#SHES REWARDING ME FOR NOT THROWING A FIT OVER THE MASK

[milf-murdock]

Y’all I’m about to act up so bad in this store

[mdhwrites]

So, how does Discord from MLP fare as a chaotic god creature who gains redemption from friendship? Considering your issues with The Collector, what made the idea that Discord could be redeemed by Fluttershy's friendship work better?

So, the ask that caused me to finish watching the finale. Let's do this. *cracks neck*

Discord is less human and empathetic.

That... Is actually most of it which I know probably sounds a little weird. After all, shouldn't a kinder character be easier to redeem? Shouldn't it be more satisfying to see them change from their negative influences? Well... Yes. For most characters.

Discord and The Collector are not most characters. They're all powerful gods who mostly get enjoyment from chaos and causing problems. You inherently need a different approach to how they function when it comes to their morality. After all, neither one sees the death or loss of autonomy for a massive amount of people as a big deal so long as they had fun. That hedonism is a core part of both characters.

And this is where the Collector's humanity becomes a problem for the reason why it works with Discord: When Discord fucks over Fluttershy in his redemption, he doesn't expect her to be fair. To be good to him. His expectation, and desire even because of how he sees things, is that she'll snap. She'll get mad, break her word, and he'll be proven right about how all of this is bullshit. Sure, he probably gets turned to stone again but he's immortal. Time doesn't matter as much victory does. Even better if she snaps but keeps her word while swearing him up and down because now he gets to do what he wants.

But... He doesn't get that, does he? She keeps her word... But cuts ties. Doesn't get mad (and sorry if I'm misrepresenting any of this), doesn't throw a fit, doesn't do much of anything. Instead, she lets him know this isn't what friends do, that they aren't friends anymore, and leaves.

He won... But didn't get a prize. Didn't get the reward of breaking Fluttershy's patience. Doesn't get the reward of moral superiority because she dropped her mask and that's a CRUCIAL part of this. He NEVER believed that Fluttershy was being sincere. In his eyes, no one ever is. His chaos is actually revelatory more than anything else to him. Push someone to brink and where do their allegiances lie. That's literally what he does when he first shows up in S2 and shows how weak the element bearers can be when pitted against their own desires and vices. All but Fluttershy who annoyed him because she wouldn't play ball. She stuck to being kind.

I'm actually kind of loving how I expected to say I didn't think Discord's redemption was great but I actually love how even back in his first appearance, you can see the blocks they built on for it. But... why does this redeem him then?

Well because it proves him wrong and gives him something he's never had: A friend. Someone who doesn't wear a mask with him. Someone who genuinely cares about him. He's never had that and so yeah, he's free forever since the elements won't be used against him but... In return, he never gets the kindness he just finally experienced. A kindness that by the show's logic is the most powerful thing in the universe, literally. And so he decides that the only way to win is to lose and gives up so he can be friends with Fluttershy.

All of this btw explains why he never bothers trying to connect with the rest because he just sees them as masks which helps keep him antagonistic, even if he's not a villain now.

So what does this all have to do with The Collector? Well, see, with Discord, before his change, you could never win making a deal with him. You don't matter to him so you actually have to exchange something. With the Collector... You matter.

People matter to him... Which makes EVERYTHING he does WAY WORSE.

And this isn't even about killing people. For as fucking stupid as him not knowing what death is, and just a straight up lie by the show that goes fucking nowhere and has no payoff, that is not actually important here. Sure, it shows a lack of understanding to what he does, but the dehumanization is enough. He does horribly monstrous things to EVERYONE on the Isles. Full stop. He is a monster and this link takes you to something more comprehensive on that.

And he does that... While understanding his actions upset others and that he doesn't like that.

The smoking gun here is the line "King will hate me now." He knew going in that the dreams would piss off King. That hurting Eda and Luz had consequences. Consequences HE DIDN'T WANT. Discord thought there was no losing play because he could not imagine actually hurting Fluttershy in a way that mattered to him. It is VERY easy for the Collector. It's actually why King has so much power over him. He is desperate to keep his friend around.

But if he can recognize the humanity in one person, why can't he for literally anyone else?

And that's the killing blow. Even if you buy into EVERYTHING about the death stuff, he still knows he's doing monstrous things. That he has done monstrous things. This is why he doesn't like King reading about his brothers. Admittedly, you also have a moment like him asking for Grudgby buddies but... Why? The evidence is overwhelmingly stacked that he knows the people hate him. Otherwise he wouldn't have stars hunting and making people into dolls. Making them into nothing but toys instead of even giving them a chance to be his friend. Terra and Odalia live in fear of annoying him AT ALL and getting turned into a puppet, which happens to Terra. He treats people TERRIBLY... While knowing what he does is wrong.

While knowing King doesn't like this. That he doesn't like how King looks at him in those moments. He himself in the finale admits that the friendship is a lie and it hurts but he'd rather have that than not have a friend. But... He's been at this for months. He has been doing these things, with King by his side, for MONTHS.

Why did none of these people get even a chance? What is the underlying philosophy for the Collector? That he thinks they'll lie and cheat with him? It's not like King wasn't getting something out of their deal so King should be just as untrustworthy as everyone else. More so honestly because he IS immune to his magic so the Collector is defenseless if King decides to shove him back into the mirror. But... He gives King a chance. And he needs proof to believe that someone is out to get him. That's why Belos needs to have him check on King. He doesn't assume people are lying like Discord does.

And also... What does he get out of fucking with people? Discord genuinely takes pleasure in your misery. In you losing your mind. We get the death games in the finale but why that scale? Why the unfair rules? He's cheating like he accuses others of doing. But... He wants others to be honest with him. Discord lies because he doesn't expect anyone to bother being honest with him, not if they can get something out of lying.

That's why I describe it as the Collector being too human. He is too genuinely a person to have his crimes be as easily dismissed. For a simple shift in outlook, one thing proving his hypothesis wrong, to be what changes him.

Mind you... That doesn't happen either. The Collector isn't redeemed in the TOH finale. The one rushed part of the finale is when he should have been convinced that Luz was right. When he should have apologized for what he'd done or done a grand gesture to show he had changed how he viewed things. Instead, there's brief talk about forgiveness and kindness, which is not what the Collector is actually asking for because he claims during this section to not have actually done anything wrong (refer to everything above), he mumbles about it, and then I guess his big redemption moment is trying to use the theory on Belos. Except, you know... He spends the entire episode wanting to make friends. He is told a way to make friends and bluntly uses it like he did Belos' plans that started the episode and the death games. He hasn't grown or changed which is probably why the moment is treated as a complete joke. Then Luz dies ten seconds later and I guess figuring out that death exists SCREAMS makes him go save people. Hurray?

It's bad. At least Fluttershy's moment was genuinely built up. They showed how Discord viewed things and then presented a choice that actively asked that he either stay to his old mindset and beliefs or change to face a scarier, uncertain future. The Collector is still mostly just going off of "Friends are great! Do what makes you friends the easiest!" which isn't a new mentality for him. I guess you MAYBE get it when he fucks off in the end but also not really. Kind of like how Luz gave the demon realm a middle finger, him leaving without actually fixing like 90% of the damage he did, something that would be really easy for him but takes the citizens of the Isles FOUR YEARS, feels a lot more like that. Like these people don't like him, won't be his friends, so he tries a new planet instead. Maybe with a bit less forcing people to be his friend but why? His viewpoint seems to still be what it always has been, especially since he DOESN'T stick around to try actually be King's friend. To actually work with him and give him agency. He does all he has to to not make King hate him and then... Leaves. Instead of, you know, actually putting the work in which would have taken one line of "The Collector agreed to a power dampener to help everyone else feel a bit easier and is now working with King on what their friendship will be instead of telling him how it will be." Maybe even with showing him losing at Jenga, King getting nervous but then the Collector just laughs it off because he doesn't need to be in control anymore. He can lose and still be happy.

And again: This is the ONE part of the finale that's actually rushed. For as painfully slow and wasteful as the rest is, redeeming the Collector was just left on the chopping room floor I guess. Then again, that happened with Amity too, who never makes up for the bullying she did or actually apologizes for the years of bullying, just for the original sin (and then leaves Willow high and dry). It also happened with Hunter who always states very selfish motivations for wanting to be away from Belos and never actually disavows the things he did or the mindset he did them with. It's why I say he left Belos just because otherwise he'd be dead because it all still feels self serving. It doesn't feel like his worldview or his morality actually changed besides understanding his uncle wanted him dead.

TOH is just bad at redemption. At actually changing a character and having them rebuke their past. At least with Discord, the show is bluntly honest about even the initial attempt having a carrot on a stick for him. That if he doesn't play nice, it's back into the statue. It's why it's important that that carrot is gone in his moment of redemption. We know what he wants: Freedom and Chaos. Fluttershy won't put him back into the statue so he has those. But he chooses friendship instead because they've genuinely changed his mind and so he gives up both some of his freedom, and some of his chaos, to behave and play nice, even when Fluttershy had no reason to actually be nice to him even when he changed everything back in the end. He could have just lost. He didn't have to be honest and straightforwardly kind to another, things that the episode itself was asking whether or not it was possible for him to do.

There just isn't anything like that with the Collector and reminder: Discord is redeemed in his second appearance. He gets an hour of airtime where he can even show up before this happens. The Collector has more time to be fleshed out, genuinely, than Discord did. But... The Collector doesn't actually change. He might claim it but we don't see that. We don't see him do anything that would actually sell us on him having changed his worldview. After all, he forgave the Titans by still wanting to befriend one. He showed plenty of kindness to King with stuff like not forcing him to give Francois.

He already was like this so why does the little trip down memory lane do anything? Especially when for most of it, King, Eda and Luz are barely paying attention to him so the writers can circle jerk about the plans they had or about the amazing story they made. Even his big moment is undercut by being a joke. By obviously being the wrong move and then costing Luz her life. Just another dumb plan he enacted because someone told him it would get him friends.

That's not different and unfortunately it doesn't fix the awful things he did to others. The things he knows were wrong that he did. Discord never had to apologize for it because he'd never thought of them as wrong. Not until the moment everything changed for him.

Nothing changed for the Collector. Not a single thing.

======+++++======

Something that is just kind of an undercurrent of this but that I cannot stress enough for why the two are different: Discord can do what he does so quickly because he is a genuinely consistent character with clear goals and motivations. Meanwhile, the Collector is maybe the most inconsistent character I have ever seen which kind of makes redemption impossible in the first place. How do you redeem a character who seems to change core elements of himself every episode?

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

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And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 3

Third POV

A week. A week into the new school and Eboni is currently sitting in the principal's office with bloody knuckles and a few broken nails. It was only a matter of time before the girl fought one of her bullies, or maybe three at once. In her defense, they were weak as shit.

The first day of school was like any other. Students stare and point at the new girl. Pointing out her vitiligo and her mask. She didn't have enough time to flat iron her natural, unruly curly hair either- so that only brought more attention. It's no surprise that the queen bee of the school picked a new target.

Eboni dealt with them for as long as she could, souly because she didn't want to deal with Melissa - so she picked the lesser of two evils. That was until the queen bee, Emily, decided to dig into Eboni's past and out her hellish personal life to the whole school in the cafeteria.

It wasn't a surprise. Her father is loaded, owning all of the police stations in the town and his own police academy. Of course he wouldn't mind digging into a student's personal file just to please his only daughter- that spoiled rotten bitch.

Eboni doesn't remember much after that. Though from what the principal is shouting, the teen yanked the girl to the ground and started beating her face in. Her two friends tried to pull her off, but Eboni ended up dragging them into the beat down as well.

"Do you have any idea what you've done!?" Principal webb questions, his face red from anger.

"Don't know, do enlighten me." Eboni said flatly. The teen doesn't remember much at all. She completely blacked out. One of her fits had taken complete control.

"Not only did you nearly kill Emily, but you also severely beat her two friends! On top of that, you started cackling like some lunatic! Just wait until - oh, here she is now."

Eboni didn't bother turning around to hear the office door slam shut and the burning glare from Melissa. She could only sigh from exhaustion. Mr. Webb crosses his arms over his chest, keeping his glare on the girl as well.

"Your daughter -"

"Foster, daughter." Melissa corrects him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes, Eboni will be suspended for two weeks. She should be grateful that no one is pressing charges." Principle Webb said, moving to sit back at his desk. "That is all."

With that, melissa grabs Eboni as the teen stands from her sit- dragging her out of the office and to her car. During the ride home, the woman didn't let up on Eboni. She threw all the hateful terms and slurs that could be given to one person at a time. The teen sat back, taking it all in and harboring it.

Once the two arrive home, Eboni is greeted with shameful looks from her siblings, who are dressed in formal wear. The teen looks at her foster mother for an explanation. Melissa smiles, motioning for the others to get into the car.

"The twins have already climbed the charts within their private school as the top of their classes. And Jason is thriving on the football team as caption! I thought it would be a great idea to treat them for a reward." Melissa said as she began to walk back out the door.

"Wha...what about m-"

The woman laughs in a mocking way, "You? Face the music Eboni. You're a disappointment, and that's all you'll ever be. A burden. Now, be a dear and make sure the whole house is spotless by the time we come back."

With that said, Melissa departs- leaving Eboni in the middle of the living room. Alone. Alone with her own haunting thoughts and heavy heart. It took the teen a few minutes to process what just happened. Abandoned, again. Over and over and over again.

Another fit finally takes over her senses. She screams, slamming, throwing, punching anything she could get her hands on. She broke nearly all the glass wear in the kitchen, glass shards everywhere. Why? Why does everyone keep hurting her? Abandoning her? The girl did nothing wrong. Why did her life have to be so shitty?

She's different, with a few mental difficulties. So what? Maybe with love, care, and patience, she could become a completely different teenage girl. Wishful thinking. All of that is just wishful thinking. The teen chuckles to herself once coming down from her rage fit. Melissa is right.

No one would want her. No one would love her. Her own blood family gave her away to the foster system. What makes Eboni think things could be different - be better? She's just a disappointment, a waste of space. If only she could just fade away, that'll solve everyone's problems- right?

Eboni's sight zeros in on a large glass shard on the kitchen floor. She walks towards it slowly, picking it up and twirling it between her fingers - surprisingly not cutting herself. Though, the thought of doing just that does tempt her. She hums softly, moving to sit down at the kitchen table staring at the glass shard.

The teen could end it. She could finally put her suffering to rest, or she could add to it. Self harm, not a topic she really thought much about. Why would she when the teen would get beaten on the daily? Why ruin her skin more when her vitiligo does enough if it? Death is something she thought of whenever things got too hard for her to handle.

The girl sighs, standing up from her seat, and takes off her mask to dry her damp cheeks. She takes the shard, throwing it into the trash bin. Eboni chuckles, moving to grab the broom and dustpan. Self-harm, suicide. She's better than that. Eboni knows she's better than that. This wasn't the first time Melissa took the family out and left her alone. The events of the day caused harsh memories to resurface, and the teen couldn't handle it - that's all.

It didn't take Eboni long to clean up the mess she made in both the kitchen and living room. She's so used to being a forced maid to all her past foster families. Speed cleaning is second nature to the teen. Though, she would have to explain what happened to all the glass cups and plates.

"Another task, for another day." She thought to herself while making her way into her room, locking her door behind herself.

The teen takes a quick shower, letting her hair air dry and natural curls take form. She notices a few cuts on her knuckles, addressing them with rubbing alcohol and bandage wraps. She changes into a laced silk pink nightgown, putting a pink head wrap over her edges to protect them during the night.

After grabbing her plush bunny from her bed, that same chill from a week ago creeps down her spine. She turns to the window of her room, pushing the curtains aside. There. A tall, lanky male stood across the street at the beginning edge of the forest. He's dressed in black skinny jeans with a not so clean white hoodie.

The male held his hands in his pockets and hood over his head so she couldn't see his face - his jet black hair blocking most of it. The male stood there, his body facing Eboni's home. The teen wasn't scared, just curious- so she stared back. After a while, the male lifts his head a bit, showing his piercing bright red eyes from the shadowy darkness underneath that hoodie.

This sent another chill down her spine, one that causes the girl to bite her bottom lip - almost in a daze. When the male starts walking towards the house, it snaps Eboni out of her daze. She reaches towards her dresser, picking up her pink pocket knife.

The handle of the knife is a bright pink with the word 'Eboni' dazzle in dark pink stones. The huge blade is a bright pastel pink with the word 'princess' engraved into it. The girl had saved up all of her money to have this blade custom made from a website. The male stops at the sight of the weapon, a grin plastered on his face - a grin Eboni couldn't see.

Instead of walking to her house, he turns around, walking back into the woods- disappearing into the darkness surrounding it. Eboni steps away from her window, closing the curtains, then crawls into bed. She grabs her thigh strap and puts it on, placing her knife in the holster. She brings the blankets over her body, cuddling with her plush bunny. She closes her eyes, allowing her mind to drift to the interaction that just took place.

"I have a fucking stalker."

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Ronancetober Day 16: Trick or Treat! 🎃🍂🦇🕵️‍♀️👻

Happy Halloween!!! 🎃👻

personally i'm celebrating that i somehow managed to fill all 16 prompts of Ronancetober!! shocking!!

thank you sooo much @lionydoorin for coming up with this wonderful event!!!

we got soo much incredible content, so thank you to everyone that created something for ronancetober, i love you!

and it was so so much fun to participate, so thank you everyone that liked, reblogged, or commented on any of my fics, you're my best friends forever <333

for the finale... i bring a short little story of Ronance on Halloween ft. Max, El, and Erica 🔪👻🧟‍♀️ enjoy!

After opening the door for three groups of children asking for candy, Nancy finally was rewarded with her girlfriend standing in the doorway with an adorable grin on her face.

“Trick or treat?” Robin said, grimacing a little.

“You’re late,” Nancy replied and sent a pointed look at Robin, who squirmed and scratched the back of her head.

“Sorry. But look! I brought you kids!” Robin added, waving her arm beside her, and adding in an exaggerated whisper, “It was their fault.”

Erica, under all the zombie makeup, scoffed, “We would’ve been on time if you learned how to drive, Buckley.” She was immediately supported by Max, who poked Robin’s ribs with her fake knife. Her laughter was only mildly muffled by the Michael Myers mask.

While those three started bickering, Nancy worked on closing the door behind her and then turned her attention to the third girl in their little group. “I love your costume, El. It’s a classic,” she said.

“Thank you, Nancy,” El nodded, making the entire white sheet covering her body rustle with the movement.

“I killed her,” Max announced proudly, holding up her knife. “And Erica too.”

“But I came back because you can’t stop me with a plastic knife,” Erica said, playfully shoving Max’s shoulder with her own. Just like that, their Halloween night properly started.

The five of them started walking down the street together, but El looked behind her for a moment to ask Nancy, “What is your costume?”

“Me? Uh, I’m an old-school private detective,” Nancy answered, and tipped the hat on her head. She was wearing a long beige coat, a dress shirt, and pants. “And I’m dead.” She shrugged and opened the coat to reveal the red stain she painted over her heart.

“And I’m the handsome criminal that made her go mad following my intricate clues and mind-bending puzzles. I stole all her money and her heart,” Robin added, throwing Nancy a charming smirk and wrapping an arm over her shoulders, pulling her close. She was wearing a hat similar to Nancy’s but black, and a suit that fit her a little too well, judging by the way Nancy was staring at her. “She did shoot me after I stabbed her though,” she added, showing the matching blood-red stain on her own shirt.”

The three girls walking ahead of them had stopped for a second to stare at them with different kinds of confusion on their faces.

“I don’t think you guys understand Halloween,” Max said.

Robin rolled her and said, “Shut up, you don’t understand film noir.”

“It’s okay,” Nancy said. She couldn’t help but feel her heart swell in her chest thinking about how much thought Robin put into the whole thing and how much she cared about it. “You did great,” she whispered and pressed a kiss on Robin’s cheek, unbothered about leaving a red lipstick stain. It added a little bit to the overall effect of their costumes. She decided at some point of the night she would have to add another lipstick stain to the collar of Robin’s white shirt, and hopefully more underneath the shirt too. Of course, her thoughts were interrupted by noises of disgust coming from the younger members of the group.

“You guys are gross,” Erica groaned.

“Cute,” El added softly.

“Can we just go?” Max said impatiently, waving her plastic knife around her.

Nancy laughed and nodded her head, telling them to go along and go to the first house. She stayed back with Robin and the two of them enjoyed a bit of a moment alone, standing by a pile of decorations and pumpkins that strangely reassembled a little kid. Robin’s arm fell from her shoulders to wrap around her waist, and something made Robin gasp.

“Nance, did you bring one of your guns?!”

“It’s not loaded, I swear!” Nancy laughed. “It felt important to complete the costume,” she said, shrugging.

Robin’s lips parted in surprise and she stared at Nancy for a long moment before saying, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Nancy chuckled and lowered her head for a moment, thinking. It was a wild day, nobody on the street was paying attention to them, and they were wearing costumes… In a swift movement, she took off her hat, used it to shield their faces from the street in front of them, and leaned in to steal a kiss from Robin.

“I love you too,” Nancy said. She put her hat back and smiled brightly at the sweet and happily stunned look on her girlfriend’s face.

[aphrostarot]

The Hermit Pick a Pile

What needs to be illuminated in your life right now, what mask do you wear in public, who are you truly, and how can you embrace who you truly are?

Please remember that this is a general reading and some things may not apply to you. Don't force it to fit. I offer paid readings on my page if you would like a personal reading. Prices are listed there. Please message me or email me if you are interested!

Pile One (Rose Quartz):

What needs to be illuminated in your life right now?

Knight of Wands:

I think you aren't aware of how fast your life is moving right now. You recently experienced a change in your life that has caused everything in your life to accelerate rapidly. I think that thing was a choice you made. You may have hesitated when it came to making that decision, but now that you have, your life is moving quite quickly.

What mask do you present to others?

Six of Swords:

Out in public, you would much rather have others see you as someone who uses their brain instead of their heart. You think that if you were to show emotions to others then that would give them the ammo they need to damage you. You are a great problem solver, and you want everyone around you to come to you for answers to their problems, not for emotional support.

I am getting strong Virgo energy here.

The Alien:

You like to be mysterious and not fully understood. You want people around you to not know the real you. Your curiosity leads you to become involved in other people's affairs, wanting to solve their problems but never showing who you truly are in the process. You don't let people get too close to you, just close enough for them to be satisfied.

Who are you when you’re alone?

King of Cups:

When you are free from the judgment of others, you are an extremely sensitive person. You have a very kind, loving, and generous nature. You have a pure heart and pure intentions. It's quite different from what you show in public, which is interesting.

The Gamine:

You are quite unconventional. Many times you reject what society wants from you, choosing instead to follow your own path. Your style is quite bohemian and independent. You have a whimsical way about you that draws people in and makes you extremely charming.

What is your potential if you could embrace your true self?

The Star:

A choice you made may have emptied you of hope in life, preventing you from seeing how fast your life is moving towards your goals, as well as who you are. As soon as you begin to embrace who you truly are, you will begin to find hope in your life again. Soon you will embrace your more optimistic side.

Pile Two (Amazonite):

What needs to be illuminated in your life right now?

Queen of Cups:

Currently, you may feel that there are people in your life who do not have your best interests at heart. You believe they won't be loyal to you and will take advantage of you in the long run. Your guides are telling you that this is untrue by bringing this card out. You are incorrect in your suspicions of this person. You can count on this person to be loyal to you and to look out for your interests.

What mask do you present to others?

Seven of Pentacles:

When you are out in public, you come across as a very hard worker. Due to your strong work ethic, you want people to think that you are driven towards success. You are also a very patient person, constantly planting seeds that will flourish in the future.

The Witch:

The Witch strives to educate herself constantly in order to further her success. It is her goal to manifest her dreams and be the strongest person she can be. In public, surrounded by the judgments of others, you present yourself in this manner.

Who are you when you’re alone?

Page of Wands:

Whenever you are alone and free from the judgments of others, you are a free thinker and a thrill seeker. You are always looking for new adventures, especially in exotic locations. You have a very youthful spirit and are very cheerful.

The Career Girl:

Career Girls are driven to succeed and are always striving to climb the career ladder. They are very independent and are willing to preserve towards their desired outcome no matter what. According to your guides, this is who you are when you are alone, and it's very similar to who you are in public.

What is your potential if you could embrace your true self?

Two of Wands:

Once you embrace your true self and start to show your true self to the public, you'll be able to see that this person who you are suspicious of is actually loyal to you. With this person, you will be able to work better together and create a better partnership.

Six of Wands:

Once you do this, you will also have more success in your life. All your endeavors will be rewarded with victories. At this point, all you have to do is accept who you are and start expressing yourself publicly.

Pile Three (Amethyst):

What needs to be illuminated in your life right now?

The Moon:

Having this card come out is a bit redundant but it is your guides saying that there clearly is something in your life that you are not viewing correctly. You are thinking one thing when in fact it is actually a completely different thing.

Four of Pentacles:

Currently, you may feel very possessive over certain things in your life. Perhaps you believe that something terrible is going to happen that will cause it to leave your life. It might also be that you feel others are not worthy of experiencing what you have, which makes you unwilling to share. Regardless of your reasoning, your guides are telling you that these views are incorrect.

What mask do you present to others?

The Fool:

Publicly, you appear to be a very youthful free spirit. You wear the mask of someone who rushes into every situation that life throws your way, never too worried about what the future holds, living in the moment.

Queen of Pentacles:

In addition, you present yourself as a loving, sensual individual. With a heart full of love for nature and animals. You have a very kind heart and love to share with the people around you. You strive to make sure everyone feels comfortable around you, so you do everything in your power to make sure everyone is taken care of.

The Spinster:

You present yourself as someone who is highly independent, preferring to be alone. Some may think you are lonely that way, but you aren't. You enjoy being alone and spending time with your animals and plants.

Who are you when you’re alone?

Knight of Wands:

Your charisma and confidence are enhanced when you're free from the judgment of others. You never back down from a challenge and aren’t afraid to take action. When you are alone, you still exude that Fool's energy, but you are more mature.

The Alien:

You like to be mysterious and not fully understood which is why you rarely show your true self around other people. You want people around you to not know the real you. Your curiosity leads you to become involved in other people's affairs, wanting to solve their problems but never showing who you truly are in the process. You don't let people get too close to you, just close enough for them to be satisfied.

What is your potential if you could embrace your true self?

Three of Wands:

Your guides are saying that once you fully embrace your true self and start to show others who you truly are, you will work much better in groups. With time, you will surround yourself with many people who love and support you for who you are. As a result, you will no longer feel possessive over the things in your life. The closer you become to others, the more generous you will become.

Pile Four (Fuchsite):

What needs to be illuminated in your life right now?

Ace of Pentacles:

You may be unaware of new opportunities entering your life that will be bringing you more wealth and abundance. Or, you may be unaware of the effects that these new opportunities have on your life.

Six of Pentacles:

If you happen to be unaware of the effects that these new opportunities are having on your life, it seems that with this care you are becoming more of a generous person. If you are already aware of your generosity, then you may not realize that it is actually hindering your life right now. You may be giving more than you're receiving.

What mask do you present to others?

Knight of Wands:

When you are in public, you come across as someone who is very charming and confident. Because you don't want others to see the true you, you act as if you are extremely confident. When you are around people, you tend to take on whatever is thrown at you since you don't want them to think you are anything less than capable.

Four of Wands:

You are the party planner, the person who is always in close contact and brings people together. When around others, you tend to be pretty cheerful, even if it's an act. You are known as the friend who is always up for a good time and is always happy, which can sometimes be a burden, especially when you don't feel like entertaining.

The Dancer:

You have a lot of energy when you are surrounded by others and you are willing to freely express yourself. Also, you are always eager to understand and connect with everyone around you.

Who are you when you’re alone?

Six of Wands:

You seem to genuinely show your true self when you are around others. The only problem I am getting is that you tend to overdo the cheerful nature of yourself. You do not want people to think that you are anything less than happy. When you are alone though, you let that facade drop. You are more willing to express your darker side. You, however, are still a very confident person when you are alone. You love being in the spotlight and are a great leader.

The Earth Mother:

You have a strong connection to the earth and this side of you shows when you are alone. You may love gardening, or just being in nature. You have a very sensitive nature which only shows when you are alone or with people with whom you are comfortable.

I am getting very strong fire and earth energy here. You may have Aries, Leo, Sagittarius, Taurus, Capricorn, or Virgo somewhere in your chart.

What is your potential if you could embrace your true self?

King of Pentacles:

When you begin to embrace your truest self, and it seems that you are not far from doing this, you will begin to embrace the King's energy. While you will still be very generous, you will be more aware of how generous you are. Also, you will have more abundance and wealth than you do now, which will enable you to fully embrace your leadership qualities.

Though tips are not required, they are very much appreciated. Thank you!

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[legends-live-in-memories]

Rooftop Rendezvous

watch me ignore my wips challenge!

Timminette Oneshot 1.8K words 

Summary: Red Robin finds the new criminal, Karma, on a roof.

His only response is to make out with her.” contains sexual content

without further ado

She stuck to the shadows, tucked away between two AC units. She made use of her small stature and remained out of sight, hoping her prey would stop by soon. He should any minute now. He was meticulous and methodical such that he became painfully predictable. It led to a fun game of tag though, so she wasn’t complaining too much. Her little tweety bird was so fun to chase.

The sounds of a grappling wire sings through the night’s silence and alerts her to her new rooftop companion. She pushes further back into the shadows, watching the expanses of a black cape flow through the soft wind. Her attention zeroes in on the yellow belts that snugly frame the figure’s chest as he turns to survey the roof. He completely looks past her and faces the skyline again.

“No signs of Karma, but she couldn’t have gotten far.” His voice was sturdy and confident. Assured that he would find her before the night was over. How right he was. “Oracle said she spotted her in the Fashion District. She should still be here.” 

He was about to leave the roof and continue his search. She let him. He wouldn’t get far though. She didn’t want the night to end just yet nor did she want to drag out this little game. Patience wasn’t her best virtue after all. She crouched poised and waited until he leapt off the building heading to the west. Immediately, she sprung from her hidden spot and made a dash across the roof, running in the opposite direction. Loudly. Red Robin’s curse at her sudden appearance was music to her ears. Her delighted cackles rang out into the night as she lunged and landed on the nearest building. She couldn’t hear him behind her, but she knew he wasn’t far behind. He was predictable like that after all. 

She makes it another three blocks before a body is slamming into her. They fall into a roll and she lands above the red vigilante. She’s about to run away to prolong the chase but he has a firm grasp on her forearms and his legs lock into place behind her. Trapping her in the space between his thighs and pressing her weight into him. He reaches behind him and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. She couldn’t resist teasing him; he made it too easy.

“A bit early for kink exploration, wouldn’t you agree, tweety bird?” She peers up at him and flutters her lashes. He ignores her but his pretty pink blush tells her everything she needs to know. He drags them up to stand and pulls her to some overhead pipes belonging to the building’s plumbing system. He links one end of the handcuffs to her wrist and the other to a low hanging pipe. Red Robin tries to back away, about to abandon her but she won’t allow it. She takes her free hand and grabs at one of his belts on his chest. She yanks him until he’s pressed flush against her.

“Don’t ignore me, tweety. That’s rude.” Her tone is light and playful. She smirks at him but he can’t see it behind her mask. Hopefully her intentions are conveyed in her still visible eyes.

“I don’t plan on playing your games, Karma.” He sounds exasperated but his arms haven’t left her hips yet. They wound up there from her earlier aggression and she quite likes the weight of them. They’re steadying and heavy; a daunting pressure. “You’re a criminal and It’s my job to bring you to justice.”

“So what? That means you can’t have a little fun while doing it?” Her knee was slowly edging up the lines along his right leg, her ankle hooking him behind his knee. “Must get boring. The whole performance of being such a dutiful civil servant.”

“We do what we must in the name of the greater good. Something you could try emulating.” He leaned in closer to drive his point but all she did was lean further into the wall and tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes of his mask. His hair curtained his face and darkened his expression. She quite liked the looming appearance of him over her like this.

“Trust me, I know all about acting in the name of the greater good. The good-girl act got tiring after a few years.” She tilted her head further back, stretching out her neck and staring up at the sky. She could still feel his gaze burn into her exposed throat. She adored the attention. It lit a simmering fire under her skin. “Much more rewarding to give into your own self-interests,” she continued. “Something you could try emulating.”

He releases one of his hands to reach up to unclasp her mask, while the other snakes around her waist, eliminating all space between them. His gloved fingers brush against her back, gracing the thin slivers of exposed skin. The texture felt lovely and sparked shivers down her spine. He threw her mask behind him and the clatter of it against the roof went ignored. His hand returned to her chin and gripped her daintily. It was almost sweet. Tender even. Her hand that was still firmly grasping his belt slowly traced up his chest. She pressed firmly at his exposed neck and slid her hand into his hair at his nape, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp and tugged at the strands. His body pushed into her more, wedging his trapped leg further between hers. Someone likes having his hair pulled apparently. Delightful.

His lips parted, caught on an inhale, and he looks like he has something to say. He doesn’t speak though, just hold their position as the seconds ticked by. Her already thin patience was waning and her frustrations shone through.

“What? Waiting on Daddy Bats to give you more orders like a good little soldier?” She made her intentions clear by rolling her hips up into his and pulling more insistently on his hair. He hissed at the stimulation and his hips betrayed his already crumbling facade of professionalism. “Or are you going to finish what you start—”

He cut her off in the best way possible. His lips were forceful and his teeth nipped at her lips but this was exactly what she wanted. His tongue came out to play and she was more than willing to entertain. The kiss was wet and messy and absolutely perfect. The hand around her waist traveled further down her body and grabbed a handful of her ass. He groped further until he reached her thigh and his hand cradling her face reached for the other one. He lifted her so their heads were leveled and her leather clad legs were wrapped snugly around his hips. Her vice-like grip kept him just where she wanted him. The heat that was simmering earlier reached a light broil. She doesn’t remember closing her eyes but she relents her sight to sharpen her other senses. He felt solid and firm against her soft edges. He smelt like fresh aftershave. He tasted divine.

The hand in his hair guided him to her exposed neck. He lavished at the expanses of skin and went to work painting a mural of pink and red bruises. She was particularly tender at one spot, just below her jaw and she hissed at his sharp bites and kittenish licks.

“Just like that. Oh, fuck,” she had no control over what she was saying, her body giving into the ministrations. Her tweety bird hummed in response and it sent a sweet tingle down her body, curling her toes in response. He used his hold on her thighs to pull her hips into his, setting a controlled grind, slow and sensual. She was completely at his mercy. When he grew tired of sucking a dark bruise into her neck he travelled further down to the curves of her bust. She arched into his lips, body asking for more pressure. The hand in his hair tightened and pulled him to pay attention to her other side. That’s how they were, getting acquainted with each other. 

Her free hand left the back of his head and went to join her cuffed one. She slid the pick she kept up her sleeve out and fiddled with the lock, quietly. She paused every now and again to focus on the worship of kisses being left on her chest. He moved back up to her lips, leaving a trail of soft pecks on her overheating skin. She whimpers at the gentleness and he chuckles at her. He’s all too pleased with himself for her liking. She bites at his lip and soothes it with a soft swipe of her tongue. She presses her oversensitive chest into his, keeping his attention just where she wants it. Their hips haven’t stopped and the pleasure is blindingly distracting. He pants and moans into their kiss and she responds in kind. The heat has turned into flames under her skin and she could get addicted to this. She feels strung up like a live wire but it’s not enough. Her partner shares her sentiments, evident by the whispered babbles of ‘more’ and ‘so good’ punctuating the caresses of his kisses.

His hands roam around her body, one going down to her knee, the other up her back and this changes the angle in which they fit together. It’s exactly what was needed to bring that extra edge to their rooftop tryst. The pleasure is blinding and she feels every muscle tense as she’s brought to the long awaited precipice. Her tweety bird is throwing his head back, breaking their kiss, and their rhythm stutters as he convulses against her. His sighs of ecstasy flow into the night air as they come down from their highs together. 

He rests his head on her shoulder, chest heaving and limbs weak. She slowly extracts herself from his hold to stand on unsteady legs. Her breathing evens out and slows to match his own, sharing each other’s oxygen in their own secluded bubble. With both arms free she reaches up to caress the slight stubble on his jaw, committing his structure to memory. The silence is peaceful and she creeps around him to go for her discarded mask. Behind her, Red Robin braces against the wall, staring up at the night sky. He makes no move to accost her so she takes this as her cue to leave.

“We should do this again sometime,” her voice is touched with a hint of exhaustion, raw with emotion. She doesn’t look back at him. “You’re quite something, tweety bird.”

She doesn’t wait for a response but as she leaps across to the next building she hears his following remarks echo into the night.

“Negative, Batman. She got away. Maybe next time.”

Next time indeed, Red Robin.

[pinkribbcn]

TASK 06 : CHARACTER INSPIRATION 

under the cut is some analysis / explanation of these choices !

“i do everything for everyone. everything to be perfect. the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect student. can't i do this one thing for me?” 

i feel like the first season of riverdale, especially the first few episodes of riverdale, betty really encapsulates a lot of who josie is. she’s the girl next door who is always trying to keep everything together. her parents put on a good mask, but there’s always darkness beneath it. betty wants to live in a world of cheerleading and tutoring and milkshakes, much like josie does. but much like josie, she is plagued by her own mind. everyone expects betty to be the “nice girl” and that’s what everyone expects of josie too. but sometimes it gets to be a bit too much, the expectations that betty feels are such a burden on her mental health. while josie certainly doesn’t get as dark as betty, there is a darkness beneath the mask she wears so readily.

“what do you do when you think you're doing what's right, but you're really just confused and you feel like life is trying to throw you on the ground?”

in girl meets world, riley, is in my opinion, perhaps the most misunderstood character, despite being the main character. she is constantly trying to do the right thing for everyone involved in her life, always trying to make sure everyone else is happy. she is the kind of person who will see the best in everyone except for herself. she never rewards herself with the same kindness she so readily gives out. and she’s always giving and giving and giving. there are also the growing pains that riley and josie both have, trying to figure out who they are. and they’re both deeply insecure, but hide it with a smile and their nice girl image.

“i know i'm gullible, 'cause people tell me that, and i have no reason not to believe them.“

although definitely not as quirky as jess, josie has the same sensibility of jess. definitely always trying to find the best in any situation and always trying to fix everything in everyone else’s life. she definitely fits the bill as the doe eyed girl, the deer who’s learning to walk, just like jess is after she has to start over in the pilot of new girl. josie also has the same naivety as jess, always thinking the best in people and things, no matter how many times life tries to prove her wrong. 

“and you play 'til it's perfect. you play 'til you ache, you play 'til the strings or your fingernails break.“

okay, so i don’t think i see josie ever being the kind of trainwreck that natalie goodman was and their personalities aren’t too similar in the sense that josie is definitely not as sarcastic and a deadpan snarker like natalie is. but the thing they do share is them being overachievers, especially with natalie in the earlier scenes of the first act of the musical. while they have different motivations, they both face a lot of pressure from themselves to be perfect. and it doesn’t hurt that they’re both piano players. let’s just hope that josie’s parents don’t have a dead son that she was a replacement for because that’ll make her spiral into natalie goodman.

“there's a lot of beauty in ordinary things, isn't that kind of the point?”

i feel like pam and josie are both pretty passive people. throughout a lot of the office, pam just kind of let things happen to her. she was in a terrible relationship with roy but because she was in the relationship, she never did anything to get out of it. while josie is definitely more extroverted than pam, they have the same tendencies to be passive and let people walk all over them. maybe one day, josie will meet her jim.

“who cares if i'm pretty if i fail my finals?”

let’s give up for rory gilmore, ladies and gentleman. much like jess, rory also has the doe eyed thing down like josie does. rory is also very studious like josie, taking school extremely seriously. and once she goes to college, things get a little more complicated. although josie is currently deferred her college, she would probably have the same sort of identity crisis that rory went through when she was at yale. constantly trying to find herself.

“oh my god this magic marker smells like cherries!”

the explanation behind ann is kind of similar to pam’s. ann is a very passive person, girl next door kind of person. the main reason i think ann and josie are alike is that they tend to be kind of go with the flow people in the sense that they will adapt to other people’s needs. i also think if josie ever dated anyone, she would definitely take on their personality traits like ann did. also, in it is very possible that josie would end up being a nurse because she loves helping people and has volunteered at the local hospital for a long time. 

"cause i feel trapped on this pedestal you put me on."

both nini and josie are once again, the girl next door. and they also both put way too much weight on how others view them. the entire first season of hsmtmts, nini was so desperate to be in a relationship with either ej or ricky because she didn’t know who she was outside of her relationships. while josie doesn’t have any current canon romantic connections, josie doesn’t know who she is outside of her relationship with other people. josie has always felt defined by how others saw her rather than how she sees herself. 

"do you know what it's like to grow up with someone who is critical of every single thing you say?" "i can imagine."

i honestly feel like josie could be any of the girls from friends. she’s a little bit like a fish out of water like rachel, kind and a little bit flighty like phoebe. but i think when it comes down to it, monica really represents the neurotic side of josie that she’s always trying to hide. monica and josie both have such a hard time saying no to people, always desperate for approval and trying to make everyone else happy. she’s also super organized the way monica is, having a planner and organized drawers and everything. i also feel like they both have the maternal instinct and the drive to be mothers.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13. 

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins​

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

           “Reid is in jail.”

           I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

           Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

           “Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

           “In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

           The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

--

           “This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

           “Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

           “The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

           “Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

           “We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

           “Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

           “Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

           “Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

           “Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

           “How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

           “Three days.”

           “That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

--

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

           “We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

           “Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

           Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

           “Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

           Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

           “Where did you meet her?”

           Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

           “I… I don’t remember.”

           “If you saw her, would you remember her?”

           Spencer nodded in affirmation.

           “You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

           “It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

           “And you’ve been drugged?”

           I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

           “Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

           “Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

           Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

           “Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

           Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

           Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

           “Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

           Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

           “Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

           Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

           “No.”

           “Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

           “Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

           Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

           “Can… Can you stay?”

           Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

           “I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

           “Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

           Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

           And then there were two.

           I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

           “Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

           As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

           “About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

           “I’m… In Mexico.”

           A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

           “You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

           I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

           “It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

           “Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

           “Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

           “How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

           “I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

           “Wait, so, where are you?”

           “I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

           “Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

           I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

           “The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

           “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

           “I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

           “I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

           There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

           “Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

           “Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

           “I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

           “Love you, too.”

           I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

           For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

           I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

           I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

           I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

           “I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

           He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

           I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

           “Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

           Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

           “I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

           “M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

           Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

           “Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

           The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

           “Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

           The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

           It would have to be enough for now.

--

           Nadi Ramos was dead.

           I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

           I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

           And target him he fucking did.

           “We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

           “How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

           “She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

           Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

           “We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

           “What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

           “He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

           I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

           “Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

           Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

           “It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

           “Do I want to know?”

           Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

           “Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

           “I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

           “Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

           “I’ll try.”

           Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

           “There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

           Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

           “What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

           Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

           “I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

           Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

           “Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

           Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

           “I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

           “Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

           Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

           “I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

           I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

           “I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

           I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

--

           When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

           We are so beyond fucked.

           “How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

           “He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

           “They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

           Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

--

           While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

           “We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

           “I don’t know how.”

           “He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

           “If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

           “Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

           “Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

           “I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

           Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

           “Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

           “So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

           “I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

           I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

--

           “We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

           “Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

           “Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

           “Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

           “We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

           Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

           “Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

           “Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

           “That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

           “Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

           “I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

           “So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

           “It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

           “Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

           “Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

           “Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

           “You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

           “I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

           “Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

           “Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

           “We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

           And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

           “What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

           Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

           “There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

           “Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

           “Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

           “Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

           “Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

           “So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

           “Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

           “Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

           “Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

           “Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

           “Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

           “I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

           “Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

           “Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

           “Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

           “That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

           “What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

           “Why?”

           “Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

           “Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

           “Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

           “This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

           Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

           “It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

           “We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

           Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

           “I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

           One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

           “With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

           Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

           I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

--

           “We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

           Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

           “I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

           “It was for the right reason.”

           “I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

           “We do, too.”

           Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

           “Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

           “Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

           We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

           “I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

           I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

           “I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

           “Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

           Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

           “For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

           I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

           We cannot give him that recording.

           Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

           “I didn’t record it.”

           Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

           “But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

           “I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

           Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

           Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

           “You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

           “We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

           But so is Scratch.

--

           All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

           Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

           “You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

           “I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

           “You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

           Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

           “Since when did you get so insightful?”

           A grin stretched its way across his face.

           “Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

           “And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

--

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?”            “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

           -Storm Constantine

[crystaljins]

Endless

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 7.4K

Synopsis: You aren’t the chosen one. You’re not gifted with any special powers, or secret abilities. You’re just a plucky orphan who decided you’d come along for the ride. 

Bringing down an empire is no biggie, right?

Yoongi x reader

Notes: I actually really don’t like this fic, in all honesty. It’s definitely one of my weaker ones, but since I put a lot of effort into writing it, I thought I’d post it anyway! I’m having a real big writer’s block and everything I write just feels.... jilted and inauthentic. IDK. I feel like I’ve lost my ability to tap into what a character feels T.T ANYWAY even if I don’t like it, maybe you will! So please try and enjoy

This is written for @thebtswritersclub​ March prompt, “Adventure”!

Warnings: Poss some fantasy type violence? Sparring, Yoongi is a little mean sometimes but he has RESPONSIBILITIES! Lots of conversations from very not-socially-distanced positions. Mentions of wars and evil empire

Genre: Fantasy, angst-with-a-happy-ish-ending

It’s easy to see that Yoongi is angry. From the heavy thud of his boots against the firmly packed dirt to the furious hunch of his shoulders, everything about him screams that he is livid. Even the way his travelling cloak flutters about his form is ominous, like the dark roil of storm clouds on a distant horizon. 

You follow closely behind, meek and sufficiently scolded. He’s been like this for the better part of the afternoon, ever since you left the previous town behind. 

“Um,” you pipe up, hoping to power through the stormy silence that hangs over you. You’re rewarded with a lethal glare- no one does cold fury quite like Min Yoongi.

Hanging your head, you sigh, continuing following at a dutiful three paces behind the furious man. You find yourself missing Jungkook, sure that he would have the ability to overcome this kind of tension, were he here. Or even Jiyeon, as much as you dislike her- perhaps the “chosen one” wouldn’t trigger such ire in her fated mentor. Really, any sort of third companion would do, if not to pacify Yoongi, then at least to keep you company. Long silences aren’t really your thing, after all. 

You square your shoulders, straightening. At the next town, Jin and Hoseok await your arrival, and then you will have at least two more companions to chat to when Yoongi enters one of his “moods”.

Not that his “moods” happen very often. For a man who is almost infamously gruff and who seems to permanently have a scowl etched upon his face, his actual personality is fairly calm and unbothered. Years of journeying across the realm of Adlentur have resulted in an attitude where there is very little that can truly throw him off. 

Apparently, you possess that unique ability, for the calm mask he often adorns is nowhere to be seen. Even when you’d followed him out of your hometown and demanded to accompany him a lick of ability, magical or not, to warrant your accompaniment, he hadn’t batted an eye. He had merely squinted thoughtfully at you while Seokjin and Hoseok insisted that you would merely be deadweight, before turning around and announcing that if you couldn’t keep up, you’d be left behind. 

He’s doing his best to leave you behind now; you’re struggling to keep up with his rapid pace. It’s so speedy that you feel a twinge in your freshly-healed ankle. With a wince, you stumble a few steps, and the ground comes rapidly rising up to meet your face. Before it can make contact, however, a stabilising hand encircles your elbow and you’re yanked upright. 

Yoongi stares at you, a delicate but angry flush creeping across the high points of his cheek bones and down his neck. 

“Thanks.” You offer sheepishly, before gingerly setting your weight upon your foot once more. The healers had warned you that the fractures were severe enough that even with the extensive healing you’d likely still be a bit tender for the next few days. 

“Does it hurt?” He demands, and you wince. You straighten and shake your head. 

“It’s just a bit weaker than normal.” You rush to assure him. These are the first words he’s said to you since you woke up in the clinic of the village you’d been staying in. Since then, he’s sort of just stormed around in a furious silence. 

The incident that had set him off had been an attack on said village. Of late, the sporadic surges of nightmarish beasts that left few survivors and decimated village populations were becoming more frequent, and this particular village was no exception. This village was lucky in that it had a protector; Yoongi is gifted with special abilities and highly trained in combat. You have no idea where he got the abilities from and why he is so skilled, but it saved your life when he first came to your village, and it didn’t take him long to begin saving lives in this village. 

But Yoongi is only human (you assume), and the beasts were numerous and powerful. People can slip under the radar in times of chaos and he hadn’t noticed the small child in the path of danger. 

You had, though. You had seen the oncoming danger but unlike Yoongi, you are not trained in combat. You aren’t gifted with special abilities. You’re just an orphan who witnessed what he could do. You’re nothing special. 

But you couldn’t just leave the child to die. 

According to the healers that Yoongi had carried your broken, bloody body to, you had gotten off easy. A broken ankle, a shredded arm and deep lacerations across your body. The healers had been skilled and Yoongi had supplied them with some of his own magic to give them the ability to heal your wounds- within just twelve hours the only remnants of your scuffle with the monster was a slightly weakened ankle and some ugly scars from some of the deeper wounds that even the healing magic couldn’t overcome. 

Despite his foul mood, Yoongi’s hands are gentle as he guides you to sit on a nearby rock. He crouches before you and reaches for your ankle- his hands are warm as his thumb slides against the ball of your ankle. He’s so careful as he rotates your ankle upwards, testing the range of motion. Even in his anger, he treats you like you’re made of glass. 

 He hadn’t treated you like this when you first started out. He’d just kind of begrudgingly tolerated all your quirks, watched as you bulldozed your way into his little travelling party. But then, as time went on, he’d become more tentative. More careful. He’d tell you to hide when an attack came on the village so you didn’t get in the way. You’d meet a new person and his arm would come up in front of you, like he’s shielding you from a threat. It’s almost subconscious. But it’s annoying. 

“It’s fine.” You say, tugging your ankle away from his grasp as sitting straighter on the rock. You feel like a haughty child when he raises weary eyes to glare at you. 

“It was shattered yesterday.” He reminds you. “If we’d been in any other village, you’d probably be out of commission for months. And I would’ve left you behind because we have to save-“

He cuts off abruptly but you can fill in the blanks of what he’d say. 

An ugly thought overcomes you; what if I were her? It’s poisonous and burns in your chest. Jealousy is an ugly emotion but you’ve been familiar with it a long time. Ever since Yoongi and his crew arrived at your village in search of the long-awaited “chosen one”. It’s probably a dream every orphan harbours; that they are special and unique and wanted, and the murmurs that followed Yoongi’s arrival had probably triggered a similar feeling of longing across the many orphans that take up residence in your village. 

Alas, that chosen one is not you; you remember your parents very clearly. Warm, kind, loving. They succumbed to the plague that had left the orphanage you grew up in overflowing. In such a full and overwhelmed establishment, it is easy to sneak in an extra child. And that’s what Jiyeon had been. Always on the outskirts, a little special and unique. She could never quite fit in with the other kids and for some reason you’d always resented that. Not only that; the way she never even seemed to try. She possessed some unique spark, some unfathomable dignity. Alone, dirty-cheeked, unwanted even in an orphanage, and yet there was always something special in her. And it never left her even as the two of you grew up and took your leave from the orphanage.

It hadn’t taken Yoongi long to find her- apparently Seokjin had some sort of specialised divination powers and he’d known who she was the instant he’d laid eyes upon her. Agnes, the local breadmaker, had taken her on as an apprentice and you’d even been in the store when they entered, seeking her out. There’d been something mysterious and terribly exciting about them- it had felt like the opening scenes of those adventure novels Jungkook would read out to the other kids in the orphanage. 

And you’d witnessed the disaster that had followed- the attack on the village, your home, by those merciless monsters, the death of people you’d known, and Jiyeon’s ensuing kidnap. Someone apparently didn’t want Jiyeon taking up the mantle of her destiny.

You’re not sure why you insisted you come along on the journey to save her- you never liked Jiyeon. You didn’t know Yoongi or Seokjin or Hoseok. And your closest friend was adamant that he’d stay behind to assist in the rebuilding effort of your village. 

Maybe it was something ugly; a desire for it to have been you instead. The one with special, hidden powers and an endless exciting adventure before you. As Yoongi looks up at you, you could believe that maybe that was your motivation. Maybe you wanted to be the one he was looking for.

“I would have caught up.” You finally say, instead of sharing any of those ugly thoughts. “If you’d left me, I’d have hunted you down and followed.” 

Yoongi gets abruptly to his feet, and you nearly tumble off the rock in surprise. 

“You’re a fool!” He cries. Your eyes widen, but he’s lost to a tirade. Alabaster skin has flushed a furious crimson and the dark points of his eyes have hardened- they glint at you like unyielding steel. “Don’t you understand what we’re doing here? We have to rescue the chosen one or the world as we know it is over. We’re on a time limit! This isn’t some fun whacky adventure with friends- peoples’ lives are at stake! And you’re just throwing yourself around like a thoughtless child!”

You stiffen defensively. 

“I’m not being thoughtless-“ you protest, anger heating your words as you spit them out, but Yoongi cuts you off.

“You are! What powers do you have? What abilities? None! I allowed you to come because I didn’t think you’d get in our way so much!” He snarls at you. You throw yourself to your feet, your eyes blazing and your heart thundering furiously in your heart. “Instead you’re throwing yourself into fights you know you can’t handle! You should have left the kid to me!”

“So I was supposed to just sit and stay where you’d left me? Like a dog?” You cry. “When people are dying around me? When a child was about to lose his life?”

“You were supposed to not get hurt!” Is what Yoongi shouts. 

And then he goes abruptly silent, his mouth closing so violently that you hear his teeth click together. He cups a hand over his mouth and turns abruptly away, shoulders hunched. 

The change in mood is so sudden that you feel like you have whiplash; you almost lose your balance with the about-face. Yoongi keeps his back to you for a long moment, and there’s something hurt about the way he curls himself away from you. Finally, he takes a long, shaky inhale and when he finally turns back to you, his eyes are glazed with emotions you can’t understand. It’s not fair that he gets to stare at you like that, that he gets to make you feel two feet tall. 

“Why did you come?” He finally asks, levelling you with a wary look. 

The air feels heavy. You and Yoongi have had a good relationship from the beginning- he’s a little protective and a little bit gruff, but on the whole he’d looked out for you and if anything, you felt closer to him than you did to Seokjin or Hoseok. So this is likely the first time the two of you have clashed like this. 

It’s probably the question he should have asked when you first demanded you accompany him. He should have questioned your motives. He’d had just enough interaction with Jiyeon to work out that she was a bit of an outcast before she’d been kidnapped; he should have known that she’s not your friend. Maybe that’s why you’re so fond of Yoongi; because he hadn’t asked any of those things. He’d looked at the plucky orphan and given you a chance. 

You’ve questioned your own motives many times; why are you on this journey? Why didn’t you stay in your rightful place with Jungkook back at the village? Why did you insist you help rescue Jiyeon? There are motives you can’t shake; that it was for glory. Recognition. So that you could play at being hero. So that you could catch the attention of the mysterious, handsome stranger who is currently eyeing you like you’re an unfamiliar but dangerous beast. 

But you want to believe the motive in the depths of your heart is true; that are your core, you are good. 

She’d met your eyes, the moment before those beasts grabbed her. She’d stared straight at you and begged you for help.

“Because people need help.” You finally say. You gaze straight at Yoongi, willing him to understand. Willing him to believe. Willing him to see the good in you that you want to believe is there. 

Yoongi offers you a searching gaze; deep, dark eyes seem to pierce through to your very soul. He’s always had sharp eyes- he picks things up faster than anyone you’ve ever met and he notices things that no one else would even think to look for. It’s terrifying and exhilarating to have all the focus directed completely on you, even if it is only for a heartbeat. Like he’s disassembling you, piece by piece. 

And then he turns away, shoulders stiff and posture ready like a well-trained soldier, and he begins to march off. 

“You get two days of recovery. And then we start your training.” He glances over his shoulder at you. “If you’re to accompany the chosen one on her journey, then you must be able to defend yourself. Otherwise, if you continue to burden us like this, I shall chain you to your home at the village personally.”

And you can’t read his expression for the life of you, but there’s just something fond about the way the light glints off his steely eyes. 

++

“Can’t I train her?” Seokjin complains, chewing through a mouthful of dried meat. He looks you up and down like he’s seizing up your weakness and you stick your tongue out him childishly. “I think she needs some work on her defensive skills; perhaps I can come at her with a stick and she can try and fend me off.”

“That just sounds like you want revenge for the mouse she put in your bedding this morning.” Hoseok offers helpfully. 

Yoongi chews through his rations slowly and thoughtfully before levelling a glare a Seokjin. 

“You can train her as soon as you best me in a fight. If you’d like, we can test that out right now and I can give (Y/N) a day off-“ 

“That’s fine.” Seokjin hastily cuts him off. “You know what, actually I think I need to do some meditation this morning, make sure they haven’t shifted Jiyeon’s location and that we’re still heading in the right direction.” He scurries off, not sparing a look behind him and you resist the urge to snort in laughter. Perhaps the mouse had been unnecessary, but some sort of revenge had been required after all Seokjin’s recent comments on the amount of time Yoongi had been taking to train you. 

It had been months now, since Yoongi had decided you needed training; you were still a beginner by all means but Yoongi is a good teacher and with each day that passes you grow more adept. It leaves you a little sad; had he been able to mentor Jiyeon and cultivate her special abilities like he intended, perhaps the world would already be saved and the growing evil sealed permanently. 

“You never did say why you decided to start learning to fight, (Y/N),” Hobi comments conversationally; though he is just as much a coward as Seokjin, he does have some sort of immunity to Yoongi’s withering glare. This leaves him undeterred by Yoongi’s subtle hints that he is unwelcome at your training sessions, for the most part. 

“If she’s coming along on a dangerous journey, she needs to learn to defend herself.” Yoongi cuts in. He finishes the last of his meal, and gets to his feet. He stretches languorously, like a  cat, peering at you through squinted eyes. “I’ll give you an hour and then we’ll get started. We’ll make camp here for tonight and cross the river in the morning.” 

He wanders off, leaving you with Hobi. Hobi watches him go with mild curiosity. 

“What happened between you two when we got separated?” Hobi wonders aloud. He tilts his head and stares at you. “Something just... seems different with you two.” 

You pause to consider; true to his word, Yoongi had given you another couple of days to recover, and then he’d started his training. The two of you would spend the day hiking and in the evenings when you’d made camp for the night, he’d teach you the basics of combat. But despite his rigorous training, there was no denying that Yoongi treated you differently after that day. Not hugely different- his protectiveness hadn’t changed, and he wasn’t any less gruff than usual. He just seemed... a little warmer. Kinder, even. Except when he was training you and then he’d turn into a demon spawned from the depths of hell. 

“Nothing we haven’t already told you; a village got attacked, I got injured, and Yoongi decided I should be trained in combat to stop it happening again.” You recall. Hoseok shakes his head in absolute bafflement. 

“See, those all sounds like standard things for Yoongi, but then he also doesn’t seem like Yoongi. He’s so... different with you.l Hoseok admits. “I’ve known him for years now, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he...” he trails away, before looking at you curiously. “Ah.” He makes a little noise of understanding. 

You lean forward eagerly. 

“What?” You ask. Hoseok holds a thumb and forefinger to his chin thoughtfully. 

“Nothing. I just want to try something. Hold still.” And that’s all the warning you get before Hoseok dives at you. Your eyes widen as you lurch back, but you are caught off guard and so Hoseok is able to pin you easily. 

“Hobi!” You cry in protest, but he just grins and leans in close. You can’t help but notice how compromising the position you are in is, pinned beneath Hobi, and when he drops down low enough for his mouth to tickle your ear, you can only imagine what the pair of you look like to a third party. 

“Yoongi’s the jealous type, by the way.” Is what he whispers, and that’s all he manages to tell you before a very loud throat clear interrupts him. 

Hobi leans back, settling on his heals but not bothering to get off you. Yoongi stares down at him, unimpressed. His lips are pressed firmly together, but otherwise his expression is unreadable.

“Ah, Yoongs,” Hoseok says cheerfully. “I was just thinking I’d test (Y/N)’s reflexes. See how your training is going for myself.” 

“Hoseok.” Yoongi says cooly. He smiles but it has no warmth in it. “Surely you’ve seen me fight enough; are you doubting my ability to train her?” 

He offers a hand out to Hoseok, who accept it cheerfully. Freed from Hoseok’s grasp, you sit up, brushing dirt off your tunic and then glaring at Hoseok. 

“Never.” Hoseok says warmly. He’s entirely too cheerful and smug and you don’t know why.

“What the hell, Hobi-“ you snap, but Yoongi cuts you off. 

“I changed my mind, (Y/N),” he says abruptly. He pins you with shimmering dark eyes. “We’ll start our training now; Hoseok has just helpfully pointed out some shortcomings.”

“You’re welcome.” Hoseok offers, before taking his leave to find Jin.

He’s gentle as he helps you to your feet. 

Everything about him is almost overly careful, as he leads you away from the camp site to a small clearing. There’s a tension to his figure that you don’t quite understand- it reminds you of the fight you’d had, where he’d turned away from you, overcome with emotion. 

Yoongi takes a long, deep breath. 

“Are you ok?” He finally asks, when the tension has bled from his posture. You nod cautiously, and Yoongi nods awkwardly to himself, before sighing heavily. He shoves a distressed hand through his hair, and the dishevelled look makes him look younger, somehow. Yoongi hasn’t been very forthcoming with personal details about himself, particularly his age, but normally he looks just a bit older than you. But the look he gives you now is almost boyish, like a confused child lost in the woods. 

“Hoseok’s always been nosey.” He comments. “He likes to do unhelpful things because he thinks he’s helping me.” The almost frazzled way he says the words is so unlike the composed man you know; you feel like you have whiplash and you don’t even know the reason behind his sudden and unexpected fluster. 

“You mean pinning me?” You wonder. Yoongi nods, agitated, before stepping close to you. 

“What did he say to you?” He asks. “When he was... he was... I saw him say something. What’d he say?” 

You pause to recall the cryptic words- that Yoongi is the jealous type. It’s certainly an interesting little tidbit to know; a small part of you wonders if that jealousy would ever be directed at you, but you dismiss it just as quickly. But for the life of you, you can’t think why Hobi might have brought it up in such a context, or why he even thought it appropriate to pull the stunt in the first place. 

“That you’re the jealous type.” You share, wondering if Yoongi will offer any further clarity or insight into the situation or if he will keep his thoughts to himself like he often prefers to do. 

Something sparks in Yoongi’s eyes, and this, at least, is an easy emotion to interpret; irritation. 

“Let’s just get started.” He grumbles. He guides you through your regular warm up. You’re thankful you’d eaten earlier than the others for you’re sure you’d have a nasty cramp if you hadn’t. Yoongi is short and clipped in his delivery and it’s clear the hounding from his peers earlier has left him in a foul mood. 

Finally, after a series of difficult drills that he’s been practicing with you, he allows you a brief reprieve. 

“You’ve come a long way.” He observes, while you take a long drink from a waterskin. When you stare at him questioningly in response, he settles down next to you and offers something close to a smile. It’s a little terser and a little awkward, but there’s a warmth to his eyes that you’ve steadily become acquainted with despite the rarity of its appearances. “Give it another few months and you’ll be able to keep up with even Jin.” 

“I probably won’t.” You remind him. “Jiyeon’s being held at the next town- you’ll probably be too preoccupied training her to have these sessions with me.” 

Yoongi stiffens, just slightly, but you’ve become accustomed with the way he expresses himself throughout the journey and you know the statement throws him. 

“I can manage two pupils. It might even be helpful for her to spar with someone closer to her skill level.” He finally says. You nod, getting up and stretching, bouncing from heel to heel as an indicator that you’re ready to go. 

“I suppose it might.” You offer, but now your mind is preoccupied. In the next few days, the four of you will enter into the territory where Jin can sense Jiyeon is being held, and they will begin her rescue mission. Following that, Yoongi had planned to withdraw to his hometown where he can safely train her in preparation. From there, the campaign begins; they must raise up an army mighty enough to take on the Empire and remove whatever curse upon the land the Shadow Emperor has wrought. It’s a long, arduous path ahead of them, one you definitely hadn’t thought through. But with your meagre, beginner fighting skills, surely you shall be more hindrance than help, as pointed out by Yoongi all those months ago.  

Yoongi picks up on your distraction when he’s able to pin you in a fairly simple maneouvre. He plants a forearm against the base of your throat and pins your legs beneath the weight of his body. His body is warm against yours and the force of the blow that sent you sprawling has you breathless. You bring up your hands, trying to dislodge his arm, but he’s stronger and surer than you and it doesn’t budge.

“Distraction can cost you your life.” He comments, and his voice is a low rumble. His breaths come deep and heavy- warm puffs of air tickle your skin and his torso heaves against yours. 

“Sorry.” You mutter. The pressure against you eases as Yoongi sits back but he doesn’t shift his weight off you. 

“I was distracted too.” He admits. He rolls off you and straightens, dusting off his pants before extending a hand to you. “Let’s leave it here and pick up tomorrow. It might even be our last training session without Jiyeon so I expect you to work hard.” 

You take his hand and the mention of her name has something dark and ugly churning in your stomach. This whole situation has your heart sitting cold in your chest like unyielding stone. You had confessed to Yoongi that you had come along on this journey because someone needed help- what about after? What role did you have to play in all this? Yoongi had just assumed you would continue to accompany them, but is that really what you should do?

“I’m the jealous type too.” The words come out of you softly, unbidden- you almost don’t realise you’ve said them until you see the way Yoongi stiffens. 

“What?” He asks, turning back to face you. His expression is about as readable as a blank page- you’re sure the Emperor’s fortress would be easier to breach. 

You swallow deeply and steel yourself. You’ve already said the words- it’s time you faced these pesky feelings before you make a decision you regret. 

“I’m the jealous type too.” You confess, a little louder. “I don’t want to be your second pupil. I don’t want to be someone along just so Jiyeon’s less lonely and has someone to spar with. I like training with you. I want to keep training with just you. And the thought of sharing this time with her... it makes me feel jealous.” 

Yoongi is silent, staring at you in confusion. It takes him a few baffled blinks before he manages an answer. 

“We don’t have enough time for two separate sessions.” Is what he offers, the words slow and almost slurred in confusion. “And Jiyeon’s training takes priority.” 

It’s a slap in the face, even if Yoongi doesn’t mean it in the way you’re thinking. He doesn’t seem to understand, but you want him to. You want him to comfort you and take away the ugly feelings storming inside you. 

“I’m not talking about training.” You finally say. “I’m talking about us. You and me.” 

Yoongi looks like you’ve just punched him in the stomach- the look of absolute bewilderment on his normally calm face would be funny if your heart didn’t feel like it was about to plummet straight through your body into the ground below you. 

“I have feelings for you.” You blurt. “And I’m scared. Because Jiyeon’s the chosen one. She has to be your priority. The world needs that. But if she’s the priority... if she’s the one that needs to be trained and cared for and raised.... where does that leave me? Less useful than a packing mule.”

Yoongi’s expression is stony, but you can see the emotion shining in his eyes. His normally composed exterior is completely shattered, and for just a brief second you catch a glimpse of fragile, vulnerable longing. 

And then his expression steels and it’s like a door slamming shut. 

“I don’t have time for feelings.” Is what he says. He’s brusque and his words are firm and if you hadn’t caught that glimpse of emotion, it would almost seem cruel the way he delivers them. “And if this is what you are spending your time worrying about, then I think it best you return to your village.” 

And then he leaves you, alone in the clearing to clean up the mess you’ve made of your own heart. 

++

Despite his rough dismissal, you do not go home. You’ve come too far to not at least see Jiyeon safe and rescued. What comes after is something you can worry about when it actually happens. 

Seokjin and Hoseok can tell something happened, but they are awkward and unsure about how to proceed since both you and Yoongi refuse to speak of it. Instead, the two of you arrive at some sort of wordless truce; he won’t send you home and you won’t bring up your feelings again.

The four of you arrive at the town where Jin can sense Jiyeon’s presence. It’s a fairly unremarkable town, just small enough that it’s hard to enter without people noticing your presence but just large enough that they probably can’t guess at your motives. It takes a few days of reconnaissance to discover where Jiyeon may be; this town happens to house a small, undercover faction of the emperor’s top mages, and a days’ hike out of the village holds a secret dungeon. 

The decision is made to leave you behind, and though normally you’d insist you accompany them, a piercing glare from Yoongi has you meekly agreeing to stay overnight in the in . Your instructions are simple; if the four of them do not return by 6am the next morning, you are to cross the country and head to the town of Sabre, Yoongi’s hometown. From there, you should find the aid necessary to rescue the chosen one, and from there it will be up to Yoongi’s friends and family to replace Yoongi’s role as mentor and teacher to the chosen one. 

You’re seeing the them off under the cover of night when Yoongi finally acknowledges you.

You’re about to turn back to the inn and retire to the room that you’d hired out when he calls your name. You turn back in surprise; Jin and Hoseok watch in confusion as Yoongi walks towards you. He shoves a hand through his hair in distress before coming to a halt before you. 

His expression is oddly soft as he casts his gaze over you. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. It’s soft enough that Jin and Hoseok can’t hear,  but you hear the words as loud as day. “I’ll... I’ll see you in the morning.”

Despite everything, despite the ache in your chest, despite the overwhelming worry and concern, despite the fear, you smile at him. He looks surprised for a moment before you notice the slightest curl form at the edge of his mouth in a weak smile. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” You promise. 

You do attempt to sleep that night; after all the plan is to leave straight away and flee to Sabre as soon as Jiyeon is rescued. You have a long an arduous journey ahead of you and you’re the only one who has the luxurious option of sleep. But you only manage fitful bursts, filled with nightmares. Finally, the dawn rolls around, though you do not feel rested in the slightest. 

You rise with a sigh, readying your scant belongings and changing into appropriate travel gear. 

And then, you wait. Waiting is agony- that’s something you learn as you settle beside the window of your small room and watch the sun peek between imposing stone buildings. The sky warms from a dull grey into a blushing pink, and then a bright blue. And all the while, you catch no glimpse of your friends. Six am comes and goes. No one had warned you how deeply terrifying your role would be. Waiting and uncertain. Are they dead? Captured? You do not know- they didn’t grant you the luxury of any information; just left you behind to deal with the mess, under the guise of “safety”.

Stiffly, you rise from your position. You do not dare check the clock. You do not want to know how long past the meet-up time it is though it must be at least a few hours. Your instructions had been to leave strictly as 6am lest people

come looking for you, but that hour has come and gone.

“You’re a liar.” You mutter to yourself as you step out into the crisp morning air. It had only been last night that he’d promised to see you again; so quickly he broke his promise. 

You kick the dirt aimlessly before beginning a quick stride for the edge of town, your head down. “A coward and a liar.” You assert, though your voice is thick with unshed tears. 

You’ve just stepped into the woods that surround the edge of the town when you hear the crunch of boots in dirt and the clink of armour; soldiers are out and about. Perhaps they’re searching for your friends after a successful mission and Jiyeon is safe; perhaps they’re searching for any backup to exterminate and ensure her continued imprisonment. 

You’re searching for a way to conceal yourself when an arm wraps around your bicep and nearly yanks you off your feet. You stumble back into a firm, warm presence, and one hand covers your mouth while an arm snakes around your waist, stifling your cry. 

You don’t hesitate to utilise the momentum of your fall. You swing your elbow around to where you estimate your attacker’s abdomen is. They release a soft “oof” and you utilise the way that their arm goes slack to swing forward in the same moment you bring the heel of your foot slamming down over theirs. 

They grunt and hunch over in pain.

“It’s me!” A familiar voice hisses, releasing you so that you can whirl around and see your attacker.

“Yoongi?” You say, before remembering the approaching guards and lower your voice. “You’re here?!”

“I am.” He comments softly. “Jin sensed you hadn’t left yet and I.... came to get you.” He confesses. 

A clank of armour and the distant sound of voices has the two of you freezing; now is not the time for reunion. There will be time for catch up and explanation later. For now, you are in imminent danger until the soldiers pass you by. 

Yoongi secures a hand tightly around your wrist and guides you through the undergrowth in a low crouch. He moves in the opposite direction of the voices, brushing branches out of the way. 

“There’s a hollow ahead; we can hide there until they pass by and then we’ll make for town. The others will be waiting for us there.” He glances at you over his shoulder. 

You don’t know what passes through his expression, but you feel his grip tighten just a fraction and his pace quickens. 

The hollow he speaks of is a tree- rain has washed away the soil that the tree clung to. In its place, twist, skeletal roots knot and weave to form a dark space just large enough to hide some if they scrunched themselves up very tightly. You pause to raise an eyebrow at Yoongi. He pointedly ignores your scepticism, pressing pointedly on your shoulders until you obediently crawl into the space. He is not far behind- you feel the warmth of his form as he crowds you in. You’re about to comment that you don’t feel particularly hidden when you feel the brush of his magic; the shadows around the roots thicken. It’s a spell you’ve seen before- people’s eyes seem to just slide over the places that Yoongi’s shadows conceal. 

“So are you going to tell me why you’re still here and not halfway to the next town when we agreed you’d leave three hours ago?” He murmurs from where he is crouched over you. Crushed up against him like this, he is a large, foreboding presence. Were it not for the glint of warmth to his eyes, the relief at seeing you safe, you could almost be afraid of this terrifying man. If he is, indeed, a human at all. 

You could do a lot of things in that moment- pour out the anxiety and worry and misery and anger you feel and watch him boil in it; instead you release the fragile shard of vulnerability you had been trying to keep a tight hold on. 

“I couldn’t accept you’d died.” You confess. 

Yoongi’s eyes soften, and he drops his head so that it rests against your shoulder. His hair tickles the side of your neck and you feel the heavy weight of his breath as he exhales slowly. 

“I’m sorry.” He confesses. You shake your head, attempting to shift back. Some distance would be helpful to the loud racket your heart is currently making. 

“It was out of your control.” You remind him. “It’s hard to be punctual when you’re fighting against an empire.”

His arms tighten- a hand lifts from the soil and fits into the curve of your waist, anchoring you against him. 

“Not about that.” He confesses. “About.... about what you said earlier. About your feelings- I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I have so much I must do and I can’t afford distractions and yet...... there is so much I want to be distracted by, (Y/N).”

He feels your surprised inhale, the way your ribs hiccup beneath his palm.  

“I’m supposed to be protecting Jiyeon and yet when Jin told me you were in danger...”

He doesn’t have to finish the story. Here he is, holding you desperately against him like at any moment you may crumble. He left the chosen one vulnerable, unprotected and untrained to save you. The plucky orphan who should have never been apart of this tale in the first place. 

Against your volition, you hand comes up to slide against his cheek. His eyes squeeze shut at the gesture- it reminds you of a cat, the way his eyes squint in contentment. 

“I understand.” You admit. “I.... It’s not your fault.”

Those are the only words you can muster. How else can you articulate the way it has clicked in place? The burden Yoongi bears; the long, scary road ahead of him. He cannot afford to be thinking of the things he cannot have; and he cannot have you, as much as you both want it. 

You know he understands what you meant; that your words have lifted a heavy burden from his heart. He did not want to hurt you; but he cannot drag you in. 

You lean up, tilting your head up just slightly so that you can have a brief taste of the life you could have had; if you were born in a time of peace and prosperity. Perhaps you could have wedded. Had children together. Grow old with your hands linked together, smiling with recollections of a life well-lives. His lips are soft but firm, and the kiss is filled with sadness. 

++

You eventually make the decision to go home. It’s not inmediatelt; you persevere for a while. You accompany them on the arduous journey back to Yoongi’s hometown. You assist with Jiyeon’s training as Yoongi intended. But eventually you come to accept the truth; this isn’t your journey to be on.

Jiyeon, who was suspicious of your presence at first given your history, is the one who protests the most, oddly enough. Perhaps you are the small piece of familiarity in a sea of chaos and fear, to her. And oddly, you are sad to say good-bye. Despite never liking her as a child, as an adult you begin to see it. The heart for others, the unwavering compassion and determination. She has the heart of a hero. 

But that’s why you must return home; a hero needs a home to fight for, after all.

Yoongi’s goodbye to you is subdued. He does not voice his sadness- Jiyeon even goes so far as to scold him to his dismissiveness. But you know; you can see it shining in his eyes. If he lets go, he will break down. And you are leaving to prevent that; your goodbye will be for naught if he lets himself crumble here. 

“It’s not forever.” You reassure your friends. Jin nods, tearfully, while Hoseok rests a comforting hand against his shoulder- normalky he would be the one sobbing the loudest, but he is to chaperone you home and then he will rendez-vous with the others in Yoongi’s hometown. “I’ll see you when the war ends. If any of you die, I’ll be very cross with you.”

That does it; the briefest, weakest smile from Yoongi. 

And so ends this chapter of your adventure.

 Epilogue:

The war lasts five years. Villages are ravaged, lives are lost and empires are brought to their knees. Joyous bells ring throughout your town when the news reaches you; the emperor has fallen. 

For you, you don’t think much of it. The war had left countless children orphaned, and to the best of your ability you take as many in as you can handle. Ever since you and Jungkook took over the orphanage, funds have been tight and there have been endless mouths to feed. So the news of the war ending leaves you surprisingly underwhelmed. The end of the war will not mean food appears from nowhere or make these children un-orphaned. If anything, your job gets harder now; as people lick their wounds and the fallen empire recovers, you will have your hands full with your children. 

You’re informing Jungkook of this opinion quite loudly in the tavern one evening. It’s past curfew for the children and old Bertha had offered to keep an eye on things so the two of you could have a night off. 

You’re surprised when a nearby customer snickers. Casting your gaze, you notice four hooded figures seated around the door. That in itself is not suspicious, for many travellers prefer to keep their identities concealed as they pass through. 

What is suspicious is the brief glimpse you catch of one of the hooded strangers, the slight tilt of a smirk that seems almost familiar. 

Having noticed your attention is drawn, one of the travellers lean forward. 

“Do go on.” A familiar voice sounds. You nearly drop your glass as you blink a few times. Suddenly, your heart is racing. 

“Do you know these people?” Jungkook asks curiously, eyeing the group with mild interest. 

You’re too stunned to reply, so the initial traveller, the one who had snickered answers for you. He tugs his hood off to reveal chestnut hair, a heart shaped mouth, bright glittering eyes. 

“I sure hope she does since we came all this way to find her.” Hoseok cries enthusiastically. 

You distantly hear the sound of a chair sliding across wood and then realise the source is you, leaping from your chair. 

“H-hoseok?” You cry. He grins. 

“The one and only!” He caws. He gets to his feet to engulf you in a monstrous bear hug. 

The other travellers take the opportunity to tug their hoods free; first Jiyeon appears, beaming at you, then Seokjin. 

And then Yoongi. Five years has not aged him, though you always had considered the possibility that he is immortal. 

Hoseok seems to realise he’s lost your attention, for he releases you and begins interrogating Jungkook. 

You’re far too preoccupied with the man before you. 

“Yoongi.” You breathe. 

The smile he offers you is surprisingly light and warm. Like a cat blinking contentedly in the rays of the morning sun. And despite it being nearly half a decade since you last saw him, your heart races just the same. 

“You did say it wasn’t forever.” He offers you simply. 

And as your eyes water and fill with tears, you offer him a weak smile. 

And so begins the next chapter of your adventure.

[yslkook]

#corporate synergy (9)

#corporate masterlist summary: you’re making many strides- this month brings new work milestones and new personal milestones. after a night with new friends, you find yourself in jungkook’s arms. word count: ~5.6k warnings: cursing, alcohol/drinking, suggestive content in the form of making out, grinding, this is an 18+ story dont forget a/n: ENJOYYYY and thank you to @cutechim​ for your endless support <33

Work isn’t so bad in the coming weeks, you quickly decide. When you have colleagues around you who have become your genuine friends, it becomes a little more bearable to tolerate your ungrateful boss.

Even his snide comments haven’t been able to bring you down as of late. 

Your midday pick me up often comes in the form of lunch with either or including Jin, Namjoon, Sana and Jungkook and whoever they bring along.

Jungkook. Since you had stopped by his apartment when he had been sick, something definitely shifted between you both. If he had been running through your mind before, he was a near constant presence in your mind now. This crush of yours has morphed into something unrecognizable and unfamiliar to you. It scares you, the intensity and the suddenness of it.

But your fear is outweighed by your affections for him, and it’s something you find yourself wanting to embrace. The instinct to run, to bury it and ignore it had reared its head more than once after you had made the bold move to visit Jungkook in his own apartment.

Well. It was bold by your standards. Spontaneity doesn’t come easily to you, but it seems like Jungkook has you breaking your own unwritten rules. And he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know how your lips break into an easy smile when his name lights up your phone or how sending a good night text to him is your favorite part of your night routine.

When you had told Jin that you had visited Jungkook when he was sick in his apartment, even Jin couldn’t mask his surprise-

“You brought the guy soup?! Are you kidding me?! What if he was a murderer? Then what? I can’t believe I’d have to explain your murder to Grandma. Why would you put that burden on me? I’m too hot for that-”

“Seokjin!” You shriek through laughter, “You’re being so dramatic for no reason! Besides Jungkook is too soft to be a murderer-”

“Oh, well, I don’t know if I trust your credibility anymore. You’re the one who’s in so deep that you went to visit the man when he was sick,” Jin says, “Though, that’s very cute and domestic of you to do so. Did you bring him Grandma’s galbitang?”

“Obviously.”

“Damn. Now I’m not the only one who gets the galbitang treatment, huh?” Jin says knowingly, “You’re a sucker.”

Despite your protests, you know he’s mostly right.

Jungkook stopping by your cubicle during quiet, uneventful afternoons is more often than not. Or, you find yourself in his cubicle with two cups of steaming hot tea. One for you and one for him. Sometimes you both gossip in whispers about the members of your respective teams or do some impromptu work on the submissions project. Or you both just talk- about anything that comes to mind.

It’s so easy to laugh with him, to tease him like you would a friend, and to look at him like you would a lover-

“I heard there’s gonna be a big re-org by the end of this quarter,” Jungkook whispers, as if it’s a secret. And honestly, it probably is.

“Oh? Which little birdie told you that? Namjoon? Or Yunho-”

“Namjoon did, but you can’t tell anyone,” Jungkook insists.

“You’re lucky I don’t have a big mouth,” You roll your eyes.

“You’re lucky I trust you,” Jungkook shoots back immediately, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Your heart is suddenly in your throat but you maintain an unaffected facade.

“You think people will lose their jobs?” You whisper incredulously, “Re-orgs are so hard to stomach sometimes…”

“I hope not,” Jungkook sighs, “We’re all just cogs in the wheel that is capitalism, huh?”

“Well. I’m glad we’re cogs in this shitty wheel together, Kook.”

And there had even been several times when you had both found yourselves at the gym together, a happy coincidence as it was. Jungkook had felt much more comfortable with correcting your form, and seeing him sweaty with strands of dark hair plastered to his forehead only sent a string of lewd thoughts into your empty head.

If you nearly dropped a dumbbell from your sweaty grip onto your chest as he spotted for you because you caught a glimpse of Jungkook’s flushed cheeks and his easy smile directed only at you, then that was your own business.

And to your surprise, you’ve been getting meeting invites on your calendar from Hae-ri, the head of business development, herself. You’ve always hated networking, but Hae-ri had seemed so genuine when you met her in Tokyo that part of you wanted to maintain that relationship with her.

For some reason, it seemed that she had taken an interest in you. You’ve had many quick chats in her office or virtually if she’s traveling. You’ve come to think of her as a mentor, even if it’s only been a few months of getting to know her. The initial awkwardness you felt, the need to fill in the gaps of conversation had slowly washed away the more you talked to her. Your conversations mostly consisted of work topics- things that you found curious, or things you felt could be improved. You always leave her with a small idea or a thought to chew on until next time. But surprisingly (at least to you), she starts asking you for your perspective and your advice on challenges that she’s having.

It gives you something to ponder about, something that you haven’t allowed yourself to ponder about since you left school and took this job.

It makes you wonder if you’re meant for more. For so long, it felt like you were only surviving. Only trying to keep your head above water. But if you’ve learned anything over the last few months, it’s that it’s okay and encouraged to want and seek more.

High risk, high reward. But with high risk, comes the potential for things to fail. With high risk, comes the potential to be hurt and let down. Is it worth it? Is the journey worth it?

You think it might be, for how good you’ve been feeling lately (for the most part).

Yuna had quickly brought you into her own friend group, as if you’ve known her and Yuri, Seohyun and Sooyoung for as long as they’ve known each other. You’ve never had a group of close friends like them, let alone a group of girlfriends.

Now, you knew what people meant when they said that every woman needs a group of women around them. It hadn’t made sense to you before, but now… Now it does. And you’re not especially close with them, but they make you feel good. They make you laugh and they make you want to be close with them.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, but it’s a feeling that gives you those familiar first date jitters.

So when Yuna had asked you to join them for a Friday night out, your first instinct was to hesitate and decline. But the more you started thinking about it, the more you found yourself wanting to go and enjoy a night out with new friends. And you had asked Jungkook for his opinion-

“Should I go? I mean, I don’t want to like… Be the pity invite. They’re all already so close…” You trail off a little nervously, itching at your chin.

“Being a pity invite fuckin’ sucks,” Jungkook agrees, “But it sounds like Yuna invites you because she genuinely wants you there. I don’t think she would’ve asked you to come if she didn’t want you there.”

“But what if it’s only because of Jin-”

“Even if it is only because of Jin,” Jungkook says, “Does it matter? Besides, you talk about things outside of Jin, right?”

“Yeah-”

“Just go. You’ll have fun, sweetheart. I know you will.”

You contemplate sending a picture of your outfit to Jungkook as you get ready- and why did you want to send a picture to him- for what? You don’t know. But you do know. You look good, you know you do- with the silky navy blue of your blouse a pretty contrast to your skin and your makeup done meticulously well.

In the end, you get distracted by Yuna’s texts that she’s arrived at your home. You told Grandma you’d likely be staying the night with Yuna. Grandma had only looked at you fondly, with unsaid pride in the lines of her eyes and her smile. You had made her promise to call you if anything happened, to which she promptly shooed you out of the door and into Yuna’s car.

Yuna grins at you and helps you put your bag in the backseat- which you really don’t need help with. But you appreciate the gesture anyway.

And so the night begins.

It’s three tequila shots, half a glass of soju and some water later before you realize that you’re well on your way into the warmth that comes with being drunk. 

Your lips are permanently etched into a smile, laughter tumbling out of your throat easily and genuinely as you stand with Yuna and her friends in her apartment. Her apartment itself is so very her- very colorful and vibrant, with baby blue throw pillows over a pink couch and a mint green rug. Her apartment is relaxing and inviting, much like her. It’s only fitting.

You had learned about Yuri, Seohyun and Sooyoung- how they had known each other since college but Seohyun and Yuri hadn’t really connected with the group until after graduation. When they had all moved to Seoul for work. There is clearly a deep, understanding bond between the four of them and you’re benignly envious of it. But you don’t let it get you down- not the way it might have before.

You’re also happy that you and Yuna can get along outside of Seokjin. If you’re being honest, that was one of your main worries. That you would need Jin to act as a buffer for you and Yuna. But Yuna brings you into their tight knit circle with her innate warmth, and you want to feel it, too.

“Pick your poison, babes,” Sooyoung grins wickedly at you, standing behind Yuna’s kitchen island. Behind all of her bottles, laid out neatly for your consumption.

“I think you can venture a guess,” You say, handing her your cup.

“Tequila,” Yuna and Sooyoung say together.

“Wow. You know me so well.”

Sooyoung clearly has a heavy hand- you wince when you sip your mixed drink but you’re no quitter.

“Cheers,” Yuri says, “Cheers to us, and cheers to the fountain of youth, in the form of tequila and soju.”

The rest of the night goes in a blur of dancing, loose limbs and close touches. You can very clearly remember sending selfies and videos to Jungkook, who instantly replied with heart eyes and words that made your face heat up in the crowded bar.

“Who you texting,” Yuna says, wrapping her arms around your shoulders so you’re facing her. She holds you close and you have to steady yourself by holding her waist. 

“Jungkook,” You say quickly, “Just wanted to say hi.”

Yuna looks at you knowingly but says nothing, only dancing with you. Yuri joins you from behind, holding your own hips tightly. You sway with them, throwing your head back happily and singing along to the song blasting on the speakers.

Your head feels hazy, but you feel happy. 

“G’nna call Jin,” Yuna slurs to you, “T’ pick us up-”

“Wanna see Kook,” You say stubbornly, already pulling your phone out. You have to close one eye to see the words on your phone screen, and even then, it’s kind of blurry. 

You call Jungkook, or at least you think you do. But he answers, a sweet sound of your name ringing in your ears.

“JK,” You breathe into your phone, as if he can hear you over all of the noise. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Jungkook says smoothly, “Having fun-”

“Jin’s comin’ t’pick us up,” You cut across him, leaning against the wall for some stability. You can’t tell if you feel this weightless because of your drunkenness or because of him. “But… I don’t wanna g’home with them. Wanna go home with you.”

“You want me to come pick you up?” Jungkook asks. Anticipation and then happiness blooms in his chest, that you want to see him. 

“Yeah,” You reply instantly, “Wanna see you. Miss you.”

“You saw me a few hours ago, at work,” Jungkook teases and laughs when he hears your noise of protest.

“But I wanna see you,” You’re on the verge of whining, and you’re not above it.

“You’re obsessed with me,” Jungkook says, unable to keep the smile off of his face, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

Jungkook has a small smile on his face the entire drive to the bar.

Jin and Jungkook both arrive at around the same time, parking a few blocks away from the noisy bar and hopping out quickly.

Jin looks at Jungkook as if he is transparent, and it unnerves him. Jin says your name first and then, “You’re here for her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, she called me,” Jungkook says, not backing down from the obvious heat in Jin’s eyes.

Jin looks at him, long and hard. Despite the bustle of people around them on the busy street, Jungkook knows what this is. It’s one friend, a brother really, looking after another.

Jin claps his hand over Jungkook’s shoulder, and the tension immediately evaporates as if it had never existed. 

“Let’s go get our women, huh? Jin says with a grin.

Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief.

Jungkook sees you before you see him- your head tipped back in laughter, alcohol slick in your eyes and you nearly stumble but maintain your balance by holding Sooyoung’s shoulder for stability.

You look so pretty, as you always do. But tonight, you look relaxed and carefree and it looks nice on you.

And you sharply turn your head to him when Yuna whispers in your ear with a smug grin of her own and your eyes connect with his. You take him in unabashedly, leaving the conversation you were in to be next to Jungkook.

He meets you halfway, threading through the few people standing in between you both. 

Your smile is blinding, full of flowers and tequila- of course, you nearly lose your balance trying to get to him as fast as possible. Luckily, he’s close enough to you that he can grab your waist before you fall on your ass.

It seems that almost happens all too often in his presence.

“It appears,” You murmur, “That I’ve almost fallen for you.”

“Yeah, how many times do I have to catch you before you bust your ass?” Jungkook says, eyes dancing and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“A million and one,” You reply. You’ve had plenty of water from when you had called Jungkook to now, and while the tipsy haze has begun to lift, you still feel the edge of alcohol clouding your mind.

“Cheesy,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. He doesn’t mind the way your hands slide up his arm, as if reassuring yourself that he’s right there. That his hands are really circling your waist and that he had really come to pick you up.

You wrap your arms around him for a wordless hug and sway for a moment in his arms. He smells nice and he feels safe. He tightens his arms around you, wrapping himself around you almost completely.

Your heart flutters at how nice he feels, his chest slotted against yours.

“I’m glad you called me,” Jungkook murmurs, only for you to hear. 

“Glad you picked up,” You reply sincerely, meeting his eyes, “And glad you’re here.”

You shine in his arms, bright, bold and beaming. You surprise him again and press your thumbs to his cheeks, before pecking his cheek quickly.

“Let me get you a water and then we’ll go,” Jungkook murmurs, his hand drifting to the small of your back. The satin-y material of your shirt is thin in his fingers- where is your jacket? Had you even brought one?

“Okay, Bambi,” You reply dreamily. You lean against him at the bar, head on his shoulder as you both wait. You tighten your grip on his bicep and he moves his hand to circle your waist and pull you into his side. He likes the way you slot next to him, your quiet heat something he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to.

The sparkles in his doe eyes never seem to fade away when he’s with you. Your head is filled with nothing but his reddened pout, the way his hair falls into his eyes, and the way his palm feels on you. His lips move as he speaks to the bartender but all you can feel are the absent circles his thumb makes on your hip.

Your throat goes dry, and the urge to cling to him and hold him close, for you and your eyes only is too great. The man contains a universe in those eyes, and you always want to gravitate towards the magnetic pull of his axis. The overwhelming urge to kiss him washes over you in gentle waves, the desire igniting your veins. 

But you wait. In your tequila-addled mind, you decide to wait. Not here, not now. 

“Here, princess,” Jungkook says easily, the pet name slipping out without him meaning to. You gasp in surprise with wide eyes and your cheeks light up. Something in your belly is satiated by that and Jungkook knows it.

Interesting. You never fail to surprise him.

“Thank you,” You mumble, “Honey?”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat and he squeezes your waist in approval. You smile at him, a little bashfully and god, does he want to kiss you. He wants to kiss the gloss right off of your lips, he wants to taste the tequila on your tongue. He just wants you.

But not here. Not now.

You’re trying your best to not be handsy in the car. What is it about a man with one hand on the wheel? Specifically, what is it about Jungkook, with one hand on the wheel and the other dwarfed over yours in your lap?

His hands were big. That much you knew. But having his hand in yours like this, encased over yours- they just seemed that much bigger. The feeling of his hand in yours sends sparks through your skin. You melt with his touch, with the soothing sound of his voice.

You have to ask him to repeat himself more than once, because you’re too busy enjoying the feeling of his hand in yours.

He chuckles to himself, already aware of your apparent distraction. The tips of his ears are warm and his belly is fluttering. But he’s not ready- when Jungkook parks his car and helps you out of the passenger seat, you don’t let his hand go. Instead, you bring his knuckles to your lips and kiss it softly.

“Thank you,” You mumble, meeting his eyes, “For taking care of me, Kook.”

Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand after that, not in the lobby, not in the elevator, not even as he unlocks his door. Not even as he gives you water and a snack to chew on. You watch him with hearts in your eyes, looking at him as if he’s hung the moon and stars for you.

“D’you have clothes? I left mine at Yuna’s,” You ask once your face is freshly washed. Despite your difference in skincare routines, you had not so secretly stolen some of his cleanser and moisturizer. 

You suppose you’ll have to skip on toner tonight.

“No, I don’t, even though you’re standing in my bedroom,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and you swat his shoulder.

“You can just say yes-”

“It’s more fun to stress you out,” Jungkook says and rummages around for a shirt and some shorts for you to wear. He pulls out a freshly washed pair of shorts and an oversized grey t-shirt for you, but you’re smirking at him deviously.

“What,” Jungkook says flatly, “Why are you looking at me like that-”

“I don’t want those clothes,” You murmur, mischief swirling in your eyes, “I want the shirt you’re wearing.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you,” Jungkook says, hoping you don’t catch the stammer in his voice. He moves closer to you, curling a hesitant hand around your cheek. You lean into his touch, tilting your head just a fraction and hum at the warmth of his palm against your heated skin.

He pulls away just for a second to peel his shirt off of his torso and despite your bravado from earlier, you’re not prepared to be met by his bare chest or the full breadth of his tattoos.

In fact, you squeeze your eyes shut to cope with the sudden sight of his beautiful, golden skin and the lines of corded muscle. 

“If I didn’t know you, I’d be offended,” Jungkook’s voice comes from right in front of you. He puts the fresh shirt on and his hand resumes it's comforting place on your cheek.

“Shut up,” You muster out, “Turn around, Jeon.”

And he does, hearing your pants drop to the floor, along with the rest. You neatly fold your clothes and place them on his chair before changing into his clothes. And Jungkook hears you inhale deeply- his clothes smell so much like him, the scent of his cologne heavy in the minuscule fibers.

“You can turn around now,” You mumble softly, “Honey.”

If Jungkook thought he was ready to see you looking at him with tired eyes and a tired smile wearing his clothes, he was kidding himself. He won’t deny that he’s daydreamed about it before- seeing you in his clothes, in his bed, in his arms, in his arms, in his arms…

And now you are. Even if you’re a little tipsy. He can’t wait to kiss you, feel the mold of your lips against his, feel how they slot against him- but not now, not tonight.

“Jungkook,” You say, tugging your hand in his. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes are still mischievous. “Should I sleep on the couch? Is it untidy of us to sleep in the same bed?”

“Haven’t even taken me out on a date yet and you’re already trying to bed me, huh?” 

“It didn’t take much, Kook,” You laugh.

“No,” Jungkook says, “I suppose it didn’t.” 

You’ve never been this close, this open to anyone. It unnerves you a little, even in your foggy mind. But maybe not as much as it would normally. 

You feel like you can just be with Jungkook. Without questioning it, wondering if it’s right or wrong. And you think he might feel the same way, too.

You’re “sleeping” on your side, facing away from him. Jungkook notices how rigid you are, as if you don’t know what to do. He also knows you’re still awake, even if you pretend not to be.

He touches your shoulder tentatively, reassuringly. “Hey,” Jungkook murmurs.

You hum in acknowledgement, feeling like a live wire about to explode. What do you want? What are you doing?

Nothing. It’s so easy with him. What are you so nervous for?

Jungkook can read your thoughts easily, your body language a practiced poem to him. “You alright? Is this too much?” Jungkook murmurs, pulling his hand away.

You miss his warmth already. No, you realize. It’s not too much… You want more. You want more, you want everything he’ll give you.

But he misunderstands, taking your silence for hesitation. You feel him begin to slide off of the bed, likely to take the floor or the couch. But you turn abruptly, shooting up and grasping his forearm tightly.

“No,” You say softly, “Don’t go, Jungkook. Stay with me.”

“You sure?” Jungkook hesitates, “Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m comfortable with.”

“Yeah,” You breathe, “I’m sure.”

And so he settles in his bed once more, and you still sense apprehension radiating off of him in waves. 

“Are you sure?” You murmur, turning to face him. You’re close enough to him that you can see the count of his long eyelashes fanning his cheeks. Maybe you’ve rushed into this, whatever this is. Before you can spiral down that train of thought, Jungkook cups your cheek and your breath hitches.

“I’m sure,” Jungkook says, his cheeks tinted a dusky red, “I… I like seeing you like this. In my clothes, in my bed.”

“I like seeing you like this, too,” You whisper, feeling a little shy. But you return his gentle caress with a warm hand over his chest. Your touch sends happy little shockwaves pulsing through him, and he wants to chase that feeling with you.

“Thank you,” You whisper, somehow even softer, “For taking care of me. I probably interrupted your night...” You shift closer to him, plucking the courage to allow the press of your chest to his and to gently run your fingers through his soft hair.

More shockwaves.

Jungkook resists the urge to say what he really wants to say. Instead, he gives you a blinding smile, one that has you smiling back. “No, there’s no interruption. There’s only you.”

The sheer conviction of his words leaves your entire body buzzing and your face aflame. You’re not sure of many things, but you’re sure of this-

“I’m gonna kiss you,” You mumble sleepily, “Tomorrow, I’m gonna kiss you.”

And somehow, with that declaration, you fall asleep with your head tucked on his chest and he’s left with a small smile on his face.

Jungkook is awake before you. It’s a cloudy morning, shades of grey hidden behind his blinds. It makes him want to curl into you, just how he was moments before. He had woken up to his arm loose around your waist, his chest around your back. You were so warm, so pretty in his clothes. So unassumingly his, if you’d have him.

He peels away from you hastily. His face immediately heats up, he’s certain the tips of his ears are red from his proximity to you. 

Specifically, your ass is pressed into his half hard cock, and he can’t bring himself to pull away. Not when the sweet image of your ass swallowing his cock is a previous fantasy that is so close to becoming a reality.

You squirm in your sleep, or at least, he thinks you’re asleep. You sigh lightly before getting comfortable and Jungkook knows he’s in trouble. With you, he’s always in trouble.

Your hand comes forward to your face and you rub your eyes tiredly. Jungkook’s throat goes dry- what should he do? Feign sleep? Roll away from you? Or-

You make the decision for him though, and lift your hand behind you to feel around for him. A satisfied sigh escapes your lips when you find his chest, and then a soft murmur. A complaint.

“What?” Jungkook chokes, “I can’t hear you.”

“Come closer,” You mumble, your voice hoarse. It sounds like thick, golden honey and Jungkook wants a little taste. He envelopes you, encasing you with his legs and his arms around your waist. Your hand drops on top of his much larger one and you sigh dreamily.

“Jungkook,” You say, not really sure where you were going with that train of thought, because the warmth of his body against yours feels too good to do anything but sink into.

Jungkook nearly purrs into your neck.

“Good morning, princess,” Jungkook says. God, he wants to get used to this.

“Morning,” You reply, threading your fingers through his and squeezing. You push back against him, grinning to yourself when you feel him freeze up behind you. He holds your hip tightly, to stop you from moving.

Jungkook is only a man, only a man with a giant crush that he knows you reciprocate.

“What are you doing,” Jungkook asks breathily.

“I’m just lying here,” You say innocently and grind into him. Jungkook takes the bait, of course he does, and melds his hips to yours. A sharp exhale tickles your ears when he rocks into you lightly. It only lasts a few moments, a funny, sweet feeling swirling in your belly. It spreads to your toes- it’s all because of him, because of his touch. His touch sends a warm buzz all over.

You never want to let it go.

“You remember what you said last night?” Jungkook asks breathily, his lips nearly pressed to your neck. Remnants of your perfume along with the scent of his sheets lingers on your skin.

“I said a lotta things last night,” You tease, reaching behind to thread your fingers through his hair lazily. He groans, bucking his hips just a little faster. A breathy moan escapes from your throat and you’d be a little more embarrassed if you weren’t enjoying how he felt around you so much.

“You did,” Jungkook hums, “You were really talkative-”

“I remember,” You say and finally turn in his arms to get a good look at him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are tinted a pretty pink. But your gaze immediately lands on his eyes, his beautiful, big, brown eyes. The same eyes that look at you with something similar to magic in them.

“Said I was gonna kiss you,” You continue, “So ‘m gonna kiss you. Can I? Can I kiss you?”

He nods eagerly, eyes wide and lips parted in anticipation. He wonders if you know how long he’s thought about kissing you, about feeling those surely soft lips against his.

And now his dreams with his dream girl are coming true. You press your lips to his, almost bashfully, and gasp into his mouth when he grabs your waist as if he can’t get enough of you. And he can’t- he can’t believe this is real, you in his arms, you kissing him like this.

It’s soft, it’s magnetic, it’s you.  Your skin is soft under his fingertips as his hand shifts to cradle your cheek. Your hand is fisted in his shirt before you wrap your arms around his head and push your fingers into his hair hurriedly.

Your hands are everywhere, trying to hold as much of him as you can. You can’t get enough either- the warm heat of his mouth is too enticing for you to let go of. You’re on a cloud, in a daydream all on your own. Filled with nothing but pastel stars and dark skies and him.

Jungkook devours you, slowly, surely and all at once. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you sigh, swallowing his own moan. Jungkook holds you close but presses your back on the bed and hovers over you when he pulls away slightly to catch a breath.

But you pull him back towards you impatiently by the collar of his shirt and press your lips to his. Jungkook re-centers you, slowing your impatience and kisses you languidly as if you have all of the time in the world to learn the soft lines of his equally soft lips. His name comes out of your mouth in a breathy whisper- he’s on his knees to hear you say his name like that as many times as he can.

Jungkook pulls away for a longer breath, peering down at you with wide eyes and bitten lips. 

“J-Jungkook,” You say with a splitting grin. It just feels right, it feels natural with him. “That was fun. I wanna do that again... baby.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling and honest and it makes your heart flutter. Jungkook presses his lips to your forehead, your cheeks, your chin, your nose- and in between you laugh airily, wrapping your arms around him to keep him as close to you as you can. Wrapping your legs around his tiny waist, you keep him molded to your chest.

He loses himself in you, in the gentle but firm caress against his heated skin. 

“Your hands,” You murmur with a smirk, “Your hands are so big…”

Jungkook snorts and rolls his eyes, nipping at your neck playfully. “Shut up,” He says, voice muffled.

“You’re really hot,” You say a little more seriously, “Like…  really, really hot.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says almost shyly.

“So you agree? You think you’re really pretty?”

You screech with laughter when he playfully pinches your waist. “You’re really pretty,” He repeats to you, “Like… really, really pretty.”

“Oh, I know,” You grin and cup his cheeks for a quick kiss. You won’t deny the way your heart pounds at his quick, genuine declaration. You wrap an arm around his broad shoulders, rubbing the expanse of his back and enjoying the feel of his thick muscles under your fingertips.

“Kiss me again,” You demand softly, “You’re good at that. We’re good at that.”

And so he does, he kisses you softly, deeply and pulls peals of laughter and soft moans of his name from your throat and into the minuscule crevices between both of you.

Jungkook wonders if his past self would’ve ever dreamed of this moment- of his dream girl in his bed, wearing his clothes, kissing him as if he was the sweetest nectar to grace your lips.

tags: @koo-zy​

[tartagilicious]

snezhnaya does not believe in broken hearts > childe

→ pov: there is no pov i’m in love with another fictional man. I’m a little rusty writing wise because of school, but someone said childe enemies to lovers and who i am i to say no to that 🥴 so, here’s his boss battle with a ✨twist✨

→ ib: this comic on twt, pls go support it i love it and cry whenever someone mentions it. also, like the comic, childe’s delusion form won’t have a mask just so it’s easier to write his expressions!

→ *there are a good amount of lines that are taken directly from his battle in the game, so beware of detailed spoilers!

You can trust him. But, don’t get too involved. The battle he pursues is dangerous; it’s not something a normal person can withstand.

Whether you realised it or not, every moment you had spent with him began to carve out a hole in your chest, bittersweetly wearing away every layer of protection you had unconsciously built up. It wasn’t a well-done job by any means; the edges it left were particularly jagged, but the softness Childe still managed to pull from them left you stunned every time it chose to peek its head out.

“Don’t be so on edge, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

It suddenly became a daily routine to expect him at some point, whether it entailed him coming upon you doing a commission in the middle of the mountains, or you crossing paths in Liyue while some type of street food balanced precariously in his grip.

Yet, what you failed to notice was that most times, he would take care to place another of the same delicacy into your hand, as if expecting to see you. Childe would meet you in the middle of the mountains not by chance, but rather by a sense of curious boredom, wherein your company was the only suitable way to pass the time.

Subsequently, the only question remaining in a scenario such as this, was what the other meant to each of them — were you truly able to push your obligations aside, or were you only getting close enough to have enough leverage to strike?

On any occasion a disarming laugh left his mouth, or he lent you his support without question, you failed to remember that you were pitched as enemies in the first place. You inevitably no longer felt the same wariness towards the harbinger over time, but it only made you that much more guilty to know just how easily you had begun to trust him.

Yet no matter the hopeful sentiments your sputtering heart provided you, you knew one thing to be true that would always remain so: you would never be on the same side.

“You’ve already fulfilled your task as guide, so why do you still linger here? Haven’t you already seen enough trouble for today?”

You had entered the Golden House apprehensively, perhaps hoping even over the Exuvia’s safety that you wouldn’t meet him there. But coming upon it and hearing the one voice you had been dreading, you begrudgingly came to terms with the fact that you would have to face reality eventually.

“Huh?” Paimon is startled by the sudden disembodied voice. “Who’s there?!”

Childe reveals himself by coming up the stairs you had just now ascended, his saunter maddeningly casual. “If you were Fatui, I imagine that you would be entitled to a generous reward from the Tsaritsa yourself.”

The way he tilts his head with such fake amiability grates across you like nails on a chalkboard. “But now you’re nothing but dross -- and you’re in my way.”

“It looks like I was just in time, then.”

Childe laughs. “Although I’m deeply grateful to you for helping me so effortlessly find this secret location… don’t you think that trying to stop me now would only be a wasted effort?”

“Stopping the mora mints, hiding away the Exuvia,” He laughs again, and your hand instinctively makes a small stretch for your weapon. “And sending you. The Qixing are really pulling out all the stops this time.”

“So you were planning to take the gnosis all along?” You ask flatly, your words swallowed by your own hesitation just after you’d barely gotten out the last word. Even though this mishap wasn’t very detectable, shame burns the back of your throat at the honesty of the reflex.

“As one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, it’s my duty to see the will of the Tsaritsa fulfilled. And she will get which she desires.”

You shake your head, fully grounding your hand and preparing to draw your sword. “Not if I don’t allow you to get near the Exuvia.”

“I’m not looking for your blessing, ___.” Childe narrows his eyes and takes note of this action, the implications of it drawing up a wanton sense of disappointment he had long been expecting. This varies little from your own dismay, unbeknownst to him. “There’s nothing you could do to stop me anyways.”

“The time for discussion and diplomacy has already long passed. I mean, if it were up to me, I would have skipped that stage to begin with… but, I’m willing to do as the Tsaritsa deems fit.”

“Either way,” An eyebrow arches as an equally intrigued smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “It seems we’re now coming upon my favourite part --  a simple pleasure, and one that I am oh-so delighted to be sharing with you.”

it’s as if a pin drops, and he grins. “The battle.”

You now stand at a fork. Two paths stare at you with expectant eyes, both equally enticing; but the drawbacks of the indulgent solution unfortunately long outweigh those of their obvious counterpart. It’s a decision that must be made on behalf of Liyue, not the hurt of a single heart.

Paimon scoffs, drawing you from your thoughts. “So you’re the type that goes looking for trouble, huh?”

Childe’s laughter rings out, and he throws his head back as if he had heard something particularly funny. “I guess you could say that!”

“When Signora offended the deities outside of the cathedral in Mondstadt, she swiftly left the scene once her mission was accomplished. Instead of confronting you directly, she chose to rely on the snow and ice to make an escape.”

“I would take that as far more than its face value. When she faces a worthy opponent, she will prioritise her mission, weigh the outcomes, and consider the consequences of her actions…” He explains, trailing off with an inexplicable smile. “But as for me, the greatest pleasure of being a harbinger lies in the opportunities I have to cross blades with such opponents.”

“That doesn’t mean we’ll let what happened in Mondstadt ever happen again.”

“Oh? So you do intend to fight me? Good.” Childe’s excitement baffles you and pumps adrenaline into your veins simultaneously. “I won’t kill you, ___, I’ll just play along. To feel the thrill of battle!”

“Besides,” He puts his hands out in an aimless gesture. “You could never defeat me, not even in your wildest dreams. But hey, try to relish in the fight anyways, because if you ask me… without that, what else is there?”

“I could never defeat you?!” His words get the better of you and you laugh in disbelief. “You’re completely delusional.”

He returns the laugh delightedly, igniting a fire of mixed emotions in your chest. “Fighting talk, I love it! Now, let’s see you live up to it.”

You draw your sword at the drop of his last word, taking a step back in preparation for what was to come. Childe, meanwhile, stands watching you with a brewing sensation of glee.

“This chance isn’t easy to come by, so show me all you’ve got.” Arrows infused with water begin to fly in your direction, though you avoid them in haste. “So very few ever get the chance to square off with a Fatui Harbinger, so come now, amuse me. And don’t you dare disappoint.”

You find yourself gritting your teeth at the arrogant words, taken aback at his challenging tone. “You say your colleague has found me praiseworthy, but tell me to only amuse you? That’s a disappointing downgrade.”

A lapse in the time Childe has to shoot gives you enough time to approach him, throwing out a strike of your sword that he catches with his own weapon moulded by water.

“It’s by no means an insult, ___, I’m merely proposing a challenge.” He looks at the way your blades grit against each other and grins. “And it seems you’ve accepted it.” You jump back with the force of his attack to propel yourself. A barrage of geo-aligned magic is summoned beneath your opponent with a stomp to the marble floor.

However, he sidesteps it in a similar fashion, and through a quick exchange of harsh blows, both of you stand back to scope things out. Still, the one aspect that continues to overshadow the rest of your thoughts is the way that Childe’s personality has changed under the scrutiny of battle.

The playful tone he normally sports is long gone, now replaced with a deeper and more realistic one; perhaps even slightly more menacing. It’s as if he’s been flipped into a completely different person.

He laughs maniacally as he uses his hydro vision to drive waves of water out towards you, fully intent on at least knocking you off your feet. The burst of elemental energy ends when Childe leaps back onto the ground. This gives you the leverage you need to go in with another geo attack, this time catching him off guard and launching him to the side.

Childe coughs at the force of the action, his lips curving up into a smile. “Good! No wonder signora was so wary of you.”

His body is encased in an impenetrable bubble of water in an instant, a flash of deep light lashing out from the centre before revealing Childe once again. His swords of water have since been infused by electro energy, and his clothes are darker -- the most noticeable difference, however, is the Fatui mask that had previously been slung over his hair now laid properly over his face.

“Well, that just means I can go all out! Brace yourself, this is about to get tough…” He takes a few preliminary steps. “Show me what you can do against the might of a Harbinger!”

The strikes do indeed get faster. Childe toughens up against seemingly every one of your attacks, dodging most if not all of with even more ease than before. you grit your teeth as you rush to keep up with the frequent blows thrown at you. But, in a panic and reflexive drawback, you retract your sword and desperately block with your arm instead.

Silence entraps the incredibly large room as your sword clatters noisily to the floor. Both the cloth running up the expanse of your arm and wrist piece are slashed considerably, all to reveal a shallow but long gash.

The sensation of electro wastes little time in taking effect, burning up your arm and inducing an inevitable cry of pain as both of you take a step back. Malleable emotion hangs in the heavy atmosphere, waiting to be addressed or otherwise plucked down from their higher place.

Though, his reaction in that split second shows that he might not be just as lost as you’d thought.

Childe has little courage to speak up on any of these topics, but in whatever way he chooses to ignore the berating voice in his head, he can’t push away the sensation of regret swimming in his chest. Watching your face briefly contort in pain you try so hard to hide, yet standing close and being unable to do anything about it -- it’s more real than any understating word his brain could ever feed him.

“What are you doing just standing there?” You suddenly taunt, your voice slightly hoarse as you turn to hide the blood that seeps into your clothing. “I thought you said that you were going to go all out.”

Childe knows that you're right. He had said that, but what would it mean for him to continue? Brawling with you brought the same drunkening high of adrenaline he’s been chasing since he escaped from the abyss all those years ago-- although hurting you wasn’t any sort of intention he’d ever had.

“...I’m only offering a moment to buffer, but I must say -- you’re not bad. Your swordsmanship is quite impressive.” Childe desperately swallows back anything extra that pops into his head and twirls his electrified staff. Personal desires are the last thing he can afford to pay attention to. “But, that’s about as far as you’ll get.”

You sloppily intercept a rough attack that threatens to send you flying backwards, gritting your teeth as you push back with the force of your Anemo power. It goes well for all but the way your arm begins to falter under the stress. Your head naturally follows your body’s trajectory, yet in your panic, the stroke your toed boot makes across the floor leaves a trail of blistering geo behind.

The elements present react immediately, resulting in a blinding explosion. You’re thrown off too quickly and land unsteadily, pain shooting up your arm as you exhale shakily -- you’d never had the misfortune of experiencing a hydro and electro vision working together before now.

“___, are you okay?” Paimon asks frantically, your tiny hands trying their best to locate the heart of the wound on your injured arm. “That cut looks deep, do you really think it’s a good idea to keep pushing yourself?”

You shake your head in dismissal as your eyes move with the clearing dust. “It’s fine, but my sword--?”

Once the haze disperses, you spot your sword almost instantly -- however, you also find Childe’s staff sticking haphazardly into the marble floor right next to it, its owner nowhere to be found.

A laugh sounds from behind you. “I really didn’t think you had that card hidden up your sleeve!”

Your heart drops into your stomach when you whip around to see Childe standing beside Rex Lapis’ corpse, his grin wide like he’d already won the match between you.

“You were just playing us to get close to the Exuvia!”

“Oh, quiet down. Don’t be so quick to judge. You’ve seen this world, you of all people should know...” Childe steadily gathers a ball of electro energy in his palm, the lightning fusing around his gloved hand before materialising. “That this should have been expected!”

The sound is deafening as Childe forces his hand into the Exuvia, opposing elements colliding and responding in turn. “I’ll be taking Morax’s gnosis now!”

Shockwaves come out like tides as the entire room shakes under the pressure of the single action. You’re quick to shield your injured arm from the battering wind, while Paimon latches onto the ornament covering your elbow.

Yet, much to everyone’s surprise, the hand that emerges and unfolds under the glaring light is very much empty.

Childe is taken aback by the particles of light that float from his gloved hand, laughing in frustration as well as bewilderment. “I see. Well, this is most unexpected.”

He turns to look at you through his mask, taking in the equally as surprised expression that moulds your features. But the detail that begins to surface ignites a different, and entirely real type of irritation in him, is the way that your eyes begin to change.

“Morax’s gnosis is far from another old antique,” Ningguang had prefaced this when you had visited her in the Jade Chamber, her words stable and forward. “It is a sign of Liyue’s reigning power, and also a symbol for the people to look towards; as not only a god, but also the keeper of peace. This is not something that would be hidden carelessly.”

“Many people throughout my years as a Qixing have tried to outsmart the layers close to the gnosis, however, none have succeeded. Its protector is someone of utmost secrecy whose identity I must not reveal, not even to you.”

She had sighed, placing a warm yet distant smile on her face. “But, I believe this method will continue to deter unwanted hands, along with you in their capable stead.”

Your eyes widen as you take an instinctual step back. You’d found it nearly impossible when tasked with feeding the Harbinger outdated details, though your heart feels heavy in realising that it had gone to show how much Childe truly did learn to trust you.

But, it had worked, hadn’t it? Because of this, the exuvia was somewhere far away -- in capable hands, as Ningguang had phrased it. Yet you feel little want to celebrate this small victory, immediately reminded of the situation it’s caused as Childe’s vision flares up around him, warping his figure in your eyes.

“You… You beat me to it, didn’t you?” Childe doesn’t miss your sense of victory being quickly replaced by fear, but in a fit of irritation, he takes no time in disregarding it.

He leaps haphazardly into the centre of the room, forcing you to careen out of the way as his electro vision fries the air around you. It becomes stuffy and unbearably hot in the enclosed space entirely too quickly. But, throughout the sudden drastic change in their atmosphere, you can’t help but notice the second transformation that Childe has gone through; yet rather this time, it’s much more drastic.

Once the air dissipates, Childe leaps back to the floor once again, his heavy military boots marking his step indefinitely. The attire he wears is fittingly close to armour -- presenting a deep blue and purple suit that fits like a second skin.

“Not a bad trick,” His spear of water that had since been lodged in the marble floor flies into his hand, twirling to rest on his shoulder as his voice stabilises. “But, this is going to cost you!”

The same weapon is pushed into the ground with overflowing destructive power. It quickly runs veins out like web beneath your feet, electro charge roughly and abruptly breaking the floor to reveal another space below.

You're dragged down indiscriminately amongst the falling debris, roughly colliding with the sharp edges before hitting the ground once again. Your arm, still slightly bleeding and swollen, screams at the harsh impact. Though having landed on your stomach meant that other parts of your body had absorbed most of the shock, natural reflexes had forced you to receive some of the heavier damage in your arm regardless.

There wasn’t a lot that you could do about this, however, other than pick yourself up again and hope that Childe was still too high up to see your pain clearly. Thankfully, lo and behold, a purple light just then begins to descend almost hauntingly through the smoke. It blinks out briefly before revealing Childe again as every messy part of the room is blown away by an incredible elemental power.

You hold up your uninjured arm to combat against the strong wind, wincing as your body is forced back.

“You got to the gnosis ahead of me, didn’t you?” Childe’s staff finally rests in his hand, however, the aura he gives off alone is enough to make you antsy. “Did you simply move faster? Or… did you leak the information regarding the Golden House to me on purpose?”

“...You’ve outsmarted me, ___. But that doesn’t mean the information won’t be in my hands by the time we’re done.” Another electric current fills the room as he moves to make an attack. “So, fight hard knowing there's something of such value on the line.”

Your eyes flicker around the room for your sword as you say, “How do you know that I have any of the information you need? That’s betting a lot on nothing.”

He laughs, the familiar sound chilling.

“You don’t have to be omnipotent to take a best guess. Besides, I’m confident enough in knowing that you’re smart enough to play me, so a battle between friends to determine that isn’t too much of a stretch, is it?”

You spot the sword and take a hesitant step towards it, attempting to return his words as a distraction. “It’s strange to call me a friend and threaten to put a knife in my chest in the same sentence. I thought you said that you weren’t going to kill me?”

Childe pauses, debating his next words carefully. “...Conditions are ever-changing.”

“If they were going to change so drastically, you should have told me earlier. Maybe then I could’ve figured out how to explain something I don’t know the answer to.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, ___.” His delusion’s deeper tone makes even the most playful of his words sound threatening. You stand your ground, though, knowing that no matter what your apprehension presents, nothing will change the fact that your weapon is only a mere step away.

“I know that you can tell me.”

You know I can? The supposedly comforting statement bounces around in your head, creating a ringing in your ears and a painful drumming against your temples. It’s not that simple, you think. There's little he wouldn’t be able to get from you if gone about the right way, however, as long as the information remained important, it would stay unattainable to even him.

You grit your teeth, feet twisting boldly into a position that’ll make it easier to leap in the direction you need. “I won’t tell you anything,” The leap is short and filled with almost too much strength, but you make up for any shortcomings by turning to block the incredibly close blow Childe had thrust out to stop you.

You push your sword against his with the force of all of your irritation, jaw clenched as your words come out in a single breath. “Because I know that I don’t have anything to say to the person that betrayed me.”

Unsurprisingly, words like those are some of the last that Childe wants to hear at that moment. No amount of guilt tripping or humiliation was typically enough to get to him, however, your simple declaration hits him in a spot that he’s long tried to bury.

Childe scoffs, pretending that he hadn’t blatantly hesitated. “You’re not fit to be here if you’re shaken by the betrayal of someone like me. Take it from me and give up while you’re ahead.”

You’re stunned by Childe’s brutal words for a brief moment, leaving him an important window to more easily knock your weapon away, out of your weakened hands. His blade meets your throat with little hesitation, the cool water stinging against your overheated skin.

Childe’s eyes wander to the way your body turns slightly to protect your injured arm, and disregarding the way his stomach twists, he shakes his head. “What’s wrong, ___? The way you are now won’t be able to defeat me.”

He looks at the way you hesitate and the already putrid feeling in his gut turns rotting. You make no more effort to fight back despite your strength, nor move the weapon lying firmly right over one of your weakest points.

“I might end up killing you if you don’t tell me where the gnosis is.” Childe tries to push you further, but is taken aback when your brows knit as if frustrated. You know very well that he’s someone with bad intentions, yet why do you continue to yearn to see the good in him? To see the carefree person you’d known before today?

You don’t respond, unmoving beneath his heavy gaze for all but the way your hands begin to slowly hover up towards the sword pressuring your neck.

Why can’t you stop?

Your shaking hands take the blade lightly in your grip, the vision-adjacent water searing your battered skin. A droplet of sweat slides down your cheek yet all you can focus on is the way Childe’s eyes instantly delve into panic.

“If you’re going to kill me, you should hurry up and save us both the suffering.”

The sudden powerful statement sounds unreal coming from such a weakened person, blood running down your fingers as you force his sword away.

“What makes you think that your death would cause me any harm?” Childe’s heart thumps wildly beneath his clothes as he lets his weapon be redirectioned, but his brows furrow. “I used you. Do you have yet to realise that?”

“You think I’m so inept that I would believe in someone so fast?” Your fingers go to nestle in the fabric of your skirt, the clothing acting as a temporary shield from the pain. “It was no secret that you weren’t someone to be trusted.”

“Then why lead me here if you’re so confident in yourself? Surely you don’t think that picking a fight with me was a sound idea?”

“You came here yourself. I was never looking to fight.” You mumble truthfully, taking your hand away from your skirt to reveal your palms stained with blood. “...I only said what I did because I don't like hurting those I care about.”

Childe stands paralysed in shock upon hearing such honest words, his mouth opening and closing as he rushes to process their meaning. What could he possibly say to that?

You hadn’t left a single mark on him despite believing that you were fighting for your life, whereas he had prioritised outside matters over listening to his internal backlash -- he had hurt you in a simple twisted warning.

“___, you--”

He’s barely able to get a sentence out before you sigh, going up to him with little hope before wrapping your arms around him.

Childe exhales unsteadily, his weapons then evaporating as his torso and arms instinctively straighten up. Moments of complete stillness go by unhindered. But, you wait patiently for any type of response from the man in your arms.

“...___.” He finally mumbles this from above your head, voice incredibly soft. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You’re at a loss as for how to respond, because truthfully -- the answer is mostly lost even to you. All you can do is drown in the silence that you’ve created, heart picking out the worst parts of the way his posture stays tense.

Childe groans abruptly, his delusion slowly beginning to break down to reveal his normal clothes. “Come on,”

As if something restricting him had suddenly been removed, he staggers and sinks to his knees, body going limp at the sudden lapse in support of his vision. Though fortunately, you follow him even while he goes down.

Your arms struggle to support the sudden weight as his chin lulls forward, colliding with your shoulder just as your knees hit the floor. He’s not entirely weak, you think, noticing the way he purposely tries to shift a lot of pressure off of you. Though you don’t know much about his delusion, it seems viable to assume that the form had just exhausted a decent amount of energy.

You feel the heat of his hands hesitantly coming upon your sides, but much to your disappointment, they quickly retract before he mumbles, “You’re a fool.”

“I know.” You whisper. “But, it’s too late. I can’t give up on you now.”

Childe scoffs, the sound muffled by your shoulder as he brings his arms up around you. He embraces you so tightly that it’s as if you’ve struck something inside him.

Those words are so unfair, they almost give me hope.

[ikeromantic]

Right

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction occurring at the midpoint of Ch. 9. Approx. 1800 words of angsty goodness.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Traitor

Mitsuhide’s days were long and the sleepless nights were longer. Though Yoshiaki depended on him to put together the details of this final strike against Nobunaga, the shogun did not trust him. There were eyes on him, always. And people listening. Nowhere was private. He dare not send any missives to his people in Kyoto lest he reveal them to Yoshiaki.

There was no room in this plot for even the slightest slip in his character. Traitor and villain, trickster kitsune. Of course, this meant there was no time to rest. Mitsuhide worked on his own to see this plot to its conclusion. His tired body protested, and his wounds pained him almost constantly. A choir of spilled blood, bruised flesh, and aching bones. But he had only to make it through one more day and night. Then all would be settled.

The knowledge lent Mitsuhide a sense of peace as he went about his work. Today he sat hidden in the shadows on a nearby building, watching the entrance to Honno-ji. The Oda would arrive soon, he knew. He had only to mark their presence and then it was back to Ashikaga to make the final plans. Mitsuhide allowed himself to rest back against the building, still and watchful. A lesser man might have fallen to sleep - and even one with the kitsune warlord’s will might be forgiven for closing his eyes during the wait. But he did not.

It did not take long for his attention to be rewarded. A small troop of men in plain clothing arrived first - clearly warriors - swords at their hip, their movements predatory. Those four were followed by three more. Two men, dressed as merchants. As if ever a merchant held his head so high or looked out at the world with such confidence. 

Nobunaga would never pass as a mere merchant, no matter his clothing, Mitsuhide thought. He could not let go the arrogance in his carnelian eyes. And the man beside him, though slouched as if he was old, could never be mistaken for other than a warlord. His amber-eyed gaze swept the courtyard, evaluating threats. His hand hovered near his hip as if ready to draw a sword that was not there.

“And this is why neither of you make good spies,” Mitsuhide chuckled to himself. One had to understand what could and couldn’t be changed about themselves to fit a role . . . that line of thought died in a gasp of surprise.

Mitsuhide’s hands went to his mouth, clamping down hard against lips that begged to call out to the last member of the Oda party. Her hair shone in the morning sunlight. Her clear-eyed gaze was bright, though today she wore no smile. He watched her lift a hand to tuck a strand of hair back into her bun. His eyes tracked her every movement, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the way her lashes brushed her cheeks with each blink. 

Her beauty was a physical hurt. She pulled him as a magnet does iron filings. All he could think was why - why was she here? His little mouse was supposed to be safe in Azuchi. How had Kyubei let this happen? Mitsuhide’s heart thumped against his ribs in sudden panic. He had to protect her but - his mission - hot emotions tangled his cold logic, threatening to burn his plans to ash. 

Somehow, he held himself still until his little one passed into Honno-ji with the Oda. Then he fled. The rational part of his mind told him he must report to Ashikaga. Surely the shogun was watching and new from other sources that Mitsuhide’s prediction was correct. Delay would bring suspicion. But his heart pulled him another way. He had to secure her safety. His little one. Beloved little mouse. He could not risk harm to her, not for this. Not for anything. 

Mitsuhide found an abandoned home in a nearby neighborhood. It was partially burned, but the courtyard was green and overgrown with flowers. There was a mossy stone bench in the lee of a collapsed wall. He sat there and put his head in his hands. 

His eyes felt hot and damp, but he refused to let them shed a single tear. He was the kitsune warlord, not some common love-drunk fool. There would be a way to keep her safe. He only needed to find it.

It took him several hours to plan out the various paths this could now take and to consider how best to prevent the turns that put his little one in danger. Then he set off into town to track down his contacts. It was time to take all risks, he thought. The time for caution had passed.

The sun was nearly set when he was done. There was little left that he could do, beyond returning to Yoshiaki. If the shogun had him followed, Mitsuhide was certain he could pass off his meetings and notes as part of his plot to take down Nobunaga. And if not, well. It wouldn’t matter after tonight.

He passed through the market on his way back to the Ashikaga estate, but his trek was interrupted. 

“Alright. I’ll be right here.” His little one’s voice, carrying over the marketplace chatter like distant bells. 

Mitsuhide’s eyes sought for her, his feet already moving toward the sound. And then he saw her. As beautiful as a goddess, she stood beside a shop watching the retreating form a monk. She held a cloth bag on one arm, the tops of vegetables sticking out from the top. 

Knowing her, she planned to cook for their little group tonight. Smart. The monks couldn’t be trusted - and even if they could, how easy it would be for a spy to slip some poison into the Oda dishes . . . he felt a little surge of pride. 

His little mouse leaned back against the building. She wore a tired smile. Mitsuhide knew he should continue on, but she was alone right now. It gave him the perfect opportunity to touch her kiss her hold her - no - to warn her. To get her to leave this place before she could be caught up in the violence Yoshiaki’s allies would rain down on the Oda forces.

He slipped around and into the alleyway. Quiet steps, unseen - then from the shadows, he reached for her. “You foolish little mouse -” Touching her skin was like handling fire. Warmth that threatened to consume him. 

Mitsuhide pulled her into a nearby storehouse, out of sight. “How clueless can you be,” he began. His emotions were threatening to get the better of him again. Anger with her for coming here, with himself for leaving her alone, regret, desire, grief, all churned in his heart. A bitter mix that still could not outweigh the sweetness he felt being near to her again. He inhaled her scent, and the feel of her skin beneath his fingers.

“I finally found you!” Her wide eyes were windows to her soul. A bright space so full of love that he might have had to look away, had she not thrown her arms around him and buried her face against his chest. “I missed you so much!”

His body hummed in response and for a breath, he wanted just this. To hold her. But he refused to give in. With every ounce of self control he could muster, Mitsuhide pushed her away. He met her gaze with all his feelings locked tight behind his traitor’s mask. “What do you think you’re doing in Kyoto?”

She smiled up at him. “I came after you.”

It took him a minute to respond. He had to swallow back all the words he wanted to say. Well, three of them anyhow. “. . . Did the Oda forces not reveal to you who I have sold my loyalty to?”

“Yeah, and I gotta say I don’t love your new boss.” Her light was undimmed by his dispassionate response.

He raised one perfect eyebrow. “Yet you followed me regardless?”

“Yes I did.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly, shoulders squared. “Probably for that same reason!”

Inside, Mitsuhide began to panic. This was not the conversation he should be having. She must be convinced to leave. He grunted. “Then it was my mistake trying to teach a mouse how to think. You’ve learned nothing, foolish creature.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care if I’m a foolish little mouse as long as I’m your foolish little mouse.” She poked a finger toward him to make her point, but he could see her eyes were wet with held tears. “And just like a mouse, n-not even the sight of a trap will s-stop me when I see what I want . . . Mitsuhide.”

The mask began to crack. “Did I not tell you to be good for me? Why? Why couldn’t you have - have just stayed behind?” His voice rasped painfully on the words, breath trembling. And then the dam broke. He pulled her to him, crushing his little one to his chest, arms wrapped around her. Holding her as a drowning man clung to a branch. 

All the words he wanted to say threatened to spill from his lips. An ocean of endearments and the promises of his heart. But a voice rescued him from this peril. The monk, calling from just outside. He pushed her away again, holding to her by the shoulders. “You must leave Kyoto. Now.” And then he let go, fleeing through the back door. 

Mitsuhide heard her call out to him, but he could not listen. Another word from her and his will might break. He’d come so close . . . so close to throwing it all away for her. Leave Nobunaga to his fate and let the world burn, if only he could hold her. Tell her the truths written across his heart. 

Only his ideals kept him moving away from his beloved little mouse. If she knew what she risked in pursuing him, she would not have come, he thought. His pure sweet girl could never accept the consequences of him abandoning this quest. The death and war and hardships that would follow allowing a man like Ashikaga to continue in his ambitions. 

With luck, she would heed his warning. But he knew her better than that. She would stay and see this through because she . . . she loved him. She loved him and she believed staying by his side was the right thing to do. No matter the danger to herself. 

They would both do what they believed was right. And so he could only do his best to see that she lived through tonight. Mitsuhide’s bloody path was laid out before him. There would be no turning away from it. Not for any of them.

Next: Loyalty

[soundsof71]

FIVE ALBUMS YOU NEED IN YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!

aka, My Top 5 of 2020, but I didn’t want to seem too retro!

Yep, I have a classic rock blog. Yep, I think that the best rock and roll in history is being made RIGHT NOW. And yep, ALL of it is being made by women. 

(Shown at top, Nova Twins by Ant Adams [x] and The Tissues by Michael Espleta [x]. I was planning to make a collage of all my faves in concert, but  not all of them were able to play in 2020. Both of these photos are pre-pandemic.)

There’s been quite a bit of movement on this list, and all five of these have spent some time at Number 1 as the year has done (gestures broadly) All This™. Anyone looking for rock and roll is going to dig any of these. 

Rocking out is just the start of it, though. Wrestling with my bipolarity and schizophrenia is tough on a good day, and there haven’t been too many of those lately. The plague has also taken its toll around me, with two family members dead and a third who’s doing better, but will likely never be all the way back. (Mask up, kids!)

I’ve written plenty about how deeply Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers have moved me this year (and will do so again), but in those rare stretches where I’ve had enough spare energy to listen to music at all these days, I’ve mostly been looking for more than beautiful music. Heavy times need heavy lifting, and I find that in heavy music. 

The five albums here have all helped carry me, pointing the way toward light.

1) BULLY, SUGAREGG

Alicia Bognanno is a force of nature as a guitarist, vocalist, composer, and producer/engineer. (While working on her degree in audio engineering at MTSU, she interned with Steve Albini, who remains both a fan and an admirer). A Nashville transplant from Minnesota, she’s still a natural fit in her home on Sub Pop: as heavy as Soundgarden, as hooky as Sleater-Kinney. 

I was blown away hearing her searing honesty while working through her discoveries of her bisexuality and bipolarity (double bi!), and her triumphant roar lifts me out of my seat every time I listen.

“She sings the hell out of [these songs], her voice fraying to the point of combustion every time she launches to the top of her range. This is phenomenal music for converting anger and anxiety into unbound joy.” ~Stereogum, Album of the Week

Also, check this fantastic interview with Alicia in the New York Times talking about what she’s gone through to get here. 

TURN IT UP!

2) GANSER, LOOK AT THAT SKY

Ganser syndrome is a rare dissociative disorder characterized by nonsensical or wrong answers to questions and other dissociative symptoms such as fugue, amnesia or conversion disorder, often with visual pseudohallucinations and a decreased state of consciousness. ~Wikipedia #it me

‘Just Look At That Sky’ doesn’t presume to offer solutions; it’s an honest document of what it feels like to wade through anxiety, day by day, not a survival guide or handbook of answers none of us actually have. Whether or not you pay attention to this, Ganser are simply one of the most invigorating, exciting new bands. ~Clashmusic

I saw one very positive review compare Ganser to a cross between Fugazi and Sonic Youth, but I think they hit much, much harder than either of those. And as you can surely guess, I also deeply relate to their themes of mental illness and dissociation while trying to make it through All This™. But my god, are they TIGHT. This is a BAND.

Ganser has two fantastic lead vocalists, and on “Bad Form”, bassist/vocalist Alicia Gaines wrote the song for the voice of keyboardist/vocalist Nadia Garofolo. Alicia also wrote a FANTASTIC essay on the strains that making an album during a pandemic puts on the mental health of the entire band at talkhouse: “Writing, recording, reaching out, balancing relationships outside and within the band, I found (and still find) myself under-rested and agitated to no particular end. More than not doing enough, I was not enough.” 

(If you can’t relate to that, I can’t relate to you, tbh.)

This video also does a fantastic job of showing dissociation. TURN IT UP!

3) THE TISSUES, BLUE FILM

“Blue Film” is a ten-song shot of dagger-twisting electro-(s)punk. It’s completely addictive from the very first listen. The tour de force is “Rear Window”, an art-punk masterpiece of slashing guitars and mad caterwauling. Copious doses of jaunty poetics and social commentary reward the earlooker patient enough to untangle Kristine Nevrose’s hysterical meowing about intergalactic salt shakers and hysterectomies, but I’m too emotionally invested to look under the hood.” ~ Sputnik Music

“Rear Window” is in fact my most-played 2020 track. TURN IT UP!

4) GUM COUNTRY, SOMEWHERE

It’s not all heavy! But even when I’m looking for something light and hooky, I need a bite, and Gum Country has done it with the kind of swirly, feeedback-laden wall of sound that Lush or Yo La Tengo would make if they lived in LA. (Recent transplants to SoCal from Vancouver, I do think that the sunshine has gone straight to their heads, in the very best way.)

Indie music nerds will know guitarist/composer/singer/front woman Courtney Garvin from The Courtneys, and she really does throw up a glorious wall of sound. I adore this video too! Sweet, swinging, fun -- and yes, the drummer is playing keyboard with one hand while slapping the skins with the other! 

I mentioned earlier that all five of these albums have spent part of the year at #1 on my list -- I think that this one might have spent the longest stretch there. Like all shoegaze, even as hooky as this, the truth of these songs is revealed in VOLUME. TURN IT UP!

5) NOVA TWINS, WHO ARE THE GIRLS?

Now, THIS is heavy! Amy Lee (vocals, guitar) and Georgia South (bass) are fucking LOUD, and insanely intense. A mix of grime, hip-hop, metal, punk, and good old rock and roll, they’re a harder-hitting, more theatrical Prodigy, with a pyre of intensity that recalls the heaviest howls of Rage Against The Machine. Indeed, Nova Twins spent a good bit of 2019 playing heavy metal festivals and toured as openers for Prophets of Rage. (Tom Morello has been a fan and supporter from the beginning.)

As you may have noted in the photo at the top of this post, their musical audacity extends to visuals too: they design their own clothes, hair, and makeup, they art direct their own videos, and more. They impress the hell out of me, and I’ve been a huge fan since hearing their first singles in 2018. I’ll plant a flag and say that Georgia South in particular is the most innovative musician on any instrument in any genre right now, but they’re both absolutely monsters. 

I’m honestly not at all sure that #5 is high enough for this, but I’m absolutely certain that after this video, you’re gonna need to rest for a little. LOL

“Taxi” is the story of two gleefully and creatively violent women shaking up the local crime syndicate as they use a vintage cab for their moving murder scene. This is the movie that Robert Rodriguez wishes he was making with Sin City, if it were combined with Blade Runner and The Matrix. And gangsters. And a snake.

I’m gonna take your crown I’m gonna, I’m gonna bleed you out We demand it by the hour We devour, control, power

I’m gonna burn it down Even the, even the royals bow

So not the same kind of therapeutic work being explored on this rekkid, but you know what? Fucking shit up is therapeutic too! 

Definitely take this full screen, and for the love of fuck, TURN IT UP!

SO. Not done with the best of 2020 yet? I’m sure not! A lot of my favorite songs aren’t on albums (at least not yet), so for an unedited list of everything I’m finding, check out my Spotify list, 2020: Shuffle This List! 268 songs and counting, over 15 hours, and not finished yet. I’m still checking out everyone else’s Best of lists (including yours! Message me links to yours!!!), so will probably be adding to this for most of 2021, too. 

And for more banging tracks by women from 2020, plus a few 2019 gems that I’m still grooving to, check out my more thoroughly curated Spotify playlist Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam. (You’ll see a couple of these tracks there!) I’m working on a YouTube playlist and an essay to properly roll that one out. I’m also still tweaking the ending, but the three dozen or so tunes there are definitely bangin’.

Tell me if you hear anything you dig here, and tell me what YOU’VE found! We’re gonna get through this together.

Yr pal, Timmy

[fenristheorem]

Hi! First of all... You are a LEGEND🤩! Your head cons are sooooooo good. When I read theme I really get into the story and can feel the emotion you put on the characters, 💖its amazing! Not that long ago you did a head con of Erika being ok with Leiftan being a Demon. So I was wondering... Could you do a head con of Lance accepting to take Erika with him, were she becomes a demon and enters the plot with Lance against the guard🤔? It would be very interesting to se that.😊 Hope u have a good day, evening or night!

Oh thank you so much! 😄 That’s so kind of you to say, I don’t think you truly know how much I value your compliment! You’re so kind! 😊

I originally considered nearly completely re-writing the plot from episode 15 (I believe that’s when she asks him to take her) for this ask, but then realized I would be re-writing half the plot of Origins lol. That would take way too long to write (while including different emotions and perspectives and requiring knowledge that’s too hard to hunt down or doesn’t exist) so I decided to write this with a very broad spectrum of headcanons, including some major alternative events (usually not including the guard since she’ll be holed up in a secret place so Lance doesn’t need to watch out for her every second of every day) and Lance and Guardienne’s overall compatibility.

This is probably my most bizarre ask yet, in the manner of how I’ve responded, so brace yourself because there’s a few crazy moments in this lol. Also, there’s a bit of swearing in this - I have a tendency to write stories / headcanons in a pretty crude style sometimes.

~Under the cut~

Guardienne joins Lance against the guard:

To start off with, when Guardienne asked Lance to take her with him, she didn’t know his identity. He was still Ashkore to her. That changed somewhat quickly.

I theorize Lance did actually have some sort of “home base” deep within a forest or the mountains somewhat near the guard. He did have to sleep and eat after all. And where do you think he was taking all those supplies on the night Guardienne asked him to take her with him? Where do you think he stored that frying pan so dear to him? Buried it in the ground? Hung it on a tree branch for a Sabali to find later? Sure, he moved around a lot, but he had to keep his stolen resources somewhere, so he must have had a main cabin or cave or something that no one knew about that he made a temporary home of sorts.

Assuming that; that’s probably where he kept Guardienne most of the time after she came with him. Of course, he would be sure to restrict her movements for a while - after all, she could have asked to come merely to find out what a day in the life of Ashkore is like and then tell that to the guard - but once he realizes that she truly was compliant and happy to be there, even helping him by providing information he didn’t know already and taking care of basic chores like cooking and such so he can spend more time screwing with the guard, he loosened up and let her roam around his domain.

He kept personal things well hidden; any old drawings, weapons, and clothing. Basically anything he didn’t want her to touch... which was most of his stuff... but he was reasonable and didn’t restrain her too much. Just as long as she didn’t bother him and continued to help he didn’t mind her presence... too much anyways.

But again, it wasn’t too long before Guardienne found out his true identity. In reference to the existing plot-line, I imagine her finding out his identity in this AU long before she found out in the existing plot-line. After all - they’re living together now, and he needs to take off his mask and armor sometimes. Do you think he always sleeps in his mask? And armor for that case? What about when he eats or bathes? Certainly he can do most of those things in private, but I don’t see Lance demanding she turn her back every time he removes his mask and armor. I can see him doing that to begin with - when she’s restricted - but once he realizes she truly wants to help, he’ll find it to be inconvenient to always hide himself whenever he wants to do anything without his mask and armor. He’ll probably still want her to call him Ashkore, though... and that’ll be the case until she realizes his identity and refuses to call him anything but Lance.

Now I forget if she knew about Lance’s existence at the time of asking to leave with him (I believe she did), but since she never got a description I imagine it would take her a small while to connect the dots once she's living with him. She would certainly have theories that Ashkore is Lance, and she would certainly irritate the utter crap out of him with countless questions regarding possible confirmation or hints to back up her theory, but she wouldn’t get many answers. Either he would ignore her, or turn to level his icy stare on her. She would quickly understand that he’s not interested in answering questions about his identity and past. He eventually threatened to cut her tongue out a few times if she kept asking nonsensical questions, but she didn't seem to care much and he eventually let it be; perhaps he realized that she would be even more irritating then. She wouldn't be able to speak easily without her tongue, but her resolve is steady, so she'd still try to find some way to speak with him - and then he'd still need to deal with her questions in whatever way she deemed fit, which included investing time to learn this new way of communication. Threatening her friends wouldn't work as she doesn't consider the guard her friends, so Lance came to recognize that's it better to just deal with her questions and ignore her.

However, he would answer general questions that couldn’t be used heavily against him if she were captured and questioned; why is he trying to destroy the crystal, what’s with his grudge against Eldarya, what does he know about the Blue Sacrifice? From his answers she can put a few logical pieces together. The Eldaryans don’t deserve to live? They’re disrespecting the kind gift of life the dragons gave them? They were apparently forced to sacrifice? Then hunted down after the sacrifice despite their generous gesture? Well he must be a dragon, since angels didn’t end up sacrificing and he speaks so passionately about them. And Valk said he was faelien, so either he lied and does know or Ashkore (being Lance in her theory) somehow found out their genetics while Valk remained clueless to it. And they look so similar, they would have to be brothers. Ashkore’s story started around the same time that Lance apparently died? Lance apparently fought valiantly and passionately for the things he believed in, like what she’s seen with Ashkore? Goodness are the pieces adding up now.

Guardienne would eventually approach him about her theory and he would respond with a cold hiss.

“What, you want a reward? A pat on the back and a ‘well done’? Why does my identity matter to you?”

He never said a direct yes - he was basically incapable of responding calmly or reasonably with touchy subjects - but she would know she has it right. 

You would think them being on different sides of the war would mean they’d be more likely to try and kill each other, right? Wrong. Them being around each other all the time, I believe, leads them to be more likely to kill each other. Why? Recall episode 26 - their overall chemistry. Regardless of if choices made increased the LOM or decreased it, bizarre, entertaining conversation between the two still ensued. The main thing with that episode was that Lance became emotionally vulnerable as time went on, so actual tender...-ish moments came about where both of them were taken seriously but gently. Now imagine both of them - neither of them in vulnerable moments - being around the other constantly, both working together but still stepping on each other’s toes. Guardienne wants to make a meal; where’s this ingredient? What’s the ingredient compatibility? What do these things taste like? That’s not a food, that’s an alchemy ingredient? AND WHERE IS THE GODDAMN FRYING PAN!? (*cue Lance in the background clutching the pan and hissing at Guardienne*). Now Lance - who’s holed himself up in a private room - needs to plan his next attack on the guard; he needs this map of the layout, and this item to help him plan. He can use this pathway to- “Hey Lance?” ... Silence - if he pretends he’s not in there she’ll surely leave... Anyways, this pathway will probably be the safest, and his destination is there. Leiftan can- “Lance, I know you’re there, don’t ignore me!” ... Leiftan can- “Where’s the corn!?” Oh by the Oracle! But what the hell is corn? He’ll go to the door and crack it open only enough to give her an odd look. “Small, yellow, hard grain but smooth? About the size of a fingernail?” ... “Back right, lower pantry.” He’ll slam the door and hover over the map again. Ok, Leiftan... yes, that’s what he was going to do. Then he’ll have access to- “Oh - where’s the big pot?” *SLAM* Pain will shoot up his arm from his fist as the table shakes and he turns his head to seethe at the woman through the door. “You’ve lived here for weeks, you know where it is!” “Well you seem to have an obsession with hiding things, so actually I don’t because everything is always moved around!” He’ll rush to the door and fling it open to glare down at her. The door and it’s frame creak unsteadily at his tight grip as he looms over her. “Find. It. Yourself.”  He’ll go to recede back into the room but she’ll grab his shirt and pull him into the room she’s in - he’ll snarl at her in response. “I’ve tried looking for it, it’s impossible to find.” She’ll hiss back at him with folded arms. “I’m busy planning.” He growls at her. “Well take a break then.” She snaps as they stare each other down... Silence again... “You make me want to kill myself.” “Don’t. You need to destroy the guard first.” He throws his hand back towards the door he was stolen from with a wild look in his scathing eyes; what did she think he was planning for in there!? “You gonna help me or what?” She speaks as if this is completely alright. He nearly shouts in rage as he slams his fist against the wall - pain shooting up his arm a second time - before pacing and clutching his head, eventually resigning to stomping towards the makeshift kitchen - not caring about whether she follows - and tearing through his stores to find the pot. He’ll throw it on the counter and cast a livid glare at her as he passes to head back to planning. “Well goodness, you didn’t need to throw a tantrum over it.” He whirls around and nearly leaps on her - she’s helping to destroy the crystal, she’s helping to destroy the crystal, she’s helping to destroy the crystal, WHY DOES A POT MATTER RIGHT NOW!?

So yes, they’re more likely to attempt to kill each other when on the same side; only because they’re alone and around each other more so they can chew on each other's nerves more.

However, as time carries on and they spend more time together, they actually begin to... enjoy each other's presence sometimes - not even sometimes; a good portion of the time. Sure they have moments where they argue and are a breath away from stabbing each other, but there are also moments where they aren’t treading on the other, by accident or purposeful. In these moments, they see a different side of each other - a good side of each other.

Guardienne quickly picks up on how passionate, resolute, and intelligent Lance is, noting that he’ll spend hours on end studying texts he’s found and maps of the areas the guard will be around next. He’ll carry these texts and maps around with him as he ghosts around their make-shift home, spending most of his days off curled up next to a small indoor fireplace and moving only for a few moments to take a quick break. Ironically, Guardienne leaves him alone to study more when he studies within her presence rather than when he locks himself alone in a separate area for hours, so in time Lance realizes he’s less likely to be interrupted if he studies in their living room/common area. As he begins to study more within her sight, Guardienne begins to see what he studies - and many of those things provide great insight for her regarding knowing Lance better. These things can range from different languages, histories and cultures, maps, geography, alchemy, mission reports (stolen from the guard of course) and even a few books touching on warfare, philosophy and psychology - what little of those latter texts exists in their world, at least. Guardienne begins to realize that, while Lance is very set on destroying the guard and the crystal, he’s also much more than just a man who wishes to exact revenge. He studies these texts to learn how to use it to his advantage, sure, but he also seems to have a genuine interest in these subjects. She even interrupted him one day - finding that he was oddly patient with answering this specific question - to ask if he perhaps ever grows bored of learning about these things, stressing that it’s a good idea to take a break from working constantly all the time - only for him to respond that he doesn’t view all of it as work. Some subjects he’s less interested in but are necessary to know for his agenda of revenge, but in the case where he’s feeling drained from that he’ll turn to reading another subject that he’s more interested in and go back to it later. She sometimes resigns to observing him as he studies - and she knows that Lance knows she watches him by the way his gaze will flick over to her every once and a while - but eventually she’ll begin to ask exactly what’s written in the books or what he’s thinking regarding the maps, asking to try to get to know his thought process better or just having nothing better to do at the moment. This is how Guardienne learns to grow closer to him; he doesn’t snap at her half as much when he explains what he’s studying, and he explains things in such a way that she doesn’t need to interrupt him to ask him to explain it better. In turn, she also begins to learn a bit about what he’s studying and can provide a bit of her own interesting input. Occasionally they debate these topics with one another, and Lance is actually very temperate when debating these things - he can speak in beautiful, grand tones about certain subjects, clearly showing just how much he’s interested in it. His eyes will glow with a warmth and passion that seems to dull even the indoor fire that burns with an eternal energy. These moments of enthusiasm actually entertain her greatly, and she begins to realize that she truly enjoys being around him in these moments. However, this also leads to minor conversations about his past, usually sparked from conversing about past experiences in these fields, and Guardienne witnesses firsthand the icing over of his personality from the reminder of his past. She’ll mention anything about his past; the village he lived in, his brother, his time in the guard, any memories he has, and the lively shimmer in his eyes will dull. His shoulders will drop and gaze will be cast to the floor as he bows his head slightly, a weight seeming to settle on him as he stares into a void for just a few mere moments. Then his facial features will harden, a stone cold look will invade his eyes and he’ll straighten again despite the clear effort it takes for him to stand tall. His formerly lively, sonorous tone will harden into cold, scathing words that are nearly spat out as he closes himself off, snapping and growling at her if she attempts to connect with him again. It’s from these continuous experiences that she recognizes something important; he's not truly as evil as he seems - he's wounded and aches for his reality to not be what it is now, and he seeks every day to ease that torturous pain, believing that that pain can only be eased by hurting others, by showing them just how much he’s hurt from his knowledge. Nobody is born evil, she realizes - he’s cruel only because he feels this is the only way he can deal with the pain of reality.

In turn, she tries her best to be understanding and comforting when she can. She understands, in some ways, his pain of knowing about the guard and sacrifice - she’s against the guard as well for her own reasons not too different than his - and seeing just how much Lance has broken because of the guard - just like her - only makes her want to burn it to the ground more. Lance notices this in time; where she once always pushed him to tell her more about his past and identity and reasoning, she’s now willing to drop the subject for a while or ask in a manner that’s more... considerate or empathetic. She begins to overlook his snapping and huffing at her, and instead focuses more on what he says and his reaction to those words instead of his irritation at her persistence. As Guardienne comes to understand Lance more, she realizes that he actually enjoys her company as well, even if he won’t admit it. He’ll jump at the chance to explain and debate his studies with her, and when she backs off of a sensitive topic she accidentally tread on for a while, he’ll be more temperate if she returns in a few hours and touches at the topic again, provided she approaches it in a neutral, tactful way. After all, the topic she wishes to speak about is a reminder of or is the exact reason he went from honorable and righteous to cruel and destructive - in his perception, if she doesn’t know how to approach it in a cautious, gentle manner then she doesn’t deserve to know exactly what happened and why it bothers him so much. However, she does learn this in in time, and he eventually allows her to listen to his most personal thoughts on... well, nearly everything. As they grow to understand each other better, she begins to provide a bit of support for him. He’s been alone for so long that sometimes he wonders if he’s truly losing his mind, but her presence reminds him that he’s not as lost as he thinks sometimes. Guardienne becomes a grounding force for him. She willingly - happily - listens to his rants and stories of his past if he agrees to talk about it, even if he’s fuming and raging the whole time, and eventually she can actually calm him down a bit. As much as he wishes to maintain a distance between them, in time he can’t help but grow a bit protective over her for personal reasons; her perspectives agree with his, she readily and willingly - even humorously, sometimes - puts up with his temperamental outbursts, eagerly speaks with him about basically anything, and wants to do something about what she feels is right or wrong. He refuses to fully acknowledge the hold she has on him - he’s not supposed to be attached to anyone in any way if his mission is to succeed- but when he stares at her as she nestles next to a stream, eyes bright and curious with innocence as she watches shimmering native fish glide by and turns to him to ask why they’re swimming up-stream instead of down, he can’t help but forget his past and feel normal with her.

She’ll eventually be made aware of Leiftan and Chrome as well. Not at first, but when Lance drags her half-way across Eldarya with him because he needs to fuck with the guard in foreign lands she’ll be dragged into their late-night-hang-out-meetings.

Leiftan quickly takes to her, Lance notices, and this is also how - in this version of the story - Guardienne finds out about her genetics. They need her strength in the war, so Leiftan will enlighten her and encourage her to train her abilities, even helping her in the few moments he can.

Lance quickly snaps at him, making sure he knows he can’t jeopardize his fake role within the guard to train her late in the night. He comes up with all sorts of excuses and aggressively reminds Leif that he can’t spend too much time around her. She’s supposed to not exist anymore and Leiftan needs to pretend like nothing is going on.

Really, though, Lance is just feeling threatened. He doesn’t want his personal source of information, good food, and entertainment to be wooed and stolen away. Good luck getting him to admit that, though.

Lance believes she’s safest with him; he’s the one outside the guard and his location and activities are unknown most of the time. All he needs to do is keep her veiled in that shroud of mysterious unknown to the guard and she’ll be impossible to find. Of course, she won’t want to just sit around forever. She’ll eventually want to be more proactive in helping him destroy the guard, and he’ll argue it at first until she becomes just so annoying that he can’t possibly stand it anymore! It’s either she helps or he kills her because she won’t shut up, so he trains her; hard and brutally. He’ll train her in how to master her demon abilities, how to gain the upper hand in any fight with any enemy, the most lethal points of different creatures, the most lethal tactics she could use, how to improve her strength, stamina, speed and stealth. He was once Chief of the Obsidian Guard; he knows how to turn a weak, scraggly runt into a masterful, fearsome warrior. When he finally sees fit, he’ll gift her with personalized equipment - bought or made specifically by him - so she can slink around the guard late at night with him. Of course, he’ll demand that she call him Ashkore on premises - or anywhere except home, really - but she’ll follow his lead in that case; she knows how important it is to remain unknown.

So how exactly do these restock or attack missions go? Well, she’s usually brought along for restock missions - where no one is supposed to know they were there in the first place - in which case her role is to stay quiet and help him throw stuff into the bag. She’ll typically be left to carrying the bags unless there’s one that’s too heavy for her to remain quiet - he’ll take the heavier bags. Lance will usually be busy designing their path out and planning their timing correctly while she focuses on following him. He doesn’t really take her on attack missions, though. He wants her to remain unknown. If a feminine figure is suddenly working with him not too long after Guardienne’s disappearance, especially since it was clear there was a rift between her and the guard, then suspicions will rise, and unfortunately those questions could then begin trace further back to reflect on Lance’s death and Ashkore’s appearance due to the similar time-frame of events. Basically, their stories and disappearance/death to villain appearance time-frame would begin to mirror each other. If she was to remain unknown then she can’t directly fight the guard, so no attack missions for her. However, Lance isn’t against turning a restock mission into a restock-attack mission if he sees the chance - he’ll just make sure she’s basically safe the rest of the way back home before enacting on it, even going as far as retracing his steps back to the guard to cause trouble.

In the original plot-line, it seems that most of the time when Lance, Leiftan and Guardienne are fighting each other it’s due mainly to the fact that Leiftan abandons the plans against the guard because he's in love with Guardienne, Lance wants Leiftan to continue against the guard, and then he realizes he needs Guardienne out of the picture so Leiftan forgets about her and so he can gain some other information he needs/use her as leverage against the guard. Since in this AU, she's happily on their side (so Leiftan isn't abandoning his plans against the guard and Lance has all access to her power/information) I can see a bit less of a rift among their team as their plans harmonize together. Instead of Leiftan and Lance fighting, Lance kidnapping Guardienne, Lance becoming reckless by putting off breaking the crystal, and many other things happening caused by the rift between them, they’d most likely collaborate and work together better, and they’d be more coordinated in attacks and better at getting to the crystal. Of course, it’s possible that Leiftan may have wanted Eldarya to be saved at some point so he could spend his life with Guardienne, but seeing how Leiftan would do nearly anything for her throughout the original plot-line, I wouldn’t be surprised if he continued his efforts against the guard knowing that she’d want him to in this AU. It would also help knowing that the guard hurt her many times in many ways, so he’d be seeking revenge for that as well.

Dragging Guardienne around Eldarya with Lance, however, has risks and consequences that could come down on top of them if not careful. One such issue is the fact that, while Lance is very good at evading the guard, occasionally he’s caught and is sent on a wild-goose chase trying to flee from them. This occasionally can put Guardienne at risk of being found out, as she’s nearly always close to him, but Lance has considered this possibility a long time ago and has already devised a plan during these times to avoid from any heavy repercussions falling back on them. He’s just fine with fleeing with her - he knows how to keep her out of sight and her equipment is lightweight enough so that she has no trouble moving swiftly and flexibly if needed - but he’s realized that it may not be the smartest idea to have her fleeing with him while clearly seeming to be working with him. Instead, Lance realized, it would be a good idea for her to act as though she’s a hostage if she’s about to be revealed. That way, if she’s captured at any point in the future, she can play the innocent victim who knows nothing, and the guard - while persistent in finding out anything she may know, no matter how little the information may be- certainly won’t hurt their precious Guardienne who has already been through so much while in the clutches of the evil Ashkore. If she’s seen as a hostage, she can use excuses like “I’m sorry, it just so hard to talk about so soon... can we continue this later”, “I honestly don’t remember much, I was so busy focusing on a possible way of escaping that I didn’t pay much attention to that detail”, and “He kept me locked away in a certain area, I don’t know if there were any landmarks around that could point to his location” to deter their questioning and buy time before she needs to reveal anything actually important, else she look like she’s protecting him. Acting as a hostage will also assure that she won’t be thrown in the prison and guarded the whole time; so being free to roam around the guard while buying time to keep important information a secret will allow Lance the time to plan a rescue mission - disguised as another easy kidnapping since she won’t be guarded - to return her to their side. This is merely a backup plan if they know she’ll likely be captured at some point, and it will only work if the guard is unaware of a female figure helping him out, but provided that everything goes smoothly it should be a solid plan with little negative effects. However, this can’t happen more than once or twice; the first time will be easily accepted by the guard, the second time she plays the innocent, panicking fool she’ll be walking the line between seeming suspicious or if she’s truly that foolish, and for her sake the second time she will need to reveal some important information. A third time and the guard would know that something is up.

These hostage situations can get quite amusing for Guardienne - despite how fragile the situation is - and, frankly, Lance would snap at her every time she snickers about this, except he finds these situations absolutely hilarious as well. They’ll be running around Eldarya, the guard occasionally cornering them before they flee, and Guardienne will do her best to attack Lance in ways that are weak enough to not actually effect anything, but are strong enough to make it look like she’s truly trying to escape. Is the guard within ear-shot and they know they’ll be found out eventually? Great, Lance has an escape plan to get out of there already, so Guardienne can throw a screeching hissy-fit at him to make it seem like she’s trying to escape. Sometimes this can aid them as well, as they can set up a maze that the guard will certainly come running through to find Guardienne, following the sound of her struggle, only to then be trapped somewhere because Lance has traps set up that Guardienne certainly couldn’t have known about since she’s a hostage. Other times she’ll do her best to attack Lance - but let’s face it, even if he did train her she would still have a hard time bringing him down if their fight was serious - and he’ll quickly disarm her in front of the guard before finding a way to gain distance from them again. This is all just to reconfirm the illusion that she’s a hostage to the guard, and of course they panic every time and believe it, but it’s knowing that they’re running circles around the guard - bringing them here and having her bait them to this location so Lance can attack them, or leading them to discover a certain fact at some point so they think they have a useful piece of information on Lance when in fact Lance is using that to draw them out in confidence so he can crush them - that they find truly amusing. The guard is being played this whole time and they keep falling for it. Even Lance can’t help but laugh at a few moments of running the guard around with Guardienne later, when they’re no longer in danger.

Of course, this all leads up to the grand finale; the final shattering of the crystal. I imagine this happening much sooner than in the original plot-line because Guardienne isn’t a hindering factor anymore, and I can see it happening with much more ease than how it originally played out. Perhaps they’ll lure the important members of the guard to another land - letting them think that they’ve caught Guardienne’s trail over there - and launch their final attack when no one who can stop them is around. They might decide to fuck with the guard one last time, running them around within the guard while Lance infiltrates the crystal room. Perhaps they decide to go out with a bang and capture the important members of the guard, binding them and closing off the crystal room so they can reveal their identities and the guard can watch as the people that were once held dear to them destroy their world while they’re helpless to do anything. It doesn’t matter much how it happens, though, at this point - with an angered dragon and two powerful demons - there’s nothing that the guard can do to stop them. In some ways it will hurt, knowing that this is the end of their beautiful story of revenge, but - no matter what happens after this - they’ll know they succeeded, and that will be the last truth Eldarya will ever know.

I think this may be one of the longer headcanons that I’ve written so far, and I’m very pleased with how it turned out! Also, Tumblr ate this ask while it was a draft once or twice (it was in the 3-draft radius of asks that were at risk of being eaten so it disappeared a few times) so it did take a bit longer to write than I’d hoped, but fortunately no progress had been deleted so I’m just fine with that.

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[your-angle-of-music]

I think that it’s very interesting that unlike book Erik, musical Phantom holds on to the Angel of Music for a while.

In the book, Erik and Christine have an interaction that’s heartbreaking for me where we see Christine realize that Erik is just a man, and we see her grief that she doesn’t actually have an angel watching over her, or her father, and that the one person who she thought was on her side has deceived her. And when Erik sees her crying, he responds directly: “It is true, Christine!...I am not an Angel, nor a genius, nor a ghost...I am Erik!” and then proceeds to grovel and beg her forgiveness and try to explain. And from then on, even when he does all manner of fucked-up things, he never calls himself Christine’s Angel of Music again, and Christine doesn’t call him that, either. In fact, Erik calls Christine an “angel” when he describes to The Persian how she cried for him at the end.

And, most of all, Erik is trying to make it crystal clear that he’s nothing but a man, and he wants to be. He thinks (hopes?) that “All this will end in a marriage...a marriage at the Madeleine,” (that’s the nicest church in Paris) and he tells Christine, “I want to live like everybody else.” And he’s just physically, spacially more vulnerable than musical Phantom a lot of the time. I mean, think of the amount of time he spends on his knees in front of Christine.

And unlike musical Phantom, who never explains how he made Carlotta’s voice crack, how he throws his voice around the theater, how he took down the chandelier, or most interestingly, how he literally disappears into his cloak at the end of the show, book Erik doesn’t even want anyone he cares about to think he’s at all magical. The Persian explains that Erik always loves explaining his magic tricks because he is “in certain respects, a regular child, vain and self-conceited, and there is nothing he loves so much, after astonishing people, as to prove all the really miraculous ingenuity of his mind.” If one were feeling more charitable than the man Erik had just almost murdered, one might say that this man who has been rejected all his life relishes any scrap of approval that he can extract, and illusions and violence are the only thing anyone has ever rewarded him for until now. But. The fact remains.

The musical...does not take this approach. I mean first of all, during their first encounter, Christine didn’t seem that surprised by the fact that the Phantom looked like a masked man. Earlier, in “Angel of Music,” she sings, “Angel of Music, hide no longer,” suggesting that she thinks there’s a real possibility that there’s a physical guy to see and not just a disembodied voice. Maybe musical Christine never quite believed in the Angel...and was always okay with a man hiding in the walls of her dressing room. That’s a whole nother issue.

But honestly, whether that’s true or not, it doesn’t make the Phantom continuing to embrace the Angel of Music identity any less weird. And boy, he really does embrace it. “Have you forgotten your angel?” he sings to Christine. “I’m here, monsieur, the angel of death!” he yells at Raoul.

And, most intriguingly, he makes Christine and Raoul promise to keep “the secret [they] know of the angel in hell!”. On some level, he thinks that he is an angel, and that he deserves to be treated as one. Book Erik constantly has dramatic fits of self-loathing. Book Erik literally chose to abandon his construction business and live in the basement of the opera house. Leroux, or his narrator, says that it’s because “when he found himself in the cellars of the enormous playhouse, his artistic, fantastic, wizard nature resumed the upper hand,” but I think it was also because he thought that it was the only place he could go where he wouldn’t have to pretend. It’s true, he was living a lonely half-life on the surface, too, but he didn’t have to live underground. If he decided that he belonged there, does that really make him an “angel in hell”? Musical Phantom seems to think so. He thinks that he was “bound and chained in this cold and dismal place.” Obviously, yes, he was forced to live a terrible life by the intolerance and rejection of society, but unlike book Erik, who thinks he’s hiding, musical Phantom thinks he’s trapped, and deems himself a sort of divine martyr in that way. An angel, mayhap.

Book Erik comforts himself by thinking that Christine “loves [him] for [him]self,” that she is special because she can see beyond his scariness into his frail and sensitive and human self. He wants a woman to save him, and that makes him unable to ever have a healthy relationship with her. But musical Phantom is worse, because he comforts himself by thinking that he is an angel, and inherently entitled to love because he wants to be, and I think that ultimately makes his character much less sympathetic.

I think whether or not that truly changes for musical Phantom depends on the actor’s portrayal of that last “Christine, I love you.” The staging that’s most likely to fuck me up and launch me into an hour-long crying fit (and also, unfortunately, the rarest) is when the Phantom doesn’t even see Christine leaving the ring behind, and is singing his “Christine, I love you” softly to himself as she watches, conflicted. Or even in the more classic staging with the handing off of the ring, I like it when he sings this line sweetly, gently, not grabbing her arm, not sobbing or screaming until he finishes it, not even calling it after her, because I need him to know that she isn’t coming back. I need him to let go of his angelic power utterly, to let go of the idea that he can tell her to “come to your Angel of Music” and that she will listen, and to be, for once, powerless over her.

[4acoffee]

To Anyone Else But Me

Happy Birthday to my actual prince

ADJEIHSY I LOVE MY PEPPERMINT

Also requests are stillll opennnnn

Summary: Y/n reminiscences about how Shoto has affected her life. 

Thoughts plagued her as she walked.

To anyone else, she might have been walking around aimlessly with little purpose, hands shoved inside her jacket pockets and face blank as she swerved between people here and there, ignoring the shouts from the people inside the car she had just walked in front of on a red light. 

But she kept walking with the sole idea of getting to the Todoroki household. 

The directions were basically muscle memory to her now, after repeated trips to the place since she was little more than a child, regardless of the time or day. 

A small smile danced across her lips as a memory found it’s way to the surface of her mind. 

.

Endeavor and y/n’s parents, deep in conversation with each other about matters that neither of the children could comprehend at the time.  

Small hesitant e/c eyes stared into the cold, seemingly empty gaze of the multi-hair colored boy seated on the other side of the room. 

Not that she wasn’t familiar with the look herself, especially after having to hide her emotions so often from her own parents who had their own mold they tried to fit her in. 

“Why don’t you two go play outside for a bit while we talk some more.”

The voice of your parents broke you out of whatever little staring concentration you were both partaking in. 

“Yes, Shoto, take the girl to the gardens.” Endeavor said.

The girl in question decided immediately that she didn’t like the commanding tone the pro hero used on his own son. 

‘I thought heroes were supposed to be kind and gentle?’ She thought to herself. 

Then again, she had learned a long time ago that titles and personalities didn't always align. 

The boy — Shoto, stood up and walked away without even sparingba glance her way. Y/n shot a look at her parents once more before getting up after him and following him out wordlessly. 

.

She soon found herself in front of his house. 

She looked up and took in the large building in front of her that screamed wealth and of highest class.

She opened the door which was already left unlocked in the mornings when she was more than expected to visit. To anyone else the quiet air of the house may have been peaceful, but to her it was painfully suffocating at times. 

.

They walked to the gardens in complete silence, neither saying a word.

She sighed and walked past the dining table where Fuyumi was seated, doing her schoolwork. She smiled and offended her a hello and raised a hand in greeting to nice girl. 

Out in the gardens she was the first to break the silence. 

“You’re eyes are really pretty!” she blurted without thinking. 

Shoto turned and blinked confusedly at the little girl who suddenly felt flustered. 

“You...you don’t think, my scar looks weird?” He asked quietly, like he was afraid of scaring her. 

Y/n had of course noticed the scar adorning his left eye, but in all honestly the reddened skin of the scar blended in with the colors of the sunset. The two had been standing in the warmth of the sunlight, and even though the atmosphere was anything but, she couldn’t help but think that he looked lovely with the dull orange and red hues of the sun painting his skin, making his eyes almost sparkle, as if the light was trying to give the lonely boy something of a warm and welcoming hug.

She shook her head

.

She walked up the stairs to where she knew Shoto’s room was. 

To anyone else, the few steps to where she knew he would be were nothing special, but to her, those few steps felt like coming home. It really was.

She opened the door to his room and was met with those same heterochromatic eyes that she knew so well by now. 

.

“You’re scar looks really cool! It’s like Zuko’s from Avatar!” she said excitedly, being remained of her cartoon hero. 

Shoto looked bewildered by her second strange outburst of the day. He was not used to being praised for his scar, or be compared to a fictional character. 

.

Y/n couldn’t stop the smile she had been suppressing from turning into a much larger one as she thought of the first time she had shown Shoto the wonders of the Avatar universe. 

.

He scowled all off a sudden and looked away from her. 

“Stop lying. No one thinks that about my scar. It’s a scar and it’s weird.” 

She frowned. 

“That’s not true.” 

Y/n reached out to gently touch the scar, Shoto flinched slightly when her warm fingers met his rough skin.

“Your scars not weird, it’s awesome!” She narrowed her eyes. — “And you’re really stupid if you don’t think so.” 

His eyes widened, from his conflicting feelings that were telling him not to believe her, or for being called stupid, he wasn’t sure but he looked down at his shoes and pouted.

“Well, anyone else would think it's weird.” 

She grinned brightly.

“Anyone else but me.”

.

Her smile only widened as she made her way to Shoto who was seated on his ridiculously neat bed. She didn’t miss the way his eyes brightened just a bit at her sight even if the small frown on his face didn’t cease. To anyone else, the little action was nothing special, but knowing that the mask he constantly wore to hide what he was feeling could be awfully tiring, and the fact the she could be a bit of relief was rewarding in it’s own way.

Making her way next to him she moved closer until their shoulders were touching and nudged him.  

“Your dad?” she asked. 

He nodded and somberly looked away.

Y/n tch’ed at him and rolled her eyes. 

“Come on peppermint, you should know better by now than to get upset over some Garbage Fire throwing a fit.”

He looked up at her through his eyelashes and pouted, resembling something of a little puppy after being refused treats. 

She sighed fondly and held her arms open invitingly to the touch starved boy who eagerly wrapped his arms around her back and buried his face into the crook of her neck. 

To anyone else, it could just be a normal show of affection, but to her, it was a show of trust, she knew that there was no one else he felt comfortable laying himself out to like this. The moment was special, to each the other was a solace, a place to put the troubles of their lives aside and bask in knowing there was nothing to hide. 

He dragged his face down your chest and gazed up towards the smaller girl in appreciation and contentment that you equally reciprocated. 

Shoto 

To anyone else he was an enigma,— mysterious, indifferent and an unbelievably powerful hero to be. 

But to y/n, he was a relief, a comfort, someone you could confide in, your little bit of peace in the intense grueling weight of all the responsibilities and expectations in your life. 

To anyone else, he was Shoto Todoroki, an amazing hero to be, who would bear the responsibility of protecting thousands of civilians every day.  

But to y/n,

To you,

He was Shoto Todoroki, the shy, awkward little boy who hugged her delicately for the first time when she scraped her knee during training. The same kid who didn't let you kill a spider that crawled into your room because it has a life of it's own too. The boy that you were convinced deserved the whole world but never got the half of it. He was Shoto Todoroki in all his glory.

Your Shoto.