made beverage in their grasp, they almost didn't catch the name that was being said on the other line.

"Uh..hello, my name is Clifton Malo. I'm looking for an Olivia Malo?"

Stopping dead in their tracks, it took them a moment to process what was being said. They hadn't heard their birth name in years. Dropping the box sending its contents scattering across the apartment floor, their drink going with it; Ollie's heart dropped.

"Hello? Hello?" The voice said again. "...please don't hang up." They begged.

"It's...uh....my name is Ollie Malo...can I help you with something?" They asked, the weariness of someone twice their age very evident.

"Oh, uh sorry, Ollie. I uh....jesus how do I say this.." He mumbled. "My name is Clifton...and I uh, well if what I've found to be correct.." There was a moment of poignent silence. Like he was trying to find the best way to break this news.

"I'm your father."

Stumbling back a bit into the nearst hard surface, in this case their hallway wall, Ollie couldn't bring themselves to speak. Frankly all they wanted to do was chuck their phone across the room and pretend it had never happened. But, they couldn't do that, could they? They still had an option to hang up.

"How did you find this number?" They asked after silence on both of their ends. Ollie was already starting to build up the needed walls to protect their heart. If anything, this wouldn't be a reapeat of what happened with their mother.

"I uh, well I've been searching for your moth-...well for Raina. For decades now, and when I finally hit a break through a few years ago she addmitted, albeit very reluctantly, that she had a child. And that the child was mine. Seems we both had the same intention. She mentioned meeting you and how that went."

The tears were starting to sting the back of their eyes. It was taking everything in them not to just let the flood gates open up. "Okay....I do-don't...what do you.." Words were hard. Thinking was hard.

This was hard.

Clifton let out a sigh, running his fingers through his salt and peppered hair. "I know...this is a lot to ask of you. This is a lot for anyone to go through. But, I would like to meet you. I want to explain myself? If that would help anything. I promise you if I had known you were in this world, I wouldn't have let her give you up."

"Please...can we meet? Anywhere that you are comfortable, I just...I'd like a chance. If you are willing to give me just once chance and then if you never want to see me again, I unders-" Clifton was starting to babble a little bit. A trait Ollie must have picked up from them.

"Enchanted Rose Cafe. Thirty minutes." And with that statement they hung up the phone.

Ollie wanted nothing more than in that moment to sink into the baseboards of that hallway floor. To let the all of the knots and cracks in the wood stain to swallow them up and make them disapper. But this was what they wanted, right? To find their family.

It took another ten or so minutes for OIlie to peel themselves off the chestnut polish on the ground and get ready to leave.

They tried their hardest to not think too hard as they went down to the cafe. "I wonder what he looks like? Is he old? Does have grey hair?I wonder if he chews at his nails like I do." Too many thoughts were spinning through their brain as they came up to the door. About to grab the handle, a tember voice stopped them.

"Ollie!" Clifton called out from his spot at one of the outside tables.

There he was. Standing in all is 6'2 glory. Clifton Malo.

Ollie's Father.

Ollie hated how much they looked like their parents. They could see it when they had met their mother, they could see it even more now meeting Clifton.

"Hi.." They said gently. Their usual bubbly personality locked and protected behind the wall they had newly constructed. Unsure of where to take things now. "Please, come sit." He said gesturing over toward a table that already had one of their favorite drinks sitting there.

"I uh wasn't sure what you liked, but someone that worked here seemed to know you, so they made this." Taking a seat, he waited patiently for Ollie to join him and when they finally did, a sort of relaztion settled into his shoulders.

"So...what did you want?" Ollie asked, wanting to get right to the point.

"A chance." He replied. "A chance to say that I'm sorry for what you have been through. To try and make up for lost time? I know it's probably a lost cause. So much time has been lost and I know I am partially at faul-"

"It's not your fault you didn't know about me." Ollie stepped in. "...it was my mo-...it was Raina's fault." Picking at the skin around their nails, Ollie couldn't bring themselves to meet his gaze quite yet. "You say that if you had known about me, you would have wanted me?" They questioned.

Clifton nodded his head. "If there is one thing I've always wanted, it was kids. I always wanted to have a family. I thought I would have had that with Raina, despite her having children from a previous relationship, I was ready to take on that responsiblity."

"How noble of you." Ollie almost sneered.

Licking at his lips, Clifton let out another sigh. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I can say outside of that. Just know that I did want you. I do want you, Ollie. If you'd give me the chance, I'd like to get to know you more. Introduce you to family. You've got aunts, uncles, cousins and a very lovely set of grandparents that want to meet you, whenever you are ready."

Ollie swallowed hard, there eyes glazed over with fresh tears. Again, it was something they had always wanted. To have a family of their own. One that looked like them, shared stories of family members long since gone. With the cheesy nicknames and the family love that just about every other family had.

"And what if I'm never ready? What if I've found a family that loves me and cares for me. Who calls me on my birthdays and invites me out for holidays. Who lets me call them at 2am because I had a bad day and I needed to talk to someone. What if I have that and I don't want anything to do with you?" There was a bit of venom in their words. Which was rightly justified. Clifton new that, which was why he took it in stride.

"Then we will part ways after today, and I won't try and contact you." Watching him reach into his pocket, he pulled out a little business card. "This is my information. My personal cell phone, address and email. If...if you ever want to know more, I am ready to tell you anything."

"I've spent years! Searching for people who were mine. For people that were my blood. I understand that Raina fucked us both over, but you can't just waltz in here thinking things are going to be right as rain now." Ollie could feel themselves getting a little hysterical. "I've always wanted a father." They said after a brief pause to reflect. "Someone who would protect me..from everything in the world. To protect me from myself when the days got to rough. But, I didn't get that. I had to learn to protect myself. No thanks to you or Raina."

The tears had started to flow at this point, with little sign of stopping. Clifton picked up a napkain, reaching it out to them Ollie hissed and recolied. "I don't want anything from you." They murmured, finally meeting his eyes. "Right now, I don't want anything from you. You may have aided in my birth, but you are not my father." Getting up from the table, Ollie watched as the light in Clifton's eyes seemed to dim. He had been hoping for this moment as much as they had.

Eyes glancing down again to the business card, they picked it up off the table. Turning it over a few times in their grip, Ollie let out a shaky breath. "This....today was a mistake. I thought I would be ready...but I'm not."

"So...maybe one day?" Clifton ventured, a tinge of hope in his voice.

"Maybe." Ollie replied as they backed away.

"Just not today."

And with that, Ollie turned and left. Leaving a sad, yet hopeful Clifton in the dust as they ran back home.

[kalpasio]

An Engineer's Dream

Fight of His Dreams

A Kalpas x Reader angst fic, chapter 3 below!

“So your name is Kalpas?” You asked while installing the second projector. There was a low hum in response that you took as a ‘yes.’ “And you’re a sim?” Another hum, this one slightly more annoyed. “And you live here with other sims?” This hum was closer to a growl, so you decided not to press any further. When you returned to the terminal screen to activate the new projector, you found a file open titled ‘The Elysian Realm.’ Scanning through it briefly, you found the answers to the questions you’d just asked along with much more helpful information.

“Why were you the one I had to fix first? Vill-V has been way more help. All you do is stand there and brood and complain that I take too long.” Kalpas was silent at the end of your rant, and for a second, you thought you might have offended him. When you looked up from what you had been reading, you found him already sending you his usual glare, assuring you that he was no more annoyed than he always was. Rolling your eyes for at least the fifth time today, you returned to the words before you.

As it turned out, Kalpas was one of thirteen Flame Chasers, soldiers for an organization called Fire Moth; hence why their logo was plastered everywhere. Kevin, your boss’ boss, was somehow a Flame Chaser as well? Maybe this was some fantasy world of his. All the people listed were from the previous era, it seemed odd that the sire of World Serpent would have been alive fifty thousand years ago.

Skimming over that fact for a moment, you continued to read and found that the place was built as some sort of archive for the Flame Chasers, as well as offer a challenge to Valkyries of the current era. There was another room you hadn’t seen yet that served as the battlegrounds. The whole space was holographic, meaning that the scenery and enemies were entirely virtual, though they hardly seemed like it.

Forty pages later, you felt even more confused, despite having much more information. Only the names you had seen before were listed as being Flame Chasers, so while you knew there were thirteen total, only Aponia, Kevin, Vill-V, and Kalpas were visible on the list. Apart from battling Honkai, you knew very little about Fire Moth or it’s projects. Repeatedly, the document suggested talking to one of the sims if you wanted clarification, though which sim knew what you wanted, or was willing to share it with you was not very apparent.

Knowing Kalpas had been irritated at simply giving his name, you somehow doubted he’d be particularly forthcoming on the info you wanted. Still, Vill-V and Aponia were hiding in the computer, and there was no way in hell you were talking to Kevin about this, leaving you with only one option.

Before you had even opened your mouth, Kalpas was shooing you away. “Don’t even think about it, mechanic. I’m not in the mood.”

“Engineer. I got a whole ass degree, thank you,” you sent a glare that could rival his own. Then, mumbling to yourself, you headed back to the workshop and away from the suddenly very hot room.

“You have shit taste in music.”

“Don’t listen then,” you carefully soldered two wires together, not looking up. Over time, the workshop had become more and more your own space, tools laid where you’d remember, and parts sorted the way you were used to. Seven of the projectors were working now and apparently Kalpas could now move close enough to hear the speaker you’d set up and complain about it—though it was rare he wasn’t complaining about something.

“Find something better,” he snapped back.

“Sorry. I don’t have any ‘Previous Era Songs to Rip and Tear to.’ You’ll have to settle for this, or nothing.” If you weren’t outside the projector’s range, you might not have been so snarky with your response, but as it stands, Kalpas couldn’t’ even make it up the stairs to the shop. He stood at the base, shouting up at you who was safe from both his flames and glare. Without the threat of those, you could be as sassy as you pleased.

You were barely able to make out a grumble, but the stomps leading away from where you worked were clearly audible and made you chuckle. Kalpas was probably off pouting now, but by the time you came down to grab lunch, he’d forget all about what had just happened. Aponia may not speak to you anymore, but she’d turn off the lights in the shop, or send a few electric shocks your way if you spent too long in the Realm.

As you’d predicted, when lunch rolled around, Kalpas was back to normal levels of annoyed, and no longer pouting—at least as far as you could tell. “Where are you going?” He sounded like a parent scolding their child for being out past curfew. Letting out a huff, you told him you were just getting food. This didn’t seem to do much to convince the nearby flames to go down, but Kalpas made no move to stop you from leaving.

Soon after, you came back carrying a tray full of food, fork hanging out of your mouth. “Cafeteria’s full,” you explained and sat down on the couch. For having been there long past its warranty, the long couch that lined part of the wall was surprisingly comfortable. “Do you have any friends in the Flame Chasers?” you broke the silence, hoping to have some sort of conversation while you ate rather than just having Kalpas watch you with that burning gaze of his.

“Sakura,” he leaned back into the couch and fixed his eyes straight ahead.

“Tell me about them?”

“No.” The word was stern but not sharp. He wouldn’t budge on the matter, but you also hadn’t upset him with the question. Humming around your for, you tried to come up with a new topic, but Kalpas beat you to it.

“You fight?”

“A bit,” you shrugged. “Well enough to stay alive and pass basic training, but not enough to become a Valkyrie.”

“Spar with me,” your company stood and gave you a fierce look while waiting for you to stand as well.

“Are you kidding?” you snorted and shook your head. “I don’t even qualify as an A-rank. You’re genetically modified and have way more experience.” Turning your fork over, you pointed it at him for a moment before angrily stabbing your food.

“Too much of a coward to fight me?” The taunt in his voice was obvious as was his confidence.

“No, I just don’t have a death wish.”

“Pathetic.”

“Will you leave me alone if I fix your stupid training room?” You groaned and focused on finishing your food so you could go back to peacefully ignoring Kalpas.

“Fighting mindless Honkai isn’t the same as defeating you.”

“It’s not,” you stood and placed your tray on the table near the door. “But I can’t repair the Elysian Ream if you break all my bones.”

“Who said anything about breaking bones?” Kalpas grinned and you could hear it through his mask. Hiding a shudder, you turned and began heading towards the workshop, pretending you couldn't feel the glare burning into your back.

You only had a few more minutes before Aponia would kick you out for the night, but this latest unit was nearly done, so you were trying to finish it before that happened. Blindly reaching for the screwdriver that you had left on the table next to you, your hands met the surface a couple times before you gave in and looked to try and find the tool. Except, of course it wasn’t there. Used to your coworkers coming by and taking things you needed, a frown formed on your face and your head immediately whipped around to find the culprit.

In a room with only one other person, it should have been obvious, yet you still were angry to find Kalpas holding your screwdriver and spinning it in his hand like it was a knife. The skill with which his fingers moved was no doubt impressive, but that didn’t stop you from furrowing your brows and sending a deadly glare. He had a knife! A very real, very sharp knife, right there on his thigh! Why did he need to take your tools and pretend they were something he already had?

“That’s not a weapon,” you grumbled, still glaring. Kalpas stopped moving, holding the screwdriver in his hand parallel to the ground as though looking down a blade. Slowly his gaze dropped to meet yours. Without being able to see it, you knew he was raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not meant to be a weapon,” you corrected.

“Ok.” Kalpas didn’t move.

“And…” You took a deep breath. Weapon or not, in his hands, that screwdriver could easily spell your end, and you weren’t exactly in the mood right now. “I need that for my repairs, so can I have it back please?” Hesitantly, you reached your hand out, wanting the tool, but also not wanting to be within stabbing range. Kalpas only stared at you, his grip on the handle tightening for a second, causing the leather in his glove to creak.

Right when you were about to give up and grab a different screwdriver (there were close to fifty of the same kind in the workshop) you got yours back. In less than a second, Kalpas flipped the tool so he was holding it by the other end, then firmly dropped the handle into your palm. The sudden movement caused you to flinch away instinctively, and the deep chuckle you heard made it obvious, he knew what he had just done. Still, you held on to the handle, and pulled away with the screwdriver, turning back to your work with your shoulders raised up to your ears.

Bringing your lunch back to the Elysian Realm to eat with Kalpas had become a regular occurrence. Sometimes—most times—he wouldn’t talk to you, and you’d either sit in silence, or continue working while he watched you. Sometimes—very rarely—there would be what could almost be considered a conversation between the two of you. Asking questions usually got you nothing, small talk usually got you nothing, and arguing always got you nothing.

“Isn’t it your job to answer questions about this place?” Your attempts had once again been shot down and you were beginning to consider giving up learning anything about the place until someone new arrived. There’s no way they’re as difficult to deal with as who you were working with now.

“You’re cleaning up the mess left by the last person who got the answers they wanted.” Kalpas didn’t sound angry for once, but he certainly wasn’t laid back. His tone held a tenseness that had you on edge, even though you didn’t fully understand what he was referring to.

“The last successor?” you questioned around a bite of food. Unsurprisingly, Kalpas didn’t answer, his silence giving you a chance to piece things together in your mind. “Was it Mei?”

“That Herrscher…” The words rumbled in his chest, and flames began to flicker around his head. Mei had come to World Serpent after you. The two of you hadn’t interacted at all, but rumors about here were unavoidable. Where she was disappearing off to, no one knew, but everyone knew she was going somewhere. It would make sense if the Elysian Realm had been her destination, given its original purpose, and her closeness to Kevin.

“When she left suddenly…I guess that’s when everything broke down.” You were speaking more to yourself than Kalpas now. He was still lost in his rage towards the girl at the moment, not hearing a word you said. ���Her Herrscher powers easily could account for all the damage to the electrical system, but the software and files?”

“She brought another damn Herrscher with her.” The fires next to you grew, and Kalpas swore.

“The Herrscher of Corruption,” you whispered, taking a sharp breath through your nose when the flames erupted. Miraculously, the couch was unscathed, and your eyebrows intact, but Kalpas’ hair was tipped in embers and a trail of heat followed him as he angrily paced back and forth in front of you. Given the fierce reaction, you understood why he refused to answer questions now.

Moving carefully so as to not gain the attention of the walking fireball you now shared a room with, you stood from the couch and started for the safety of the workshop. It was an hour before the flames died down, another hour after that before the shouting stopped, and when you left for the night, Kalpas was still visibly tense.

I do not know what chapter titles are, good luck my friends. Also I make that joke about 'rip and tear radio' but I unironically listen to the Doom OST so… also do you like how I went "here's the schedule I'm gonna follow :)" and then immediately threw it out the window?

[full-moon-rising]

Summary:

This is Rena's Chapter. Yup. Rena follows Sabine's lead and the team gets more than they expected. There is a recounting of the team's last minutes at the Tower. The last minutes of Ladybug and Hawk Moth.

Notes:

This chapter as well as the next one are rough. They recount the events in detail, and the events are dark and disturbing. If you have a list of trigger warnings for violence and emotional pain, use them here.

Eleven: Rena’s Chapter

Sabine made the call to her friend at the TV station and told her what she needed. 15 minutes later I knocked on the office door and the video archivist opened it. The woman stood stunned when she found herself looking at…

“Oh my god, Rena Rouge.”

“Hi. You must be Michelle. I was told you would be able to get me some materials I need.”

“Of course. Come in, please. Sabine didn’t tell me who the files were for.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a secret, but we would rather not publicize our interest in the videos.” I looked around the office seeing books, files, canisters of film that were probably older than I was, and the most important file storage device in the room. The computer.

“I didn’t expect you to get here so quickly, but almost all the files you want were already on backup USB drives.” Michelle took a medium-sized manila envelope and handed it to me. “Would I be prying too much if I asked what you want with the files of the Final Battle?”

I had to smile at the term used by Michelle for The Battle. Even a year after the event there was no clear winner in the name department.

The fight that day had so many names. The Final Battle, The Event, The Fall, The Day of Death, Hawk Moth’s Fall, Ladybug’s Fall, and others. As Alya, I had a name of my own for that awful day a year ago. The Great Loss. It was the title of the final issue of the Ladyblog.

After the fight, I didn’t have the heart to keep it up, so I archived it, and with the help of a French publisher, created a three-book set with all the published photos, articles, letters to the editor, and in each volume, I included never before seen photographs taken by Chat, L.B., Carapace and me during patrols and battles. I signed over half of my profits to various charities and still had enough income from it to get a nice place for Nino and me.

“I can’t say, Michelle, but it is very important.”

“I never thought I would meet one of the Heroes of Paris. You can let Sabine know I still owe her one.”

I chuckled. “I’ll be sure to tell her.”

“Hey, Rena Rouge, can I pry one more time?”

“Sure, but no promises.”

“Okay. What was Ladybug really like?”

“Oh.” I think the surprise on my face was mirrored in my voice, both tinged with sadness.

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry. Just forget I asked.” I turned to the door.

“She was my best friend,” I told her. “The first time she needed another helping hand, she came to me and gave me my Miraculous. Of all the people she could have asked to help, she came to me. She was an amazing woman. Kind, quick-witted, devoted, and fiercely brave. There wasn’t one of us on the team that wouldn’t have taken her place that day. Ladybug was exactly what a hero was supposed to be. A flawed human doing her best.” I started walking toward the door.

“I can believe that. The thing that surprised me most was how Ladybug had seemed to have known what was coming, what the cost would be, and she did it anyway.

What? I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to look at Michelle. What did we miss?

}{

When I arrived back at the bakery, I put the bag of USB drives on the table and sat down. Adrien and Nino were still working on finishing their recollections and going to the internet to help fill in the holes. After my talk with Machelle, I had one hell of a hole filler.

“Adrien, tell me the story from the point when you landed on the Eiffel Tower.”

He looked at me and the pain was still visible after all this time. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

“We were chasing and fighting all the way to the Tower. Hawk Moth and Mayura weren’t even trying that hard to stop us, just slow us down. L.B. got there before me. Mayura kept getting in my way. Just before I landed, L.B. called on the Lucky Charm. It was some kind of crystal, though I don’t remember much about it. She looked at it, and did a quick look around, then nodded and rushed Hawk Moth who had stopped at the railing and was watching the akuma. I remember his laughing. Before I could get to him, Mayura blocked me. L.B. kept going and dove at Hawk Moth. He tried to hit her with his cane, but it didn’t slow her down. When she tackled him, they both went over the rail.” Adrien paused. It had been a long time since he had told this story to anyone. “I hit Mayura hard and then dragged her with me to the rail. I was too late.” He looked at me with haunted eyes. Tears wanting to drop. “The Akuma had just dropped one of his bombs and had started to jump. L.B. and Hawk Moth had fought almost all the way down. He was still trying to get her earrings. She kicked him away and Hawk Moth landed on the akuma. He and the akuma both fell into the mist. L.B. pulled the crystal to her chest and fell seconds behind him.

Adrien’s eyes may have been open, but he wasn’t seeing anything in this time. His breathing had increased, and the panic had slipped onto his face. He was reliving the last moments before he saw Ladybug, Marinette, die. A moment later, he was ready to continue, but I told him he didn’t need to. I suggested that we take a break before continuing. Adrien needed time to come back to this world. Nino told me they had made lunch, so we turned to go into the kitchen. Standing by the door was Sabine. Her face was tear streaked, and clearly, she had heard Adrien’s version of the last minutes of Ladybug. The boys went into the kitchen, and I went to stand with Sabine.

“I had never heard that story.” Her voice broke as she tried to speak clearly.

“There’s more. More details. Important ones. We’ll cover them after lunch.”

“What happened to Mayura?”

“That is not my story to tell. I can tell you that Chat Noir was seconds away from using cataclysm on her. Another couple of centimeters and she would have been ash.”

“What stopped him?”

“Me.” Sabine looked at me. There was surprise and …in her eyes I could see that she was turning the whole thing over. She sighed.

“I guess you did the right thing. Marinette would not have wanted him to be a killer.” She looked down for a beat and then up at me. “But I think I might have been okay with it.”

“There were so many times that night when his world fell apart and crashed over him. He only just survived and if he had killed her, Mayura would have haunted him the rest of his life. I didn’t do it for Mayura, I did it for Adrien.”

End: Chapter 11

Next: Lost

[talesofesther]

Serendipity - Part 1

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Series Summary: Natasha is given the assignment to find and bring back the daughter of an old friend of Fury's, even if she has no idea of who she is or what she looks like. By chance, an unfortunate situation gets Natasha stuck with her own target, except she doesn't know that yet.

A/N: Here's the first part of my new series <3. I don't know how many parts this one will have, I guess we'll see how it goes. I really hope you guys like it, let me know what you think. This is kinda inspired on the request sent by @aneverydaymarvesimp but I've made some alterations.

Masterlist

"Agent Romanoff, can you come to my office?" Fury's voice coming from the speakers echoed through the Compound.

Natasha took a sip of her coffee as she listened, a slight frown forming on her face, her knee rhythmically bumping up and down.

"Someone's in trouble." Tony arrived in the kitchen and made a beeline for the fridge, a smug smile on his face.

Natasha huffed at him, finishing her coffee. "Shut up Stark."

Tony raised his arms in fake surrender, already making himself a sandwich.

Grabbing her jacket and moving up from the chair, Natasha placed her empty cup on the sink and walked to Fury's office. She put on the black jacket and stuffed her hands on the pockets, her mind wandering to why he called only her.

Natasha didn't bother to knock as she made her way in and closed the door behind her.

Fury was sitting on his desk, with a slim folder between his hands. His eyes held a faraway gaze as his finger lightly tapped the paper.

"Sit down, please." He acknowledged Natasha's presence and motioned for the chair in front of his desk.

Her eyes held an inquisitive look as she sat down, and when she did, Fury slid the folder towards her. She raised an eyebrow to him and he motioned for her to open it.

Natasha picked up the brown folder and opened the pages, there was just one piece of paper inside. It was someone's file, but it had only a name, gender, approximate age, some affiliations, and a last-guessed location. No pictures, not even a basic appearance description, nothing.

"There's basically nothing here." Natasha's voice held a questioning tone as she looked back up at Fury, folder still in her hands and a small amused smile on her lips.

"A good friend of mine passed away two days ago." Fury stated with a neutral voice, masking well his grief.

"She'd been an agent for as long as I can remember, and in her whole career she only asked me one favor." Fury motioned to the folder on Natasha's hand, making her look down at it again. "She handed me this folder before she passed, asked me to look after her daughter."

Natasha had a sympathetic look in her eyes, she nodded her head slightly. "Is she missing? There's almost no information about her here."

Fury let out a huge sigh and massaged his temple to chase away an incoming headache. "Yeah, before she told me, I had no idea this daughter even existed, it's been a private project."

He raised his head to look at Natasha with a serious expression. "The father took her when she was only four, when they discovered she was... Special."

Natasha braced her elbows on the table, digesting all the new information. "Powers?"

"I believe so. The mother had been trying to find her ever since, but the father works for a group called The Black Mamba, they specialize in stealing high-value information and selling to the highest bidder. Always moving, almost impossible to find." Fury explained further.

"I've heard that name, they built quite the reputation." Natasha mused as well.

"From the few whereabouts we know, we believe she's with them. Maybe willingly, we don't know. But she was raised in the job." Fury raised an eyebrow pointedly at Natasha, took a moment to look away, and then back at her.

"She's a ghost, Romanoff. I've dug as deep as I could, this is all the information I have on her. There's no way to know what she looks like, or what those powers may be. We know the name because of her mother, but maybe even that was changed." Fury's eyes let Natasha know he was aware of how much he was asking, but he looked just as lost.

"And you want me to find her?" Natasha leaned back on her chair.

"You're the best we've got." He smiled halfheartedly. "And we do have a good lead on where she may be going next. But if she appears with a group, it'll be up to you to try to identify."

Fingers lightly tapping on paper, Natasha let out a breath. She bit the inside of her cheek on thought.

Fury sensed her doubt, and rightfully so, he knew he was asking a lot. "It's a favor for a dear friend, and you would be doing me one if you took this. I'm not asking you to succeed, just try."

Natasha chuckled, this was no high importance mission for Shield, only for Fury, that's why she would be going alone. But who was she to back away from a challenge?

"Okay, could be fun."

A visible weight seemed to be pulled away from his shoulders. Fury relaxed slightly. "We don't know which side she's on, we try to bring her in as peacefully as possible. But if not, just don't kill her."

________

Natasha's boots made a thudding noise as she walked through the empty gallery, the pristine flooring reflecting her figure. This was, hopefully, your next stop. Coming after high-value documents stored away in the office and Natasha would safely bet on some paintings as well. The gallery had long been closed and the Roman-like architecture held an eery aura at night.

She twirled around on her heels, taking in her surroundings in search of any movement.

"We're closed, miss." A soft voice spoke from behind her. Natasha was surprised she didn't notice the presence.

Turning around with her eyes already narrowed and a distrusting look, Natasha looked you up and down. "You work here?"

Your smile was an amused one as you rounded one of the pillars, clearly comfortable in the situation. "Maybe."

"Do you work here?" You raised your eyebrows at the redhead, taking a slow step towards her. She was gorgeous, and you were intrigued.

Why would anyone else be here at this hour? The first thought is that she could be one of your father's thugs, but then she would already be attacking. Maybe she was just another thief, but that also seemed unlikely.

Natasha kept her gaze fixated on you, her eyes analyzing every movement you took. Her hand hovered slightly over her gun. She wondered if you were her target, but that would be almost impossible because you were part of a group, and it would be reckless to take a job like this alone.

There was a possibility you were just a nosy civilian trying to feel brave in breaking into the gallery, but you were too comfortable for that. "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged your shoulders, looking around the gallery at the many old paintings hanging on the walls. "Appreciating art."

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, her muscles tensing as she took a couple more seconds to let her eyes wander over you. Maybe you were a threat, maybe not. Either way, she knew she needed you out of her way.

"You should leave." She took her gun out of its holster.

A smirk appeared on your face at her actions. Definitely not a civilian.

"But I just got here." You stuffed your hands on the pockets of your pants to ground yourself, there was no need to make a scene.

Natasha huffed, her jaw clenched in annoyance at how smug you looked, as if you were controlling the situation.

Taking a big step forward, with a look on her eyes that would send the bravest man running for the hills, Natasha placed the end of her gun to your forehead. "Leave, this is none of your business."

Your eyes fixated on hers for a moment, you noticed they were green, with a kind of fire within that kept you captivated. Your gaze didn't waver from hers as you felt the slight touch of metal on your forehead, only a trace of your smile was left as you took her in.

Natasha's lips parted ever so slightly at the sight of you not budging.

Then, in one swift motion, Natasha's gun went flying to the side as you disarmed her. Swiping her legs with your own, you had her hitting the ground with a thud. "Sorry babe, I can't do that."

Natasha's blood was boiling, her fists clenched at how you managed to catch her off guard. But she wasn't expecting you to know how to fight.

In one jump, Natasha was on her feet again. With a new kind of energy flowing inside her now that she knew she didn't need to go easy on you. Her smirk was enchanting as she landed a particularly cruel blow to your face.

The punch made you take a few steps back, hand flying right over your jaw as a sharp pain came right after. "That was pretty good."

Your smile was a genuine one as you praised her form, you saw confusion written all over her face and took the moment to land a heavy kick on her middle.

Natasha let out a huff of pain, chuckling as she straightened her posture again, she didn't know if it was from amusement or anger. "You won't quit." It was more of a frustrated statement than a question.

"Not really my style." You quipped back at her, moving your feet quickly towards her and landing punches that she skilfully blocked.

Losing her patience, Natasha moved to jab you in the face again, which this time you blocked making her grit her teeth. She didn't have time for this, her target would be here any minute. Throwing a punch right into your gut, she made you bend over and then landed another right under your eye.

That sent you stumbling back both from lack of air and from the pain. "That was not-"

You couldn't finish your complaint, because suddenly one of the windows broke and a small device was thrown in just a couple of feet in front of you. You saw a red dot, but before you could even move, the small bomb exploded.

It sent both you and Natasha flying away with its force. But you took the worst of it because you were closer.

You hit the ground hard and rolled over, your body suddenly hurt all over and you felt like you had just been hit with a bus. The ringing in your ears wouldn't stop, your vision was blurred all over and you were seeing double.

Bracing yourself on your elbows you tried to get up but it was to no use, you just hit the ground again, too weak to keep yourself up. Letting out a pained groan, you touched your temple and felt wetness there. Great.

As your blurry eyes gazed around, the main thing you saw was dust and rubble. But you could make out at least six people coming in from the window. You recognized your old uniform immediately.

Not a second after you saw the redhead from earlier getting up, she charged at them. You wondered yet again what her deal was, what she was after. She fought with an impressive amount of skill and agility, taking on two or three at a time like it was nothing. You quickly realized she was no random person. This was a highly trained agent.

You cursed your vision as it was getting in and out of focus, you could feel the faint taste of dust in your mouth. Your eyelids were getting heavier, and the last thing you saw was the woman getting shot at.

She fell to the ground when the second shot hit her in the stomach, you fell unconscious again right after.

________

You couldn't say how long it had passed when you woke up again, this time your vision didn't take as long to focus. You guessed that it hadn't been too long, as little flecks of dust were still settling down.

You sat up on the ground, your body still very much in pain. You looked down at yourself and saw that you were covered in dust, some small scrapes and bruises already forming. "Perfect." You muttered out in annoyance.

One hand flew to your head as a sickening headache made itself known, you felt dried blood on your temple.

With much effort you managed to stand up, your other hand came to clutch at your ribs when you felt a thug of pain there. You could only hope there was nothing broken.

Your eyes roamed around the empty gallery, your old group was probably out and far away already, and with the things they came here for. You cursed at yourself for getting so distracted, and that's when you remembered the other person that was here.

Urging your wobbly legs to work, you took a few steps forward. She had been shot, you wondered if she was dead.

After only a few steps, you saw a body sprawled on the ground. You recognized her red hair immediately. She was still unconscious, there were droplets of blood coming from her forehead and nose, and you could already see the one big pool of red forming underneath her. Stepping closer you saw the source of it, she was shot, in the stomach just as you thought. It was in the side and apparently just a graze, a big one, but the bullet went in and out no problem.

You pursed your lips as you looked down at the woman, your hand clutching your ribs twitched to move. She had dirt all over herself as well, there was a cut already swelling her lip and the blood was still slowly coming out of her stomach. And yet she looked morbidly peaceful.

She was going to die, you realized. If not from the blood loss, the dust entering her lungs would happily do the job, as you knew she wouldn't be waking up on her own anytime soon.

I have enough problems of my own. You thought to yourself as you tightly shut your eyes and turned around. Your feet were heavy to carry.

You didn't make it ten steps.

The heavy weight on your chest didn't let you.

"Who am I kidding?" You groaned out loud and turned back for her.

As you picked her up in your arms, with much difficulty and pain, there was only one thought in your mind...

I'm gonna regret this.

—⧗—

Read Part 2 here

Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Serendipity taglist: @theperfectlovestory

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist.

[blogevaawrites]

Keeping to the schedule.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, sad, marriage, divorce, smut

Summary: After seven years of being married, two daughters and a difficult divorce, they try to understand what went wrong and why they let that happen. 

Part I

“I’m so sorry to do this but we’re having problems with a few scenes. I won’t be at home until next week.” He said from the other side of the line. Since the divorce we have been being very strict with the custody agreement of our children.

“So, will you come to pick them up the next Friday?” I asked.

“Yes, I will be there. And again, I’m really sorry, I tried to do everything in my hands” I knew that he doesn’t like to change anything about the kids, he says we should try to give them as much stability as we can. I couldn’t agree more.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” I simply said.

We got married seven years ago, we had a happy marriage, but loneliness and exhaustion made me give up on our marriage. He started to spend more time away, accepting more projects in L.A or any part of the world but home. I guess home wasn’t what it used to be for him and for me because eventually I stopped complaining about his absence.

“I need to talk to you.” I said when I saw him getting out of the shower. I closed the door of the bathroom and l leaned on the sink. “About what? I’m kind of tired, can we leave it for tomorrow?” He said, drying himself with a towel. I was sick of it; I was being left to a side for so long that I didn’t hold it on.  “Not really.” He looked at me then, normally I don’t insist. “I filed for divorce.” His face went from confusion to anger quickly.

We fought, he got really mad. I knew I should have talk to him before doing it, but he was never around, I was mad and sad, I wasn’t thinking properly. He didn’t talk to me for four months after that night, he moved to his mother’s house and did everything in his hands to accelerate the process. I know I didn’t deal very well with all of that and either he did. Our relationship since then got even more complicate.

Our obsession with our kids’ stability grew after that. We both knew they were going suffer the most, at least Anna. She was almost six when all of that happened, she asked a few times, but we never gave her an answer she could understand. Emma was only four, she noticed that something was wrong but was too young to assimilate it.  

“Mom, Lindsay is having a sleepover this Thursday, and we don’t have school on Friday, can I go? Her mom will call you tomorrow to ask you, can I go, please?” Anna asked, taking my attention from the road as I drove us to home.

“Sure honey” I said with my eyes on the road.

“Dad is coming on Friday, right? I will tell her mom to bring me back in the morning” she always gets excited to see him, both do it.

“It’s not necessary honey, he probably will come to pick you up after dinner. I will pick you up to get lunch together at the park, what do you think?” she nodded enthusiastic, eating her sandwich.

Thursday comes quickly and Martha, Lindsay’s mom, picked Anna up. Emma got to sleep very early after a long afternoon at the park. I went down to watch a few minutes a TV show before to go to bed. The doorbell rang, startling me, it wasn’t late, but I wasn’t expecting anybody. When I got close to the door, I recognized the silhouette of the person behind the door.

“Hi, what are you doing here?”

“I wrapped the film early, I’m sorry if it is too late but I knew you wouldn’t mind. You can have the entire day to yourself tomorrow, in this way.”

“It’s fine, but Anna is not here, she’s at Lindsay’s house and Emma is already sleeping.” He looked devastated and it broke my heart. He usually doesn’t spent too long without seeing them. “You can see Emma if you want to.” I offered and he accepted quickly. He got into the house and went upstairs to Emma’s room.

After a few minutes, he came down to the kitchen where I was preparing things for tomorrow. I wouldn’t say our relationship was good, o was getting better. it was confusing. “How have you been? How was everything with the kids?” he asked from the doorframe. I turned around to see him and answered, “It was fine, no incidents.” I simply said. We looked each other for a while, we haven’t talk since we had sex the last time, he came to bring the girls back. He stayed for dinner and a while after, the girls went to sleep, we started to talk about them, about our past together, about us a couple. We kissed and one thing took us to another.

“I want to talk about the last time. I don’t want you to think I…” he started; I knew it didn’t mean anything for him, it was just sex, he has been avoiding me since then but him bringing the subject up made me mad and it hurt me a little.

“I know! Don’t worry! Let’s just forget about it.” I said walking to the front door.

“No, it’s just that we were kind of drunk and got emotional.” He started to say without following me.

“It was just sex. I get it! You made it very clear when you couldn’t wait to leave.” As soon as we were done, he got up from the bed and started to dress up. He told me it was late, and he had a thing to do in the morning, but I knew he was lying. He left me, naked in the bed, the one we shared for several years.  

“I didn’t want the girls to get confused.” He got closer to the door, shaking his head, and rubbing his face roughly with his hands.

“You didn’t want me to get confused.” His eyes got bigger, and I could see the anger growing in his face.

“You couldn’t care less about what I wanted so don’t tell me what my intentions were.”

“You made them very clear.”

He looked confused, but he moved quickly. “You always so understanding. But why don’t you just listen to me? I’m trying to …” He couldn’t say anything more.

“You’re right, it’s kind of late and there isn’t a reason for you to stay.” I interrupted him, he looked mad.

He took a deep breath and kept on “I’m picking the kids tomorrow’s morning” he informed me before walking out.

“They won’t be here until late afternoon.” I said back. He looked at me without saying anything and kept on his walking. I stood at the door, looking how he got in the car. He turned on the engine, and before driving away he looked at me through the window. “Thank God we’re divorced.”

When the topic isn’t our kids, it never goes well. I guess we’re still hurt.

I didn’t fully understand why he got so angry until I saw the pictures.

After he picked the girls the next day, I did some work and later I filled a glass with wine and turned on the television to pick up a film to watch but my phone rang.

“Hey hon! How are you doing?” Lily asked, with a worried voice that I didn’t get.

“Hey! Why are you asking like that? I’m pretty fine.” I said laughing.

“Well! I don’t know, I thought you will be kind of sad o maybe angry, if my ex-husband was dating with somebody after not even a year from our divorce, I would be ready to kill him.”

“What? What are you talking about? I mean he hadn’t told me anything, I don’t think he’s dating again.” I said quite confused.

“Shit! You haven’t seen it, have you?”

Right away, I googled him with the call waiting.

Chris Evans is off market again? The former superhero and the upcoming actress Rachel Welles spotted holding hands and getting affectionate.

He was trying to talk about our night together because he was going to tell me about her. I felt my heart shrinking. I guess I should have been ready for this, he was free to be with whoever he wanted but it hurt me.

“I’m sorry, girl. It must be weird and hurtful. If you need anything you know I’m right here, right?” she asked kindly.

“I’m fine. he’s free to be with anybody but I guess I wasn’t as much ready to see it as I thought.”

“Yeah, knowing something isn’t always mean assimilating it, right?”

“Right”

After the call I refilled my glass and went to sleep with a few tears in my cheeks.

Our relationship began so natural, and it went so fast. We met through common friends, we dated just for tree moths after he asked me to move on with him. We didn’t take long to get married either, we both just knew that it was the right decision. I really loved him, and I know he loved me too. It wasn’t a fantasy, but we were grown-ups when he met, we knew what we wanted for life, in a partner and we found it in each other.

He was a great husband, a great father and a great friend. I single tear fell through my cheek, remembering the beginning of our freefall.

“There’s not a good way to say this. I’m really sorry to tell this but, Mrs. Evans you had a miscarriage.” Doctor Lars said. I felt Chris’s hand in my knee, comforting me. I felt I couldn’t breathe. My heart broke in pieces. “But I’m six months pregnant, this usually happens during the first trimester. This can’t be true.” My mouth slurred. “Well, the actual name is a late-miscarriage, there are several things that may play a part in causing it so we need to do a few tests to find a cause. I know this isn’t easy, but these things can happen, and we can’t do anything to prevent it.” I touched my barely swollen belly, missing the movements of my baby. “What are we doing now?” Chris talked, taking care of the situation. “You will need to go through labour to give birth to you baby. I know this can be a very distressing time and you may be in shock but there’s not other way.” I could hear him breathe hardly before kissing my head.

We went through our worst nightmare. I gave birth to a baby I could take care of. Thankfully, after inducing the labour, the birth came quickly. We decided not to hold the baby. We thought it will be less traumatic in that way.

He went with me through all of that, but we changed. Everything changed.

Five days later, I came into our bedroom to see him packing his suitcase.

“What are you doing? I asked softly.

“I need to go to L.A for a few interviews and shoot a few scenes” I looked at him straightly. Not quite believing he was going to leave so early after everything. “Don’t worry, I asked my mother to come to help you with everything.” he said, seeing my expression. I didn’t want to be alone, I didn’t want his mom here, I wanted him. I caressed his back, calling his attention.

“Don’t go, please.” I muttered. “It will be just a couple days, two weeks max.” he said holding me in his arms.

“Two weeks?” that was so fucking long.

“Listen, I can really do anything. I’m sorry but it’s work. What you want me to do?” he tried to reason with me, in vain.

“Call Meghan and ask her to reschedule it. We have an appointment with Doctor Lars next week.” I didn’t like to complain about his job or ask him to not to do it, but I couldn’t go through that alone.

“Everything will be fine, call me after the appointment and tell me what she says. I will be here as soon as I can.” I pushed him away with my eyes watering.

“Okay” for the first time in our life together he was putting his family in a second place.

The worst thing it was that trip didn’t last 2 weeks, but 3 months. He told me that his next project was being moved forward, and nothing else. He left me alone in the worst moment of my life and I couldn’t forget it.  

After a few more glasses of wine, I took me phone and I called him.

“Hello” he said with a surprised voice. “What’s going on?”

“What was what you wanted to tell me last time? Hey, I know we just fuck but I’m actually in a relationship with some else and you must forget about it.” I slurred, mimicking him.

“You know it.” He said, I could hear him moving to another place. I guess he left the house.

“Of course, I do. Do you think I live under a rock?” I wasn’t jealous I was mad at him, at myself.

“Okay I get it you’re mad, but I wanted to talk…”

“What for? To say sorry for fucking me or to ask me to keep back of your new love.”

“No, it’s not like…”

“Why did you leave me? Why wasn’t I your priority anymore? I asked, removing the tears away from my face. My voice broke a few times, I was unable to keep myself still.

“Where are you? Are you drunk?” he asked hurriedly.

“It wasn’t my blame; I couldn’t have known it.” I kept talking.

“What are you talking about?” his voice was full of curiosity and confusion.

“We didn’t name him, he died without a name.” my face was completely wet, my arms were crossed around my stomach and my heart… I couldn’t feel my heart.

“Are you at home? Pease tell me where you are.” He asked desperately.

“Yes, I’m here.” I muttered before hanging up.

A few minutes later I heard the door opening, and his footsteps. I was in completely darkness, no TV, no lights, nothing but somehow, he knew exactly where I was.

“Hey! What’s going on? What happened?” he asked softly, sitting next to me in the half-furnished nursery.

“Why did you leave me?”

“Well, when you wife files for divorce, it’s actually kind of what you have do” he said with a sad smile in his face.

“You left me way before that.” I said quickly, he left me when we lost our baby. “We never talked about him.”

“I don’t think you are in an appropriate state to talk about him.” He said without looking at me.

“I’m fine. Don’t make excuses! You just don’t want to talk about him with me.”

“I don’t want to talk about him with nobody.”

“I’m not nobody.”

“Why is this so important now? It’s been a year since then, we are not together anymore...” he started to get up from the floor.

“You’re dating again…” I finished the sentence off for him “you told me you weren’t ready. You said you missed me, that you missed us.” I said, remembering what he told me when he was taking me to our bedroom between kisses and caresses.

His face looked confused and tired.

“I don’t get it. Why are so upset? You filed for divorce without telling me why, without giving me a chance to make it better. All I know is you felt neglected, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I thought we were just going through a rough patch, but I thought it was normal after all.” His voice was firmed, he wasn’t yelling me, but I bet he wanted. “I know you don’t think this but I’m not the bad guy here.” His eyes were red and watering. He never told me anything of this. He had been too angry to talk to me about anything.

He walked to the door, ready to leave me.

“You left me.” I said, calling his attention.  

“You already said that.” He barked back.  

“When I asked you to stay you left me for almost four months after I gave birth to my death son. I needed you Chris, and you rather work than be with your wife.” His face kept straight; he knew what I was talking about. I got up when I saw him get closer to me. He looked at me for minutes, as he wasn’t sure about his next words.

“I went to therapy. I didn’t come back home because I wasn’t stable, not because I was working, not because I wanted to leave, it was because I didn’t see another way to deal with everything. You were right when you said holding our baby it would be traumatic, it was.” I didn’t understand what he was talking about, we agreed on not to hold the baby when he was born but he cleared all up “I couldn’t help it, I saw him coming out of you as the same way Emma and Anna did. I needed to see him, and it was the worst thing I could have done, but it was my son.” His eyes never left mine when his body got much closer to me. “I lost my son too, honey. I couldn’t be there for you because I wasn’t handling in the right way.” I saw a single tear going down through his cheek. At least I wasn’t the only one crying.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because you gave birth to him! How the fucking hell could I have told you I was the one losing his mind after that? I know I should have stayed with you but believe me, there wasn’t another option, I didn’t find another way.”  

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Pale Jester Chain 2

Prompt: PJ finds his way into Lemm’s shop and begins ruminating about all the different relics with surprising accuracy and knowledge (much to Lemm’s annoyance and confusion)

By @werewolforeos

Lemm was alone, as usual. He dusted off the king’s idols so the illustrious stone regained its shine. He froze as the door to his ‘shop’ creaked, and the bell jingled- please don’t be another caffeine-wanting bug, he thought, turning around to greet the customer.

The masked bug was taller than he was, though not by much- most of its height came from its horns, eight tall spikes resembling a crown. Yet despite this regal feature, it dressed in a fool’s clothes- Lemm could almost imagine the bells attached to the cape’s ends, which luckily were absent. And all its clothes shone with a deep crimson.

“How can I help you?” Lemm muttered, eyeing the stranger’s staff. “Oh, mind that shelf, would you?”

“Oh! A friendly face in these caverns! My, my! What an unexpected surprise!” The bug replied with a too-jolly attitude. Lemm decided he did not like this bug. “Why, I was merely exploring this city- it’s quite hectic outside, no?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Lemm replied. “My shop here is safe, at least. It’s quite calm up here. Have you seen those husks?”

“Yes, yes. Quite the sad fate they have been left with- blinded by those unsightly orange lumps, yet stuck in their daily rituals all the same.” The stranger brought up his hands to his face, in a mocking display of shock. “Oh, heavens! We have yet to introduce ourselves to each other!”

Lemm rolled his eyes. “Name’s Lemm. Don’t have much else to say on that matter, but what’s yours, stranger?”

“Ah- they call me Jester, back up there. You have a nice name, Lemm!” A shiver went up Lemm’s spine as Jester spoke his name- he ignored it, it’s probably just the breeze. “So, Lemm! What do you do up here? It’s quite the nice shop~!” said the Jester, picking up a wanderer’s journal.

“Ah- hands off, please. The knowledge stored on these antiques is priceless.” Lemm tapped Jester on the hands. “I buy these relics of this old kingdom, for the sake of history and preservation. I’ve got many journals to decipher- so if you don’t mind, unless you have any relics for me…?”

“Ah, no, I do not have anything you might be interested in. Though,” the Jester mused, “Perhaps I might be able to assist in deciphering the script? It seems familiar to me.”

Lemm scoffed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Tell you what, if you can decipher a full journal, I might part with it once I’ve copied it down somewhere.” “That sounds like a challenge to me~! Challenge accepted, shopkeep.”

Lemm gave the Jester a journal he’d deciphered already, to test how well he knew the old script of Hallownest. Putting his finger to the script, the Jester seemed lost in thought, as though looking at an old memory. “This is a passage about those blue cocoons, is it not? They call it Lifeblood.” Lemm blinked.

“That is… correct. But, could you translate the whole passage? I’m curious as to what your skills are.”

“The swirling blue liquid relieves pain, but if too much is taken at once, the Lifeblood seems to take over. We must carefully ration the amount given to the hospitals. Signed… Lurien, the Watcher.”

...That was, way too fast. “Hmm. I’m not convinced. Another.” Lemm trades the journal in the Jester’s hands for another.

“The circus was in town today,” the Jester reads aloud, “and I got to see Marissa’s show! Her voice is so soothing- it reminds me of my dreams.” Lemm was silent. This is ridiculous.

“Hm? Did I make a mistake?”

“Oh, no. I was lost in thought about- these signs here,” Lemm lies. “I hadn’t yet translated this passage, and had not seen this combination written as one word yet.”

“Oh! You’re looking at ‘plague’ there, shopkeep.” Cogs whirred as Lemm processed this information- these journals talk about many things, how did this Jester decipher these so quickly? And does he know things Lemm does not?

“These icons next to each other- ‘sick’ and ‘many’. Many sick make a plague, no?”

“Yes, yes. That does make sense. And here…”

“That’s a shopping list,” the Jester waved it away. “Honeydew, boofly meat, it seems as though this one was quite rich. Though it’s not that important,” he claims, “as those letters from the Watcher you’ve got there seem much more interesting to me.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, everything he’s said has been correct. Even the ones I hadn’t yet gotten to. Just who is this bug, exactly?

The Jester strided over to Lemm’s undeciphered journals, focusing on a specific grouping. “I hereby request the addition of a chamber for Lexi, my butler, inside my Spire. He wishes to stay as he works, and…” Jester pauses as he grabs the next passage. “I believe it would be a good idea to have him with me as I prepare for slumber. Hm, a little fruity, aren’t we, Watcher?”

Lemm just stood there, dumbfounded. “Er. I. Okay.” This is a lot more information than I expected to get in five minutes. Ignoring him, the Jester continued to rummage through the relics, stumbling across a stray king’s idol.

“Hey! Those were ordered to date and time!”

“And now they are not. Is there any issue there? If it is, you can always order them again.”

Lemm definitely did not like this bug. “Excuse me? You waltz into my shop, damage my collection, and strut about like you own the place with your knowledge of the signs used in Hallownest’s prime. Who do you think you are?” “That is irrelevant. I do wonder… where did you find this statuette?”

“A wanderer comes by every so often with many relics, and cleans out my geo stash. I mean- that’s irrelevant. Why do you care?”

Holding the idol at an arm’s length, the Jester tilted his head, studying the way it was sculpted. “This one was found in the resting grounds. I can smell the lavender,” he muses. “I’m surprised they had one of these there- the moths didn’t take kindly to that King. I suppose that’s understandable, given what he did to them.”

“Moths?”

“Yes, yes. Quite a long time ago, they lived in the lands Hallownest was built upon. Did you never get an education?”

Lemm blinks. “Well, I had school, but-”

“Shopkeep, this is something all bugs used to know. Did they scrap it out of the history books? ...Of course he would, that King would do anything for validation. I’m sure the guilt is eating him up from the inside.”

“Jester. The king is dead. Has been for a while. Have you not seen the state of decay this kingdom is in?”

“Ah, no. That Wyrm is still alive somewhere- I’m sure of it.” The Jester moved back to the door, holding his staff in one hand, and journals in the other three. “I do wonder,” he muttered under his breath,”why are these so familiar? Ah, Lemm, was it? Would you mind if I took these outside?”

Before Lemm could express indignance, the door opened once more- standing in it a drenched wanderer, who often stopped by to supply Lemm with his many relics. The pale white mask they donned looked up at the crimson Jester, an unreadable expression behind it. The wanderer gripped the handle of their nail- sharpened, coiled, pure. They recognized the Jester, and they did not particularly like him, Lemm thought. At least Lemm wasn’t alone in disliking his clown schtick. That being said, the Jester still held some relics- if a fight broke out, they could get damaged. Lemm quietly pried open the hands of the Jester.

“Ohoho! We meet again, little one! Do tell me about your excursions down here, won’t you?” The Jester was met with silent scorn. The shop was rife with tension, though the Jester seemed oblivious to it.

“Er, pardon me, but mayhaps you two should take this… outside.”

The wanderer stared at the Jester for another moment, before breaking their gaze away, and briskly walking towards Lemm. They rummaged in their pockets, producing another pair of journals, a Hallownest seal, and an arcane egg. The Jester giggled, the wanderer quickly turning their head towards him, and then sprinting back into the endless rain of the City of Tears before Lemm could give the wanderer the geo they were due.

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By @couch-cat

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By @arandoskeleartist

(audio file working on being uploaded)

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By @uncurdled-bean-curd

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By @the-trans-anon

Lemm was going to have a stroke.

He’d been having a perfectly fine day going through his relics without any annoyances running around, when a strange bug he’d never seen before entered his shop. The bug didn’t seem to have any relics to share, saying he was just exploring, and had been about to leave when he noticed one of Lemm’s king idols.

“What’s that?” The bug asked, reaching for the idol.

Lemm quickly yanked it out of his reach, not thrilled with the idea of someone manhandling his relics. “It’s an idol of the Pale King. The King himself was rarely seen so the bugs of Hallownest worshiped these in his stead.”

“Lies!” Before he could blink, the bug had grabbed the idol and jumped back towards the door. He held the idol up above their head, admiring it.

“Clearly it’s a tiny statue of me! Can you not see the resemblance?” He asked, looking towards Lemm and pressing the idol against his mask, eyes alight with mirth.

Lemm was about to snap at the bug to give him back the idol for gods sake it’s a historical artifact not a toy- when he too started to notice the similarities between the idol and the strange bug. Both had similar horns rising up as a crown, though the bug’s horns were much more curved than the King’s, and their masks looked nearly identical save for the black lines running down the bug’s face. The main difference was their clothing, with most of the King’s imagery in white and the bug’s clothes in a bright, fiery red. The more he looked, the more clear their uncanny resemblance became.

“...Are you related to the Pale King?” Lemm asked, feeling a headache start to form.

The bug looked confused, then put down the idol. “ Ah no, I’m afraid I simply jest my friend. Though we have similar names, I have never heard of your “Pale King” before. Though I have to say,” He looked back at the idol “your king was quite the looker.”

“Wait, what do you mean you have similar names? What’s your name?!”  

The bug looked about ready to answer, before he froze and looked up at the ceiling. “Ah, my apologies my friend. It appears the Master is in need of me.”

“The Master??!”

“May we meet again.” The strange bug bowed, and raced out of the shop.

“Wait! You can’t just say something like that and leave who does that!? Come back here!” Lemm ran after the bug, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.” He sighed, before deciding to look around for any sign of the bug. That bug had to have some kind of connection with the King, and like hell he was going to pass up a chance to get information about the reclusive Pale King. He needed to talk to that bug.

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By @lesiasmadness

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By @redcynder1234

Lemm angrily grumbled at the tiny hands that dragged him halfway across the kingdom. He had tried to fight the smaller vessel off back in the city of tears. When they had suddenly barged into his little relic shop, seeming urgent as he tried to drag the grumpy old bug out of his shop. Lemm had tried to wave them away, but the smaller bug had quite a lot of determination to show them something then and there, at least no husks dare tread in their path as they traveled. The infection may be gone for sure, but husks of former bugs sometimes still lingered around, it was nerve wracking for sure, but lemm was safe in his shop where he could get lost in his work for hours on end. However now with the little shadow dragging him out of the safety of his home, He was a little on edge.

Finally as it seemed the little ghost had dragged them to their location they pointed upwards. Looking up, lemm grumbled seeing an old rusty chain leading up an old well. “Absolutely not.” He growled out. Even as the small vessel flapped their monarch wings to start and climb the chain. Hearing his response however they stopped and looked down before pulling out something from their cloak. One hand on the chain they waved a king's idol in the air. “Yes you’ve been waving that thing at me through this entire journey! I still don’t understand why you’ve dragged me halfway across hallownest.” He barked angrily. If only the little vessel could speak. He assumed they couldn't speak a few visits back as they sold old trinkets at his shop but lemm never could be sure. It really felt like they were speaking sometimes.

The vessel seemed to wave and point it up desperately before disappearing up the well. “Ey! Little squirt! Come back here!” He barked up the shaft angrily. However when no shadow came to retrieve him he just grumbled angrily. “Stupid, familiar looking…” Lemm mumbled under his breath as he climbed up the chain. If his curiosity about what they wanted wasn't so persistent he would have turned straight back around and headed back to the city of tears. Plus, kings idols were a rare find and he wanted to get his hands on as many as he could.

As he scrambled over the ledge of the well, his old carapace not liking the climb in the slightest, he looked around. He remembered hearing about the town of dirtmouth. By its size alone lemm could tell the town must have been a lively and successful one before the infection's grip controlled and destroyed the place. It was sad, maybe to anyone other than lemm at the moment. Grumpy and tired he saw the cloaked vessel padding towards two pinky almost red tinted tents. “Little pest… just doing to leave me behind!” He barked angrily as he followed after the vessel. Nothing left to do this far into this journey but to follow the little gremlin. Plus, in case there were any more infected lingering about, he rather have another soul that could fight them off then be left to fend them off himself. He only knew how to work with small pliers and knives, not nails and needles.

The vessel seemed to be approaching a small crowd that had formed outside the tents. They had been there before the two entered town, but lemm could already tell from a distance they were all… scared? More weary if anything. As he got closer the little ghost had turned, waving the small king's idol wildly while pointing through the crowd. “Give me that.” He snapped while snatching the king's brand from their hands. “I swear if you really wanted to sell it to me you could have done it in the city of tears, instead of dragging me halfway across the kingdom!” He snapped angrily. Making sure it hadn’t been damaged he fetched a bag of geo from under his cloak and dropped it without even looking at the vessel. “You're lucky I'm not taking half of that for dragging me her- OW.” He barked when ghost suddenly yanked his beard. “I swear-“ he growled as he looked down, wavinging the vessel's hand away from his beard. However the vessel was glaring into his soul and pointing. Angrily he huffed and looked up, before his eyes widened. Huh? That was impossible!?!

Looking down at the idol in his hands he looked up. The normal silver cloak was gone, replaced with red jester clothes. His crown of thorns was bent in such a painful looking way it almost made lemm cringe at the thought; and yet as lemm held up the king's idol he could see the similarities. Far too close similarities to be a coincidence. However there was no way the king of hallownest was some low-life jester doing gags and tricks to please the normal class's eye. Especially to a dead kingdom. Yet thinking this could be the king's brother was almost laughable. The king was a wyrm if the small amount of text he deciphered was true. And wyrms were giant beasts that could kill anything in its path. Then who was this look-a-like in front of them? That must be why the vessel had dragged them here, they may be curious themselves but since lemm was such a history nut he would know more. Could have still told him that before dragging him here.

As the jester bowed and the small crowd nervously clapped. Seeming to be more doing it to please someone then actually liking the show. He paused as the jester disappeared back into the pink tents. He knew the vessel was still standing beside them, watching the relic keeper curiously. Lemm knew he shouldn't enter the tent and ask such a question, but so many questions could be solved about this kingdom if this stupid look-a-like statue was this strange jester. The pale king hidden right under everyone's noses. Yet it still felt wrong in some way but he couldn't figure out why.

Lemm didn't understand what caused him to head towards the menacing face-looking tents; but he headed inside their pink tinted curtains. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the tent to be almost pitch black except for small lanterns hanging up around the place. He expected at least a little of the outside world's lights to cut through the fabric. Sure it wasn't bright already in dirtmouth, but the sheets had looked almost see through before, now they looked like solid walls keeping the relic keeper inside. A shiver ran down his back as he almost instantly regretted his decision. He was a relic seeker, not an explorer that went out and actually found the relics to study. However it was a bit too late to turn back now.

Walking down the hallway he saw another bug standing there. Playing a spooky tone upon the accordion in their hands. Lemm wished he could have just snuck around the bug but they noticed him before he got too close. “Mrmm… Sorry, but the master does not want visitors at the moment...” Lemm gulped softly. “Actually I am uh… here to see your jester I believe. I wanted to praise them for the wonderful show.” The lie came out of his mouth a bit smoother than he intended. Yet it seemed the other paused before nodding forward. “Mrmm… Continue then… but do not linger.” they simply stated. Lemm quickly nodded and passed by, making sure the king's idol was safely out of sight from the other bug's eyes. Once passed he calmed down a bit. The hallway led to a pretty large room, silken ropes hanging from just about everywhere above his head. Somewhere tied together, some were almost touching the ground. They were so long, but lemm had to admit it was a pretty sight. Something white suddenly appeared from above, it was the jester alright, carefully twisted around the silken fabric. Was he dancing? It kinda appeared like it. “H-hello?” lemm wasn't one for conversation but it felt a little awkward just watching the other. The other quickly looked down, a mask upon the other's face made the relic seeker shiver. However the others voice didn't sound nearly as threatening as he expected it to be. “Ah! Greetings down there, what brings you to the grimm kin’s tent.” He called down. Carefully sliding down the silken ropes to hang upside down in front of the relic seeker. Lemm nervously took a step back before stealing himself. “I wanted to ask you a question.” The jester tilted his head curiously. Carefully righting himself and wrapping his legs around the silken ropes to keep himself suspended in mid hair.

“Oh?” He hummed curiously “What question do you have for a little jester like me?” he spoke. Lemm gulped nervously before speaking. “Do… were… I….” how does he just ask someone if they were a king?! “Were you a king before?” He blurted out in her strange panic. The jester seemed to pause before bursting out laughing. Lemm huffed even if he knew how stupid that must of just sounded. “I’m serious!” He barked out, feeling a bit flustered. As the jester calmed he wiped a single tear that had formed in the mask's eye. “A funny joke for sure little bug, but there would be no way that I could be a king. I would probably put buzzsaws and little traps as far as the eye could see.” he snickered to himself as he joked, but lemm just huffed. “I am serious-” he barked again but the jester interrupted him “Then your answer is obviously no my small bug.” he chuckled “I could never be a king of something.” He chuckled. “Either way, I don't think you should be back here. If the master finds out you're here he may be quite mad.” The pale jester said with another chuckle. Lemm huffed angrily. “You look like the ruler that used to rule here--” “--That's enough.” the jester spoke with a huff. “I understand a joke but pushing it makes it unfunny.” the other huffed.

Lemm growled. “I’m not joking! I already said that.” he barked “You look like the king of his land, look-!” He held up the king idol that he had hidden in his cloak. The jester paused. If lemm continued to speak he didn't hear it, He focused on the idol in there hand. It made the jester feel strange, like there was something scratching at the back of their head but just couldn't figure out what was causing it. Like a memory long compressed and lost to time. Maybe it was better that they were suppressed but…. Flashes of memories went through his head. Bright white images with blurred faces. Hissing he took a step back before his head cleaned and something warm brushed his shoulder. Looking up he noticed grimm standing over him, his eyes seemed kind and light hearted but the jester could sense the small bit of anger in them.

The jester watched Grimm calmly lead the other outside the tents. Their words didn't fully register to him however as the two left. The strange symbol still was imprinted in his mind but the memories that had come along with them were gone. Strange, but it may be better for such things to stay hidden in his memory, but the jester was still curious. When grimm appeared beside him again through a burst of red smoke he seemed calm, but his red eyes shined in worry. “Ah yes I'm ok.” he chuckled nervously. “Just got a bit of a headache.” he said “What a strange bug.” he spoke, looking towards the entrance to the tent. Grimm only softly hummed “Indeed… Come, we have plenty still to do while we're here.” The jester paused before nodding, following grimm back into the tent.

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By @darkautodraws 

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By @daikoski​ 

The Pale Jester always had a knack for dancing.

—Or perhaps, certain kinds of it.

He’d discovered one time when indulging on a slower song from Brumm, that he had a knack for ballroom dancing of all things! But such a thing isn’t commonplace for his kind of performance, no, he much prefers storytelling accompanied with a fun little jig of sorts. Ballroom dancing—especially with the audience he tends to have—seems to be something a little too formal and delicate.

Which is why he finds himself taking on the endeavor of trusting seemingly delicate, flowing silks with the entirety of himself. Ahh, yes, that of aerial dancing! He notes them as seemingly delicate, as they’re more than capable of securing far more weight than originally thought, but also... he’s very sharp.

—Of course, he’s not so clumsy now to go and let his claws tear straight through the silk now, nor would he allow the plates of his body to catch on it either. Not like that one time, when he had first been trying to pitch the choreography to this performance...

Now that had been something. The clicking tear of threads being pulled apart and the swoop of his stomach as he plummeted before quickly catching himself with his tail, something of a boisterous, abrupt laugh escaping him.

“You’re not trying to escape from a web, are you? Try not to cut yourself down little Fool!” Divine had jeered affectionately, and he could have easily preened from the spark of laughter that ignited the rest of the Troupe before lowering himself.

(... he also most certainly tries to pad the sharp ridges of his body a little more ever since that incident, but that’s besides the point.)

Ah, but that’s beside the point. Such a joyous thing it is, to inspire such a reaction in others, even if it’s from a

slipup like that. Perhaps it’s even better when it is. (Aer all, the Jester in fact would like to think he uses his foolishness to endear

himself to others, not dolt around.)

The tent is empty as of now, though that’s no concern. The Grimmkin will flood the audience the moment he does so much as enter the stage—no, he’s searching for the more unfamiliar-yet-not guests to come in, if at all. Perhaps the little wanderer, the shadow? Or maybe even one of the town folks bold enough to come by? Oh, or the princess warrior! Though her kind are truly experts in silk, and he finds himself unsure of how she’ll take his performance. (It is due to her influence that he felt himself particularly inclined to this song and dance aer all.)

Ah, he should probably do some last checks on the rigging, make sure they’re steady and all that. That, and check on his costume, too.

“C’mon Jester, don’t tell me your talons are going all stiff on ya!” comes the snicker of a Grimmkin trying to goad him on, and he laughs, before launching into a sprightly comical bow, tail flicking. Actually, he feels as nimble as possible, thank you very much!

“Of course not, dear friend! I’m simply waiting to greet our beloved guests—” and speak and she will come, the familiar rubied-red cloak catches his eye, and he immediately pats and dismisses the ‘kin to greet the spider. “And here one comes now!”

“Hello, hello! Welcome, Little Hornet—” there’s a bit of distaste that shines through her expression at his thoughtless nickname, and he would reel it in had he not

already said it, instead opting to tuck the information away for next time, “—you’re just in time for this next performance! Sit down, sit down, make yourself comfortable!”

She’s ushered to her seat, which is something on the front rows amongst the many grimmkin. Idly he notes that neither of her siblings are attending, though he has no complaints.

This one’s less of a personal performance and more for all the Troupe to see, so he won’t be able to converse with her until aer. She comes here most oen to ask questions, aer all. A no-nonsense type of bug she is, and it’s only customary he’ll allow such aer a performance, and she seems to know the same. Nonetheless, he bites back a bark of amusement at the way she glowers at the chatty Grimmkin, a little bit crowded as it is.

Lights snap on, beaming bright and warm, and the show begins.

Distantly, he can hear the beginning notes of Brumm’s accordion, and ah, what a perfect guide he always is! The familiar haunting call sends a thrill through the Jester, and it’s with that he begins his performance.

He wonders briefly if aerial silk dancing has ever been seen within Hallownest. Perhaps so, perhaps not; he only learned due to the Troupe aer all, and Grimm hadn’t really shared where he had learned such an art either...

The whisper of silk that he coils around his hand is taut, strong and secure the more he loops it. It’s with quick, tight motions and a graceful swoop that he suspends himself right upside down, sharp mandibles pulling back into a pleased smile from behind his mask. That was a satisfying maneuver.

There’s a split second of concern regarding his costume—the fabric of his wings just do not seem to be cooperating this time around, but alas, it simply feels right to have them there!

The more he spends within the air, the more inclined, the more fond he becomes in fitting such an image. It feels even better when the silks are pulled and he’s practically in arms reach to the ceiling.

Though the Jester isn’t quite sure how to describe it; a certain kind of fun exhilaration, a familiar twinge in his chest at being lied to such a height—he’d first noticed it through the use of mere ropes and cranks, to trapezing and other such elevated storytelling (Ha! Perhaps if he finds more joyous stories to share, he could workshop that into a joke to tell Hornet...) to now dancing with aerial silks.

He lets himself be guided and pulled along, to sway and twirl with the call of the music and the warmth of the Heart with practiced ease and elegance. But of course; he’s more than prepared for this, and with each swoop and dip his smile widens more and more.

When the curtains close and all the Grimmkin have seen fit to disappear off to do whatever it is their hearts desire, the Jester remains lingering on the stage. To clean up mainly, but it is to keep a keen eye on the nimble princess as well. He watches as she simply hops up and makes her way down towards him, and he perks up in attention.

There’s some attempt at niceties, just polite, pleasant conversation on his part, to which she kind of shuts down aer a moment.

“Why the new performance?” Ahh, so some curiosity was piqued!

The Jester hums thoughtfully, letting the silks hold his weight up as he rocks too far back on his legs. It brushes whisper-so against him.

“Perhaps for no specific reason in particular, other than to further expand my capabilities as a jester!” He somewhat not-answers.

She doesn’t respond, instead opting to give him a very narrow eyed look, suspicion and more, and he feels compelled to continue.

“Well, perhaps not nothing. Hypothetically... if this old soul noticed a certain spiderling’s interest in acrobatics—and this is hypothetical, of course!” Hands up in the air as if in surrender yet jestful, he laughs, “and wished to, say, partake in something similar in an attempt to perhaps bond with her...?”

A pause and a beat. “Had it been to your liking, young one?”

He lets the words linger in the air, before dropping his hands down to tug at the silks once more. He wishes to be honest, so even though he feels... uncertain, telling her that, he doesn’t regret it.

Hornet’s expression does... something. It’s tiny—miniscule, even, and perhaps had it been anyone else but him, that faint little tell might have gone unseen. but he does see it, and he recognizes it quickly as some sort of conflicted emotion, a tension that he’s brought upon her.

It seems she very much teeters on something colder, fists gripping at the edge of her cloak before she almost quietly ekes out, “It had been fine.”

The Jester brightens up—why, from such a grumpy young princess like her, that could very well be the highest praise!

...Though it’s best he does not push further, nor goad her on either. Enjoyable their dances can be (with such strong, violent intent from her too!) he’s already finished his own performance, and she’s certainly due to rest sometime soon, nor would he want to upset her more in the first place.

And much to his surprise, she continues, “Such as... that part when you had dropped suddenly... I thought you were certain to fall and crack your mask in half.” Something of a surprised chuckle is pulled from him, and he hums. “Where you were supported by only one silk. It looked... dire.”

It’s vague enough that he can’t really pinpoint what part of the act she was talking about, but it brings forth words to his tongue, but just which ones?

Yes, just what was that phrase... right!

“That part! I was practically hanging by a thread, was I not?”

(So, he hadn’t been able to workshop that ‘elevated’ joke in time... but such is the way!)

By the Heart... he could consider this another job well-done, couldn’t he? No snapping, harsh remarks on the little spiderlings end, no such invasive shenanigans from any of the other grimmkin—the mischief they could get up to!

“It most certainly felt as though I had been too. These silks simply do not part when you want them to! I very nearly cocooned myself at one point!” He muses. A quick

recovery he always is, but it is still such a wrenching moment when there’s even the slightest miss of a cue.

“Tell me, I’ve never had the honour to learn or witness the art of silk in action. I can consider my act something akin to it, though it’s quite incomparable to that of a spider, and I find myself curious! Are there ever such... shenanigans like that?”

Perhaps it’s his curiosity as a now-performer, to find enjoyment in the silliness and mistakes along the way; a perfect performance starts from somewhere aer all, and he finds himself wishing to know more. Hornet probably knows what he’s doing—making good use of that ‘bonding attempt’ that he so mentioned earlier, and...

Is it in poor taste to joke around like this? She is one of the few weavers le... he wonders oandedly, when Hornet lets out something that sounds like a scoff-laugh.

“You would be surprised. Although we in particular favoured silk to be used in tapestries and story keeping rather than dance, it wouldn’t be... uncommon for a mishap to happen in a more verbose storytelling. Such as a silk shroud meant to mimic the silhouette of a corpse creeper ending up on the audience rather than the speaker themself...”

She does not specify if the one accidentally tossing a silken hunter on their audience is her, from her early days of practicing weaving, or anyone else... but she does look a little more relaxed, even if by a pinch. (And if he looked ever closer, maybe even a little embarrassed? It’s tiny, and far off, but maybe...)

(For some reason, he has a feeling he would have been too. Just a little bit.)

Hornet is about to speak more, unprompted (much to his delight), when she halts. One beat, two beats, and then looks at him.

“...you’ve never learned?” It's a small enough question that he nearly misses it. So like a whisper, edged with a sharp venomous hiss, and when the Jester is able to recollect himself from the sudden shock, he’s tuned back in only to see her cold regard and the turn of her back, needle gripped tighter, for she never goes anywhere without it.

“So now you’re curious.”

...Pardon?

He doesn’t give the reaction she wants, if the (hurt? angry?) scoff she gives at his bewilderment is not enough of a tell, then it’s the way she rolls her eyes before looking askance.

“...I will be taking my leave now.” She mutters something more about ‘he never learned about the weavers’ ... ‘not even of their culture?’ but the last bits of it are lost as she disappears from sight completely.

...

That... had not gone well? Or did it? It most certainly feels as though it did, but now their conversation has been cut short without him being able to give so much as a farewell. But he lets her leave. Not that he would stop her, especially knowing she’ll stop by sometime again, but he simply... watches.

She had been upset, in the beginning, and then the end. Upset at him. (Isn’t the first time.) (That’s one, aching pain in his chest today.)

...

The curtains have fallen, and as of now it’s time he recuperates for the next performance.

...That, or dust off that lantern of his to go and gather more flames for the Heart. The Troupe Master had allowed him to forgo such responsibilities in favour of honing his aerial dance aer all. Even with permission, he can feel the faint call of the flames, the flicker-spark as they burn deep within the depths of this poor, dilapidated kingdom.

(Or is it the call of the Heart pulling him away from his encounter with Hornet?)

(The enthralling change in attention is enough to jarr him just a little bit out of his thoughts, though he’s unsure if that’s what he wants or not. Distraction or focus?)

Deliberately, he redirects his thoughts to the spiderling, to their interactions.

...As a whole, it seems today has le him with very different emotions.

She had been testy at first, as always, but it seemed like he managed to converse pleasantly for her, even for just an exchange. And then she’s up and gone in not a moment later.

...There was an uncertain edge to her, when he had told her of his reasons for practicing such dance. The faintest scrunch of her fangs, as if trapped between pulling back into a snarling hiss or an uncertain smile. Or that if she did feel hostile, it was as though she was in polite company and couldn’t afford to be as such.

(And he knows very well that she does not quite see him as polite company, so why does she refrain as such other than habit?)

She was never one to hide her distaste towards him, but that had been something... different. What, he isn’t sure, but... odd, for such a small detail to stick out to him like that.

Ah, haha! But of course he recognized such a tell, not when he has the exact same quirk! Conflicted between strict decorum and honesty, where he’d much rather be honest and forthright than needlessly tense, as he’s so oen teased by his beloved—!

—His... beloved? No name follows that, and although it would be a complete term of endearment

as is, it doesn’t... feel complete. His beloved... one who knows him, knows his face despite the mask upon it

now...? His...

...Odd.

(...Here’s another chest pang.)

There’s a harsh little wheeze of a sour note, and the Jester perks up to see Brumm approaching, fiddling with the instrument before kicking into a slower, soer melody. He hadn’t realized he'd been standing there still, center of the stage, still with hands entangled in the silks, still very much not cleaning up or resting.

“Hello there, friend!” He greets, receiving only a nod in response and a curious look.

“Mrmm... Did something happen? Had it not gone well?” Straight to the point as always, too...

“I...” he falters, and for a second he feels terribly improper for such an obvious display of weakness, before continuing, “I do believe it couldn’t have gone any better!”

And it’s true! There isn’t much in his opinion that could be improved other than the few minute details, but of course, he is always striving to grow! Simply, everything had felt so right, he has no current complaints for himself!

Which is why... how odd it is that he feels so... down. This is by far one of his best performances yet, but that encounter with Hornet... it leaves him feeling tense. She had, while not the main reason he wished to learn such a dance, had been an influential part of it at least...

Because he cares for her like a... like a daughter. (Though that feels a touch too much, considering the fact she is the princess-protector of this fallen kingdom, and how terrible it is that she is to bear the responsibilities of the once so revered king...)

...So maybe a niece instead?

(Perhaps niece would work better—he can’t go and become too fond of the come and goers who eventually leave, just as how the Troupe will part from these ruins eventually too. But alongside that, there was an amusing term he had learned a few kingdoms back from a grub who had claimed him as their... ‘cool uncle’ in feeling!)

(Truthfully, he had never really learned the semantics of family lines like that—never needed to anyways. Taking up the mantle as a Jester of no-one but the

Troupe leaves him snapping up little bits of information from the many different places they’ve visited.)

(And here he is, subconsciously trying to claim a familial title for himself when he’s the last person someone would want as family.)

...

“I had believed perhaps this would be a more successful performance than my usual song and dance.” he admits, jovial tone a little lacking, far less overplayed than it usually is.

“Though I haven’t the faintest idea why... I thought perhaps it would make her happier that I do something she could potentially partake in. Aer all, I had never........”

Sharp words echo in his mind. ‘You've never?’

..........He had never what? The same phrase worms itself way into his mind again, this time from his own tongue. The things he has never done, but... what? Why is it that he feels inclined, feels like he needs, with all of his foolish heart, to make up for something he isn't aware of? Of strings le undone, of time he had owed but had never given...

There’s something tugging at him faintly, trying to unmoor itself from the deepest parts of his mind yet shrouded in the familiar, now comforting mist of blazing warmth and flame. He tries to prod at the thought a little further, before the feeling escapes him.

(Or perhaps the flame that so carefully protects his mind, so caringly had swept it up, crisping it with its bright beauty and letting it smolder into ashes so that these vague thoughts may no longer cling to him.)

He had never......

......Well, he’s never done many things! What he does now though is what’s more important than ever, and if he so desires to try and chip at all the ‘nevers’, what better way to do it than travelling with the dear Troupe?

Unconsciously, he tugs at the hanging silks. Something to fiddle with if anything.

(His head feels foggy again, chest tight. That’s three aching pains today. Or more? He can’t tell.)

Then there’s the low voice of his dear friend, and the Jester tunes into what Brumm is saying. “...Have you shown Master your new performance?” He doesn’t see, or rather, he can’t see the solemn looks of the musician, can only hear the little ‘hrmm...’ that vibrates from his voicebox.

The song he’s playing comes to an end, and he draws the last note out, long and mournful.

“Ah, but of course. Though I must say I haven’t performed it for him officially other than in practice—it would do me well to hone my skills further! You don't suppose he's free currently?” Brumm is offering a distraction, he’s aware, but nonetheless, he wouldn’t turn down a moment with the Troupe Master when he’s been nothing but kind during pain days like this.

“He should be. I shall inform him then.” He inclines his head. “...Take care.”

Brumm bids him a gentle farewell, soon disappearing into the depths of the tent and leaving the Jester to his thoughts.

So.

...Thrice. Thrice, that those aching pains have visited him within this same hour, and he frowns. Thrice, and he doesn’t have an inkling as to how and where they could have come and gone, nothing but a lingering phantom sensation in his chest.

(He had talked about it with Brumm one time, when they were both musing over the ambiguity of their characters; life before the Troupe, faded and gone, just as with everyone else. Life with the Troupe, all that they’ve known, but a satisfactory life it is.)

Where little weird memory aches aren’t impossible, or even uncommon, but are well taken care of. Soothed even, by the Heart.

Ah yes, the Heart. It’s taken the entire Troupe under its care, hasn’t it? They’re all here with the gied masks that brands them as one with the Heart, they’re here for a reason.

And the comfort that so fills him is something overwhelming, bright and unrelenting, such is the way of a flame within the dark. It washes over the last of the tugging memory pains, and he lets it. Lets it singe and smolder, lets it drape its curtain of red over his mind, so that the ache in his chest will disappear.

All of the lingering worries, all the doubts are held alo by a bare thread— —and the Heart snips through it with ease, and the Fool is at peace.

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

By @cloudcryptid

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

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

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

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

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

+++++

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

4:25 A.M.

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

+++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

+++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

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

+++++

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

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

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

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

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

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

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

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

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

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

+++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would like that," he answers softly.

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

"Agent Hotchner?"

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

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

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

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[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Hellfire

This is a prequel to Exercises in Self Control, going into the events leading up to Enji's arrival on Reader-chan's doorstep from his POV.

You don't need to have read Exercises in Self Control to enjoy this fic, but I recommend it!

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Endeavor x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: Enji is possessive and thirsty in this fic so bear that in mind before continuing. Some of Enji’s fantasies involve dub con

Sequel Piece: Exercises in Self Control

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

For as long as he can remember, Enji has had problems sleeping. He’s counted the ceiling tiles, counted sheep, counted hours. He’s helped himself to cups of tea, herbal and otherwise. He’s tried meditating, he’s tried ASMR, all to no avail.

It doesn’t strike him as out of the ordinary that he can’t sleep tonight either. He stares at the ceiling, eyes wide open, listening out for the wind in the trees outside. He put chimes in their branches on purpose; something to ground himself every time he closes his eyes.

Tonight he’s grounded by something else; the warm body sharing his bed. He lies flat on his back and doesn’t look, listening to your soft breaths.

Enji is a grown man, now twice married, but this is the first time anyone has shared his bed. In his first marriage, he and Rei slept in separate beds. He visited her only occasionally and never bothered to stay the night, making sure to leave the moment the deed was done. Tonight you’re the intruder and his immediate instinct is to tell you to leave.

He can tell you’re asleep from your steady breathing and he wonders how you got so relaxed. His own children never slept in his arms even as babies but here you are, not just an adult but one he stole away, sleeping so calmly that for a second even he believes you’re an ordinary husband and wife.

You’re not, of course; your first conversation was your wedding vows. You became husband and wife knowing little more than one another’s names.

Against his better judgement, he turns to look at you, admiring what details of your face he can make out through the darkness. He knows you’re beautiful without looking.

Your beauty, in fact, was one of the first things he noticed about you and he remembers that moment with perfect clarity.

Even before Rei’s admittance into a hospital, it had been years since he felt welcome in his own home. It fell silent whenever he returned, his childrens’ laughter dying the moment he was in sight. He had always told himself it didn’t bother him; that they would understand when they were older. Everything he did, however cruel, was for their benefit in the long term.

Touya’s death was the first time he questioned it. Rei’s hospitalisation only drove the point home. For the first time in his life, he saw his house for what it truly was: misery and trauma under several layers of paint.

He couldn’t stand being there for more than a few hours, sitting alone in the dark with nothing to do but think. At first he stayed at the office for longer, taking on extra jobs and filing away paperwork long before it was due. It was a temporary solution and one that backfired spectacularly. He was greeted at work one day by smiling interns, who enthusiastically pointed out the piles of paperwork they had completed in his absence. They told him they’d done it so he could spend more time with his family and didn’t understand why he reacted with anger.

Enji realised then that he needed an alternative hiding place; somewhere no one knew him and he could spend the night alone.

He went from one bar to another, never settling down in one for too long. His reputation was crucial to his career and he didn’t want to risk being recognised.

It was with a great deal of reluctance that he finally arrived at a hostess bar. The owner was well versed in discretion and offered him his own table towards the back, as well as his pick of any of the hostesses. Enji didn’t bother to absorb any of their names or memorise their faces. Instead he asked for the owner himself to tend to him. He had a vested interest in his good graces and was therefore less inclined to gossip.

It became his routine for the next few months. Enji would finish up at the office and head straight for The White Rabbit , simmering in the corner as he sipped his drink. He stayed there until the early hours, returning to the estate once everyone else had already gone to bed and leaving for the office before they woke up.

It seems strange to him now. He used to be a regular, but he hasn’t been since he married you.

He remembers your first encounter far more clearly than you do. As far as you are concerned, your first meeting was in your home, the day he bought you from your father.

You couldn’t be more wrong, of course. He’s known you far longer than that.

Enji spent that much time at the bar that he came to know the regulars. He knew which men were married and booked hostesses to escape their wives. He knew which customers worked long hours in an office cubicle and came to the bar to let loose. He knew which ones were heroes as well and just as incognito as he was.

Among all of these customers was a familiar gaggle of six businessmen who very often dropped in after work. They were boisterous and very often blind drunk, booking multiple hostesses to sing karaoke with them.

One night in particular, you attended their table, carrying over a tray of crimson strawberry daiquiris. Your specialty, he found out later.

The businessmen were louder than usual that night and when Enji glanced over at them, it was with disapproval. He quickly became distracted, though, by something else entirely. You were setting a tray of drinks on their table, laughing and smiling as you tended to each customer.

Perhaps it was the backless dress you had on, showing off smooth, unblemished skin that reminded him of undisturbed snow and still waters. Maybe it was the coquettish way you fluttered your eyelashes as you spoke to them, giggling at their bawdy jokes and expertly dodging any of their attempts to take you by the wrist. Perhaps it was the way you left them hanging.

In any case, the next drink he ordered was a strawberry daiquiri and he relished the tangy sweetness, all while thinking of your lips.

That night, for the first time in many years, Enji fell into a deep slumber and deeper dreams. He dreamed about bending you over his desk, holding one arm behind your back and slamming into you so forcefully that you squealed. Your cunt fluttered every time his hips hit your ass, betraying how many times you had unravelled around his girth.

“Enji,” you whined, “Enji please .”

He slapped you across the ass at that, relishing the way you squealed in shock. He let go of your arm, eying the red marks he had left on your skin.

“It’s what you deserve,” he said in his dream, holding onto your hips and driving his cock in deep, so deep that you cried out and gripped the desk. He came so hard that it painted your insides and left him groaning in pleasure. He held you in place as his cock twitched and filled you with his seed, letting go only to shove his fingers deep into you to stop any drops from escaping.

“Enji,” you said, quivering.

He woke seconds later, pleasure running through him and semen covering his sheets. He cursed and threw himself out of bed, spitting obscenities as he rinsed his body clean.

For a moment, just a moment, he hated you. He was filthy, all because of you and your backless dress and long eyelashes.

You’re sleeping with your back to him tonight and he draws back the covers to admire it. He takes in your naked shoulder blades; the way the moonlight hits the curve of your spine. Not so long ago this view was enough to drive him mad.

The dream left an imprint, after all. He thought about it when he brushed his teeth, patrolled the streets, got into the bathtub at night.

He continued to attend the bar, telling himself it was because he liked the atmosphere and not because he hoped to catch another glimpse of your innocent smile.

He told himself he didn’t want you.

He didn’t want to defile you and fuck you senseless.

He didn’t want to fill your belly with yet more Todorokis.

You were a distraction and one he needed to be free of. He was Endeavor, the flame hero, the world’s number two. He couldn’t afford to fall into such debased habits as the businessmen who had tried to paw you. He was better than that, better than them and certainly better than you.

Every night he sipped strawberry daiquiris and masturbated furiously when he got home, fantasising about you in all manner of scenarios, each filthier than the last. He took photos of you as you worked and scrolled through them when he got home. He filmed you at the bar and watched it over and over, knowing what he was doing was wrong.

Heroes didn��t do this. He should have been protecting you from such terrible invasions of privacy, not enabling himself. Something about you, though, prickled at his skin. Something about the backless dresses you sometimes wore and the careful way you mixed drinks. He knew desire all too well, but never for a person. It was intoxicating; addictive. You were untouched and unspoiled and it drew him to you like a moth to a flame. He wanted to spend the rest of his life as relaxed as when he came all over his fingers, before reality sank back in and he remembered the ghosts lurking in every corner of his home.

One night, desperate to be free of you, he ventured into a nightclub and took a girl into the bathroom, pushing her down onto her knees in front of him and holding her in place to fuck her mouth. She had the same colour hair as you and that was why he chose her, pretending you were the one gagging on his cock. He thought it would help him; that once he got a fix he would stop thinking about you. Ultimately, it only made matters worse. The girl in the bathroom wasn’t you and every time he looked down at her he came crashing down to earth. He wondered what you would think of him if you knew what he had done.

It took him ages to cum that night, holding the girl’s head in place as it shot down her throat. She slumped over when he let her go, choking on semen and wiping her mouth even as he dropped notes down to the floor. Just like when he finished alone, Enji felt disgusted, tucking himself away and leaving the girl without bothering to express his gratitude.

He went to the White Rabbit straight afterwards, paying for you to stay at the bar and ordering his usual daiquiri. He expected to feel different, only to curse his own stupidity for ever thinking the woman in the nightclub could have compared.

He splashed out on bracelets, earrings and more, eager for you to wear them. The thought of them touching your body where he couldn’t made his mouth water, even though you never wore them. The only jewellery you ever wore was a set of plain earrings. Your mother’s, he found out later.

Meanwhile, his dreams only grew more obscene.

He dreamed of rescuing you from villains and insisting you spread your legs in exchange. He dreamed of hiring you as one of his house staff, permitted only to serve him without clothes. He dreamed of sitting you down on your knees before him and covering your face in cum.

He was a man possessed, desperate for any sight of you. The realisation came to him slowly: he didn’t only want to corrupt and break you anymore. He wanted you to desire him as he desired you. Perhaps even more.

He wanted you to want him, wanted you to let him touch you.

Every time he sat down in the bar, he almost managed to convince himself that your circumstances were different; that he truly was the honourable man the world believed him to be. He almost believed that his touches wouldn’t ruin you.

He was desperate and not only to be fucked, though refused to acknowledge it.

He told himself it was no weakness on his part, no dent in his armour. He wasn’t as vile or depraved as the businessmen who tried to paw you on a near daily basis.

He begged the owner of the White Rabbit to let him spend the night with you, begged him to leave the pair of you alone. He was quite convinced that he wouldn’t want you anymore the moment he had you in his arms. He’d find an imperfection on your body that would shatter the illusion.

The owner, being a shrewd businessman, refused him every time.

Enji isn’t proud of how cruel he became in his desperation. It wasn’t hard to break the owner into handing over your name, nor to track you down to your home address. It was all too easy to learn of your father’s gambling problems and difficult financial situation.

He was on your doorstep before he knew it, happy to pay any price to keep you under his roof, unspoiled and protected from harm. He was an honourable man, he told himself. He could keep his hands to himself.

It was what you deserved, after all.

You shiver next to him and he drags the covers back over your body, considering that you are the only person he has ever wanted and the only one to want him in return. He brought you into his home, yes, but you’re the one who sought him out. You’re the one who led him to the bedroom and shed your clothes willingly. He’s almost certainly spoiled your body, but if anything that makes him want you more.

He’s addicted to every inch of you: the feeling of being buried within you, the scent of your hair as he holds you close. You’re the only person he’s ever fucked for pleasure and he hasn’t been able to resist ever since. Even now that you’re asleep, he’s desperate for a fix. He feels starved of oxygen and it’s keeping him awake.

Not long ago, he would have prodded you awake and told you to spread your legs. Now, though, he rolls over onto his side so he no longer faces you, content to listen to your gentle breathing instead.

He curses under his breath as you begin to stir and squeezes his eyes shut, laying perfectly still as you yawn and turn over onto your own side to make yourself comfortable. His skin still prickles when you touch him, especially as you drape an arm around his chest and plant kisses on his shoulder.

“Enji,” you whisper, “are you awake?”

He doesn’t answer and you smile before burying your face in the back of his neck, the combined heat of your bodies lulling both of you to sleep.

He has no need of wind chimes to ground him anymore.