#just how low did you think I’d go before I’d self-implode? before I’d have to go be free??

[whenthegoldrays]

“So Long, London” is about them

[acourtofquestions]

So Long, London is literally Feyre and Tamlin

[stillgotscars]

imagine a tolerate it x so long, london mashup… while you were out building other worlds, where was i?… i left all i knew, you left me at the house by the heath… where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?… and my friends said it isn’t right to be scared every day of a love affair… i made you my temple, my mural, my sky, now i’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life… every breath feels like rarest air when you’re not sure if he wants to be there… i know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it… you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? i died on the altar waiting for the proof… you assume i’m fine, but what would you do if i break free and leave us in ruins?… how much sad did you think i had in me? how much tragedy? just how low did you think i’d go before i’d self-implode? before i’d have to go be free?… took this dagger in me and removed it… you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days, and i’m just getting color back into my face… gain the weight of you, then lose it, believe me, i could do it… so long, london, stitches undone

[backtodecembertv]

the renegade/ttpd (song)/my boy only breaks his favorite toys/so long, london parallels. you fire off missiles cause you hate yourself, but do you know you’re demolishing me? get your shit together so i can love you. you’re in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down on the road, but i’ve seen this episode and still loved the show. who’s gonna hold you like me? i knew too much, there was danger in the heat of my touch, he saw forever so he smashed it up. just how low did you think i’d go before i’d self implode, before i’d have to go be free? you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days. the progression from “he’s self destructive and it’s hurting me too, but i can help him through it” to “he’s self destructive, he’s willing to wreck us both, and there’s nothing i can do but leave and put myself back together.”

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

“Just how low did you think I’d go before I’d self-implode, before I’d have to go be free?” is kind of the thesis statement to TTPD.

From the story being told in these songs, as well as what we’d previously heard, she sank lower and lower in depression (and self-harm) as the relationship disintegrated until it hit its final dying throes that she did inevitably snap, and for a time did self-implode. And in her case, the self-implosion came in the form of blowing up her life and running to another ill-fated relationship, because things has gotten so bad that *that* felt like a viable alternative to the life she’d been leading.

And in the depths of her pain, it *did* feel like freedom. (Not a coincidence that Fresh Out The Slammer follows shortly after on the track list.) Even removing the rebound out of it, having to cut herself off from that cage had to feel like finally letting out the breath she’d been holding in after the sharp intake of breath from YLM.

Everything that comes before So Long London could be interpreted as setting the stage and introducing the themes that culminate in this very moment: the suburban gothic fantasy of Fortnight giving an unwelcome glimpse into an unhappy future on the present course, TTPD laying the groundwork of the appeal of reconnection from the past and of the fantasy of the alternative, My Boy giving excruciating insight of being hurt by someone trusted and Down Bad succinctly painting a picture of the immediate fallout of the self-implosion.

So Long London is her jailbreak, but it’s also a treatise on the events leading up to it. She’s not just angry at the subject for not fighting for them, for not caring for her and for their relationship, for not acknowledging how much he hurt her. She’s asking, what other choice did you think I had? What else was I supposed to do? This was killing me and the only way I could end it was brutally because you wouldn’t take it seriously until I blew it and myself up.

There are so many parallels to You’re Losing Me, and many of us have clocked that this song is like the sequel to YLM with a little distance and perspective, but it strikes me that one of the parallel to “just how low did you think I’d go before I self-implode?” is “Every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes, how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying?” She’d been saying for ages how this was killing her and showing in just as many other ways, all to be ignored as she fought on the frontlines of his army. It’s a picture of someone willfully ignoring the other’s pain, yet holding onto their indignation when that neglect leads to explosive results.

The rest of the album colours in some of the lines of that self-implosion: giving in to fantasies about someone else because her partner has turned away, running into the arms of someone despite the loud voices telling her he’s wrong, lashing out at others who have hurt her and continue to hurt her even in the wake of this latest scandal, the dawning realization that the quick-fix scheme is perhaps another spike in the road, the latest loss that leaves her unmoored and causes all these issues to come home to roost, the unparalleled anger at being used yet again, the pain of the spotlight in an industry ready to cut any woman down at the drop of the hat, and also finally finding someone who does cherish her and does realize they’re on the same team.

So if, as she says in the epilogue, that TTPD is a glimpse into a period of so-called mania, it’s the verbalization of the self-implosion she warned about in So Long London. She asked him rhetorically how low he thought she’d have to go before she lost it, and TTPD as an album ends up laying out the evidence to how low she did indeed have to end up before she was free of not only him but of the demons that had plagued them both.

(Hence why So Long London is absolutely important as a Track 5 because it *is* the breaking point that leads to the events thereafter in the story, and the foil to what she does eventually learn and find elsewhere. She did have to go be free and discovered plenty of other things as a result.)

[midnightsslut]

The thesis of SLL is "I love you it's ruining my life (so I have to leave you, but I don't hate you I just cannot do this anymore)".

Love can still exist between two people and they still break up because it isn't a healthy situation. You have to protect yourself at some point even if you love someone.

that’s a perfect way to put it! i always felt that that line applied to both muses, even if, in the context of fortnight, it’s about the third person. just how low did you think I’d go before i self-implode, before I have to go be free? i’m just getting color back into my face. I’m just mad as hell cause i loved this place for so long. had a good run, moment of warm sun, but i’m not the one. ughhh that last part is brutal. like she’s coming to terms with the fact that, for all the good in their relationship, she will always be the odd man out now, and she’s better off for it, BUT IT HURTS.

[graciebaberams]

SO HOW MUCH SAD DID YOU THINK I HAD DID YOU THINK I HAD IN ME HOW MUCH TRAGEDY? JUST HOW LOW DID YOU THINK I’D GO BEFORE I’D SELF IMPLODE BEFORE I’D HAVE TO GO BE FREEEEEEEEEEEE

[eilishslut]

“i left all i knew, you left me at the house by the heath”

“and i’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free”

“just how low did you, think i’d go before i’d self implode before i’d have to go be free”

“i’m just mad as hell cus i loved this place for so long…”

“a moment of warm sun”

uhhhh brb i’m gonna go cry now! taylor writing my life story into a song?

[sophisticatedswifts]

I just saw a So Long, London edit on tiktok of Stockton Rush, the OceanGate CEO, on the titanic submersible set to “just how low did you think I’d go before I’d self-implode” and I don’t think anything could have prepared me for that

[hospitalllforsoullls]

“& you said i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it. my white knuckle dying grip holding tight to your quiet resentment. & my friends say it isn’t right to be scared everyday of a love affair. every breath feels like rarest air when you’re not sure if he wants to be there. so how much sad did you think i had in me? how much tragedy? just how low did you think i’d go before i self implode? before i have to go be free?”

[gofightwin]

“Just how low did you think I’d go before I’d self-implode? Before I’d have to go be free?”

“How much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me? How much tragedy?” makes me hyperventilate

[morganayenneferburnham]

Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me A very short summary of the fic: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes. Word count: 2.1k A/N: Here is the 2nd chapter! If anyone wants to be added to my taglist just send me an ask or a message 😊

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

“I’m going to bed. I can’t work on the more difficult tailoring for either of us until I’ve had at least a few hours of sleep.” Everyone else had gone to bed about an hour ago, leaving her and Nikolai alone for the first time since they’d met. While he had been a lot more pleasant in the last hour all she could think of now was her bed.

She slowly got up and left the room. Her head felt like it was going to implode. She was already dreaming of crawling in bed under her soft blanket, letting her feet navigate the familiar hallways and stairs.

“Y/N! Wait.” Nikolai had followed her down the hallway and caught up to her before she had a chance to reach her room. So much for my well-deserved rest.

She whirled on her heels “What do you want, Sturmhond?” Her tone had been harsher than she’d meant but she was exhausted. The last thing she wanted was to spend one more moment in the privateer’s company.

“Please, call me Nikolai.” His easy-going flirty tone was gone. He sounded genuine now, almost pleading. “Listen, I know I haven’t made it easy on you. I need you to know that this job is important to me too. I am taking it seriously despite my natural devilishly charming demeanor. My country depends on our success.”

She took a moment to consider this new version of the man standing in front of her. He had almost slipped back behind his mask, but she could tell he was sincere. She understood the urge to hide all too well. “I’m sorry Sturm – Nikolai.” She amended. “I’ll try to sleep for a couple of hours. I should be better company when I wake up.” She genuinely smiled at him for the first time since they’d started working on Dirtyhand’s crazy scheme. “I’ll do all I can to make this job a success. If only so that Kaz won’t kill me.” She laughed softly “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he replied with a quick bow. He left her standing in front of her door and walked back towards the slat’s main floor.

She would have to consider the different personas Nikolai had shown her, at some point, if she hoped to understand him. However, that was a problem for another day. All thoughts of the privateer left her mind when she slipped into sweet unconsciousness. — She woke to loud knocking on her door. She groaned. She was going to kill them. Whoever the idiot was. It felt like she’d only just gotten to bed.

She opened the door with enough force to almost rip it off its hinges. “What the fuck do you – ?” She was standing face to face with Zoya Nazyalensky. Oh, she thought, guess I just shut my chances straight to hell.

Zoya smirked at her. “Good morning to you too. Everyone’s waiting for you downstairs.” She turned to walk away but shot a glance over her shoulder before disappearing down the stairs, her eyes trailing Y/N from head to toe and back up appreciatively. Raising an eyebrow, she added: “You might want to get changed before joining us.”

Y/N had forgotten she was only wearing her short lacy, somewhat see-through, nightgown and felt her cheeks heat up. “Yeah, sure, tell Kaz I’ll be there in a minute.” She stammered. She leaned back against the door as soon as it closed. Oh, well maybe not straight to hell? She quickly got dressed and tailored her cheeks back to normal before making her way to the others. The last thing she needed was to be teased by her friends for being so flustered over Zoya fucking Nazyalenski. She took a deep breath before entering the room.

“How long did I sleep for? Feels like I just went to bed.” She grumbled walking through the door.

Nikolai looked at her apologetically “Judging from when I last saw you, I’d say you probably slept for two hours?”

“Alright” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I guess that’s all I could really hope for.” She let herself fall on the couch next to Nikolai. Kaz raised an eyebrow at her. Interesting, he thought. There had been an empty armchair, but she’d chosen to sit next to the privateer. Maybe there is hope for the job yet. Torturing her is just a nice bonus.

She turned in her seat to face Nikolai. “I’m going to get started on the more advanced tailoring. It might get a bit uncomfortable. Changing bone structure always is. Let me know if you need a break.”

He’d only nodded at her in reply. She raised her hands to his face cupping his cheek with her left hand and running the fingers of her right hand down the line of his crooked nose. “Zoya, I’ll need you to tell me if the changes I’m making get too close to his actual features. Everyone else can piss off.” The crows took her dismissal seriously and scurried off to make other preparations.

Y/N settled into her work making corrections when needed following Zoya’s comments. She leaned back to admire her work after about three hours. She’d straightened Nikolai’s nose, made it slightly larger, raised his cheekbones and brow, and rounded his strong jaw to make him appear a bit younger. “Alright, I think this should work? The only major thing left is changing your eye colour. I’ll touch everything up once more after that.” Zoya had approached to examine Y/N’s work, staying quiet. “It’d probably be easier to make them hazel instead of green.”

“No,” interjected Zoya. “His eyes are usually hazel. You should make them blue. Nice work. I don’t think I’d recognize him in the street.”

Y/N beamed at Zoya. “Blue it is! That’ll take a while. Do you need a break, Nikolai?”

“I’m alright. Do you need a break? You’ve barely slept, and you still need to tailor yourself.” Well, she thought, that’s new. When did he become so considerate? He had let her work mostly in silence since she’d started that morning. He might not be so insufferable after all. Still a bit too full of himself to her taste but not insufferable.

“I’ll take a break after I’m done with you. I’ll need you to be very still for this.” She took a good look at him. “Zoya, can you make sure no one comes to bother me while I’m finishing up?” she called.

“Sure thing. I’ll get coffee. I have a feeling we could all use some.” As soon as Zoya left the room Nikolai’s shoulders bunched.

“I’m going to start now. You need to let me know if anything’s wrong alright?” Her voice was soft. She almost sounded worried.

He flashed her a bright smile. “I have full confidence in your talents, my dear.” He straightened his back once more. “Let’s do this.” She could tell he was tired and was only putting on a show. She wished he’d stopped hiding behind the self-assured ruler persona he’d mostly shown so far but she didn’t want to push him. She said nothing, opting to get back to work instead.

By the time Zoya got back with coffee Y/N was done tailoring Nikolai. Zoya let out a low whistle. She’d almost dropped the cups she was holding.

“He looks nothing like himself!” She exclaimed. “Once this job’s done you need to come with us to Os Alta. Genya would never forgive me if she didn’t get to meet you.”

Y/N smiled at Zoya and handed Nikolai a mirror. Genya Safin was the most talented tailor in recorded history, a member of the Grisha Triumvirate. Y/N couldn’t believe she’d ever take interest in a barrel rat like her. “Zoya’s right. You’ll have to come with us, or I fear our dear Genya will attempt regicide again.”

“She wouldn’t attempt it, moi tsar. Genya doesn’t fail. She would succeed in getting rid of you.” Zoya sounded amused at the idea.

He shrugged. “She’d probably murder you, my prized general, as well.”

The crows filed in after Zoya to take in Y/N’s work. Sturmhond’s strawberry blond curls were gone, replaced by chestnut brown ones with just a touch of red when exposed to direct sunlight. His green eyes were now a deep blue, slightly bigger than they had been. His shoulders were narrower, his skin tone lighter and his facial structure completely altered. He truly looked nothing like the privateer, or king, he truly was.

“Well done, Y/N.” Kaz’s raspy voice sounded from the back of the room. “Go rest and tailor yourself. Meet us back here in three hours. We’ll go over your covers again once that’s done.” The girl nodded and made her way back to her room on the second floor. — Nikolai couldn’t help but be impressed by the work Y/N had done on him. He was used to Genya’s skills, yet he never thought he’d meet another tailor as talented. He was pretty sure Y/N had even been faster than Genya ever was. She must have had years of practice to be able to perform such advanced tailoring this efficiently.

“How does it feel, Lantsov?” Nikolai jumped. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Kaz standing in front of him.

“How long has she been working for you, Brekker? I’m pretty sure you have one of the most talented tailors of all time on your crew. How did you manage it? Where did you even find her?” Nikolai just couldn’t wrap his head around Brekker’s luck. How does he always manage to have the best of every field on his crew?

Kaz chuckled. “While I appreciate your new-found interest in my tailor. I’m gonna need you to focus on the task at hand until we’ve pulled off this heist.”

Nikolai had been about to reply when Y/N’s voice cut him off. “I am not yours, Kaz Brekker.” She was standing in the doorway.

Nikolai was suddenly very glad he’d been sitting. The grisha had done just as good a job on herself as she had on him. Her usually dark auburn hair was now a vibrant shade of red. Her beautiful green eyes had been replaced by a darker brown. She hadn’t needed to change her complexion, but it looked like she had changed most of her bone structure. Her face was rounder, her lips narrower, her cheeks fuller. She’d even tailored her body, reducing her natural curves to make her seem slightly taller. Nikolai would have never recognized her. Her voice, still captivating, was the only thing that hadn’t changed. He found himself looking for any trace of the girl he had spent hours observing, and even grown to appreciate, in the last few days. Even though this tailored Y/N was beautiful, he had to admit he already missed her true features.

Jesper slung his arm around her shoulders. “You surpassed yourself, love.” He guided her towards the couch. “I have no doubt the job will be a success if everything goes as smoothly as your tailoring.” He only released her to push her down by Nikolai’s side.

Jesper’s attempt to calm things had been evident to everyone, nevertheless, it had seemed to work. Y/N leaned into Nikolai’s side and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. “Do we look like Kaelish newlyweds yet?”

They spent the next few hours going over every single detail of their new identities. Covering everything that could come up in conversation at the party. Y/N had comfortably settled on the couch never straining too far from Nikolai, playing the role of the perfect little wife. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, and Nikolai was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the proceedings. All he wanted to do was wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to his own body.

Eoin and Ainsley were 24 and 22 years old. They had met two years before getting married. They had had an unusually long engagement, lasting a full year, because Ainsley’s father had gotten sick, and she’d had to take care of her sisters. They had only been married for a few months but were looking into expanding the business to support Ainsley’s family. They wanted to get settled a bit before thinking of building their own family. That’s why Ainsley was working with her husband rather than stay behind at the mansion. How the engagement came to be had already been covered multiple times. Kaz made them rehearse telling the story over and over again.

Only once Kaz was satisfied did they get to take a break and sit down for a quick dinner, which had consisted of sausages, fried potatoes, and bread rolls.

“We’ll go over everything again tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure your clothes are ready by 3 bells. You’ll need to be at Van Verent’s house by 6 bells. Go get some sleep. All of you.” No one dared contradict Kaz, as they were all half-asleep on their feet by the time they were done. —- Tagged: @power-of-words23

[stillgotscars]

wait a minute… “i wanna teach you how forever feels” → “you and me, forevermore” → “he said forever, then he blew it up” → “you fire off missiles ‘cause you hate yourself, but do you know you’re demolishing me?” → “mending all her gashes, you might just have dealt the final blow” → “chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us” → “just how low did you think i’d go before i’d self-implode? before i’d have to go be free?”

[whitherliliesbloom]

all like magic to my riddled heart

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #29 - debonair ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,415 words ]  ★ [ post-canon ]

very very indulgent domestic fic. mentions the scions and laurelis.

debonair- attractive, confident, and carefully dressed (especially men)

on the occasion that alphinaud feels confident enough to perfectly exude his charm, illya never fails to be swept off her feet.

A waft of lavender and a tone of warm spring flowers, a dimly lit entrance way with flickering flames from wax candles welcoming her home. She hears the orchestrion in the living room playing a soothing harmony of an Ishgardian ballad from a distance, as the sounds of piano and violin mingle like a euphony in her ears. It’s not exactly the sight, sound and scent she’d expected coming home from a particularly taxing mission at Raincatcher Gully.

Her hair is soaked from the evening rain, silken white strands plastered to the sides of her face and neck. Her long white robe feels heavy and cold, soaked from the weight of the storm against her fair goosebump riddled skin, and yet her face feels oh so warm as she looks up with bewildered, shimmering violet eyes at the man in front of her, dressed in his smart boulevardier’s shirt that was tucked into a tan dress pants. 

And with the allure of his brilliantly confident smile as he kneels down and places a soft, mariner cotton towel over her head to dry her head of stray droplets of the rain, the warrior of light could not help but to feel utterly grubby and repulsive in comparison.

“Welcome home, darling.” Her husband greets her, his voice low and silky smooth like the finest white wine, and the young woman could only stammer like a fool as she sets her travel pack on the floor next to the neatly arranged shoe rack. 

“T-thank you- I’m home.” 

This isn’t the first time Alphinaud has welcomed her at the door- nor is it even the first he has attempted to surprise her with some manner. But an Alphinaud who was completely within his element, confident and exuding in unparalleled charisma was something she only occasionally bore witness to- and most of the time that energy of his was directed towards negotiation tables and mixed in with a seriousness that was completely absent from him now.

She’s seen all sides of him - as he has seen all sides of her, both the best of themselves and also the worst. She thought she knew Alphinaud inside out by now, having known him for what feels like her entire life now, because he certainly knew her better than she even knew herself. 

But as Krile had once eloquently said, giggling with mischief as she and Alisaie ganged up in an effort to embarrass him at his own wedding reception, Alphinaud is ever full of surprises.

Her first surprise out of many for the night would come when she feels his arms wrap around the back of her thighs, picking the lalafellin up against his chest effortlessly as he rises up and begins taking light, careful strides towards the bathroom on the first floor.

“W-wait! Alphy, your clothes!” Illya struggles against his grip, grimacing at the way the fabric of his shirt was beginning to darken at the moisture from her own. “You’re going to get dirty!”

“It’s alright, Liya.” He reassures, his head tilting to press his lips against the side of her head and eliciting a surprised squeak from his wife. “I can clean myself up later. It’s far more imperative now for you to get washed up.”

With lips pressed tightly into a thin line as she holds back anymore words of protest, she finally leans into Alphinaud’s embrace until she hears the door to the bathroom being opened. 

There’s violet blue candles lit in the bathroom as well, some scattered about the sides of the bathtub and some lined up in front of the mirror by the sink, along with a pair of her favorite white crescent moon slippers and her nightgown neatly folded and waiting to worn upon their white console table. Illya could only wonder in silent anticipation just how much the man has prepared.

He sets her down upon the edge of the bathtub, about to bend down to help remove the girl’s combat boots when Illya quickly shakes her legs off his grip with a frantic wave of her arm.

“I-It’s okay! I can do this myself!”

Something flickers in Alphinaud’s navy blue eyes, a feigned sadness that almost has her caving in to him.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yes! Positive!” 

Finally sighing softly in relief as she watches the man get up with a soft smile and a nod, her shoulders slump lightly when he moves to the door and turns to look back at her for a moment.

“Then, I’ll check on dinner while you get cleaned.”

Dinner? Dinner?? Alphinaud prepared dinner?

Illya was not even afforded enough time to process what she’d just heard until she hears the bathroom door lightly click close, and for several, painfully long seconds her eyes could only stare forward into space, head filled with a mixture of whirling confusion and hot air that quickly spreads to the surface of her cheeks.

What has gotten into Alphinaud? Was it an anniversary of some sorts that she forgot? It’s very unlikely, given her (usually) impressive memory, especially when it came to remembering important dates. If she could memorize entire elemental charts and a textbook about advanced aetherology that she read many years ago, then surely she’d remember significant dates that related to her most beloved.

Their eternal bond anniversary won’t come for at least another half a year, and the day of their meeting had just passed a few weeks ago, celebrated with a splendid picnic dinner under the stars in Costa del Sol, listening to the sound of the waves upon the sand and distant howls of the ocean wind as they reminisced about unforgotten pasts. 

And as far as Illya could remember Alphinaud hasn’t acted any differently the days prior to this one... if only because he seemed a lot more busy with his own work than usual so much that she rarely got to even see him - something about visitors from Old Sharlayan needing help with a new research project related to arcane invocations, something that he specialized in. 

It suddenly clicks in her head now, his insistence that he didn’t require her help and his prolonged absence from home - he must have planned and prepared to surprise her all along.

The question then remained of why.. and it was unfortunately a question she could not answer on her own.

Her head is churning with flaring curiosity, even as she’d stepped into the bath and began to wash herself free of the sticky rainwater, mud and dirt upon her skin and allows herself to relax just a little as the fragrance of the plum blossom scented soap wafts into the air. 

Illya takes her time drying her hair, soft and fluffy as a morning cloud as she stood upon her lalafellin stool to stare into the mirror. Her hands move in deliberate strokes, dabbing moisture off the silken pure white strands with the towel before running her fingers through mild tangles. 

Perhaps she felt the urge to be more attentive of her own appearance knowing Alphinaud’s own well groomed self this evening, and she takes a particularly long while combing through her hair until it finally cascades down past her shoulders and hips flawlessly like a glowing wedding veil. 

The air against the skin of her bare arms as she opens the door of the bathroom feels cool and comforting, and it doesn’t take long for her husband to hear her coming out, as he peeks around the corner of the hallway and lets out a warm smile. 

“Ah, you’re done. And looking as beautiful as ever, I see.” 

He’s going above and beyond tonight, Illya thinks to herself in mild amusement and fluster. She doesn’t resist this time when the man approaches her and picks her up from the floor. 

“Dinner is almost ready. The dumplings just need a little longer.”

Oh right- dinner- 

Not only did Alphinaud prepare dinner, but he also prepared dumplings? Illya could barely contain her expression of utter surprise as she widens her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck and fiddling with his ponytail. 

“You...you learned how to make dumplings?”

“I got a copy of your mother’s recipe for crystal shrimp and asked Tataru for assistance with learning it.” Alphinaud’s voice is laced with clear pride, as the corners of his lips curl upwards so far that it’d almost split his face in two. “I wouldn’t dare claim to be on par with a mothers’ cooking... but I’d like to think you’ll be pleased with my efforts nonetheless.”

Illya hasn’t even tasted his food yet and she’s already thoroughly impressed, and also a tad more bewildered than before now at the sheer lengths he’s gone.

Of course, she was fully aware of his previous endeavors in the culinary arts, and the scions would vouch for his efforts by bringing up testimonies of their taste buds being used as guinea pigs for his many, many cooking attempts - some more pleasant for them to stomach than others... Y’shtola in particularly even called the pastries he baked even more dire than the dreaded archon loaf, and that comparison was something a professional chef like Illya could not even begin to fathom. 

Alphinaud was a perfectionist - sometimes almost to a fault... So if he was so confident as to be making a full course dinner for her now meant that he must have gained the approval of the others.

How many days and how many nights had he labored away to practice all for her sake? To even imagine it causes Illya’s cheeks to flare up in a bright red color. 

She doesn’t even realize he’s sat them down upon the couch until she feels him move her legs to rest against his lap and he picks one of them up, causing her to involuntarily lean back onto the cushion as she rests her hands against her sides for support.

“A-alphy?? What are you-?”

“You must be exhausted from today. Why don’t I give your feet a massage?”

“M-M-Mas-Massa-????”

The fact Illya’s head hadn’t just imploded then and there on the spot was something of a miracle... though it did not stop the rush of blood pumping through her veins as her heart rapidly increases in its pace, pounding deafeningly loud within her chest. 

“Bu bu bu!! Bu xing!! Ni- Wei-” 

Her husband merely smirks, watching her fluster cause her to devolve back into her mother tongue. 

“Please, allow me to do this for you.”

With a light press of his fingers against her feet as he began kneading at the hidden knots of the muscles in her ankle and soles, Illya watched dumbfounded, relaxed yet tensed in her shoulders, unable to shake off the heat that was begin to fill her head. 

Alphinaud’s charm is dangerous - far too much so... And if he’d endeavored to completely rid her of all her composure, it’s clearly working - almost.

“Alphinaud!” The lalafellin calls his name in full, which causes the man to pause in his movements, and she feels his hands tense just slightly.

“Is something wrong, my love?” A good half of his earlier suave fades in place of genuine concern and a softened gaze in his expression, and the gentleness of his deep blue eyes allows her to finally relax.

Seizing this heaven sent opportunity, the woman leans forward, her hands raising up to cup the sides of his cheeks, and with a faked confident smirk, she whispers in a hushed tone. 

“Alisaie showed me a copy of your final thesis from the Studium.”

Instantly, color drains from the young man’s face, and the calm collected confidence he’d carried in his posture and face dissipates into an unexpected fluster of his own, as he pulls back abruptly and his voice raises in pitch.

“W-what??? But- that-” He’s stuttering, fingers loosening their hold as she finally frees her legs and lowers it over his lap. “A-ahem... but what does that have to do with anything now?? I-I mean.. if you want to tease me about it, that’s fine but-”

“It doesn’t.” With an apologetic and gentle smile, she raises her hand up to softly brush against his face. “And I was lying about that, I’m sorry.”

“Oh thank the twelve-”

Alphinaud’s shoulders droop down in relief and his head bows, a heavy exhale leaving his parted lips. Illya cannot help but to let out a soft, melodic giggle that catches the man’s attention to finally lift his head up to look at her again.

“But why did you...?”

“I feared a casanova took over the body of my husband.” Illya laughs quietly, “I was just making sure it really was you.”

“Does that sort of charm not suit me, then? You told Laurelis that you liked it when I’m confident.” 

Ah- So that’s why... 

The revelation that her husband had overheard her speaking of him to her best friend darkens the already blistering hot blush over her cheeks and ear, but not as much as the idea that the reason he’d spontaneously decided to surprise her in this manner was because of a misunderstanding over what he heard.

Well, not entirely. The confidence Alphinaud carried that she’d mentioned to Laurelis was of a different sort - of a man who worked tirelessly towards his ideals and would not give up his dreams no matter who would aim to persuade him to. Of the man that she grew so enamored to for his undying devotion towards his goals and towards serving and protecting others. For all he has endured and all that he continues to uphold even with all that he has suffered through in life.

Where others would see a naive, idle dreamer, she saw in him someone who was capable of so much - and if anybody in the world would be able to make his far reaching dreams a reality, it’d be Alphinaud. 

That was the confident Alphinaud Illya fell in love with.

Though, she admits begrudgingly, with a light sheepish shift of her leg beneath the hem of her gown and a tilt of her head to avert her eyes from his own, that this debonair side of Alphinaud was very much welcome as well.

“No, no. It suits you very well.” With an embarrassed pout, Illya lifts her left leg slightly into the air for him to hold, leaning back onto the palms of her hands once more. “I like it. Very much.”

[quixotic-writer]

Bermuda Love Triangle

Request: @gionline and anon(s?)

Summary: Flirting between Sal and Q had always been a little quirky joke between them for entertainment value until they both catch feelings. Sal plays it up, Q plays it off. When Sal seemingly moves on though, jealousy brews in Q and he doesn’t know what else to do but finally say what’s on his mind.

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Truth be told, Q was a bit of an idiot. He was well aware of this and knew it often caused him to get into situations he sometimes couldn’t escape from. There was nothing he was more oblivious to than emotions. He was more specifically blind to romantic feelings, be it his own or others.

The moment he heard about vulquinn, he and Sal both played it up for their audience just for the reactions and their own personal entertainment. The need to always be right next to each other at live shows, their own podcast filled with inside jokes and personal stories, the way they managed to communicate through only their eyes, and the countless compliments and jokes about being romantically involved with the other.

‘If chicks can do it and be simply best friends, why can’t we?” Was his thought process. And it was true, it was just simple little gestures to one another that was merely just platonic affection. That was until it started bleeding into their regular life and the pair found themselves doing their little “act” for an audience that was non-existent around them. There was no one to get a good laugh or reaction out of, so they just tried to laugh it off.

Hidden behind those laughs was a realization within Sal that he had actually started falling for his best friend hard and fast. The flirtation slowly didn’t become an act, it melded into meaningful gestures. He found that his heart would race when Q would wrap an arm around him to bring him closer, when they made eye contact he could feel the butterflies burst from their cocoons into his stomach and tickle his throat, and the way that no matter where they would, the flirting never stopped. It all felt so real and he believed it was real too.

Q felt the effects of it all but had chocked it up to typical feelings for your best friend. Everyone felt comfortable with the thought of kissing their best friend… right? Cuddling your best friend during a scary movie and letting them hide in your arms was totally normal, all simply platonic… right? So on he kept saying how Sal was his “best friend,” little did he know exactly how much it hurt Sal to hear them being only that title and never anything more. Sal kept quiet about his feelings and never said anything not wanting to destroy or lose everything the two had built up.

One tour though, the tides quickly changed and shifted.

“Bri! This is Chris Distefano, he’s gonna be an opener for our shows!” Sal introduced Chris to Q. In that moment he got a look at this guy, he thought he looked way better than him and Q felt something inside of him coil up and make him sick. He passed it off as some nerves from being around someone new, so he remained civil and made his best attempt to make a good impression on this guy.

As the tour progressed, Q noticed that Sal wasn’t attached at his hip so much anymore. He was busy chatting things up with Chris. What he saw had made this fire ignite in his head, a jackhammer was what it felt like. He saw Sal leaning up against him, crying tears of laughter, hands folded over his stomach pushing out more laughs, and Chris in the same condition as the other. Q had thought he was one of the few people that could get Sal to laugh like that, and seeing Chris effortlessly do something he thought only he could do made him unreasonably upset.

As he lay in his bunk on the tour bus, Q couldn’t help but wonder: ‘What is going on with me? Why do I feel like this? I should be happy he’s making other friends.’ He barely got sleep that night and he was a total drag up until they were called up onto stage for their next show.

“Hey babe!” Q had never whipped his head around so fast at the sound of the familiar voice and he almost thought he was gonna get whiplash or pull something. As it turned out, Sal’s words were yet again not to him, but to Chris instead who greeted Sal with a wide smile and a warm hug. Q didn’t realize his jaw and fists were clenched so tight until Murr had pointed it out and he allowed it to relax and all the pressure in his head eased a bit and his hand stopped throbbing.

“Just a bit of pre show nerves, heard it’s gonna be a big crowd tonight.” He lied through his teeth and to himself too.

Tour had come to a close leaving Q within the four walls that he had grown familiar too along with the silence that accompanied it. He was finally able to have time to self reflect and really think about what was going on with him. It had been so long since he had even felt this strongly about anyone in his life and for so long he had kept trying to tell himself that everything they did was strictly platonic and nothing more. But Q seeing Sal with someone who was, in his opinion, much more attractive than him and doing basically everything that they used to do together had flipped the switch that this wasn’t just simple friend jealousy.

“Fuck…” He said out loud to himself, “I’m in love with my fucking best friend.” He finally admitted it out loud and buried his face in his hands as his cats nuzzled around him demanding immediate attention. Q’s head felt like it was spinning, he felt almost sick. “Why am I so stupid?!” Mentally beating himself up for not realizing things and sorting it out sooner. Now that he finally realized what that feeling was, jealousy, every other emotion attached had felt so much more intense. Magnified even. He had called Sal for lunch to get together.

“Maybe Chris could join us?” Sal asked curiously.

“Can't just be us?” Q said in quick opposition and realized he sounded like a jealous boyfriend without actually being his boyfriend, “I mean, we haven’t had a day with just us in a while.” He quickly back paddled and covered those secret emotions.

When the day rolled around, he convinced himself that he would finally confess everything. All he wanted was to finally have it all out in the open and hold nothing back. It felt weird keeping secrets from his best friend. Everything was going great, they were catching up on some things, sharing some little life updates, and as always they shared a few good laughs and stories.

“You know Q it’s great we had this day because I have exciting news that I wanna share with you! You’ll be one of the first to hear it.” Sal sat across from him in the booth they were in and had a big beaming smile plastered on his face. He looked as thorough if he didn’t get whatever it was out in that moment, he was just gonna implode.

“Well i’d love to hear what the news is!”

“Chris and I are starting a podcast together!” Q’s stomach sunk like the titanic. It felt painful and he knew he couldn’t mask any of his emotions after trying to build himself up. Sal quickly picked up on all of it and could read Q’s signals well, “Is there something wrong with me doing that Bri? I can read you like a book. You’ve been acting strange lately, what’s going on?” Q doesn’t know what came over him, but his emotions swirled him like a tornado and consumed everything.

“What’s going on? Sal, I know you’re smarter than this.” He forces a chuckle as he rubs his forehead staring down at the table. Sal had an inkling as to what it was, but he wanted to hear it out of Q.

“I don’t think I know what you mean…”

“For god’s sake Sal I like you okay! More than a friend should. Seeing you with Chris… It just…” There it was. The confession. But, for some reason it made Sal mad. All this time, the hints he kept dropping, the countless moves he tried to make. Only when Sal started taking interest in someone else did Q finally show up and show out what he had been wanting for so long.

“Does it make you jealous Brian?” Something about the way Sal said his name made it feel like his veins were wrapped tight around his neck and were suffocating him. “Only now that i’ve started showing interest in someone else do you care. I liked you too, okay?! But you couldn’t be bothered to notice my desperate hints. You just kept throwing ‘friend’ and ‘buddy’ around so I just gave up trying to win you over.” Guilt riddled Q and he felt paralyzed in that moment.

“Sal, i’m just so stupid.”

“Yeah, you are.” Both of them knew Sal didn’t mean it, but it still stung Q like a jellyfish wrapped around his leg. “I’m tired of the mind games Brian.” His head hung low as Sal left without another word. More than ever, Q had felt like the biggest clown in the circus he called his life. He tried to finish eating his food, but all he could do was pick around at it and wallow in his own self pity. By the time he left the diner, he came to the conclusion that this discussion wasn’t done and shouldn’t be left where it was.

He had made his way over to Sal’s house, approaching the front door and about to hit the doorbell

“Q?” All motions come to a quick halt as he turns around to see Chris standing there. He feels the jealousy and anger slowly building again, “What are you doing at Sal’s man?”

“What are you doing here?” It was a little sharper than he intended to sound.

“I asked you first!”

“And I asked you second!” He didn’t want to dish out any info about him and Sal, especially to the guy that Sal’s found a new interest in. Chris takes a deep breath, looking at Q with almost hurt eyes.

“Do you hate me or something? You just seemed to not want to be around me, especially on that tour. What did I do?” Before saying anything else, Q takes a moment to step back before making another mistake he’ll regret. Chris stood there with hands in his pockets waiting for an answer.

“Listen, I don’t hate you. Guess I was just getting a little jealous…” He admits not giving away too many details as he rubs the back of his neck. Looking at Chris though, he could tell he was able to piece some things together with that sentence alone. A moment of clarity hit him.

“Of me and Sal?”

“You just seem to make him happier than I have, you’re a lot more attractive than me… like honestly really attractive…” Q was trailing off and slowly understood Sal’s attraction to Chris.

“Don’t be like that, you’re quite the looker yourself babe.” Q’s cheeks rose in heat and he found it a bit hard to speak.

“You just seem to make him happier and get him to laugh really hard. Guess I let jealousy get the best of my emotions. Maybe… Maybe it’s better he has you. I should… I should just go.” Q began backing away from the door and was gonna leave, but Chris placed a hand to his chest and stopped him.

“Funny, it’s you I should be jealous of. Not gonna lie, I am interested in Sal but he told me he liked you, Q.”

“Wait what? When did he say that?”

“When… we got back from the tour..?”

“Well he just got done telling me he liked you. That’s actually why i’m here.” They both stood there in silence for a moment looking at each other. Their eyes wandered to Sal’s front door, then back again to one another. In a mirrored movement they both went right to the door and rang the doorbell. Footsteps grew louder as they got closer, the door unlocked and cracked open.

“Chris!” Sal said with a smile. Chris moved his hand out opening the door more to reveal to Sal that he had more than one visitor and his eyes grew wide. “And… Q…”

“You’ve got quite a bit of explaining Sally.” Q said with a devilish smirk as Sal broke out into a nervous sweat. When Sal looked to Chris, he wore a similar smirk.

“Yeah, babe. Let’s get to the bottom of this, shall we?”

[sierraraeck]

Staying Hidden

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Aundreya reveals everything that has been going on, and visits some of the team members in the hospital while trying to evade notice. Story eighteen.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Brief mention of sexual assault, drug use, and death.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: I still know nothing about how gangs work, this is all for entertainment purposes.

I have some explaining to do.

My given name from birth was Clara Spade. If you recall, I grew up with divorced parents and a sorry excuse for a father. When I was 14, I witnessed a mass killing by one of the most infamous serial killers of all time, the Storefront Slaughterer. Somehow, I was spared, but my identity was soon leaked to the media, and my mom, sister, and I were put in witness protection. At this point, my identity was changed along with my name, which was now Cassy Sae. I don’t know how, and I never figured out when the Slaughterer caught wind of my whereabouts, but he did, and he followed me home one night. He burnt my entire home down, taking the remaining two members of my family with it. I jumped out of the back window, barely surviving until Agent Gideon found me and took me back to his isolated cabin house in practically the middle of nowhere. As the news reported, Cassy Sae died in that fire as well, the same day Aundreya Chambers came into existence already at the age of 15. I attempted to go back to school, live as close to a healthy and normal life as I could, but I let my rage get the best of me. I decided that I wanted to hunt down the man that took everything from me, dropping out of high school. I left Gideon, telling him that I couldn’t burden him anymore and had to do whatever came next for me on my own. He reluctantly let me leave, and I found myself on the streets of Chicago. There, in a small self defense gym I’d started frequenting after hours, I met a girl only a few years my senior named Xena. She befriended me and admired how quickly I was picking up on all of the concepts being taught, despite the fact that I never officially took a class, only watched thinking I was going unseen. Xena told me about a group of people who could help and protect me, and before I knew it, I was meeting a man in his early 50s who went by the name of Rafael. Little did I know that I had just been coaxed into joining one of the most feared and revered gangs in the northeast.

One of the first things I learned was how to make money in the form of dancing. It was also when I created the Alionth persona. I was one of the youngest members to have ever joined the Cloaks (I was almost 16 at the time but it was an unspoken agreement that I was now 18), and I picked up on most everything very quickly. I started out low in the ranks, mainly just dancing and drawing new members in or being a distraction while another operation was going on behind the scenes. At one point, I remember that an operation wasn’t going as planned and they needed information from a patron at the club. I wanted to help out and be a part of the ‘more important things’ so badly, that I took initiative without permission. I started performing for the patron, and pick-pocketed him in the midst of it. I returned to Xena, and another boy, with the information I’d gathered from his phone and wallet. It helped them complete their operation, and they were impressed with my skills, even though they were irritated I did it without permission. After that night, I started moving up the ranks. It was also that night that the boy I’d met earlier with Xena started using me. His name is Jamar, but most people know him by his last name, DeLeon. He was the 19 year old son of another revered gang leader. Rafael happened to be close friends with his father, and agreed to look after DeLeon after he died. Rafael also took in the members of that gang, which helped spike the power and ‘popularity’ (for lack of a better word) of the Cloaks. DeLeon and his rowdy friends were hard to control, so in order to appease them, Rafael essentially let them do whatever they wanted, as long as it didn’t hurt the Cloak name. The ‘Cloak name’ did not explicitly include Cloak members.

I was fresh, and had skills that apparently made me ‘special,’ so DeLeon and his boys decided I would be a great way to celebrate the success of that night. And ‘come on, you’re half the reason it went so well. Don’t you want to celebrate with us?’ This was also my first exposure to hard drugs. I was on and off them from here on out.

But beyond that, once I started to be recognized for my pick-pocketing abilities, and being able to track people down for information, I got moved to be a private informant for the gang, and I was damn good at it too. I spent the most time communicating my findings with Xena and DeLeon, so they became the closest people to me. In all of my free time, I looked for the Slaughterer. When I finally found him and asked Xena and DeLeon to help me set up a trap for him, they helped me without hesitation. It was my idea to tip off the FBI, which they were obviously hesitant about at first. But I convinced them that if we caught one of the FBI’s most wanted, and instead of hurting him turned him over to the FBI, it would make us look better to them and hopefully keep them off our asses. We discussed it with Rafael himself, and he thought that it was a good idea. I was surprised and relieved, and once the FBI had the Slaughterer in custody and everything went according to plan, it was enough to get me moved up to the rank of ‘Head of the PI unit.’ That’s when I started being known as The Figure. I was 18 at the time, and for a while I seemed untouchable. I was training other members, three of which were Sydney, Deen, and Corbyn, my three closest friends going into the ring, and we were finding people left and right. I scoped out traitors and infiltrators as a part of my lead job (that’s when I met Christina who was working with Derek at the time), and the gang seemed to be as strong as ever.

Then, one day, I found out that Xena Adaland is the granddaughter of Rafael Adaland, the gang’s leader. She, like DeLeon, was three years older than me, and was pissed that I was now higher in the ranks than she was. She challenged me for my PI spot, and the rules were simple. Whoever lost, would leave.

The day before the challenge, which would be a series of fighting, investigating, and persuasive tactics, Rafael came to me and told me that I had to win, no matter what it took. I was stunned, and even though I pushed for more information, he wouldn’t tell me why. Regardless, I did win, and Xena was forced to leave, and her grandfather let her. No, not just let her, he encouraged her. Once she left, I essentially became the replacement daughter to Rafael, which meant I was in even closer contact with DeLeon. Our relationship had always been very twisted, but once I was under more direct protection by Rafael, he almost completely stopped how he’d been treating me. Almost. I didn’t understand how fucked up it was at the time, but we even started dating once he started treating me better. However, there were bigger problems. The FBI was closing in on us, which I later found out was the reason why Rafael was okay letting Xena leave. He wanted her safe and away from this mess when it imploded. Rafael and I had been working closely side by side for a year now, and I could tell he was feeling like he had nothing left. Xena was gone, his life’s work of building a foolproof gang was collapsing, and DeLeon was slowly pulling away. He and I both knew that the FBI and police were looking for someone to blame, someone to go down for this, and only one of us was going to get out of this whole thing. He all but told me I had his blessing to screw him over and take the gang for myself. I was 19 and he was almost 60, so he knew that the one thing he might be able to leave was a legacy, one that I might be strong enough and smart enough to carry on. What he did tell me, was that what he was about to do was for me and for the rest of the gang, and that it would take the heat off of us, long enough for us to preserve what was left of the gang. For a while, I thought that he would be turning it over to Xena or DeLeon, but when it came down to it, it was me that he chose. I took it in stride and with honor.

That night, when Rafael ended up dead in his office, I fully understood what he was talking about before. If the FBI found the gang’s leader dead, they would have someone to blame, and the spotlight would no longer be on me or really any of the rest of the members. The gang would essentially collapse.

DeLeon had different ideas, though. He thought that I had killed Rafael, the closest thing to a dad he could remember, and was out for revenge. He returned to his old ways of treating me, and left me with a scar to prove it. I fought through all of that shit, knowing I still had a responsibility to protect and salvage the gang. I had to tell them to disperse and find me in a month or so when things had cooled down. I pushed the gang underground, and that was the start of the ring. Whoever could find me again would have passed the first test to see if they were worthy or not to be in my new ring.

Deen found me first, then Sydney, then Corbyn. Others came to me as well, either from the gang or outside of it with other skills that were desirable. I started going by the name Alionth, and the former gang got turned into my ring of elite criminals. I ran a tight ship underground until I was 21.

Xena had been marinating in anger since she lost to me, and decided to get back at me by hurting one of my best friends. She kidnapped Sydney while on a job, and threatened to hurt her if I didn’t show up. It had only been days prior that I met Sydney’s husband Todd and her newborn daughter, Jayana, who I ran into again on my second case with the team. I should have known it was a trap from the beginning, but I’d been getting cocky and wasn’t exactly thinking straight, due to the amount of drugs pumping through my system.

I showed up and was ambushed by both Xena and DeLeon, who explained to me that they’d found each other again after the Cloaks crashed. They bonded over their mutual hate for me, and decided to fuck me over together. They killed Sydney right in front of me, and then left just in time for the FBI to capture me and throw me in prison. If you remember, I was in there for four years from 21 to 24, and then I escaped. I ran right back to my ring, which accepted me with open arms. I was laying low for a while, and decided I’d let things cool off before taking the lead again. Before I could do that, though, I received an interesting visitor.

Agent Howard Archer came to visit me, and he wasn’t there to arrest me. He was there to hire me. He told me about the BAU and a certain unit chief he was not a fan of. He was just a step higher than Aaron Hotchner, and did not like the way he was running the BAU. Not to mention, Hotch was a threat to Archer’s position, and there was a potential competition between the two for the vice-presidency if something were to happen to the vice president. Archer wanted to ensure his future spot, and needed Hotch, and the VP, out of the way. He later informed me that another reason he had such a strong distaste for Aaron was because he failed to solve a case involving the murder of Archer’s son. I asked if he had a preferred way to get two FBI agents out of his way, and he told me he was familiar with my work and was prepared for whatever consequences followed. In other words, he would be satisfied with me killing the vice-president, and pinning it on Hotch.

He had me from the moment he introduced himself as an agent.

I went in to meet the team, which did not go as well as planned. Either way, I agreed to help Archer, and privately investigated each member after that first day. I knew Hotch from my past when I was still in contact with Gideon, but I didn’t think it would be as hard as it was. I thought that I could just come in, get the job done, and then move out. The problem was that there was an odd sense of loyalty to this man I’d met only a few times. It was odd, how he seemed to respect me, and he was even the first person (outside of Gideon and the people I worked with on the streets) that actually accepted my skills. I was one of the ‘bad guys’ from prison, but he always seemed to have some sort of appreciation for my information and willingness to work with him. There was just something about him that was calming, and each day I spent with the team, the harder it became for me to follow through. Aaron Hotchner was a natural born leader, and he was phenomenal at his job. Not to mention that the rest of the team, the rest of his family, really did care about him. I started questioning if I’d be able to tear apart this family, especially when I didn’t agree with Archer at all. Archer claimed that Hotch didn’t run the BAU well, but after spending time under his leadership, I totally disagreed. I also started building connections with people who weren’t obligated or pressured to like me like basically everyone else in my life. They made me feel better about myself, about my abilities, and I realized there was a constructive way in which I could use them. They unknowingly convinced me that I didn’t have to stay on the path of destruction I’d been on for my whole life, and that I could actually make something of myself, something that I didn’t hate. Something I could wake up every morning to and look in the mirror and not hate who was looking back at me or what she was doing everyday.

So I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to follow through with what I had agreed to do. Archer was persistent, though. He checked in on my progress, and at first I told him it would take time, which it would. But by the end of the three years I’d spent with the team, my excuses were just becoming lame. Not to say that the events that followed were lucky, because the whole Spencer and me going to prison thing was not lucky, but it gave me a legitimate excuse as to why I wasn’t working towards ‘the goal.’ It also gave him an excuse to come and threaten me while in prison. I didn’t know how I was going to get out of my deal with Archer, all I knew was that I had to. I was not going to tear that family apart, despite the fact that I already seemed to be doing that all on my own. But if they could survive the tornado that was me and my past, they deserved to be left alone after that.

Yet, I could tell that Archer had become restless, and the moment he mentioned going to someone else to get the job done if I couldn’t, I knew. He was the first one that really cemented my theory of Xena and DeLeon being back, but it was worse than I thought. He was working with them. Probably to do my job and kill me in the process, considering I knew his plans and could easily expose him, effectively wrecking everything. Unfortunately, he had no idea who he’d just gotten involved with, especially now that they were working as a team, and Archer was way too cocky and way too stupid to heed any of my warnings and assurances.

I had bigger problems at the moment, though. I always seem to.

Xena and DeLeon were back, and they were back with a vengeance. I knew that they had to be behind everything that had gone wrong. Some runner finding Maeve even before Spencer could, my father finding me and making weird comments like he knew what I had been up to, Spencer’s frame job and going to prison, and then of course, the detectives finding Spencer and I at my motel. I knew Xena had cameras in that room, and I saw her outside of the building as I was being shoved into the police car. I even wondered if they were behind the kidnapping of Derek’s cousin and Maeve. The three of us learned from the same person, and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to match, hell overcome, the two of their minds working together. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to work both angles at the same time: stopping Xena and DeLeon from afar and Agent Archer from all too close. But honestly, it didn’t really matter, because I had to find and stop them before they could wreck anything else, no matter what it cost me.

So I left the hospital leaving only that simple note behind; my unofficial resignation from the BAU. If I went off the grid, Xena and DeLeon would have to spend all of their time chasing me, and would have no time to spare for messing with the team. At least, that’s what I hoped.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I was successful at staying hidden for about four months. While Xena and DeLeon hopefully didn’t have enough time or energy to keep tabs on the team, that didn’t mean I didn’t. I kept up with every case of theirs, and even left their main suspect tied to a chair in his living room one time as a sort of gift since he kept evading them. You know, since I was conveniently in the area at the time.

When I heard about the explosion, I rushed back to DC from some small town in Georgia. I’d been spending time in all different states and towns, hoping it would be enough to keep those urchins on my tail while I figured out a way to trap them. But this seemed more important, especially because there was a chance that whatever explosion hurt them could have been planted by Xena and DeLeon. I couldn’t be sure of anything regarding their involvement anymore.

I showed up to the hospital after hours, and stood outside the three adjacent rooms housing Derek, Aaron, and JJ. All three were hooked up to a plethora of machines, and were out cold. I just stood there watching them, convincing myself that this wasn’t somehow my fault with each steady beep of their monitors. The hospital was almost peaceful like this, which was odd for me to admit considering how much I hated them.

I don’t know how long I’d been standing there when I heard faint footsteps approaching from behind me. I whipped my head around to face the noise, but when I scanned the hallway behind me, there was no one there. You are getting really paranoid.

But I figured that’s what was keeping me alive, so I just rolled my eyes and moved on. I allowed myself only a few more minutes for now, making sure that the three of them were still alive before heading out.

I came back a couple days later to check on them again. I again did it in the middle of the night, so all three were in essentially the same state, but a bit more color had returned to their faces. I moved a couple paces over and leaned against the wall behind me. I shut my eyes for only a little bit, and when I opened them, I spotted her. Emily was sitting down in the chair in JJ’s room, her full focus and attention on the woman in front of her. I was in a corner of the mini lobby outside of their rooms, and by the looks of it, she hadn’t noticed I was there. My heart was racing as I attempted to slip by her room and out of the hospital. I had almost completely cleared the room when Emily made eye contact with me. It was for a split second, but it was enough for her to recognize me. I didn’t wait to see what happened, because I started a full on sprint out of the hospital.

I decided that I couldn’t go back there; it made me too careless. I was absolutely defenseless and in a weakened state of mind. It was too risky, for me and them alike. Staying hidden until I could figure a way out of this was my only option.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The whole team had been shook by three of their members getting hurt in an explosion. They were all relieved that Derek, Hotch, and JJ were alive and that no serious damage had come to them. After closing the case Rossi and Preniss decided to be the ones that stayed with them, especially overnight. Penelope had stayed with them for four days straight while the rest of the team finished the case, so she deserved to be relieved of duty for a while, Tara got called to do more inmate interviews for research, and Reid just overall needed sleep. He’d been trying to figure out what Aundreya had meant by her note, where she was now, and what she was doing in all of his free time, including the midnight hours. Of course, everyone wanted to know more about these Xena and DeLeon characters, but even Garcia couldn’t find anything on them. Whatever was going on, there wasn’t really anything they could do about it. Reid knew this, but refused to give up. He finally agreed to go home, get some rest, and spend time with Maeve after some heavy convincing from Rossi and Prentiss. Which just left the two of them to be there together, or take shifts. A few days into it, Prenitss called Rossi in a minorly confused state.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you,” Emily started.

“I’m actually only a few minutes from the hospital, so that’s not a problem. What’s going on?” Rossi for the most part sounded calm, but Emily’s profiler ears could hear the slight concern behind them.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong they’re all doing fine,” Emily started, and she heard a small sigh on the other end of the phone, “It’s just that, um…” Now that she was thinking about it, she wasn’t sure if she should tell anyone about Aundreya or not. Emily knew that whatever she was going through was very personal, and she probably didn’t intend on being seen, let alone having word get to the entire team. Plus, it probably wouldn’t benefit every member to know that she was around, but wouldn’t tell them what’s going on…

“What is it Emily?” Rossi questioned.

“I think… I think I just saw Aundreya. Here, in the hospital,” Emily answered. She wasn’t completely sure what to do with the information, and her and Rossi had always had a good relationship. He had this soothing, sturdy, knowledgeable vibe about him, and figured if she should tell anyone about this, it would be him. She also knew that Aundreya had trusted him, opening up about things she really hadn’t told anyone else, so it felt less violating to tell him.

“Hold on, I’m almost there,” was all Rossi offered before hanging up. It wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d been expecting.

When Rossi met her in the small lobby on that floor, he jumped right in with, “Yeah, I’ve seen her too.”

Emily’s eyes widened just slightly, but it didn’t really shock her either that he’d spotted her first. It just sort of made sense that he would. He always was better at keeping things a bit more compartmentalized and aware of his surroundings. Granted, Emily was pretty good at that herself, but when it came to her other team members, she could get a little clouded. “What should we do? Do we do anything?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure it would do any good, and she seems like she wants to handle this on her own,” Rossi replied.

“Whatever this is,” Emily pointed out. Rossi nodded, and after a few minutes, she added, “Is this what it was like when I was gone?”

Rossi turned to face her head on, “If you really want to know, yes. Except, we thought you were dead.” Not like we know for sure Aundreya isn’t, he thought, at least not yet.

“I’m so sorry for putting you all through that. It really sucks being on the other end of this. Not like the alternative is better…” Emily trailed off.

“You did what you had to do, and I’m sure Chambers is doing the same,” Rossi said with a small smile, “even if that means spending a few nights at my place.”

Emily looked over at him, mouth agape, “What? Are you serious?”

Rossi nodded. “I didn’t put it together until I saw her here a few days ago. I went home and just had this feeling that I wasn’t alone, and had heard a sound during the nights prior. I looked around my house and saw that one of the beds wasn’t made exactly like it had been for all the years I’ve lived there, and the window made the same squeaking sound I’d been hearing. I’ve tried to pay attention to when she’s there, but it’s very infrequent.”

“Probably random if she’s trying to fall off the radar,” Emily added.

A few more moments of silence passed before Rossi asked, “What would you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Her situation is somewhat similar to yours. If you were her, what would you be doing right now?”

It wasn’t a bad thought. They put themselves in the shoes of the unsubs all the time, why not use the same technique here? “Uh, well, I’d be trying to go underground right about now. She’s clearly running from someone, or multiple someones, which are probably those other two names on her list.” Emily thought a bit more and continued, “When it was me, I wasn’t only running from Doyle, but I was also running to Declyn. If she’s running from those two people, what or who is she running to?”

“That is a very good question,” Rossi agreed. They both pondered this for a little while longer before taking a break, realizing they weren’t going to come with the answer tonight, and definitely not at a hospital where three of their friends were staying.

“Are we sure we aren’t going to tell anyone?” Emily sounded concerned.

“I don’t think that will help. And there are people who I don’t think need to know this,” Rossi said with a knowing look, “But, if we get any more information, or just happen upon evidence that points towards her needing our help, along with something we can actually do about it, then maybe we will. But until then, I think you and I should keep this to ourselves.” Emily nodded and the pair remained in silence for the rest of the night, mulling over the next moves they’d make and next questions they’d ask tomorrow, hoping they’d be enough to make a difference.

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