#the walls & the lies & the defense mechanism

[lunaetis]

@everlastiingiimmortals asked :

"I heard you joined the Express on this day last year." The familiar rumbling tones of Jing Yuan's voice would be accompanied by a gift in a red velvet pouch, dangled teasingly before Eden's nose. Inside, she'd find a small but intricately carved wooden replica of a racoon curled around a crystal planet. "It isn't much, but I thought to have this commissioned to commemorate such a momentous day. Happy anniversary to your life as one of the Nameless, Eden."

happy birthday eden ! ( 26.04.2024 ) || always accepting

─「エデン」─  THE TRAILBLAZER had no concept nor knowledge regarding the celebration called a birthday. apparently, it was something quite common across many planets and customs, to celebrate the date of your birth, the very day you came into existence. it was supposed to be something joyous, a gratitude and appreciation of life. how you started your journey in this very world.

                for EDEN, it wasn't exactly a birthday, but the astral express treated it like one. it was the day she had opened her eyes, the day she became eden and her journey began. from that day to now, a whole year according to the star calendar, so many things had happened. good and bad. the vessel reflected upon them, how much she had grown and ... changed. in a way, the only thing she could hold onto was her name.

                the deep, familiar and soothing voice pulled her from her reverie. the GENERAL had graced her with his presence once more, and eden let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. in the company of the general, she found herself being able to let her guard down. out of EVERYONE she had met so far, through the truths and lies she lived through the year itself, through many encounters both fated and unplanned — he remained the one person who she knew she could TRUST, wholeheartedly.

                the pouch caught her attention, and her gaze followed it as it was placed onto her gloved palm.

                " for me ... ? " once again, he had gotten something for her. he went out of his way to acquire A GIFT for her even though he shouldn't have. and once again, he proved to have paid more attention to her than one let on. the fact that he realized she had joined the astral express on this date. slowly taking the content out of the pouch, her HEART skipped a soft beat at the delicate piece of wooden raccoon wrapped around a crystal globe.

                commissioned. he didn't just buy it. he ... had it specially made for her. for a nameless like herself.

                " i ... " words were lost in her throat, but she could hear the sound of her heart beating increasingly loud. it wasn't a humming of THE STELLARON, no — it was actually the organ in her left chest pounding against her ribcage, so hard that it was almost painful. what was this feeling ? a mix of warmth and hollowness, a sensation rising from within. even when she had told herself to pull away, to put up a wall, to no longer trust anyone. it was all orchestrated. nothing was real.

                yet ... yet ... could the stellaron hunters plan all this ? could THE SCRIPT control even these small moments where he reached out for her ? time after time ... he was the only one she couldn't LIE to.

                this can't be pre-determined, can it ? this ... this was real. this gift was hers.

                without a word, she held the gift carefully in her hand before her arms came around him. a silent embrace, but how it spoke so loud of the words left unsaid by the cracked vessel. burying her face into his frame, she bit back the burn in her eyes, clenching the lids shut so none of the droplets would escape. she might not know what a birthday is, or why people celebrated it, but this ... this very moment where she felt seen and recognized, where she wasn't stellaron vessel but EDEN ...

                it was real ... she wanted to believe that it was.

                " thank you ... general. i will treasure it, always. " thank you for always seeing me.

[kithtaehyung]

minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

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There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. 

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck. 

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change. 

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline. 

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.” 

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.” 

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut. 

Fuck. Yoongi’s right. 

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.” 

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls, 

“Not interested.” 

Oh. He’s… 

Oh. 

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial? 

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie. 

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.” 

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core. 

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom. 

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not. 

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room. 

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on? 

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here. 

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot. 

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light. 

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish. 

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use. 

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld. 

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead. 

Uhh. 

What. 

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin. 

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air. 

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done. 

Almost. 

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing. 

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state? 

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.” 

Again with that little slant. 

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life. 

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl. 

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded. 

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved? 

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right… 

Doesn’t matter. 

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.  

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck. 

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright. 

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet. 

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still. 

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut. 

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.” 

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.” 

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.” 

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel. 

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.” 

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.” 

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them. 

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer. 

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so. 

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside. 

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.  

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your— 

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!” 

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.” 

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for? 

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.” 

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette. 

And just like that, the conversation dies. 

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible. 

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead. 

Your noodles.

Your noodles. 

You’re not hungry anymore. 

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill. 

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand. 

A robed arm. 

Your new utensils come back into view. 

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there. 

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes, 

“Eat.” 

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain? 

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.” 

“You are.” 

“Not anymore.” 

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.” 

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.” 

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.” 

“I literally can’t—” 

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.” 

“What?” 

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight. 

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.” 

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.” 

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.” 

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin. 

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.” 

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier. 

Yoongi looks pissed as hell. 

But he hasn’t moved. 

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again. 

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today. 

Fuck, you wanna hurl. 

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair. 

“It’s better in the long run.” 

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this. 

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes. 

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.  

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too. 

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers. 

“What were you looking for.” 

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth. 

“Did you find it.” 

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?” 

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.” 

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?” 

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought. 

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.” 

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.” 

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion. 

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl. 

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat. 

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure. 

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out. 

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home. 

Yearning pierces right through your chest. 

The elevator is right over there. 

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No. 

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too. 

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase. 

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep. 

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety. 

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room. 

And your defense mechanism blares. 

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why? 

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too? 

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay? 

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.” 

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?” 

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.” 

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.” 

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes. 

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.” 

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms. 

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest. 

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs. 

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.” 

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.” 

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine. 

Well. 

So much for leaving. 

You may spend more time here than you thought. 

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call. 

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that. 

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now. 

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space. 

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere. 

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator. 

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area. 

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet. 

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below. 

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out. 

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart. 

That was so long ago. 

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time. 

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem. 

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm. 

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some. 

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter. 

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.” 

“Do you even drink?” 

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying. 

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?” 

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.” 

“It’s usually silent, too.” 

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.” 

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.” 

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”  

He takes the offered can. “Mm.” 

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present. 

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs. 

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day. 

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?” 

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”  

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.” 

Your look carries a slight pang. 

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.” 

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see. 

But when it’s open, you freeze. 

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New. 

Wait. 

These patterns. 

These are il-don? 

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless. 

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.” 

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?” 

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.” 

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?” 

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.” 

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter. 

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.” 

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?” 

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?” 

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?” 

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.” 

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.” 

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself. 

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear, 

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe. 

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…” 

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.” 

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now? 

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.” 

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away. 

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose, 

“I should’ve left you for dead.” 

Wait. 

Stop. 

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever. 

And it is frightening. 

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.” 

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist. 

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.  

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.” 

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually. 

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you. 

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power? 

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk. 

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can. 

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it. 

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.” 

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged. 

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes, 

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.” 

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning. 

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it. 

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same. 

So you quell that monster pacing in your core. 

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be. 

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.” 

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin. 

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.” 

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend, 

“This world has already tried enough.” 

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again. 

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn. 

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it. 

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more. 

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else. 

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations. 

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.” 

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip. 

And you freeze. 

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate. 

But fuck, you kinda want to. 

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed. 

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…” 

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to. 

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.” 

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest, 

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong? 

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore. 

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.” 

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone. 

Oh. You’re going home. 

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short. 

What was that? What was any of that? 

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over. 

…But do you want it to be? 

Yes. 

Of course you do. 

Clouds let moonlight shine again. 

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real. 

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane. 

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging. 

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out. 

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed? 

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets. 

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes. 

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams. 

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own. 

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion. 

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air. 

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out. 

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too? 

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness. 

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start. 

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do. 

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows. 

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity. 

For nothing. 

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all. 

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal. 

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder. 

Fuck everything. 

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.” 

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares. 

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

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a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[akirathedramaqueen]

Do you think this is the moment he fell in love?

Okie, it's time to shitpost speculate a bit on my favorite moment in the whole show: the end of the Truth Seekers episode.

Do you think this was the first time Blitzø was protected? Taken care of? Saved?

Just look at how in awe he is, eyes wide open, jaw dropped. I doubt we've ever seen a face like this before or after. Of course, it might also have something to do with seeing Stolas in his true form for the first time. It was eerie and terrifying, but also sublime and exalting. Oddly attractive even, maybe?

This owl demon, with eldritch ancient powers and two dozen legions, was there just for him. Stopped in his tracks of whatever royal deeds he was attending to and came to stand up for Blitzø, to scare the shit out of his... well, fuckbuddy's (or not really?) perpetrators. Stolas watched after him, knew he was in trouble! So he... cared?

I am going to repeat my starting statement - he is not used to being worried about. Here, Moxxie clearly prioritizes Millie (no blame here, it's completely valid!), and helps Blitzø to get up only after the latter sarcastically sneered, "Oh, yeah, thanks, I am fine!"

And Loona, at least until the Queen Bee episode, which happens later, was very hesitant to show even a grain of affection toward Blitzø. We know she cares, but it's not always enough to just have it in mind and not demonstrate it.

And here is Stolas, caressing Blitzø, asking if he is alright, calling him 'darling' - another first in their relationship, at least on screen. Look how confused he is for a moment; he looks away and up (defensive? scared? annoyed?) - has he ever been asked things like that before? Notice how his face relaxes after Stolas strokes his forehead. Our guy is tough, no doubt, but I bet he just realized how nice it is when there's someone who cares.

Hell knows, these five seconds are a single thread holding my mental health together after the shitshow in the Full Moon and Apology Tour episodes.

Of course, there's the second part where Stolas tones down the grandiosity of his gesture. He scolds the crew for not being careful and jeopardizing him along with them, implying that the book exchange should remain a secret. Then he negates it himself - luckily for them, demon-obsessed lunatics are not taken seriously in the human world.

I don't think this changes anything. The first thing he did was to ask if Blitzø is okay. Only after he was reassured Blitzø is fine did he begin to rant, and even then his concern addressed both the crew letting themselves into trouble and his own safety. Again, why wouldn't it be valid? However I look at it, I don't think the book is his primary interest here.

And is this the first time we see Blitzø blushing?

This blush! I bet my life that Mister Blitzø 'boring-as-fuck-monogamy' Buckzo hasn't even internalized it yet, but oh, did his heart just do a big somersault.

Listen to my voice: This is the moment he fell, even though he didn't know it himself yet. Poor boy has a lot of work to do to unlearn his coping mechanisms and let his walls down.

Thank you for coming to my sappy stand-up, don't forget your coats on your way out. *drops mic*

P.S. Oh, I lied to you. There's a bonus "Blitzø just fell so hard" face in the Seeing Stars episode, haha. Apparently Stolas's human form is just as hot as his true demonic one lol.

[valsverse]

𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ DATING JOHANNA MASON | gender not specified, but fem!aligned.

johanna mason, whose preferred love language is being an asshole. (affectionately)

johanna mason, whose walls always remain up after her two experiences in the arena, but somehow crumble involuntarily when she's around you.

johanna mason, who lets you touch up the cherry red streaks in her hair, standing between your legs while you sit on the countertop, face cradled in your hands as you coat every strand of hers with the color.

johanna mason, whose eyes flicker from sharp and piercing to ever so soft as her gaze lands on you.

johanna mason, who talks of future plans with you during the games should she not survive the quarter quell, dreaming of the house you would have bought and the life you would have shared if it weren't for the corruption of the capitol.

johanna mason, who teaches you how to wield an axe, her scarred hands cradling yours as she guides you through the motions.

johanna mason, who tends a nasty gash on your arm after your attempt at wielding said axe.

johanna mason, who scolds you for attempting to use her axe and mocks your 'stupidity', as if she hadn't been totally terrified just seconds earlier.

johanna mason, who's the black cat to your golden retriever.

johanna mason, who lets you call her by all the cheesy nicknames you wish—nicknames that she would rather die than hear come from anyone else's mouth. johanna mason, who feigns disapproval of such affectionate names, but you can see the slight upturn of her lips whenever you address her by one.

johanna mason, who is constantly afraid of you leaving her, due to her snappy and impatient personality that she uses as a defense mechanism to cover up the vulnerability and trauma that lies underneath. johanna mason, who has never let you know about her insecurities, but maybe she'll let it slip as the years go by.

johanna mason, who's a total winter bug and immediately clings to you the second the temperature drops. latching onto your leg and gazing up at you with red, puffy eyes and a runny nose as she suffers through the flu, begging for you to stay with her when you try to go brew her some tea.

johanna mason, who smiles a lot more when you're around. and not her usual cynical 'i'm lowkey judging you' smile, but a quirk-lipped smirk that appears every time you enter the room.

johanna mason, who wakes up thrashing and trembling in the middle of the night, as the nightmares of her time in the capitol continue to haunt her even after she escaped. she either clings onto you for dear life, needing to feel your touch, or pushes you away completely, struggling to come to grips with her reality.

johanna mason, who holds you firmly against her when you both go back to sleep, her eyes unblinking for the first few hours because she needs the reassurance that she isn't dreaming and that you won't leave her.

johanna mason, who whispers to you in your sleep, telling you how much you mean to her because there's no way she can be this soft when you're awake.

in conclusion, johanna mason. that's it.

©heartss4val — do not steal, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is prohibited.

[rainbowdaisy13]

Ok I watched a few more times and have more screenshots of parts I love—these are things I myself enjoy discussing this isn’t a fucking defense of a doctoral thesis don’t send me Anons why I’m wrong

1) I love all of these Taylor going through the mechanical door scenes—very man behind the curtain Wizard of Oz vibes—reminder that this is all just a performance!!

2) “I CAN SHOW YOU LIES” and we get her going into the cleaning cart which feels very intentional in that there was so much debate about this fucking cart (closet) in the beginning of the Tour—is she or isn’t she in there?? Is she or isn’t she gay?? I just get heavy symbolism vibes from this image paired with those lyrics

3) Focusing on the glass closets being put into place by others while Taylor’s in the background doing her job of performing is innnnteresting

4) I don’t know how the fuck she gets through that door on a bike smoothly every time— I would absolutely at some point have knocked into the walls and fallen off the stage

5) Just realized this scene with Mandy M is my WILLOW WITCHES FIREBALL SCENE ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

6) This is just a cool image

7) This was such a weirdly long scene of her pretending to play the piano…I do not have any clues as to why it was so long when most of the clips we are getting are a second or less but it made me 🧐

8) The love they all share after spending literal years of their lives together is really beautiful

9) This scene was so beautiful as these fans are clearly not together based on how they are interacting but they all got into the music and vibed together🥹—in MN I wanted this vibe so bad but it was nonexistent in the higher up seats I was in—maybe on the floor it happened

10) Thought it was interesting that the last scene we get isn’t Taylor taking a bow or everyone on stage waving to the fans it’s her sneaking off stage, looking over her shoulder and mouthing the word BYE 🥺

[deathsbestgirl]

okay so here comes a super incoherent post about beyond the sea, never again, season 6, all things and beyond.

i was thinking about how cyclical scully is. in beyond the sea, her father just died and she's struggling partially because of how different their relationship became since she "left" medicine for the fbi. she didn't make him happy or proud before he died, things were left unsteady and the first thing she does is believe boggs, thinking her belief would please mulder. but it didn't, it scared him. but it did get a reaction out of him. something she didn't really get from her father. he was still mildly affectionate but he didn't really want to hear about her job — something she's so excited about in that first year.

slight tangent: scully is always encouraging mulder. at the least, she's taking his theories seriously, no matter how outlandish she may think them. in little green men, she sees her friend in a haze of depression, and she's going to pull him out of it. he starts talking about george hale seeing elves and she tells him 'but the telescope still got made.' and the only trace of him is george hale on a list of passengers to puerto rico. so many of scully's issues boil down to perceived failure and she never lets mulder bask in it either. something that takes him a little longer to figure out.

anyway. by the time we get to never again, they just experienced paper hearts & el mundo gira — a case about murdered little girls whose families have no answers, where she failed mulder & skinner. another case about immigrants — people ignored & invisible (this time the "aliens" are the victim of a cruel system that doesn't care, but they care). two failures, two cases hitting close to home.

when i think of scully, i think of that line from supergirl when kara tells cat she just wants to be useful to someone. i very much believe that's similar to scully. she didn't care about capital H humanity until mulder showed her the way. she followed mulder because she was so touched by is compassion & relentlessness. she believes in him, but she doesn't quite believe in herself nearly the same.

scully talks about wanting a life from time to time. she tells mulder in bts she loves her job — and that's the truth. but it doesn't mean the work is enough for her. and when she's feeling like she isn't useful, hasn't been of value, like she's invisible. well, she hits that wall. she spent so much of season two telling mulder she's fine, she's back, she needs to work, she's lost so much time already. but somehow, the x files are still only his. for mulder, that's a defense mechanism. believing everything that's happened to her is his fault, that her assignment is only temporary because he believes in her so much. i don't think it's an ownership. he invites scully into everything (except when he's impulsive or he doesn't want to endanger her for his personal quest).

but scully. she needs to know. so she tells ed about the way she rebels and how there are other fathers. in na, she doesn't have the evidence of her importance to the x files or to mulder, only to be smacked in the face with her cancer diagnosis. where he does everything she asks of him in memento mori. where she writes letter after letter to him as she lies dying in a hospital bed, desperately grasping at this treatment that hasn't saved a single woman. every single episode she's faced with what her death will do to mulder, and she can't bear it. she begs forgiveness for leaving him, begs that we won't make her his next cause, that he will live & keep searching for the truth. he celebrates her birthday, gives her a gift that only she could find his meaning in. and when she doesn't die, she's reinvigorated. she's excited to be back at work with him. she thinks maybe they can move forward, makes a joke about agents consorting as she opens wine. and when he runs into the woods after mothmen, she understands and waits for the call. but she doesn't just let him off the hook and he doesn't really want her to. the answer is the same though, so she waits and she follows him and they do the work & look for the truth.

in ftf, they're being punished for something that isn't their fault and everyone knows it. she's been reassigned and she tells him she's going but scully knew. she went to him so he could change her mind (like he did in redux) and he tells her she made him a whole person. just because it's hard & frustrating doesn't mean he doesn't need her. she's the only reason they have anything to go on, but it's also much more personal than that — and that's kind of the crux of it. the work is personal and he let scully into all of it. all of their cases are dates.

season six, scully keeps asking mulder to get out of the car. he finally learns the lesson in the unnatural. it isn't that she doesn't love the x files, love working with him. she just wants more. she doesn't want it to be her entire life (their entire life). and so she keeps hitting that wall!!

in all things, scully hits that wall again. despite the fact they are together, and they're happier than they've ever been. but it almost feels like it happens just because it's a pattern, and she had a recent failure in en ami that really cut her, and mulder. even that didn't really set them back. (except mulder's fear about what scully knew of his brain disease, and csm's true motive with enticing scully. sorry guys i'm invested lol) it's almost like a fake crisis, and not michelle (omfg what's her name lol) just enlightens her. gives meaning to what she's feeling, and sets her on the path to move forward and not just in her typical cycle. it's such an episode of scully breaking her patterns. she puts faith in another belief system. she returns to her past to understand she's where she's meant to be, where she wants to be. that her choices are completely valid, not just to her or mulder, but to the world. they made a new blueprint just for them and that's one of the most incredible things anyone can do. and all not michelle did was share her story and the patterns she recognizes everywhere because of her own experience. not michelle did for scully what mulder & melissa have done for her before. opening her mind, giving her courage & security & strength.

anyway. did that make any sense?

[lieyarzy]

hiii

a scenario where Malleus is in love with the reader (fem if possible). but the reader is someone who frequently insults when she is confident. please 🙏

As Hard as Stone

Author: I got you.

Warning(s)⚠️: crack(?)/fluff/a little angst

⚠️ This story is a work of fiction. Everything that i have made here is for entertainment purposes only and not to be taken seriously. This did not happen in the game/series.

Malleus, the charming and charismatic character, finds himself captivated by the confident female who frequently uses her sharp tongue to insult others. At first, reader's insults catch Malleus off guard, but he soon realizes that beneath her biting remarks lies a person with a captivating personality.

Despite the reader's tendency to insult others, Malleus is intrigued by her confidence, intelligence, and quick wit. He sees beyond the insults and recognizes the unique qualities that make her who she is.

As Malleus spends more time with reader, he begins to understand that her insults are often a defense mechanism, a way to protect herself from getting hurt. He sees the vulnerability hidden beneath her confident facade and becomes determined to break through her walls.

Malleus engages reader in playful banter, challenging her to go beyond insults and explore deeper conversations. He shows her kindness, patience, and understanding, slowly earning her trust and breaking down her barriers.

As their relationship deepens, Malleus helps reader discover a more compassionate side of herself. He encourages her to embrace her confidence without relying on insults and helps her channel her sharp wit into positive and constructive conversations.

Over time, reader realizes that Malleus sees her for who she truly is and loves her unconditionally, flaws and all. She begins to let go of her defensive insults and opens up to Malleus, allowing herself to be vulnerable and share her true feelings.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 6

It's Wednesday, you know what that means! After spending so much time writing for Carry Your Heart this week, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get a long enough segment of this completed to share. Especially since I had a busy weekend. But here we are with 1.3k more words!

Time for the explanations to start.

First, Previous

----------

Danny slapped his hand over his face. “Jazz!” he hissed. He looked over, hoping Robin could help him. Only to realize he had rushed over to Alfred to give him a hug. “Great,” he muttered. “Everything is fine!” Danny tried to assure the room as he let his transformation flow over him.

The shouted questions just got louder and Jazz shifted to more completely block Danny from view.

“Jazz!” Danny tried again. “Lower your weapon! They’re safe!”

“Mom and Dad were supposed to be safe, too!”

Danny sighed. Then he ducked under her arm, using a mix of martial arts training from Pandora and intangibility to prevent her from stopping him. Ignoring the Waynes, he turned his back to them to face his sister. Robin could explain things to them if he wanted. “Jazz, it’s okay. They’re in almost as much danger from the Guys in White as I am.” He put his hands over hers and found the button to disarm her staff.

At least one person behind him demanded he explain what he meant by that, but Danny just looked Jazz in the eyes as he removed the staff handle from her hands.

She let him take it an narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean.”

Danny gave her his biggest shit-eating grin. “Congrats on the second dead boyfriend. I like this one much more than the first. Goes well with the dead brother.”

“Second…” Jazz’s voice trailed off as she looked over the people behind him. It was getting harder to ignore their shouted questions and demands for explanations. “Jason was the second Robin.”

“Yep,” agreed Danny. “And something went wrong when he was brought back to life. He ended up split in two and haunted by his own ghost.”

“Why couldn’t I see him? Or sense him?”

“He was that weak. I gave him some of my ectoplasm to strengthen him which is why he’s visible now.”

“Okay. Okay. So, what next?”

“Now I apologize to Jason and petition a founding member of the Justice League for assistance for my people.” Before Jazz could ask the questions she clearly wanted to at the last half of his sentence, Danny turned around and faced the Waynes.

Nearly all of them were facing Danny and Jazz in fighting stances. Damian had gotten a sword from somewhere and looked like he was half a second from rushing them. Bruce’s expression was blank, but his fists were clenched and he was glaring at Danny. Though his eyes kept flicking to Robin who had stopped hugging Alfred and was settled on Barbara’s lap signing to Dick and Alfred. Cass was paying more attention to them than Danny and Jazz.

But Danny didn’t really care about any of them. He sought out Jason who was pressed against the wall staring at Robin with wide eyes, a gun held loosely in his hand. “Jazz, feel free to share anything. Bruce is Batman. I’m gonna talk to your boyfriend for a moment.”

“How did you find that out?” demanded Bruce who moved to block Danny’s way.

At the same time, Jason fell into a defensive stance and held up the gun properly. “Don’t come closer!”

Danny cocked his head and looked at the gun. With barely a thought, he froze the trigger mechanism so it couldn’t shoot while sending out calm, safe, no harm pulses from his core. He trilled a I come in peace for good measure. To Bruce, he said, “Robin told me.” But then he realized there was more than one Robin present. “Not… Damian? The dead one.”

He realized that was an awful way to phrase it even as Jazz hissed his name in reproach. Even Robin facepalmed at his statement.

Bruce barely twitched. “Who are you?” he demanded, voice low and threatening.

“Right, okay, that’s a fair question. So I haven’t lied about who I am. Or much of anything tonight, really. I’m Danny. I was born Danny Fenton until my parents decided they were not okay having a half-dead son and tried to fix me. I escaped and now I respect their wishes by not using their last name. I did die when I was fourteen and became a vigilante in our home town keeping humans safe from ghosts and ghosts safe from humans. I was able to broker a semi-permanent peace on the ghostly side a few years ago and retired from vigilantism. But now I’m basically the liaison between the living realms and the Infinite Realms. Which means I need to talk to your son. So we’ll continue this after I do.”

“I will not allow you near Jason until you explain everything.” Bruce stood even taller and tried to loom over Danny.

“It’s his medical information. I’ll explain what I can to him and he can choose what to share with you. Besides, I’m a ghost. You really can’t stop me.” He strengthened the peace, no harm, calm vibes he was sending out. Bruce was liminal enough he should be able to feel them. “You know I’m telling the truth. You’ve died and there are no secrets among the dead.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damian lower his sword.

“What are you doing?” demanded Bruce who didn’t relax at all.

“Later,” insisted Danny. This was pointless. He needed to talk to Jason and delaying wasn’t going to help any of them. Turning intangible, he walked around Bruce whose arms went right through him. As did Tim’s follow-up attacks.

“What are you doing?” yelled Tim as he tried to restrain Danny.

“Trying to talk to your brother,” replied Danny. “You should let me do it.” And then he was before Jason.

The calming pulses from his core had calmed his sister’s boyfriend down somewhat. The gun was now pointed at the ground and his hand wasn’t on the trigger anymore. Not that it would’ve fired anyway, but Jason didn’t know that.

“I’m sorry.” He heard Jazz yelling at Tim and Bruce and starting her own explanations and happily let her handle her boyfriend’s family. To Jason, he continued, “I knew Clockwork was hiding something from me about you and Jazz, but I let myself get distracted and put off visiting you. I don’t know everything that happened to you or how or why you’ve been split in two, but I can help. However you want. I promise to explain everything I do know tonight. Once we get somewhere private. Do you want Jazz there, too? I’d recommend it since she’s better at explaining things than me, but it’s your choice.”

“What are you? What is that?” Jason pointed to Robin with a shaking hand.

Danny smiled sadly. “You know who he is. He’s you. Whatever brought you back to life did a fucking awful job of it. Being split in two like this isn’t good for you and I say that from experience. Now, I can keep answering your questions here in full hearing of every single member of your family, or we can wait until later. I promise no more harm will come to you.”

“He’s been there the whole time?”

“He’s been there the whole time,” confirmed Danny. “Waiting a few hours won’t change a single thing.”

Jason nodded once and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and as he did so seemed to stand up taller. When he opened his eyes again, he no longer looked to be on the verge of attack. He even clicked the safety of his gun back on and put it away. “Now, I do have one question,” he said.

“Anything.”

“What was that you meant about me being Jazz’s second dead boyfriend?”

Over his surprised laughter, he heard Jazz’s groan from across the hall. Yeah, he really did like Jason more than Johnny.

---------

Next

Danny is setting himself up to be interrogated by the entire batclan. He has no idea what he's about to face. I wanted to get more into everyone's reactions, but that'll come in the next parts.

Unrelated to this fic, I'm glad you all enjoyed I'll Carry Your Heart! I did feel a little guilty with the comments/tags on part 2 talking about how sweet and fluffy it was only to twist all of that in part 3. It was a lot of fun to write and I can't wait to get back to it.

Tag List

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[thefloorisbalaclava]

*heads up for angst*

Johnny knew he could get angry, knew he could be as stubborn as an ass, but he never thought he'd meet his match in you.

You could be his greatest enemy and one of his best friends all in one go. Another shouting match. Another make up which always ended in needy kisses and passionate loving.

But it couldn't go on like this forever.

But the idea of being without you was one he couldn't stand to think of. You two would still have to work together and see each other almost every day.

He had to do it though. He stood outside your door making sure he had all the right words. When he knocked, he instantly forgot everything.

You opened the door. "Johnny...hey."

"Hey." He stood there awkwardly knowing he couldn't take one step into that room or he'd be all over you and that wasn’t what he came here for.

"You wanna come in?" you asked, and he shook his head.

"No, not this time." He sighed deeply and looked into your eyes. "This has to stop," he said.

"What?" The way you asked it let him know that you knew exactly what he was talking about.

"This." He gestured between the two of you. You scoffed and clenched your jaw.

"I see."

"I think you know how toxic it is...and if we're to work together, it can't go on."

You stayed silent, staring at the wall behind him.

"Say something," he murmured.

"Right. You're right," you said with a shrug.

"I am?" He cleared his throat, "I mean...I am."

"I was actually going to say the same thing," you lied. Johnny knew it was a defense mechanism so he wouldn't see how hurt you were. Your face remained emotionless as did his even if he was full of regret on the inside.

"You're right," you repeated, voice shaking this time.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down and pretending not to see the tears swimming in your eyes.

"Don't be."

You both stood in silence for a moment. "Uh, I have a few things to take care of," you said. "See you around, MacTavish." You closed the door quietly when he was expecting a slam.

"Yeah," he said to the closed door. He turned and walked away, picking up his pace as the sadness, the anger began to take over.

He told himself that when this was all over, he would get you back. He would do whatever it took. But right now, he needed to get away from you...from the pain...from the tears that were stinging his eyes.

Some day. One day.

♡Masterlist

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

Trust pt.4

Pairing- Sully family x darkfey!reader

Summary- The sullys meet a special girl.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Warnings- mentions of death, mentions of killing, mentions of dismembering, rushed ass ending

A/N- I really couldn’t think of anything better for the ending and I’m so sorry it’s rushed but I hope you guys like it 😭

After that night with Rotxo, life with the reef people wasn’t as bad. Not many people talked to you still, but one thing changed. Rotxo.

The following day after the little exchange between you two you found him reaching Tuk how to breath longer underwater.

You sit down next to him, he peeks an eye in your direction and smiles and you bow your head to him. “Y/N!” Tuk peeps and you smile at the girl. ''Hello Tuktirey.'' You say to her as she gives you a hug. ''I'm gonna go play with Kiri wanna come?'' She asks and you simply shake your head side to side and she's off running to her sister. Then it was just you and Rotxo. He had a sheepish smile on his face. ''How has your day been?'' Interrupting the silence Rotxo asked. ''It was good.'' You reply and back to silence. You looked into the setting sun and then at Rotxo who had been staring at you. ''Thank you Rotxo.'' You tell him and he gives you a confused turn of his head. ''For last night the ointment.'' You explain and he shakes his head in understanding. ''It was no problem really but,'' He said contemplating what he was fixing to ask. ''What are those scars on your back from?'' He asks and your eyes cast downward. Choking up a little bit of courage you needed, you weren't scared of anything, but this memory terrifies you. ''I trusted someone I shouldn't've.'' You say and he hums. ''So that's why you don't trust people.'' He says in a say-so voice. turning your head to him and furrowing your eyebrows slightly. He chuckles softly, ''Sorry was just an observation.'' Your forehead untenses and shake your head, ''it's true though.'' You say giving a pitiful laugh after. ''Yeah.'' He says and you look at the ground and he tilts his head to the left as he looks at you. ''But you know what the best start is to trusting people?'' He asked and at this point he is just straight up and you shake your head no and he smiles. ''Being friends!'' He says, ''So, friends?'' He asked, putting his hand out and you looked at him in complete shock as you took his hand and breathed deeply, shaking it.

And then after that you two became inseparable. Rotxo finally talked you into learning the way of water and then in return he would go into the forest with you to heal injured animals and plants and listen to you ramble on and on about the different spices all around Pandora.

And over time the more time you spent with him the more you started to trust him. Those stone walls you put up all those years ago are finally breaking down. You told him about Jamie and what you did. You thought he would be scared off but he reacted the opposite he was understanding. One thing that surprised everyone, maybe even yourself, was when he touched your back and you didn't even react. Before you and Rotxo became friends, if anyone touched your back you immediately jumped back to defense mechanisms coming up, but he just touched your back and you just went on to talking with Unpey and Tarmei.

-Present day-

You and Rotxo collected flowers before you heard screaming from the beach, dropping the flowers Rotxo jumps on an ilu and you right behind him. Vìrtì, Ivä, Tsìo, Wìsey followed you.

He comes up next to Ao’nung who gives him a scared look as you both look at the horrific scene in front of you. Ronal lied with her soul sister who was dead, her baby calf who refused to leave her next to her. Putting a hand over my mouth it parts slightly the air was silent except for the mournful screams from the Tsahik.

When you got back to the island the men and women gathered all yelling to take action. “We will protect our people!” One man yelled, stirring up the others, war yells came from all around the room, some from Rotxo. Jake came out from the crowd and held up a human made tracking device, talking about if it hit you, you would be marked for death. Lo’aks ears perk and you see as he begins to walk off you walk with him along with your four birds. “Lo’ak.” You whisper and he takes a deep breath, “I have to make sure he is okay.” He said and you furrow your brows until you remember Rotxo telling you about how Lo’ak bonded payakan the outcast of the tulkun. You nod, “Well,” you said. “I can’t let you leave,” you continued and his arms were tense. “By yourself, I can protect you in case any sky demons find us.” You finished and he wished a quick thank you as you walked faster to the ilus. One thing you hadn’t noticed was Neteyam following you.

When you made it to the deck Neteyam called out to Lo’ak and you stood off to the side letting them have their talk. But some things you did hear was “Stay your skwang ass here.” Followed by something along the lines of, “I’m not like you, the perfect son.” Making a growl escape Neteyam. “You can’t make me stay here. Y/N?” He said both now looking at you. Lo’ak looked at you pleading and how long you’ve lived together you’ve grown rather fond of his company, you have to help. Now looking at Neteyam you shrug as you and Lo’ak jump into the water. And you recently found out if you use magic while on the ilu and it’s basically like bonding if you were with na’vi. Transparent green smoke surrounded your wrist as you jumped onto a ilu and followed Lo’ak.

Neteyam watched as you two ran off as Kiri, Tuk, Tsireya, Ao’nung, and Rotxo ran up. “Where are they going?” Tsireya asked. “To warn Payakan.” Neteyam said and everyone looked confused. Why would you leave when ordered to stay?

“We have to follow them!” Kiri said and everyone agreed jumping into their own ilus following wherever you two may have been.

Back to you and Lo’ak, you finally spotted Payakan. Stopping in front Lo’ak of Payakan ``Tell me if anyone comes.” You tell Vìrtì, Ivä, Tsìo, and Wìsey and then Lo’ak noticed had something orange sticking out of him, Lo’ak touched it, it was the tracking device Jake had found. Suddenly the group pulled up and then the birds all started to argue which was just a bunch of anger chirping. “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t tell me, now stop.” You whisper to them making them stop but not before Vìrtì says something along the lines of, “Surrounded by imbeciles.” Which you glare at her for.

“Y/N!” Lo’ak grunts out, and you look over and see everyone trying to pull it out with all their strength. “A little help?” He asks and you jump off of the ilu and start helping. After a while it was clear that you couldn’t pull it out until an idea came up. “Give me that rope right there.” You tell Neteyam pointing to the rope that was on the side of his ilu. Handing it to you you wrap it securely around the tracking device and then around your ilu, as you did this you said nothing and they all just watched confused as you tug on it harshly making sure it stayed. And then you hold onto the rope and the reins to the ilu as it goes surprisingly fast. Riding back to Payakan and the group and just as you thought the device was out of him.

And then you guys hear rapid beeping from the device. “they're close.” Lo'ak asked and you looked at it, “If it does you guys go I’ll lead them away, okay?” You tell them and they nod as they mount their ilus but then someone interrupts, “You can’t go alone.” Tsireya says and you look back at her confused, “I will go with you.” She said and before you could refuse she interrupted you, “You have no choice.” You nod and say farewell from the rest as you watch them go back. You two begin to swim fast, your birds flying just as fast, hopefully faster than that demon ship, but you weren’t that hopeful.

The beeping only got stronger no matter which direction you went and then you got slung out of the water only hearing Tsireya’s yelp. You opened your eyes and hiss at the humans and fake na’vi around you. “What the hell—“ A bald Avatar said, pointing his gun at your head as he examined your strange body and horns. You’ve been on the end of many of these weapons before and you knew what to do, your palms turned into fist as all of them on deck clinged to their necks dripping there weapons. And then you heard Tsireya tell, “Stop whatever you're doing or I’ll cut her throat.” You hear a strange voice and you turn around facing Tsireya and a strange man, the very man who tried to kidnap the sullys, the man trying to kill Jake.

Releasing your hands the men gasp for air, then someone grabs your arms harshly and ties them in front of you dragging you to another room away from Tsireya.

Only a few feet away, hidden behind rocks was Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, Ao’nung, Rotxo and Tuk watching as you got dragged away. “Shit.” Neteyam whispers under his breath as he and the rest speed back to Awa’tulu where their parents waited for them.

“Where have you been?!” Jake says grabbing his two sons who pull away from him making him turn around furrowed eyebrows. “The sky people they have……they have Y/N and,” Lo’ak paused as his eyes glazed over his parents and the mention of your name made Neytiri tense up as she grabbed her bow and then the Tsahik and the Olo’eyktan. “And who?” Jake asks, slightly shaking his son's shoulder. “And Tsireya.” At the drop of her name everything went so fast, harnessing ilus and skimwings, grabbing spears and weapons as they rode out.

And things with you and Tsireya haven’t gotten any better. You were put in a white room with a mirror on one wall only seeing yourself. And then you heard a door open. The man that had captured you, really captured you came into the room. He stood with his hands on his hips doing his best to be intimidating. “My name is Quaritch and I would like to know where Jake Sully is right now.” He said. “Yes.” You say and he was confused. “What?” He bluntly said and the ends of your lips lifted up slightly. “Yes, you would like to know where Jake Sully is, don't you?” You say and his jaw clenched. “Funny kid, real funny but if you don’t answer me we might have to start cutting parts off ya’.” He said and your little smirk faded to a cruel frown. “Well, I mean,” he said, touching your back, “other parts.”

You look at him and down at the ground wondering how he knows. “I know what your thinking “How did he know'' well it’s not hard finding stuff out about Pandora's dangers, and you are at the very top of that list, you know, all those years ago you would of been what 10 when those humans got there, and when you finally trusted them that boy cut your wings off boy did you rack up a body count, I mean what kind of monster would do that, I mean I’ve done some stuff, but that, that, was something else.” He jabbed and jabbed at every possible angle. “Well, I guess you won't?” He said, wiping his hands off. He walked off and to the door. “Guess we will have a little chat with your friend then.” He said pounding a code into the keypad next to the door, the door opened and he left you.

Your leg shakes up and down as you listen to his heavy footsteps get fainter and fainter until there is nothing. Immediately getting you walk over to the door putting your hand on it green smoke covers it and it shatters, stepping over it and into some glass you ignore the jabbing on the pad of your feet and pick up your pace as you hurry down the hallway, you checked every room and no Tsireya, there was only one door left and you prayed to the Great Mother that she was in here. Shattering this door you heard an all too familiar yelp. Tsireya saw it was you and her scared tears turned into happy tears but soon back to scared as two guards came up behind you, jumping at you.

But you were quick to act jumping out of the way as they knocked into trying to collect themselves. You wave your hand in front of their faces, green smoke surrounding your hands and their eyes close as they land on the ground, peacefully sleeping, well not so peaceful but still, sleeping. Tsireya had stronger skin than you so she stepped over the glass with no puncture of her skin which you kind of envied because of the cuts all over you feet but you focused on something greater than silly little cuts on your feet: getting out of here alive.

You grabbed Tsireya’s hand guiding her to the only entrance and exit of the hallway. And it led into another hallway, finally you made it to the real exit. You poked your head out and saw one woman, waving your hand as she fell asleep. Tip toeing around her. Making it to the door labeled, “Pandorian Artifacts’ you and Tsireya enter it only to have made it yet another hallway and you were getting irritated you just wanted to get out of there. This hallway had windows and out one stood all of your birds. “Thank you Great Mother.” You say opening the window letting the four birds, who luckily got away, they all land on your shoulders smothering you in love, chirping about how they thought that you were a goner. You look over to Tsireya and she had a smile on her lips, “Okay, okay we can reconcile when we are safe and need you guys to get everyone, everyone.” You say and they all straighten their wings and look at each other and then at you nodding their necks up and down once as they say goodbye to you once more as they fly out into the window all splitting in four different directions.

“What'd you tell them to do?” Tsireya asked as you began walking again. “They are getting help.” You say and you pass the last door and your back shoots straight up and you gasp as a chilling fever runs down you. “Is something wrong?” A concerned Tsireya asked. You look at the door and you have something fighting to open it, you reach your hand over touching the silver nob, cold and heavy in your hand, your heart raced as you turned it and you could have sworn the air and the world around you stopped when you pulled it open and revealed wings, huge wings encased in a glass box, they were brown in color with shades of gold when the light finally hit it, and the jagged cuts around the ends from where they were removed. It had to be a dream you decided so you bring your hand to the glass touching it flinching when it shattered under your touch. Shaking the glass that hit your hand off you look back at the wings letting your finger finally, finally touch the feathers you smiled at. It hadn't been a dream after all. Before anything could happen Tsireya gasped pushing you into a closet.

You couldn’t see but you heard, “Where’s your friend?” A man asked, no response. “No answer. It’s fine, your more than dead anyways.” He said snatching her and dragging her.

Jake and the Metkayina they finally made it to the ship, soldiers guarded the ship from above, probably more within not to mention the scientist inside. Jake’s eyes scan the ship searching for any sign of you and Tsireya, none. One person he unfortunately noticed was Miles Quaritch. He reached for his earpiece as he began talking, his eyes finally saw Tsireya being dragged out and in front of him still no you. Tsireya was passed to Quaritch and he began to speak, “Well, Sully.” He began, “It always circles back doesn’t it, you killed me, now I’m going to kill you.” He said. “Also I didn’t take you for an animal lover Sully, you know that thing with the horns and scars on her back, yeah she did a number on my ship and right now I got men looking for her and before I kill you I'm going to dismember her in front of you.” He said and Jake's breath quickened and he looked up at Neytiri on her ikran who had a look of panic for you and hatred for Quaritch as he held onto Tsireya.

“So this is how it will go,” Quaritch began again. “You’ll give yourself up and I’ll let this girl go and almost everyone else.” He said and Jake looked down from Quaritch and everyone else. He made his mind up. Placing his gun to his side and letting his tsurak pull forward and as Quaritch got his shot ready the boat shaked. Quaritch fell and before he could get up again it shook again. And then from the north side of the boat split open green smoke emerging out of it and then wings. Jake’s eyes widen before a smile breaks out on his face as he looks at Neytiri. But it quickly shut down when he saw a swarm of birds and then, Toruk.

You floated in the air as Vìrtì and the rest floated to you; they were out of breath and quickly chirped things between end gasps. “I know I’ll tell you guys later just did you tell him what to do.” You ask and Wìsey being the only one to answer with a quiet yes. And you smile and then you see the Metkayina and Toruk headed to the ship. You flew down and helped the Metkayina get to Tsireya. You put most of the soldiers to sleep not wanting to do more harm than done. Your wings flapped the water around the ship, making sure that the boat shook, keeping them off their feet. You made it to Tsireya and then you saw her ilu. Running over to her you jump in the water. “You got them back.” She said as she mounted her ilu and connected her kuru. “I got them back.” You reply and all of the Metkayina surround you and Tsireya making sure she’s okay.

“You guys get back to the village. Make sure everyone is safe and accounted for.” You tell them and they rude make and you say your farewells to Tsireya and then to the boat Toruk snatched the boats sides off many fell and you flew to him and he hissed at you and you put your hands up bowing your head to him and he bares his teeth at you for defense. “You may go home, you have helped more than enough.” You say to him and he hides his fangs bowing his head before turning back, meeting with Jake before flying off into Pandora.

And then you saw the Sullys, all of them, on the boat, fighting. “This family doesn’t know how to stay put.” You whisper to yourself as you watch Neteyam and Neytiri finish off most of the soldiers but one catches your eyes and before you could react your wing reaches over them and a bullet penetrates your wing and you hold back the gruttal scream that threatens to come out. “Are you okay?” You ask and before anything happens water begins to fill the boat everyone but Jake and Quaritch jump off.

Tuk cried in Neytiri's arms as the boat snuck under the water. Spider looked down in shame as if it was somehow his fault. And throughout your protest Kiri checks your wing. And then by the grace of Eywa Jake was brought back flinging his hands in the water Neteyam and Lo’ak helped him to the surface. Jake coughs and he looks at his son and tears spill from his eyes into his water soaked face. “Sons, I see you.” He says standing up Jake looks at everyone and he smiles holding out his injured side he brings his family and Spider into a hug as you stood to the side. “Our family is safe now.” He said and his eyes peek over to you bringing you over to him, “including you Y/N.” He says hurling you into the hug and it stunned you as you feel the warm embrace of trust.

Tags-

@tejas-kris @destinylb @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @xxnessinessiellexx @inutheangel @whos6claire @multi-fandom-rando

[pekejscatbed]

Band-aids and too many scars | Jason Todd centric

info/warnings:

SFW age regression, little! Jason, slight cg! Bruce, slight cg! Alfred, lots of fluff with a dash of angst (only a sentence)

batman masterlist

song: little space - sxye

———

It's not the first time Jason finds himself in this position, breaking into Wayne Manor and crawling through his adoptive dads bedroom window while said dad is away at some fancy gala or work meeting, and it's also not the first time that Bruce's bedroom window has been left unlocked and Jason wonders if it's on purpose- if Bruce is aware of what his second son is doing, breaking into his room and regressing to the age of a child to relive the childhood he didn't get to experience, and if Bruce is intentionally leaving the window unlocked to make Jason's feats easier. Either way, Jason tries not to think about it too much, because he really doesn't want Bruce to know about his regression, even if Bruce is the one person Jason craves when he's slipped into that state of mind, and instead he just chooses to believe that the constantly unlocked window is merely a coincidence.

Today, Bruce is attending one of the many galas Alfred urges him to go to in attempt to keep up appearances, and Alfred is with him as part of his "butler duties" as he calls them. Dick is still in Blüdhaven, Tim is on a date with his boyfriend, and Damien is... Jason isn't sure actually- that kid can disappear- but he's not at the manor, so Jason's happy (yes, Jason stalks his family, so what? it's not weird-). Since no one is home, it's the perfect time for Jason to indulge in his coping mechanism, which just so happens to involve breaking into his dad's bedroom, yes- but, in Jason's defense, being in the head space of child makes him crave his childhood home and the comforting smell of his Daddy's cologne, okay?

Speaking of his Daddy, little Jay is currently sitting on his Daddy's king-sized bed, pulling little gear out of the small, black backpack he brought with him. The first item Jay pulls out is his black bat Hello Kitty stuffed animal, a Beanie Baby Halloween plush in an orange outfit with details in the same color. Next, he pulls out two coloring books, the first being Superhero themed and the second being of the Lisa Frank brand; he also grabs a few small packages of crayons. The last thing Jay grabs from his bag is his pacifier, black with a red handle, decorated with a small array of stickers.

Jay slips the paci into his mouth, lightly suckling, and opens his Lisa Frank coloring book; he flips to a page of a girl in a princess dress, standing on what looks like a castle wall, a vase of flowers on the floor next to her. Grabbing a light brown crayon, Jay colors her skin first, then switches the color to a dark purple to color the girls curly hair, lips, and eyeshadow. Next, he grabs hot pink to color her dress, switching to a light pink to color the big bow on the front of her gown. Jay then moves onto the flowers, filling them in with different shades of purple and pink, then colors the vase with a orange-ish-brown. Finally, Jay colors the castle walls grey, switching between dark and light shades for every other brick.

The little continues coloring for a while, filling in a couple more pages, the last he does being a picture of Batman from his Superhero book, a present for his Daddy when he's finished, though he knows he'd never actually give it to the man (Jay wipes away the tears building up in his eyes with a sniffle, wishing the thought away). Once the picture is fully colored, Jay smiles at his work with pride, before a small yawn escapes his lips, muffled by his paci. His eyes start to close and his shoulders begin to droop, and the boy realizes just how sleepy he is and lies down on side, curling in on himself and grabbing his Hello Kitty stuffie to cuddle up to his chest. In his small, sleepy state, Jay falls asleep in the comfort of his Daddy's bed, forgetting that he really isn't supposed to be there in the first place.

———

When Bruce comes home and steps into his room, the last thing he expects to see is his second son asleep on his bed with a stuffed animal in his arms, an adult pacifier in his mouth, and a mess of crayons and coloring books next to the boy's body. The man takes in the sight before him, a fond, although slightly confused, smile on his lips.

Alfred comes up behind Bruce, wondering why his Master has stopped in the middle of his doorway with a genuine happiness on his face, though the butler immediately understands when his eyes lay on Jason, and he smiles, too, then whispers, "It seems Master Jason has made a mess. Shall I clean up for him?"

Bruce nods, though advises Alfred to be quiet, careful, not wanting to risk waking his sleeping son, then lightly walks towards his closet to change out of his suit and into more comfortable clothes. Alfred understands and quietly puts away all the crayons in their respective boxes, going as far as to put them in color order, then moves to pick up the coloring books, eyes widening when he sees the open page of a fully colored Batman. The butler waves over Bruce, who is pulling on a shirt, and shows him the carefully colored picture, hand drawn hearts covering the border as well as the single word, "Daddy".

Grinning, Bruce takes in the picture, asking Alfred to rip it out of the coloring book for Bruce to keep (Alfred has always been better at tearing along perforated lines than Bruce). Alfred does as asked, then gently puts the packages of crayons and coloring books into the backpack at the end of the bed, making sure to keep the Batman page out. As he does this, Jason shivers from his spot on Bruce's bed, a mumbled, "Daddy" falling from his lips as his pacifier gently slips out of his mouth and onto the bed next to him. Both Alfred and Bruce smile warmly at the sight, and Bruce grabs the fuzzy blanket at the end of his bed and gently covers his son with it. He then grabs the pacifier, asking Alfred to clean it off, then slowly pushes it back between his sons' lips. Once Jason is warm and comfortable, and the bed is clean, Bruce and Alfred both quietly make their way out of the bedroom, Bruce slowly shutting the door behind him with the coloring page in hand.

Together, the Master and his butler search the internet for answers to Jason's behavior and learn about the terms Age Regression and Little Space, quickly understanding the coping mechanism and how and why it would benefit Jason.

———

When Jason wakes up, all his coloring tools are put away, and moonlight shines in through the window he came in. His eyes widen, realization setting in; someone saw him. Quickly, Jason shoves his pacifier and stuffed animal into his bag, momentarily pausing when he comes across a plastic baggie filled with chocolate chips cookies. A light blush spreading across his tanned cheeks, Jason shakes his head, leaving the same way he came in.

(He eats the cookies when he gets to his apartment, the taste immediately giving away who baked them: Alfred. Jason smiles.)

[kithtaehyung]

minted: part two (snippet) (m) | myg

snippet: minted: part two (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au series: masterlist | part one summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! enjoy this snippet since i missed the initial part two drop! note 2: this series is for @sailoryooons, @joonary, and @minttangerines! love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma, poor reader :(((, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee…, tension, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn est. drop date: september 16th, 2024 snippet word count: 1.5k est. total word count: 9k >:))

—

—

There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not because it’s the source of multiple health aspects, or the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you released your hand or if Yoongi let it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm, and the voice you hear courses through your ears, “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. Nor man, for that matter.

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him than you are by yourself right now. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with Yoongi, either. You don’t even know who he is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a hotel employee, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions and words you can’t name.

Yeah.

You fucked up.

Fuck.

-

-

tbc. :))

-

are we ready for the drop?! | join the taglist!

a/n: this is just the beginning!! who knowwwws what's gonna happen during the rest of the 9k+ lsdkfjdskl thank you all so much for hanging in there for me as i navigate multiple hobbies and endeavors. it means a lot to see your words of encouragement! always appreciated, and i hope you look forward to the real drop hehehe. more links: masterlist

[dangermousie]

God, this sequence was BRUTAL and I adored it. Basically, he can't help himself and keeps throwing jibes about her and the painter and she finally has had enough:

And so she loses it, and hits back and in her attempt to protect herself, draws blood! (The thing is, she has NO idea that he is still in love with her; hell she still has no idea he lied in jail. She is angry and vulnerable.)

And that hits him straight in the heart - all his barely controlled, unacknowledged terror that he's missed his chance, that she won't ever like him again, that she's moved on.

So he addresses it in a mature manner in a private measured discussion. Psych!!! She drew blood so he goes for the jugular ten times worse. The man has only two defense mechanisms when hurt - to retreat behind his walls (tried, didn't work) or when that's impossible, to lash out to make the other person back off and/or to hurt as he's been hurt. And so this utter and complete mess pours out of him, in front of the whole office...

The thing is, what he doesn't realize (and she doesn't realize it either, she's too emotionally compromised) how utterly this rant proves he's so so so in love with her - it doesn’t just show he's out of his mind with jealousy, it's like him reminding her, in the most dysfunctional way possible, see you liked me me me meeeeeee meeeeeeeeeeee! And the fact that he talks about all these little things she did back way when means he actually remembered the supposedly insignificant to him things for YEARS in glorious technicolor. He has revealed himself completely and neither of them is together enough to realize it.

And then he brings this up as his finishing comment and I kinda flail like Kermit because this is the crux, isn't it - this is him, telling her in the world's most dysfunctional manner that he is feeling betrayed, that she should keep her word and choose him and just - he was never great at communicating or showing his feelings in a functional way but he got better (his sister shortly before she died even commented that he learned to express love) and then jail happened and all the progress was undone and then some. This is a man mere weeks out of jail, any hope of him processing and expressing himself in a functional manner would be deluded.

I mean look at them, both equally heart broken and such a total mess.

The thing is, the fact that it makes sense for someone with his issues and his personality and his background to lash out like this, does not negate the fact that he hurt her terribly and she deserved none of it. If you think about it, in his whole life, she's the only person who's ever fought for him - everyone else was either unable or unwilling. I mean, I am sure his mother didn't want to die and leave him but the fact remains, he was the caretaker between the two of them; he feels his sister picked her abusive husband over him, Gao betrayed him, dancer friend couldn't do anything, teachers didn't care (look at her mommy expelling him), cops didn't care (his sister's accident) etc etc. And here is this beautiful, kind, warm, brighter than the sun young woman who fights for him and fights for him - fights for a place on his team, fights for his friendship and his heart, fights to provide a place for him after his life is wrecked. She just doesn't give up and not even he can make her give up permanently. And then he thinks she's dating painter dude and logically so what - she has every right to do so - but that pushes all his jealousy and abandonment issues and he just implodes.

I love so much that the office is on her side btw (man, they must view the real life soap as a hell of a bonus to their working life) and the thing is, the moment after he said what he said, you can tell it sink in for Li Xun how unforgivable and heinous that outburst was (and not like in jail for a good cause either.)

Poor girl! Yes, your ex boyfriend is an idiot, I am sorry.

[kyrieren]

Yashiro and/ versus Kageyama: The singularity of humanhood

Warning: Wall of text (about 1500 words) (ʘ‿ʘ) (ʘ‿ʘ) (ʘ‿ʘ)

"People ... are full of contradictions. They’re lonely. And then they’re not. They’re missed. And then they are not."

This monologue of Yashiro reveals the reasons why Kageyama and he are unable to forge a romantic relationship. The ways they deal with the outer world and themselves contradict each other, rendering them incompatible. Their respective mental burdens billow whenever they are together during high school. Yashiro confronts his homosexuality head-on, embracing it aloud, while Kageyama conceals it, even from his own awareness. It's a tragic paradox, where two individuals grappling with the same matter yet employing starkly contrasting coping mechanisms, making their interactions all the more painful to witness. However, no one is really at fault. People are just different, living in different universes, which entails the ultimate singularity of humanhood.

Yashiro has always been that observant and astute kind of person, perceptive enough to discern much about others, yet conversely, is taken into account and understood too little by other characters. Seeking for torture, aware of the world's inherent cruelty, Yashiro adopts increasingly questionable behaviors, inviting insults and even physical assaults, and hopefully Kageyama's notice too. This self-destructive persona becomes his armor against past trauma, a role he convinces himself to fully embody, albeit at a cost that may appear excessive to others, leading Kageyama to perceive him as self-centered. Despite the fabrication of his persona, Yashiro is candid about one aspect of himself: his attraction to men, a truth that challenges Kageyama's own understanding of himself.

On the contrary, Kageyama's obtuseness isn't inherent but rather a chosen path in life. Ignorance and conformity are his chosen coping mechanism. He follows the footsteps of his parents by enrolling in med school and becoming a doctor; dodges the “danger” of not being straight by finding a woman whenever somebody forces him to confront his true sexuality. Kageyama is that typical type of person who meticulously adheres to social norms, blending in with his family and the heteronormative world around him. However, this self-protective mechanism also endangers Yashiro whose deepest fear lies in rejection and emotional pain.

In this analysis, I’m going to consolidate Yashiro and Kageyama’s dynamic in two symbolism systems: the perceptions (lens vs glasses) and the defense (umbrellas, 2 vs 1).

1. The perceptions (lens vs glasses)

Lens

Lens is typically associated with observation, perception, and worldview. Yashiro’s act of stealing Kageyama’s lens case manifests his desperate yearning to be "seen" by his crush. Through various actions, Yashiro strives to show Kageyama who he is as a person and his aspirations for their relationship: he attends Kageyama’s father’s funeral, shares deeply personal information with Kageyama, and even sexually assaults his classmate to provoke a reaction from Kageyama.

As Yashiro takes the lens case, his inner monologue speaks, “But if he ever rejects me, it’ll probably hurt me. This is… obviously not… something I’m used to feeling.” Yashiro is acutely aware of the potential emotional toll of pursuing this unfamiliar feeling. Despite the risks of rejection and mental anguish, he still bravely proceeds for the desire to escape his perpetual solitude. All he truly seeks is someone who cares about him. Actually, he is asking for just a tiny meager.

Nevertheless, Yashiro's intense persona, shaped by childhood trauma, becomes too much for Kageyama to handle. Consequently, Kageyama consistently avoids and evades the possibility of being gay, which Yashiro persistently presents to him. In fact (or figuratively), Kageyama has given his answer before Yashiro even mentions about the matter.

This rainy scene involving Kageyama, his girl, and Yashiro conveys a profound message about Kageyama's stance. Though the simple dialogue is about Kageyama losing his lens, the underlying theme is about him losing his ability to truly "see" because he chooses not to. He deliberately avoids "seeing" Yashiro to avoid confronting the uncomfortable truth about himself and his sexuality. The girl's remark, "What a waste," goes beyond the monetary value of his loss; it hints at the greater losses Kageyama can imagine at that moment. He loses the world in its true form and his true, authentic self - which navigates us humans throughout life. He reserves himself by never letting that self interact and be reflected from people, leading to a gradual decline in his ability to empathize and grow emotionally. Ironically, his attempt to protect the self eventually ends up destroying it. That's why he grows into such a dense and apathetic bloke.

Glasses

I believe the glasses on his face are meant to be sarcastic. His eyes are not presented in the above panel, instead only his glasses. Glasses are typically a tool for better vision, yet in this particular case, become a symbol of his self-imposed blindness. As Kageyama can’t “see” the world with his own eyes, he chooses to rely on external aids – the social norms, to filter the world for him. A man with glasses is actually a blind man.

2. The defenses (umbrellas and 2 vs 1)

The visual storytelling in these panels is masterful, capturing the intricate dynamics and stark contrasts between the characters and their internal struggles. Here we have black vs transparent umbrella, being accompanied vs alone under the rain. Let’s not forget about the rain – the befallen suffering, and in this particular scene, it could be interpreted as the looming threat they pose to each other or the mental barriers they avoid confronting. Yashiro doesn’t want to be rejected and get hurt, while Kageyama is reluctant to acknowledge his homosexuality, given the societal stigmas.

The umbrellas

I once wrote an analysis including my interpretation of the transparent umbrella Yashiro gives Aoi, if you’re interested, please scroll to the end of this post to read. To summarize that part, that umbrella represents Yashiro’s deep empathy and the wish to end the suffering of somebody who experiences the same trauma he endures. Transparency stands for “being seen”, or at least, in this scene, the wish to be. With all normal to absurd acts, despite the risks, Yashiro is trying to make Kageyama realize who he is as a person (yet of course, acting out on his façade simultaneously). On the contrary to Yashiro, Kageyama’s black umbrella symbolizes his coping mechanism, blocking any outcast that possibly derails him from the safe uniformity. Yashiro, the friend behind him, becomes the epitome of the abject, representing Kageyama's own fear of straying from social norms.

2 vs 1

Additionally, the contrast between Kageyama being accompanied and Yashiro walking alone adds more weight to the scene.

Kageyama's aversion to be odd out drives him to seek validation through external factors, such as his relationship with women, to anchor himself firmly within social norms, which also echoes in “Don’t stay gold”. By being with someone, Kageyama subconsciously affirms his belongingness and shields himself from ostracization.

On the other hand, Yashiro, though broken and “twisted beyond repair”, is risking facing his utmost terror of being emotionally damaged. Walking alone signifies the will to keep himself survive without the buffer of external relationships or societal validation. It must have taken him aggrandizing bravery to reach that point of vulnerability, risking facing his utmost terror of being emotionally damaged.

As Yashiro persists, Kageyama withdraws further. Ultimately, Kageyama’s avoidance calls for Yashiro’s ultimate fear of rejection. The risk becomes too overwhelming for Yashiro to endure, prompting him to halt his pursuit. Eventually, they both settle into a common medium of ceasefire, which is friendship. While Kageyama maintains a superficial, pitying and somewhat indebted concern for Yashiro, Yashiro secretly harbors his unrequited love that spans a painfully long period, nearly two decades.

3. The singularity of humanhood

The oneshot closes with the scene where Yashiro cries at the balcony while clenching Kageyama’s lens case.

“People are… full of contradictions. They’re lonely. And then they’re not. They’re missed. And then they are not.”

Yashiro and Kageyama’s encounter invites an opportunity for a break from their homeostasis of solitude, yet eventually, it plunges them deeper into their initial mental state. Despite being friends and their shared attraction to men, they are universes apart, operating on different systems. They can't find solace from each other. They’re both lonely and yet they’re also not. They both exist, yet they also don't.

Yashiro has always been alone. However, he resembles a stray cat. A stray cat only becomes pathetic if adopted, petted, loved and then abandoned. If Yashiro is never rejected, he is never pathetic or truly lonely. He may be abjected, have nothing or nobody, but he retains the one constant: himself, the only ally that can accompany, protect and keep him survive.

On the very contrary, Kageyama, in conforming to societal expectations for safety, sacrifices his authenticity and inner connection. He may be with others, but he can’t be with himself. Kageyama is so empty inside. Living a life without an authentic self can be just as tragically lonely as physical solitude.

Now who really is the lonely one? Who will be missed and who will not? Yashiro the ever outcast with an overwhelming persona but nobody is taking him into account? Or Kageyama the self-deprived, while conforming to social expectations, lacks a genuine identity?

Read my other analysis including the transparent umbrella of Aoi here:

[hasu-ko]

belladonna of sadness

Content: hotch x reader, unrequited love, pure angst, like pure pure angst, no happy ending, rossi being the greatest father figure you ever had, 3k.

A/N: Bruh, I'm so into Hotch these days that I've decided to write a fic about him after being on hiatus for almost 3 years. I just had to get these feelings out of my system. You people don't understand the intensity of my feels rn. I considered ending it on a happier note but then I decided that the angst is just so much better. Yes, my mother Stevie Nicks just had to be in this one.

"I'm leaving BAU, Dave," you finally breathed out the words that had been gnawing at the smooth walls of your stomach for what felt like an eternity.

It was a windy Friday night, and everyone from the team had already left after a particularly tiring case. Their thoughts were heavy, and their bodies yearned for rest and relaxation. You, on the other hand, dreaded going home, knowing that nothing but a cold bed awaited you there. It was a feeling that had haunted you for the past few years.

So, you did what you do best and immersed yourself in your work, catching up with everyone's paperwork and going through potential case files. Rossi decided to help you despite your stern protests.

The older agent's head snapped in your direction, utter confusion written all over his face.

"Why?" was all that he could muster.

"They offered me a teaching position at Cambridge. Maybe you don't know this, but I've always wanted a career in academia," you tapped your pen against the case file spread out in front of you as a lie passed your lips ever so nonchalantly.

"Don't even bother with petty lies, kiddo. It's because of him, isn't it?" Rossi sighed and ran his fingers through his colored hair.

You bit your lip anxiously, finally dropping all of your defense mechanisms. Despair that had been lightly simmering within you started boiling, burning your insides in a way that you had almost grown accustomed to over the past few months.

You let out a choked "yes," and all of a sudden, violent shakes overtook your tired body. All of the emotions that had been bottled up for ten years spilled out and wrecked every fine fiber of your being. You didn't know why you chose to tell Rossi everything that night. Maybe because he was the closest thing you ever had to a father, or maybe because you secretly hoped that he would make everything all right, like he always did.

"I just can't stand seeing him so damn happy with her, Dave. I know how selfish that sounds, but I've been nothing but selfless all these years. I've been there for him when he lost Haley. I've done everything I could to help him heal from that tremendous wound, and yet he still chose Beth. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret anything, Dave, but I'm just tired. He chose that stranger over me," you broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably.

Rossi said nothing. For the first time in his life, he was rendered speechless. He knew you liked Hotch, but he never thought it was this deep and serious.

Now that the dam holding your emotions was shattered to dust particles, you continued.

"It hurts to be in the same room with him, David. It hurts so damn much. That man has brought so much pain and misery into my life, but I still love him as much as I did on the day that I first met him. It was easier when he was with Haley. I never had any hopes, but when she died, I thought..." you let out a bitter laugh, unable to finish that thought.

"You must think I'm an awful person."

Rossi just shook his head gently.

"Darling, you're just a human being."

"What is wrong with me, Dave? Why didn't he choose me?" you lifted your knees to your chest and buried your face in them.

Rossi stood up and wrapped his arms around your quivering form. You looked like a little child, so small and vulnerable. He wanted to scoop you up, kiss your forehead, and make things right, but he knew he couldn't. This was out of his control.

"Nothing is wrong with you, sweetheart. He just can't control whom he falls in love with. These things happen. You could be the most beautiful, the most brilliant, the most wonderful person in the world, which you are, but even that is not enough when it comes to love," he whispered in your ear.

"You know, I always tell people my job is the reason why I never got married, but the truth is, I love Aaron too much. The thought of loving another man twisted my insides in a way that no case could ever. I was so hopelessly loyal to him all these years, Dave. I wasted my life dreaming that one day he would love me back," you hurried to spill those words from your mouth, scared that your vocal cords would betray you before you could confess your deepest secret to someone.

For some strange reason, you looked for pity that night. You were so miserable by that point, and you just wanted someone to acknowledge your misery. People always sought the validation of their pain. They wanted to make sure that their problems were real, that they were not overreacting or imagining things, thinking that compassion and pity would do them some good. They never did.

Rossi took your head in his hands and forced you to look at him.

"We love to be in control; we love to think that our actions will somehow affect the outcome of our lives, but oh, how wrong are we. Sure, you can control certain aspects of your life, such as your career or hobbies, or any other man-made field, but we are helpless when it comes to things that matter. Maybe that is why we value love and friendship so much; because we can't choose who we fall in love with or which people we meet. All of those things happen naturally; one day you just wake up and realize that you've become best friends with someone without being able to pinpoint the exact moment in which the strong bond was created. Perhaps there is someone somewhere on this planet who could understand you better and love you better, but you will never meet them because you were not destined to meet them. Your love for him matters. Don't think that it was all for nothing because you did help him. You helped him a lot," he spoke slowly.

"The pain is unbearable, Rossi," you muttered lowly, tears finally ceasing.

"Until one day it gets bearable, and then it gets lighter, and then it turns into a shadow, and one day you wake up and it doesn't hurt anymore. You need time to heal. You need to do everything you can to help that process, even if it means moving halfway across the world," he got up and poured himself a glass of whiskey, visibly shaken by your sudden confession.

"Thank you. I appreciate everything you did for me," you stood up, legs still shaking.

"You are welcome. I'm always here for you," he smiled a pained smile.

"Actually, I have a favor, or two to ask."

"Anything."

"Promise me you won't tell him or anyone else on the team what you heard tonight in this room. Ever," you stared at him firmly with your puffy eyes filled with pure determination.

"I promise," Rossi didn't hesitate for even a second.

"Also, can you please host one last party for me? I'm leaving on Monday. Everything has already been settled with the higher-ups, so Aaron won't bother with that. I just want to see you all for one last time," you genuinely smiled at him.

"I'll make sure to gather them all on Sunday evening."

"Thank you, Dave," you walked up to him and kissed his cheek.

Before he could reply, you were already at the door.

~

You watched the people you considered your family lounging carelessly in Rossi's living room from your spot on the kitchen counter and hummed lightly along the tune of "Summer Wine" that played softly in the background. The chain of anxiety and guilt that wrapped itself around your lungs constricted just a little bit tighter at the mere thought of the task ahead of you.

They all looked so happy, and that made you doubt your decision, but one look at the man responsible for your current state reminded you that you had to do it.

Garcia laughed at something Morgan said, and you couldn't fight back a smile of your own.

"Better sooner than later," you heard Dave's whisper as he closed the wine cabinet after finding what he was looking for.

"I'm not telling them, David. I don't have it in me to watch their hearts get broken," you sighed softly, tracing soft patterns on a cool glass filled with orange juice.

"I know it's not my decision to make, but" Rossi started, but you quickly interrupted him by pushing yourself off the counter and walking toward the grand piano next to a huge window.

You smiled fondly at all of the memories created in that very spot. Ever since Dave returned to the team, you had a habit of dining at his place at least once a month. That's how the team found out about your affinity toward music. Playing for them brought you joy you hadn't felt since you played at your mother's parties.

You ran a finger down the keys, and as if on cue, they all gathered around you. The ability to bring happiness into your team's difficult lives kept you going for years. Now, it just wasn't enough.

Morgan and Garcia sat on a small sofa close to the grand piano. Emily, JJ, and Reid leaned against the kitchen island with drinks in their hands. Rossi stood behind you with worry written all over his features. He didn't even hide it anymore. Hotch must have picked it up as he furrowed his eyebrows, watching both of you from his spot in the living room.

Sitting down with a heavy sigh, you spoke.

"You know, it occurred to me that I never played you guys my favorite song. I was saving it for a special occasion, but what the hell."

As soon as those words left your lips, an interlude for "Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You" started playing.

This song was a central piece of your most grandiose dream - marrying Hotch. You imagined playing it for the guests at your reception. As your fingers gracefully glided across the piano keys, the music filled the air with a sweet melody that resonated with the emotions of the day. Hotch's steps were gentle and deliberate as he approached you, a smile on his face, and love in his eyes. You, lost in the music and the joy of the occasion, were momentarily unaware of his presence. As he wrapped his arms around you, you felt his warmth and presence, and your heart skipped a beat. Your embrace was a symbol of your unity, your journey together, and the promise of a lifetime of happiness.

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears threatened to spill at any moment.

Has anyone ever written anything for you?

In all your darkest hours,

Have you ever heard me sing?

The pain in your chest multiplied by a thousand and stood as a stark reminder of the deep connection between mind and body. It was a physical manifestation of the emotional damage you had endured for too many years, a silent cry for help that demanded acknowledgment and healing. Your voice cracked. Ignoring it, you opened your eyes, which immediately found him, and carried on.

Listen to me now

You know I'd rather be alone

Than be without you

Don't you know?

No matter how painful his gaze filled with pity and fatherly compassion was, you didn't stop. Tears blurred your vision, but you knew you had to do it. This was the only way. The right way.

Has anyone ever given anything to you?

In your darkest hour

Did you ever give it back?

Well, I have

I have given that to you

If it's all I ever do

This is your song

A pair of hands wrapped around your shoulders in the gentlest of manners, and you felt Emily's ragged breath on top of your head. You leaned back against her warm and protective chest.

And the rain comes down

There's no pain and there's no doubt

It was easy to say, I believed in you every day

If not for me, then do it for the world

But there was pain, and it filled the whole house. It seized the hearts of your teammates as well. Garcia's loud sob managed to reach your ears even through the music. You didn't look at her. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't tear your eyes away from a single tear that traveled down Hotch's beautiful face.

You managed to rasp out the final words.

So if not for me, then do it for yourself

If not for me, then do it for the world

Suddenly, the air in the living room became incredibly heavy, suffocating you to the point where you thought your whole body would snap in two. Before anyone could react, you jumped out of Emily's arms and ran toward the door that led to the backyard.

Crisp October air filled your cramped lungs instantly, and you allowed yourself to breathe. Goosebumps formed under the long, flowy chiffon sleeves of your dress of choice for that night, and you couldn't tell if it was from the cold breeze or the whirlwind of emotions wreaking havoc inside of you. Your gaze climbed up and steadied itself on the full moon stuck to the heavens above. The moon had been your best friend for such a long time, and you pitied her for having to listen to your hushed secrets and anguished cries. The tears had dried along the way, and you looked at her with wide and watery eyes. You wanted nothing more than to climb up there, hide yourself in whatever hole she offered you, and wither away.

A presence next to you disturbed you from your train of thought, and soon after, Hotch's scent empowered every one of your senses.

"Beautiful. Isn't she?" you broke the silence, your tone of voice back to normal.

"Yes. I haven't looked up at the sky in such a long time," he crossed his arms over his chest.

You hummed mostly to yourself as you took another step toward the edge of Rossi's porch.

"How is Jack doing? With so much work at our hands, I haven't been able to visit him in what feels like months," you placed your elbows on the wooden fence in front, leaning at the same time in a desperate attempt to create more space between the two of you.

"Good. Great, actually. He's been asking about you, wondering why you don't stop at ours as much as you used to. I've been asking myself the same question for quite a while," he didn't miss a beat and mimicked your movements, letting his forearm brush against yours in the process.

In an instant, the ache soared in your chest again, and you let out a strangled breath.

"How is Beth doing? Jack seems to be in love with her as much as you are," choosing to ignore his remark, you shook an invisible knife penetrating your very soul, driven by a masochistic urge to wound it even deeper.

"I was planning on dropping by her place after the dinner. We haven't seen..." before he could finish, he was cut off by your shrill voice. You just couldn't take it.

"Stop it. I can't take it anymore, Hotch. I'll die if you finish that sentence," you haven't realized that teardrops started painting your face again.

"Darling, please. Don't do this," came in the form of a hoarse croak.

"No, Aaron, you broke my heart, you broke my entire life. You are the one who practically raised me long before Rossi came along. I built my life around you. Look at me, Aaron," you sobbed while turning to face him.

"I'm a pale shadow of a woman that I once was. Look at my face, look at these lines between my brows. Look at this hair falling out. Look how old my hands look, my skin almost see-through, frail."

He said nothing and just looked at you through his tears.

"You want to know the worst part of it all? You are so worth it, my love. You are so worth it. I would choose this life with you amongst all of the happier versions without you in it. I would go through all of this immeasurable pain over and over and over again just to see you smile that rare smile of yours that sends me into rapture. I would choose you even if you don't choose me. Always and for as long as I live," you poured your heart in front of him, watching him for what you knew would be the last time, trying to memorize every feature of his handsome face.

"I'm so sorry, I truly am," he finally wrapped his limp hands around your smaller form.

He couldn't help but notice how perfectly your body was snug against his, how warm you were, and how you smelled like oranges and vanilla.

"It is okay, baby. There is nothing to be sorry about; it's not your fault. You can't choose whom you fall in love with," you repeated Rossi's words in his white shirt, forever ruining it with whatever makeup was left on your face.

His grip around your shoulders tightened as if he was trying to push you into his ribcage in a desperate attempt to get even closer to you. Hotch's hot tears trickled down your neck and ended up being soaked into the fabric of your dress. You finally relaxed in his warm embrace, all of the intense feelings making you slump against him.

"I'm so sorry that I can't give you what you deserve," he whispered against your ear and proceeded to kiss your temple.

At that moment, something just snapped inside you, as if someone cut the electric wiring in the middle of a rave party. Darkness painted your insides and numbness finally settled in.

You pulled away from him and cupped his face in your small hands.

"Here's what we're gonna do, Hotch. You and I will wipe away these tears. Then we will go inside, and we will pretend that this never happened, just like you pretended that my feelings never existed for the past 10 years. We are going to play and sing and laugh with our friends. Then we will come into the office tomorrow, and JJ will brief us on our latest case, and life will go on," your voice was utterly devoid of any emotion as you lied to him in the most blatant and shameless way and wiped his face with the fabric of your sleeve.

The dullness of your eyes frightened Hotch more than anything he had ever seen in his life, but before he could respond, you started dragging him back inside with a fake smile plastered on your face.

"Let's go back inside, my love. Tomorrow is a new day."

[etaleah]

The thing that pains me the most about recent Shadow portrayals being all “Friendship is for the weak! It’s pathetic! I don’t NEED friends!” is that this is an idea that could actually be done amazingly, beautifully well if a good writer with a decent amount of creative freedom was behind it.

Picture it: Shadow is still grieving the only friend he ever had. She was stolen from him, killed before his very eyes, and he can’t bear it. He can never, ever, let that happen again because it will break him even more than he already is. And then, subconsciously, he realizes that he’ll never have to suffer the pain of losing a friend if he never has any friends to lose.

Thus begins his (again, mostly subconscious) decision to push people away and make sure nobody can be his friend. Because that way lies misery, and he knows better this time. He’ll protect himself by keeping everyone at arm’s length. Anybody who tries to get too close will be pushed away.

The other characters don’t realize this, of course. They don’t know about the details of Shadow’s experience with Maria, so they have no choice but to assume he’s just like this, but the audience knows where he’s really coming from. We know that Shadow is acting from a place of grief, fear, and trauma, using the only defense mechanism he knows, but the characters mistake those traits for anger and hatefulness.

Think of the conflict and tension possibilities! You could have Rouge or Sonic or Cream or someone else trying so hard to reach out to Shadow, thinking there must be some good under all that harshness, and he gets scared and starts putting up emotional walls. Maybe they fight over this, yell at him, demand to know what they ever did to make him be so mean to them, and he doesn’t want to tell them because no one understands and maybe he doesn’t even fully understand why he’s like this because Shadow has a hard time with feelings. You could even have moments where he’s tempted to lower his walls, when he sees everybody having fun and just for a moment wishes he could do that too, but he doesn’t dare because he knows what will happen if he does.

At some point it all comes to a head, the truth comes out, there’s more fights, and eventually Shadow finally breaks down and cries because deep down he doesn’t really want to be alone, but alone is what he knows and the only option that makes him feel safe. And then you get this lovely scene of him finally being comforted, cared for, told that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, etc., with him finally being welcomed into their group at the end.

Why can’t we have that story? I would pay good money to read, watch, or play that story. I want it so badly I might just write it myself. Because it’s a much better, more sincere, and more narratively satisfying story than “Shadow looks down on friendship because he’s an asshole who thinks he’s better than everyone else for no reason.”