#so everyone comes away from the game with varying ideas and none of them are ‘wrong’!!

[pandora-mybeloved]

@marylilymicrofic (1655 words) spin the bottle... I Want a Kiss Like My Heart is Hitting the Ground

Crickets sung their songs outside the castle windows, spring air just barely melting the snow from the rooftops. But the lake was still frozen and the wind would still bite at the tips of your ears if you went outside without a hat. So of course the best thing  for a group of sixteen year olds to be doing on a saturday night was to huddle together in the girls’ dorm room passing around a bottle of liquid warmth.

James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter snuck in through the window, alcohol stuffed in Sirius’ coat. Marlene strong-armed each boy over the ledge and into the warm room. 

“Took you lot long enough!” Lily closed the window behind them, shutting out the chill.

”Had to dodge Mrs. Noris. It’s like she can smell booze from a mile away.” Siris grinned, taking the bottle from inside his coat and relishing the awestruck looks it earned from the three girls. 

Remus mumbled, “More like she could smell someone’s fish breath.” 

“I do not have fish breath!” Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands up defensively. 

James used the opportunity to snag the bottle from his hands, “Come now, boys, we have more important matters to attend to.”

Mary got up from her bed, joining the group, “Hear, hear!” 

James popped the bottle open, “Who’s first?”

Marlene stepped up, but Lily beat her to it, looking up at James sweetly. Mary could have thrown up. James folded instantly, watching like a puppy dog as she threw back a little more than a shot of straight liquor. 

Mary’s eyes widened. Lily swallowed sharply and shoved the bottle back at James as she started coughing immediately. Before she knew it, Mary’s hand was patting Lily’s back. 

“Woah there, Evans. Save some for the rest of us, yeah?” Sirius took the bottle and brought it to his own lips. He didn’t take nearly as much as Lily, but he had to try twice as hard to suppress his cough before he, too, was hacking up a lung.

Remus took the bottle, then, and took a long pull. He passed the bottle to Marlene without so much as a splutter and everyone gaped at him. 

James just chuckled, “Bloody alcoholic.” 

Once all of them had their first round with varying success, Marlene insisted they play a drinking game. “Sevens!” Lily exclaimed at the same time Sirius said, “Never have I ever!”

“Let’s put it to a vote then,” Marlene suggested. 

It wasn’t much of a competition, only Mary voted for Lily’s idea. “Sorry, Lils,” James said, “No one wants to be doing math while they’re smashed.” 

“Well not everyone wants to air their dirty laundry while they’re inebriated either,” Mary had quite a few things she didn’t want out in the open, and being drunk was almost a surefire way to get her to spill her guts. Not for the first time, she cursed herself for being the lightweight of the group. 

“Oh, I’m sure you haven’t got anything that bad, Mary,” Remus said reassuringly. If only he knew.

The game started with Sirius, of course, who insisted. “Never have I ever… gone skinny dipping!’

That one got Marlene, who had done it on a dare, and Mary, who had done it the first time she ever got high. Surprisingly, Peter also asked for the bottle, grumbling as he did so, “My stupid brother and his stupid friends…”

Then it was Lily’s turn,  “Oh, I’ve got one. Never have I ever gotten a dreadful on my O.W.Ls.”

Everyone but Lily and Remus grumbled about that one, each of them damning Slughorn before taking a drink. 

Things started picking up after that, no one bothered with turn order anymore, just saying the various misdeeds as they thought of them.

“Never have I ever smoked weed,” got Remus and Mary.

“Never have I ever snogged someone in an empty classroom,” got Remus, Sirius, Mary, and Marlene, though none of them would fess up any details.

“Never have I ever had a crush on a professor,” was clearly targeted at Peter, but he was a good sport about it. 

“Never have I ever… kissed a girl!” 

Sirius drank, earning a small frown from Remus. Marlene drank, and varying levels of shock reverberated through the room, but Lily just said, “Called it.”

“Never have I ever had a crush on one of my best friends.” Maybe Peter didn’t take his friends’ teasing as good naturedly as they thought, eyes shooting daggers at two of his roommates.

Remus drank first, earning a few gasps. Then he passed the bottle to Sirius, pointedly, who drank. “Oh, you two have got to be shitting me,” James said, but he was smiling.

Mary’s heart was pounding against her ribs, and she was sure that it was written all over her face as she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Before anyone could say anything else, she grabbed the bottle from Sirius. She was a gryffindor goddammit. 

She took a drink, tipping the bottle to get the very last drop. The room fell silent.

Lily and Marlene looked at her, and then at each other. 

Sirius looked at his empty hand where the bottle was, and then at the empty bottle in Mary’s shaky fingers. “Christ, we’re out of booze. Well, ladies and gentlemen, you all know what that means!” 

Mary has never been more grateful to Sirius in her life as he took the bottle out of her hands and gathered up everyone’s attention. 

“Huddle up, huddle up!” Sirius nudged everyone together. 

Mary looked at her hands as her friends with varying levels of coordination formed a circle on the floor. She felt a knee brush hers and she looked up to see Lily trying to meet her gaze. Mary’s head was very fuzzy, and Lily’s knee was very warm. 

Sirius placed the empty bottle in the middle of the circle and Mary’s gratitude to him ended in that moment, “Alright, folks, gryffindor rules; you kiss who it lands on no matter who, and if you get yourself you have to spin again.”

Sirius went first, spinning the bottle with a certain elegance that could only come from a Black. As the bottle slowed, the friends leaned in closer to one another. Remus.

“Well isn’t it my lucky day,” Sirius basically tackled the boy beside him, kissing him hard. It almost looked like it hurt. Almost. Mary felt the pang of jealousy as she watched two of her friends show the rest of them how sure they were of each other. How sure they were of how the other felt. 

They kept kissing as Marlene spun the bottle. It whizzed around and stopped shortly after it started, the label caught on the carpet, pointing dead center towards James. 

It was lucky the two of them weren’t shy, and Marlene had lost a few too many never-have-i-evers, she was so drunk she probably wouldn’t remember any of this,  “Pucker up, Potter.” 

It was quick and sweet. If anything, it was just as platonic as a hug would’ve been. 

“Next time you better pray no one says never have I ever kissed a lesbian.” Marlene winks at him and James laughs comfortably. 

Mary’s stomach twists itself in knots, bile rising in her throat. It’s her turn. She knows who she wants it to land on. She knows she shouldn’t want it to land on her. She spins the bottle.

It spins and spins. Mary thinks it’s broken, no bottle has ever spun this long before. Marlene, James, Peter, Remus, Sirius, Lily, Mary, Marlene, James, Peter, Remus… Sirius… 

Lily…

Mary. 

She sighs in relief, it landed on her, her turn is skipped. Except…

“Gryffidor rules, Mar,” Sirius chooses that moment to come up for air, an adequately ruffled Remus sitting up beside him, straightening his sweater. “Spin again.”

Mary’s heart resumes pounding. She spins. She knows who it’s going to land on before it stops. She knows the universe is cruel and the forces of nature have always been against her. 

She knows it like she knows the shade of red Lily’s hair turns when the sun hits it just right. She knows it like she knows what nail polish Lily wears in the springtime. She knows it like she knows what songs Lily hums when she gets out of the shower in the morning. She knows it like she knows how Lily takes her tea. She knows it like she knows how deeply, desperately in love she is with her best friend.

It lands on Lily. Mary turns her head, her desperation in her eyes. What she doesn’t know is that Lily is just as desperate.

Just like that, Lily’s mouth is on Mary’s, warm and soft and sweet with a hit of salt. Like caramel. Lily cups Mary’s face with her hands, cradling her cheeks and pulling her closer. Closer. Mary’s hands slide over Lily’s waist, gentle, unsure. Her head is heavy with the feeling of Lily’s mouth, Lily’s hands, Lily’s tongue. Fuck. 

Mary clutches Lily’s shirt like it’s a life preserver and she’s drowning. She’s drowning. Drowning in booze and warmth and Lily Evans. She wonders if Lily is drowning, too, before she remembers. 

Lily is sober. Or as close as you can get. She hadn’t had a drop since her coughing fit. Never had she ever, it seemed. Never had she ever, until that moment, kissed a girl, had a crush on one of her best friends, and felt so so high. She kept kissing Mary, drowning Mary, and she was doing it sober. It was too much to take in, too much to endure. Mary gasped for air, hands clutching Lily’s hair, lips burning. This must be what it felt like to fall.

Mary felt a tear roll down her cheek and she realized why the kisses tasted salty. 

((tysm for reading <3 and thanks to @marylily-my-beloved @imheredisappointingmyparents @ang3l0fde4th4ndd0gs @seekmemystar @obsessedwith15deadwizards @ephemeralstarss @osyhnixt @star-and-moon-shipper for motivating me to write this omg <33))

[pinkfey]

was going to say this yesterday but lord forgive me all of a sudden i think max and warren are cute ://

[weirdkpopgirl]

Connection | Jisung Fic #1 (p.t 1)

Title: Connection

Genre: Soulmate AU

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1793k

Author’s Note: Hi guys, this was requested by a lovely anon. I haven’t written a soulmate au in a few years, so I apologize if this one is kinda bad. There are so many types of soulmates, but I decided to just come up with my own thing. I hope you guys like it (especially the person who requested lol). There will be a part two if anyone is curious. ^ ^

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Soulmates? Destined love? Those were concepts you hadn’t given too much thought until recently. Supposedly, a person would only know about their soulmate at a certain point in their life. The earliest age was eighteen, but the timing varied for everyone.

How would they know, you may ask? Apparently, one could hear a single thought per day from their soulmate, and vice versa. Then once they met, soulmates could form a strong bond with each other.

Pretty weird, right? Unfortunately, soulmates were rare in this day and age. But that didn’t stop people from fantasizing about them anyway. After all, who didn’t like the idea of one true love?

Your eighteenth birthday had already passed, and there were no signs of a soulmate yet. Not that you expected anything at all. You had other priorities to focus on, like getting through your first year of college.

Then one day you were in your dorm room, pulling an all-nighter to get this research paper done. You sat at your desk, typing away on your laptop quietly, as to not wake up your roommate. It was late at night, and exhaustion was finally starting to seep through your brain. Just as your eyes began to feel heavy, a deep, male voice came out of nowhere.

I’m so hungry. I should ask Hyung if he can make some ramyeon.

Slightly startled, you glanced around. Of course, only you and your roommate were in the room. Why did a guy’s voice randomly appear—that’s when it hit you.

“No—no it can’t be,” You muttered, shaking your head in denial. It was one in the morning, and your lack of sleep was getting to you.

However, you heard the voice again and again as the days passed. Maybe I do have a soulmate, you thought to yourself. How was this even possible?

It took you a while to accept this new fate. Nonetheless, you tried your best to go on with your daily life. But it felt like you were going around with this big secret. Certainly, you hadn’t expected someone like yourself to have a soulmate.

Any consistency of when exactly you heard your soulmate’s thoughts didn’t seem to exist. You would be sitting through a class, or be at work when these instances occurred. What left you confused was that you had no idea of who your soulmate was or how to find him.

All you knew about this person were the random thoughts you heard every day. So far you learned that he liked dancing, playing video games, and listening to music. You had a feeling that he was around your age, possibly a bit older. He often thought about his schedule, which led you to think he must not be in college. But you weren’t sure what kind of job he had.

No matter how you tried to not dwell on it all too much, you couldn’t help but feel insecure. If you were able to hear your soulmate’s thoughts, that meant he was able to hear yours as well. Not that there was anything in particular that you intended to hide. But you were quite an overthinker and the fact that someone else could possibly hear your worries frightened you.

┈┈

Jisung instantly knew his soulmate had been confirmed when he started to hear a girl’s voice in his head. His members may think he was silly, but he had been strangely interested in soulmate bonds for some time. He used to wonder if there truly could be a person out there for him.

Yes, he was young and had his whole career planned out. But sometimes being a k-pop idol could get a little lonely, even though he was in a group with so many members. Jisung longed to have some sort of contact with the outside world, which he seemed to have left once he became a trainee.

So when he discovered his soulmate did indeed exist, Jisung felt both excited and nervous. He was so curious about who you were and what you were like.

“Did you hear anything today?” Jaemin asked him, after dance practice one day. All his members had gathered around him.

The maknae shook his head in response. “Nothing yet.”

“Have you gotten any clues of who she is exactly?” Renjun came over to sit next to him on the couch.

“It’s kinda hard because they come so randomly,” Jisung tried to explain. “And when I do hear them, it’s all so vague.”

Chenle, who stood behind him, leaned forward.“Well, what do you know already?”

Jisung scratched his head, trying to recall. “She seems to study a lot, so she’s probably in school. Oh and she likes going to bookstores or the library in her free time.”

“Ah, so she’s one of those people who actually read for fun,” Haechan joked.

The boy shrugged, “I guess so.”

“Interesting,” Jeno mumbled. “Do you think she knows who you are?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Jisung sighed in slight frustration. “This is all so weird.”

He wished he had more clues about his soulmate. From what he’s heard about her so far, she seemed like a nice person. But the longer time passed, the more discouraged Jisung felt about finding her.

┈┈

“(Y/n)-ah!” A friend approached your table, after entering the library. If you weren’t studying in your dorm, your friends were sure to find you there.

You tore your attention away from your textbook and took one of your earbuds out.

“Oh, Seoyeon-ah.”

“What song were you listening to?” She asked as she sat down in the empty chair beside you.

In response, you tapped on your phone to show her. The song was titled, “Dear DREAM.”

Seoyeon gasped, “I didn’t know you were into NCT Dream too!”

“Well, I only started listening to their music this month,” You chuckled.

Truthfully, you had to thank your soulmate for getting you into the group. Before, the only music you listened to was by smaller Korean artists, not too much k-pop. But one day your soulmate was singing a lyric to a song you haven’t heard before. Conveniently, you had looked it up and actually liked it. As a result, that took you down a whole rabbit hole of learning about the boy group.

“Who’s your bias? Mine is Chenle,” Seoyeon giggled.

You had to think about your friend’s question for a bit. You’ve barely entered the fandom, so you weren’t used to being asked about biases and stuff like that.

“I think I like Park Jisung,” You answered slowly.

Seoyeon’s head tilted slightly, “The maknae? Huh, I thought you’d go for someone like Jeno or Mark.”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “I just feel like...there’s this connection?”

“Ooh, does Kim (Y/n) finally have a crush on someone?” Your friend gave you a smug look. “Can’t blame you, Jisung is pretty cute.”

You blushed, wanting to defend yourself. But you weren’t sure what else to say. Glancing back down at your phone, you saw the album that was playing which featured all the members. They were all pretty good-looking, but Jisung just stood out to you for a reason you didn’t know.

Over the past few days, you watched some of their content videos. The guys were so funny and charismatic, that you found yourself laughing along with them at times. You would have to thank your soulmate for getting you into their music if you ever met him. Surely he must also be a fan if one of their songs was playing in his head.

Seoyeon gave you a nudge. “(Y/n)-ah, did you hear me?”

“Sorry, I must’ve been zoning out,” You said with a sheepish smile. “What were you saying?”

“I have two tickets to NCT Dream’s fan meeting next week. We should go together!”

Wow, that sounded like such a great opportunity. But you’ve never been to an event like that before. There would probably be crowds of fans, including screaming girls. You weren’t sure if you were up for that.

“I don’t know. Don’t we have midterms next week?” You crossed your arms.

“Yeah, but the fan meeting is on a Friday. We’d be done with our exams by then,” Seoyeon reasoned. “Come on (Y/n)-ah, you should do something fun instead of studying all day.”

Well if she kept insisting, you didn’t think it would be too bad if you went just once. Seoyeon squealed and hugged you when you finally gave in.

Next week couldn’t come any faster. You were relieved to be over with mid-terms and looked forward to going to see NCT Dream with Seoyeon. Weirdly, you were a bit nervous about going. There was no explanation for it, maybe that’s how most fans felt about meeting their favorite artists.

Luckily, Seoyeon talked most of the way there and told you what to expect. The feeling of being overwhelmed was quick to consume you when you guys entered the venue filled with so many other fans. Seoyeon had gotten pretty decent seats, where you were close to the stage. Just as you were trying to calm your nerves, several screams flooded your ears when the seven boys appeared.

Almost out of what seemed to be instinct, you looked to see your bias. Of course, it didn’t take you too long to find him. You spotted the shy smile he often wore on camera, he was standing beside Jaemin. Unexpectedly, the boy’s smile dropped when he looked at you.

You gasped when you felt a sudden jolt in your heart. It was almost as if you were struck by an arrow or something. Bewildered by this feeling, you placed a hand on your chest. But once the pain started, it quickly faded away.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)-ah?” Seoyeon put her hand on your shoulder.

“I—I’m fine,” You huffed, feeling out of breath even though you hadn’t done anything.

What is going on? Why does my heart feel so weird?

Startled by your soulmate’s thoughts appearing out of nowhere, your eyes scattered among the crowd. Maybe you were in the same place and could feel each other’s presence somehow. But there were mostly girls here and—

A mix of comprehension and fear filled inside of you. Jisung. You started to feel like this immediately after you saw each other.

That was when you dared to look back at him. His right hand was placed on his chest just as you were. He was staring at you intently, with the same look of disbelief.

“No way,” You whispered, so only you could hear. This couldn’t be possible…

Park Jisung was your soulmate?!

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part two

[sour--disposition]

Behind His Back

-

harry lewis x fem!reader

-

please see my pinned post for masterlists/request info :)

requested: Hello, could you do something where reader is best mates with cal and he brings her to shoots and in vids and such and her and Harry are kinda together but no one knows then someone accidentally outs them thanks !! 🙌🏻

Yours and Cal’s laughter reached the spot that the other guys had picked for filming long before the two of you did, poking and chasing each other as you barrelled through the doors. Cal was joining in on some game that they were filming for moresidemen and he’d dragged you along so you could sit off camera and poke fun at all eight of them.

As soon as you’d fallen into the venue, a bright smile had stretched across Harry’s face. Seeing you as happy and full of life as you were made him impossibly happy, as soppy as it sounded. All he wanted was to wander over and pull you into his arms, maybe surprise you so you let out that funny squeal you did whenever she shocked you.

But he couldn’t.

Although he’d never said it, it was sort of an unwritten rule of Cal’s that you were off limits for any of his friends. Maybe that made it all the more exciting, sneaking around behind your best friend’s back. You knew that it wouldn’t end well, it would either end in heartbreak between you and Harry or anger from Cal. Neither was an outcome you wanted, but one of them was bound to be inevitable.

Ethan had noticed Harry staring at you and was prepared to embarrass his best friend, not knowing that he was one of the only people that knew the truth about yours and Harry’s relationship. “Gonna go give your girlfriend a smooch, Bog?”, Ethan asked, grin as bright as ever as he shoved Harry playfully in your direction.

You and Harry both froze, eyes wide in surprise and fear. The humour drained out of Ethan’s face as he watched yours and Harry’s reactions and a tense atmosphere immediately fell over the group. Even the camera crew looked awkward.

You could see Harry desperately trying to conjure up some sort of excuse for what Ethan had just said. Ethan looked like he would do just about anything to retract his words. But what was said was said and you just had to deal with the consequences.

“What the fuck is he on about?”, Cal asked, voice harsh and angry. His eyes were fixed on Harry, practically pinning him to the spot. “Harry. What the fuck is Ethan on about?”.

“Look, mate-”, Harry started, words getting caught in his throat.

“How could you?”, Freezy spat, voice like venom. He turned to you, looking at you like you’d just taken a knife to his back. “And you?”.

“Don’t be mad at her, Cal”, Harry pleaded, voice desperate.

“I’ll be mad at whoever the fuck I wanna be mad at!”, Cal shouted, making Harry jump and sending a wave of anger coursing through your veins.

“You know what, no”, you started, leaving Cal’s side of the room and walking to stand in between the two of them. “You have no right to be mad. We’re adults. We don’t answer to you. I don’t answer to you”, you stressed.

You could tell that the others in the room had no idea what to do. Guilt was written all over Ethan’s face and varying levels of worry and awkwardness seemed to be spread throughout the rest of the guys. Everyone was following the discussion like a ball in a tennis match.

“I live with him and you’re my best friend, I’m kind of involved in this!”, Cal exclaimed. You mumbled something under your breath that neither Cal or Harry heard, but it only seemed to antagonise Cal more. “What?”, he demanded.

“I’m just saying, last time I checked, it’s not you sneaking me into your apartment, but whatever”, you commented casually.

“Y/N”, Harry warned from behind you, taking a few steps closer to you.

“I’m not going to pick between my best friend and my boyfriend!”, you cemented. “If you’re going to make me pick, you’re making the decision for me”, you told Cal, a finger pointed towards him. “And it won’t go in your favour”, you cautioned.

“You’d pick Harry over me?”, Cal asked, looking genuinely offended. “I’ve known you since we were 12”, he reminded you.

“I love him”, you said, voice suddenly small and shy. “And if you don’t want any part of that, then I don’t know what to tell you”, you shrugged before turning your back and walking out of the venue.

Harry stood stock still. Everything in his body was telling him to chase after you, tell you that he felt the same way, but he couldn’t get his body to move. The shock of Cal finding out and then you telling everyone that you loved him, it left him paralysed.

“Is anyone gonna go after her?”, Vik asked, eyes tearing between Harry and Cal.

“I’ll go”, Harry and Freezy said at the same time.

“She won’t wanna see you right now, mate… In the nicest way possible”, Harry told his friend, leaving him no time to answer before following you out of the venue and finding you a few feet away, sat on a bench.

“Hey”, Harry said, catching your attention. He sat down next to you, forearms resting on his thighs as he leaned forwards. “That could’ve gone better”, he whispered, pulling a sardonic laugh from you.

“You think”, you snorted.

“I love you, too”, Harry blurted, barely giving you time to finish your sentence.

Before you had a chance to say or do anything in response, Cal was stalking away from the venue doors and towards the two of you. “Cal-”, you started.

“Look”, he sighed. “I reacted badly. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, alright”, he huffed. “I was just caught off guard, I had no idea”, he defended.

“That was sort of the point”, you chuckled. “Because we were worried about what you’d say”, you explained. “Or that you’d react like this”.

Harry sat still beside you, always unsure of what to do or say when it came to disagreements between you and Cal, and it was only made worse by the fact that he was in the middle of the situation. He let his hand leave his lap and join yours, squeezing around your fingers supportively.

“Nothing I say is gonna make this go away?”, Cal asked, face pulled with pain.

“No”, you said simply, a sense of finality settling in your voice. “If you love me enough to be worried about Harry hurting me, then you love me enough to let me love Harry”, you told him gently. “And, in the nicest way possible, it really has nothing to do with you”.

Cal sat down next to you, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as he sunk into the bench. “I feel like I should’ve seen this coming”, he complained.

“To be honest, mate, you really are clueless”, Harry chuckled from beside you.

“How long have you been together?”, Cal asked you, looking up at you from his dejected slump.

“Officially, almost three months”, you told Cal.

“Unofficially?”, he asked warily.

“Nearly six”, you admitted.

“How did I not realise?”, Cal groaned, dropping his head against the backrest of the bench. “I can’t believe I missed it”.

“We were really good at hiding it”, Harry shrugged. “It was like mission impossible to be honest, you made everything quite inconvenient”, he jibed, earning him a swat over the head from Cal.

“At least I never heard you shagging”, Cal sighed. His eyes went wide as a silence fell over you and Harry, a smirk threatening to peak through onto your lips. “Are you fucking kidding me!?”, he exclaimed, almost jumping up out of his seat.

“Yeah, none of those one night stands were one night stands”, Harry mumbled as he itched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, and all”. You could see Cal cringing, knowing that he’d heard his two best friends have sex with each other couldn’t have been a fun thought to have running through his mind.

“If you excuse me, I am off to pour acid into my ears”.

[mountswhore]

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 — mason mount

if you have any requests, just ask! i’m all ears. if you wanna know who i write for, check this post.

admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Mason adores everything about you. But to be particular, he adores your compassion. Even before you guys had gotten together, and were just friends of friends at a party, he’d watch you take care of some of his teammates who’d had a little too much to drink. You’d be jumping between getting to know Mason and assisting someone to the bathroom to throw up. It was hard for him to hold back a giggle as he saw you take your heels off, excuse yourself politely and run after a drunken Grealish.

body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Again, he loves everything about you. But if he had to choose, it’d be your eyes. They’re the first things he notices when he comes home from an away game, full to the brim with tears as you shout out how much you missed him. In the middle of a sleepless night, when the outside lighting makes your shiny eyes visible, he’d get lost in them. During a match, whether it be for the National team or Chelsea, the second he is on the pitch he would notice you close to the goal, in perfect view to watch him score. They’re what he looks into just before he kisses you, and he melts watching your eyes as you speak to a friend or family member, seeing them talk with your mouth.

cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Mason’s favourite pastime is cuddling, outside of his career, of course. He’ll get home from training and you’ll be cozied up on the couch, practically inviting him into your warmth. He enjoys the cuddles with you on top of him, your head in his neck and his arms tightly around your back. But he loves laying his head on your stomach, smoothing his hand over your thighs as you massage his shoulders lightly. He loves cuddling you, but he’s a sucker for being cuddled. It’s a trick to get him to doze off pretty quickly, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He’s a busy man, but when it came down to seeing you and wanting you, he made time. He wanted only the best for you, so it was a fancy restaurant, being driven around in his nice sports car, treating you to whatever you wanted. He’d soon come to realise that both of yours ideal date is ordering a Chinese, playing a few fifa matches, and watching a comedy together.

emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Due to your compassion, you’d often spot when Mason was feeling down, angry, or just upset. So keeping it from you rendered useless. Now, if he’s ever in a shit mood, for any reason, he’ll find you and talk to you about it. You always end up making him feel better too, and giving him a different perspective on it. He couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend.

family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

If there was one thing Mason will not shut up about, it’s having children. Even his mates tell him to have a day off. You secretly find it cute, that he’s so ready to become a father and thinks of you as a suitable mother to his children. But Mason knows you’re not ready, with his career at the height it is right now and your age, you think kids aren’t on the cards right now, but you’re definitely wanting a few. Mason is absolutely okay with waiting for you, as he always mentions that there’s nobody else he’d rather do it with.

gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Mason gets a bit too excited when it comes to your birthday. He’ll go all out on gifts every year, topping the one before, and dotting them around the house in places you don’t look. Like the boot of his car, the electrical cupboard, the back garden shed, he’s thought about it strategically. And his giddy attitude is never something you question, you usually pass it as his excitement for an upcoming match or just that fact it’s your birthday soon. It would take everything in him to keep it a secret, almost spilling a few of your gifts. He’d accidentally asked you to grab his cleats from the boot of his car, immediately stopping you once the door was open. And you were none the wiser.

holding hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Whenever you’re both out with yours or his family, it is quite a large group, which usually meant a large outing. And being significantly shorter than him, he likes to hold you close. As you walk down a busy street, he won’t let you out of his sight, even if you’re talking to his mum, he’ll hold your hand tightly or have an arm around your shoulder. His family always thought it was cute, questioning why he does it. And he always responds with a joke, to hide his sloppiness. Something like, “she’s too short, can’t let her get lost.”

injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If you came home through the front door limping, he’d be all over you. Carrying you to the kitchen, observing the injury, calling the shots on what you need to do for the evening. Which usually consists of having a bath, resting in bed, texting him if you needed him. It was adorable, despite it being just a twisted ankle from the gym or something.

But on a serious scale, if you came home bawling your eyes out after an awful encounter, that’s when Mason loses all of his silliness and smiles. He’s cradling you on the floor of the living room, talking over what just happened and how you felt. He wouldn’t leave you for the rest of the evening, always making sure you’re feeling better and giving you tight squeezes before he goes to get you anything.

jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Being an avid tiktok user, you’ve seen quite the pranks on there. And mason not yet having a tiktok, made it perfect to carry these out. You’d often spend hours on the phone with Declan, another avid tiktok user, sending prank ideas back and forth. Mason was quite the gullible person, either that or you were a brilliant actress, so your pranks were always going smoothly. And posting it to tiktok, you’d read through the flood of comments together, laughing about how deflated he looked when you swerved him from a kiss, or how in shock he looked when you told him the tower of Pisa had finally fallen over. It was a laugh you had every day.

kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

It varies. If Mason is tired from training, the kisses would be soft and almost non-existent, it would just be Mason’s face incredibly close to yours and then moving away a few seconds later. In any good moments, he’s always reaching for a kiss. The second he sees you after a win, his lips are on yours and aren’t leaving any time soon. Mason’s favourite type of kiss is the kiss you give him every night. It doesn’t lead anywhere that often. But it’s a deep kiss, it’s saying you love him without actually saying it. It always leaves Mason in a haze, going to bed with a love struck smile on his face.

love (how do they show you they love you?)

Mason shows he loves you in many ways. His love language is acts of service. So waking you up in the morning before work with a tea, bringing you into the shower and washing your hair for you. Attempting to make you breakfast, driving you to work, letting you choose dinner and he pays, driving to the local supermarket if you’re in dire need of something. He couldn’t do this everyday with his schedule, but whenever he could, he did.

memory (favorite memory together?)

By far, his favourite memory of the both of you was your first time at Wembley. You were shaking in your shoes at the amount of people in the stadium, but Mason managed to get you the closest seats to the pitch with your family. It was the game he scored two goals in, rushing straight over to your side and blowing you kisses. You soon settled in to the crowd, cheering with everyone else. He’d rush over at half time, giving you a quick kiss before leaving you again. And Mason brought you back to the changing rooms to meet the team, keeping you close to him at all times.

nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Mason’s worst fear is losing everything he has now. He’d be happy to admit he has everything he wants in life, an amazing career, a lovely list of family and friends, as well as someone he will soon have as a wife. He’s had a nightmare that he’d lost you before, the police broke the news to him and he woke up crying, holding you close for the rest of the night.

oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

It’s not so much of a thing now, but it definitely still happens. Before you were together, and Mason was still in the wooing stage, every time he spoke to you, he’d stutter. You found it adorable and took your time with him. You’d never rush him or look away bored, you’d just look into his eyes with a small smile and it’d make it worse. He’d trip on all of his words, trying to compliment you or ask you out. Even now, sometimes if you’re looking extra pretty or he’s just in a really lovey mood, he’ll slip up on his speech every now and then.

pet names (what do they like to call you?)

His go to pet names for you were baby, honey, and sweets. They just randomly caught on one day and never disappeared. But they make your stomach do flips every time you hear them.

quality time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Being in your company was enough for him. But it’s the mundane things he loves the most. It’s a weird one, but food shopping. For you, it’s an hour of stress. Manoeuvring past other shoppers, trying to find everything on your list, do your back in as you put everything on the belt, and pack in in record time. But for Mason, he’s following you round in a haze. Like a cartoon character in love. Asking if he can get some stuff, which you always agree to, and seeing you in conversation with random shoppers. Finally getting back to the car with the shopping littered in the boot and back seat, Mason’s hand stays in yours as you rest in the passenger seat.

rhythm (what song reminds you of each other?)

You have a shared song, and Mason vows for it to be your wedding song. Easy by Ella Mai. It’s slow, it’s something you both slow danced to when you were drunk out of your minds in your own living room. The party was over and the song just randomly started playing, a frown on your face as you look up at your boyfriend. It wasn’t his usual taste, which is why it was so random. He told you, “I heard it for the first time the day after I met you. And I thought it was so good. So now it reminds me of you.

secrets (how open are they with you?)

The only thing he keeps from you are your birthday gifts, or big surprises for you. And even then, he’s so eager to just tell you. But he shares even the littlest things with you — like Declan falling over at training, about how he shooed away a bunch of girls when he went to buy dinner. You both trust each other and Mason will tell you every last detail about his day if he could.

time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Mason knew almost instantly you’d be his girlfriend, even joking to Chilly that you’d be his wife someday. And you were an oblivious person, so you were none the wiser to his plays, which is why it took a few months to get together. Mason always comments that if you actually noticed he was flirting, you’d have been together within a few weeks. But now you laugh it off after having been together for so long.

upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He drops everything to help you when you’re upset. A bad day at work, an argument with a friend or family member, or even just a day where the world is against you. He can usually tell by your quiet demeanour, giving him tired answers, and not wanting to cry around him. He’d catch you in the bedroom, flopped onto the bed and huffing. He’d join you, rubbing your back as you go off about your day. He’d listen to it for hours if it meant you were okay, but he’d just run you a bath and tell you he’d be back with dinner shortly.

vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

1000%. He’s the one to tell your family that he’s surprised he bagged you. He’s always saying you’re out of his league, posting you on his Instagram all the time. Showing you off to his friends and family, sending them pictures of the two of you dressed up nice. They all find it adorable — and they know just how much Mason loves you.

warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

It’s on sight. If another man does so much as graze your shoulder, he’ll be on it for you. On the pitch, he’s okay with some confrontation, but anything regarding you, he’s not having it. You’re his and he would beat anyone who questioned it.

Usually, if it’s just a quarrel with a friend, he’ll listen to your side of things and give you some words of encouragement. But if it’s really nasty, he’ll be stepping in and having words. He has a lot of patience, but won’t let you be stood on.

x-ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Like a book, now. But when you were first dating, you hid your emotions well. At least, you thought you did. All it took was one touch from mason, and you were crying like a baby in his arms about your horrible shift. You thought you held up a tough front, but staring up at his eyes, as he looked back at you with concern laced among his features, it told him how you really felt. Now he knows the telltale signs, and he’s there to help.

yes (how would they propose to you?)

Mason thinks about this question a lot. He wonders it in the shower, making you your morning tea, during his downtime at training. He’s even scrolled endlessly through a bunch of rings, asking the opinions of his mum and sister. The question had come up between the two of you, and you’d said how you’d felt about marriage. You wanted it, but big events for a proposal were detested by you.

If it was up to Mase, he’d take you on holiday. Buy you a gorgeous summer dress, take you to the beach and declare his undying love for you. But he’d take a small proposal in bed at 2am, too.

zen (what makes them feel calm?)

As mentioned before, Mason was a sucker for domestic things. Watching you do the shopping as he trails behind you was his idea of spending good time together. But getting home from a long day of training, and smelling whatever dinner you’d concocted for the evening. It was as if your front door was the very gates of Heaven. No matter what happened during the day, the second he smells his dinner and greets you happily, nothing is ruining his mood.

if you guys want me to turn some of these into longer requests, just ask! i’m in the mood to write for mase🥺

[shroudcore]

Speak now, or forever hold your peace. (II)

Summary: You crash the wedding with Grim and Ortho. Unlike the others, proposing isn’t on your mind. You come with a very different approach. 

An angstier take on Ghost Marriage. Idia x GN!reader. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

If the students of NRC thought they’ve seen Eliza at her angriest, they were wrong. The fury she displayed now was incomparable. While Idia fawned over your dramatic anime-worthy entrance, the new interruption was getting on her last ghostly nerve.

“Guards! Seize them!” she roared. Immediately, the ghosts went into action. Idia held his breath as he watched the obedient ghosts charge at you, Grim, and Ortho. He hoped you didn’t barge in with no plan. If you didn’t come equipped with useful items, you would end up like everyone else. 

Chubby, determined to get rid of the intruders that caused distress to his beloved princess, was eager to get rid of you. (”Simp”, Idia muttered) However, eagerness wasn’t enough against an opponent equally as determined. As soon as he got too close, an unknown force threw him backwards to where Eliza floated, shocking the princess.

“Chubby! Are you alright?”

Idia, on the other hand, was elated. 

“Th-that’s so OP!” he exclaimed. He knew you heard him, because your gaze flicked to him for a split second before looking away. Embarrassed, Idia shut his mouth. He’d expected at least a smile. 

After Chubby’s failed attack, other ghosts attempted to face your group. They only met the same fate. Confused, they could only pay their apologies to the princess and watch on in helplessness. Just what did you have up your sleeve? Who did you get such an SS-tier item from?

“Princess, it’s impossible to stop them!” the last of Eliza’s guards told her. For the first time that night, she looked afraid. 

Grim guffawed, while you smirked. A familiar look. It was always there before you jumpscared an enemy, or before you checkmated a poor opponent. Idia might have thought it was kinda hot. At the moment, he was oblivious to his gaping mouth, and how wildly his hair blazed. What were once lightly blushing tips were now an alarming red—a level of ferocity never seen from him before. 

“You can’t touch or hurt us!” boasted Grim, a devious smirk on his face. “We had some he—mprfgh!” He was abruptly cut off by Ortho’s robotic arm covering his mouth. Idia’s brother shook his head at your noisy dorm mate. 

“Release my big brother now!” he demanded. Idia grimaced, but didn’t feel too worried. As long as Ortho was with you and your anti-ghost protective shield, he would be safe. 

As expected, the ghosts were affronted. 

“How dare he order the princess like that?”

“You ought to be punished for your insolence!”

“To intrude on a royal wedding and speak disrespectfully! 

“Send them to the gallows!”

One talked, and one talked over the other. Soon, all that could be heard was an unintelligible susurrus of disembodied voices. One ghost had enough of it, and shouted to Eliza: “Princess, the kiss! Do what must be done!” 

“NO!” You and Ortho yelled at the same time. You continued to walk towards the makeshift altar as your two companions followed close behind. Ghosts rushed to block your path, but you pressed on as your invisible shield threw them back. It looked absolutely badass. Well, anything you did was cool to Idia, anyway. 

 “Out of my way!” You commanded, strong and unwavering. He’d seen you annoyed and angry before, but never up to this point. It basically radiated off of you that a danger warning could be floating above your head. 

“S-so intimidating... “

“So scary!”

Sure, this wedding crasher looked like you, but something was different. An unexplainable sinister aura wreathed you tonight. Was it your glare, or was it that regal suit you wore? Idia must have been too distracted by you, that he only noticed now how your cape seemed to drag shadows with it. You were a villain... much like one of the villains from his video games! And something else that was familiar. 

Whatever it was and wherever it came from, there was a menacing presence in the hall tonight. 

All were silent, except for the wind whistling through the hall. If one listened more carefully, they would hear drowned-out cackles. But it is just the wind, right?

“Wh-who are you?” Eliza finally asked. The ghosts who were ashamed at being unable to seize you began to form a protective ring around their princess. Eliza herself, Idia noticed, was starting to curl in on herself—her presence shrinking the closer you approached. “What do you want?”

“The groom,” was all you said, staring her down as if eyes alone could exterminate the ghost in front of you. 

“Idia?” she asks weakly, glancing at her tied-up groom. Idia said nothing and did nothing but look at you, attempting to telepathically communicate his panic. You barely even looked at him. 

“He’s mine.” 

Hold up—?

More gasps and chatter. They sounded less like whispers and more like the buzzing insects he heard whenever he snuck out at midnight. The world spun. Idia stared at you open-mouthed. 

If he were asked to describe his state of mind at this moment, it would be similar to a loading screen. Suddenly, everything you did together played back in a 1.75x supercut sequence. 

Mine. 

Mine. 

Mine.  

“Wh-what?” Eliza sputtered. “What do you mean?” 

You answered her, voice losing the steadiness it possessed just moments ago. “You have the man I love.” 

Wha… 

KDJAFCKSAJHDKACBSXCJSIEUDS?

Idia.exe has crashed. Reboot? 

~~

The audience’s reactions were varied. Some students on the floor were amused by the spectacle and could have used some popcorn (and a comfortable position) during these times. Some were horrified and disappointed by the idea of the prefect being in love with Idia Shroud the shut-in. Some were much too confused to feel anything. 

“Pardon…? What did I just hear?” Azul asked the floor.

“Puppy love,” Lilia wept, sniffling very loudly. “You know, this reminds me of when I was young...” 

“Whaddaya mean when you were young?!” Floyd snapped. His irritability had spiked up even more when you arrived. His position prevented him from witnessing the events. Everyone on the floor could feel his bad mood rolling off of him in waves. 

“Hey! Watch your tone when speaking to Lilia!” scolded Sebek. 

“... Are they acting?” Leona mumbled. 

“Oh, this better be an act.”  said Vil.  “... though it does not seem to be.” The last part of his observation remained unheard by anyone else, except for Rook. 

“I believe we are witnessing a genuine love confession,” added the Chasseur d’Amour himself, voice soft as he sighed dreamily. “Engrave this moment into your memories, everyone! We are fortunate to witness it…”

But no one shared his enthusiasm about the situation. The others expressed their displeasure by groaning and complaining. “... well, even in this state we are in?” he added as a follow-up. 

~~

Reboot. 

You once fell asleep on Idia’s shoulder after finishing a movie. It was something you both only watched to make fun of, but you were apparently too tired to give your top-tier jokes and meme references. The contact sent his heart into overdrive as he froze, begging for option boxes to appear and help him. The flames of his hair blazed so brightly that it woke you back up. It was embarrassing, and sometimes he would remember it late at night and cringe. 

It was happening again, but worse. Any moment now, he was sure that he alone could burn down the cafeteria, if not the whole school. This was stupid. Why did he get that worked up over an obvious act? A mere ploy to get the ghosts to release him?

Reality catches up and deals him triple attack damage. Crowley probably put you up to this. You were probably annoyed that you were forced to do this, weren’t you? That’s why you couldn’t even look at him. It had to be the cruelest joke that fate ever threw his way. 

“I can’t say I don’t understand you, Princess,” you tell Eliza, forcing a smile. “Idia is perfect, is he not?” He felt your eyes on him. This time, it was he who couldn’t quite meet your gaze. Looking down at the floor was all he could do; it couldn’t judge his blushing face. Only when the warmth in his cheeks faded did he feel it safe to look back up again. 

“You see him, don’t you, Princess?” Your voice began to falter, losing the confidence and authority in it that scared the ghosts. “He’s so much more than what everyone else thinks! We agree on that, don’t we?”

Eliza’s face softened, nodding. “Yes. I’ve seen how these people insult him!” she tells you, gesturing to the ‘failed princes’ on the floor.

“But we’re still different,” you stepped closer, but still far enough so that your invisible anti-ghost forcefield wouldn’t activate. “You don’t want to marry Idia, you want to marry your fairytale prince.” 

Eliza appeared to be genuinely confused. She looked around at her companions, before turning back to you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re in love with your ideals, not the person himself,” you explain. “You only chose him for his appearance. Am I right? His personality, likes and dislikes, and possible flaws don’t matter to you.”

Eliza seemed deep in thought. While she was silent, you release a bitter laugh and threw your hands up.  “I mean, do you even know what his favorite candy is?”

Pomegranate drops. You asked to have some, but he refused to give you any. He wouldn’t tell you why, but he let you assume it was his favorite and didn’t want to share because of that. 

That wasn’t it, though. Maybe he’d tell you once you were both out of here. 

“You’ve never stayed up until 4am just to join him on a raid!” You waved your hands wildly, lost in your rant. Whether Eliza understood you or not, you seemed to have stopped giving a damn. 

“Weak!” he teased, noticing your drooping eyelids and reduced concentration. Deep down, he felt bad for keeping you up late.  “Look, it’s fine if you need to rest.”

“Nah, let’s finish this. What are you going to do without me?” you replied, smirking.

“You don’t even have 4-hour conversations with him on Magicord VC like I do!” 

It lasted up until 3am. You two were laughing at memes. He could hear a groggy Grim complain in the background about the noise. 

“Alright. Here’s a question, princess. How much would you risk for the man beside you right now? Bet that’s where we’re different...”

Eliza’s gaze darted back and forth between you and Idia. Even the other ghosts were silent, waiting for your next words. 

“... because if you ask me, I would risk everything! That’s why I’m here wearing this stupid suit!”

It’s not real. It’s not real. The emotion behind every word was a punch to the gut. If you kept this up, he might need a healer soon. Ever since he realized he was falling, he tried to quell the sparks of hope you ignited whenever you did something nice for him. All that hard work was gone. Each word you uttered was gasoline. 

“To think that if I arrived minutes later… th-that I would never see him again!” A sob escapes your throat, your intimidating persona crumbling.

No, don’t do that. Idia wanted to reassure you that he was still there and he was okay, but he couldn’t. It’s part of an act. It’s part of an act. 

“So please… just let him go.” The front you wore has completely dissolved. There you were, reduced to a sobbing mess in front of a ghost princess and the students of NRC. 

You weren’t the only one. All traces of anger or fear have vanished from Eliza’s face. Instead, she put her hands over her mouth. The princess had been moved to tears. Finally, she turns to Idia. “Idia, they seem to l-love you very much… ”

“That’s right.” You wiped your tear-streaked face and pointed an accusing finger at the ghosts. “And all of you! Are you going to enable her forever? Encourage her shallow ideas of what love should be?” 

They all looked down, unable to meet your eyes. 

“You have no right to just snatch him up and claim him as yours,” you told Eliza with an unfaltering resolve, despite your tear-covered face and your crumbled front of strength. “Did you never think… that there could have been someone waiting for him to return?” 

“I-I never meant to!” Eliza cried. “I was so blinded by my own happiness. I never thought… never even considered…” 

“Princess, it’s alright. We all make mistakes.” Chubby told her, trying to be reassuring. 

“Tell me, intruder. How else am I going to find my prince?” she asked you with no trace of hostility. You stopped for a while, staring at her. 

You must not have expected the question. Idia saw you look at him—it was the longest time you’d looked at him all evening. Clearing your throat, you began to explain. You fumbled a bit, scratching the back of your neck and tugging at the hem of your coat as you explained what a perfect partner should be. 

As you spoke, Idia was enthralled by your voice and most of all, the knowledge you possessed about love and romance. He hadn’t seen this side of you before. How did he ever think that a hundred dating sims could make him a romance expert?

“Is that so?” she sighs, bowing her head. “I understand now. I’m so sorry… for causing you so much grief.” 

She turns to her companions, giving them a sad smile. “There’s only one thing to do. Everyone, we must stop this wedding.” 

Idia wanted to fall to the floor in relief. At least a few exhausted sighs and weak cheers could be heard from the wedding “attendees”. You fell to your knees, exaggerating your gratitude. 

“Thank you, princess!”

“But Princess… what about your happily ever after?” Chubby interjected. 

“I can’t tear two lovers apart!” Eliza wipes a few of her own tears, then turns to you. “I was deeply moved by your words. I dream of having a lover like you,” she sighs dreamily, probably imagining her future lover already. 

While the students of NRC rejoiced at this victory, Idia’s heartbeat quickened in fear. What if Eliza decided to take you for herself?

“Princess…” Chubby muttered, sighing. Eliza only gave him a reassuring smile. Phew. Idia relaxed, grateful that she doesn’t have the idea… yet. He didn’t know what to do if that thought became reality. 

Eliza turns to address the hall with a smile. “I have decided.” Everyone waited with bated breath for her announcement. Idia squeezed his eyes shut and silently urged her to announce their departure already. 

“Idia and I will not be married anymore. She smiles wide, and clasps her hands together. “However, there will still be a wedding!”

Your smile faded. “What… what do you mean, princess?”

She beams. “To make up for my mistake, I will make sure that Idia and his lover are married tonight!” 

~~

To be continued.

Tagging: @teashopwritingzz @twistedcrumbs 

Well, that was long. To think that I was planning for the story to be a one-shot! Once again, keep an eye out for Part 3. Thank you for reading! 

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

[realcube]

haikyuu!! characters with a chubby! s/o 💗

characters: tsukishima, oikawa, atsumu, osamu & suna

thank you anon for this cute request 🥺

tw// comfort, fluff, angst if you squint, insecure! reader, swearing, they/them reader but reader wears a dress (in osamu’s)

(a/n): anon requested comfort but i feel bad bc i’m writing this like ‘no, (y/n)! stop being sad! you’re beautiful! 😡’ then i remember that i can just select+delete the pain away💗💖

Kei Tsukishima

let’s not pretend like tsukki gives a fuck what you look like tbh ✋

like nobody is ‘perfect’ and everyone is insecure (to varying degrees) so why would he care about your weight?

nobody ticks every single box to meet society’s definition of ‘beauty’  

plus, tsukki thought beauty standards were stupid away so he created his own - and you meet every single one 💖

in fact, almost everyone meets his beauty standards - besides himself ‘:)

he seriously doesn’t care about your weight tbh, it’s the most trivial thing so why would he care?

although, he wasn’t naïve enough to think that everyone was like-minded

your front of ‘i don’t care about what other people think of me’ was strong enough to fool even the most observant of poeple, including tsukki

however, tsukishima failed to take into consideration that you were his girlfriend, meaning that you could be playing the same game as him; ‘pretend to not care about superficial things like beauty so nobody will think for a second that you are insecure about your body’

he wasn’t one to give compliments but neither were you tbh so the mutual agreement y’all have of ‘let’s call each other names as a form of endearment to avoid those awkward moments were you are looking for the right words for praise but can’t come up with anything’  was fair

but after you accidentally sent him a self-deprecating ‘joke’ message that was clearly meant for a friend, he never passed up the opportunity to compliment you ever again

like he kinda just stared at the message like 😮 ‘does (y/n) seriously care about their weight? why? it doesn’t even matter. how stupid! who told them that the shape of their body is important? bc it’s not..’

then he turns to look in the mirror like ‘wow you srsly need to put on muscle, lanky bitch. or else (y/n) will probably leave you for some built jackass like kuroo. pick up some weights, noodle arms!’

anyway, he’s not too good with words and comfort in situations like these but he’ll probably reply to your text with something out-of-character and surprisingly sweet

to paraphrase (bc the actual text would probably be like a whole damn persuasive essay LMAO he starts with the introduction, makes five points and finishes with a conclusion pfft) , i think it would be something like: ‘hey, (y/n). ik that text was probably meant for one of your friends (but if they’re the ones making you feel bad about your weight then you should probably drop those toxic cunts anyway 💅✨) but i just wanted to say that even though you are the biggest clown i’ve ever met (/j) you’re still v beautiful 💗 stop being insecure or i’ll pass away ⚰💀 ok thx love you bye’

Tōru Oikawa

how are you insecure if you’re dating oikawa? /j

like he is such a hypeman

whenever y’all take pics in your ✨fancy outfits ✨ for formal event, he acts as though you are second most beautiful thing on the face of this earth 😍 (second to him ofc)

but he only does that so he can keep up the reputation he has of being effortlessly confident bc he’s scared that if it slips for even a second, everyone will see how truly insecure he is

truthfully, in his eyes, you come first place by miles (❤ ω ❤)

like srsly, you’re so gorgeous in that dress!! he hopes that you know that he is joking about the whole ‘second place’ thing bc you should be able to tell by the way he looks at you that you’re genuinely the most striking person he’s ever laid his eyes on 

you never acted overly confident in front of him but he definitely didn’t think you were as insecure as you are

he thought you were just..humble :)

sometimes he’d hear you mutter something mean about yourself as you passed the mirror but he paid no mind to it as he figured that you just cared about your appearance and wanted to maintain a certain image

however, once he was made aware that you didn’t want to maintain your image but rather, change it - he never let you murmur anything nasty about yourself under your breath ever again, not without proceeding to tackle you to the ground and shower you with his love, affection & praise 💞💕❤

and he never made a ‘second place’ joke ever again, he started his honesty streak by reassuring you that you’ll always be the number one in his eyes 🤩

also, after that, he was a lot more open about his own insecurities with you and you made sure to respect them and help him in a similar way that he did

there is just so much love and admiration between the two of you and at first you were both to shy to express it but now, you both are showering each other in compliments 24/7 bc you both just want the other one to know how perfect you view them as (❁´◡`❁)

Atsumu Miya

atsumu is a hypeman like oikawa but...better :)

IT���S BC HE HAS NO SHAME

he’ll compliment you on anything you wear and he makes it a point to use the most inappropriate compliment as possible, relative to the outfit you’re wearing

so if you’re wearing your pyjamas, he’ll call you ‘glamourous’

if you are wearing a swimsuit, he’ll call you ‘elegant’

if you’re in your work clothes/school uniform, he’ll call you ‘sexy’

and if you’re in lingerie, he’ll call you ‘adorable’

but it makes you blush so hey, no complaints

so when he finds out that you’re actually insecure about your weight, he’s just like ‘no ❤’

like he hates the idea that when you look in the mirror, you don’t see the god(dess) he sees

like why? it’s the same person

💞 fuck ‘perception’ 💞

💕 ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ TF YOU ARE THE FUCKING BEAUTY💕

grrr he was so mad  

but he was also soft 

he was like ‘if (y/n) insecure? then why hot? then why pretty? then why fit perfectly into my arms?’

plus, THIGHS

he’d never diss a person bc they had small thighs or anything BUT he’d also NEVER complain about being given the chance to be with someone with some good thighs 👍

tbh the best could do to help was compliment you ten times harder to eliMINATE ALL YOUR INSECURIES 

(and ofc i don’t mean that in a way - for example - if you’re insecure about your nose, he’ll fkn chop it off......he won’t chop your nose off LMAO he’ll just show you how much he loves it, to the point where you have no choice but to love it too ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ )

anyway, plz love (or at least, tolerate) yourself or else he’ll suffocate you with all his love and affection :D

Osamu Miya

osamu is at a loss when it comes to typical beauty standards tbh

to him, weight (and most things) are similar to..hand size, for example

just like how you can’t imagine someone feeling self-conscious about the size of their hand (especially if their hand is a healthy size) 

he can’t imagine why some one would be shamed for their weight (especially if they’re a healthy size)

so had no idea you could possibly be insecure about something like that and he probably on realised after a few years in the relationship 😅

there was a formal event coming up and y’all were going as dates so you wanted to shop for outfits together 

as couples do ✌

anyway, he was on a dress site, scrolling away until you pointed out one that you thought was pretty - and it matched the color of the tie osamu bought too!

it was a fair price (for a formal dress 🙄 which is probably like $68/50) so osamu was like ‘buy it then ( •̀ ω •́ )✧’  bc he thought it would so gorgeous on you 

but you were like ‘no’

and after he pried further, you explained how you thought it wouldn’t ‘suit your body type’ 

GRRR HE dislikes IT WHEN PPL SAY THIS SO MUCH BC HOE YOU DON’T HAVE A BODY TYPE YOU’VE GOT A BODY 😡💕 WEAR THE DAMN DRESS IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BEAUTIFUL 

but like deadass it’s not your blood type-  it’s just a thing ppl made up to make ppl (mostly women) feel bad about themselves for no reason

but that might just be his inner atsumu talking 🤷‍♂️

he didn’t even know what to say at first- he was just like ????? body type ????

but once he figured out what you meant, he still had no idea what to say- at least, without sounding rude

what if someone came up to you and told you they were insecure about the shape of their knee.......what do you even say???

so he was silent for like the rest of the day

you decided to give him some space just in case something happened which had upset him

he had no idea what to say, in all honesty, so he hoped that his actions spoke louder than words 

around 3 days had passed since you last spoke to osamu and you were beginning to think something you had said made him uncomfortable

you were studying in your room until there was a ring at your door so you rushed downstairs and you opened it to reveal a package sitting on your doormat

you had recently ordered some cleaning equipment so you were sure that the content of the package was probably that

so imagine your surprise when you tear it open to reveal  — you guessed it —  the dress 💕

Rintarō Suna

when he says that he doesn’t care what ppl look like, he means it

he upkeeps his own appearance though bc..it’s his!

like why would he care about what weight you are? that’s none of his business

as you can tell, he’s generally not shallow but sometimes when y’all are just cuddling and your face is pressed to his chest, the words ‘you’re so cute’ just fall from his lips

so ofc he appreciates compliments over his skills, personality, humour etc over flattery about his appearance 

hence, the praise he gives you is usually based around those things too bc he just thinks that you’re just like him in the fact you don’t appreciate skin-deep comments

so when he found out that you’re actually insecure about your weight (or something else), he kinda blames himself

he thinks that the whole reason you’re not extremely confident in your appearance is all due to him and the fact he fact he maybe didn’t compliment you on your looks enough  — but that’s not to say that he doesn’t think you’re beautiful 

you’re the most radiant person he’s ever laid his eyes on and he thought you knew that regardless of whether he vocalised it or not

he wasn’t really sure what to do tbh

bc he loved you and wanted to comfort you ofc but he was scared of making things worse

like what if something he says accidentally makes you so upset that you break-up with him 😭

but he knew he couldn’t just stay silent about the issue, especially when he wanted to say to much

thus, he sent you a heartfelt message on discord 

(rather than snap, whatsapp etc so he could edit it after he posts it bc knowing him, he’ll probably write something, reread it ten times then as soon as he hits send, he spots a bunch of mistakes)

and he’d explain how you’re simply divine regardless of your insecurity and if anything, it just makes you cuter 😍

ok ok so i really don’t want it so seem like he has a fetish bc HE DOESN’T 

but he think your curves are so fun and pretty ❤ 

like everything about you is pretty but suna just can’t comprehend why you’re insecure about something like your weight when he literally adores it (bc he adores everything about you) 

[cryinginthebackseat]

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part iii

part i  part ii  AO3

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 6.572

Warnings: here’s where the smut tag comes into play, boy with a copious amount of power play and yeah, it’s messy af

Author’s note: after three months, a couple of brainstorming in the bathtub, delays, revisions and self-doubt, chapter 3 is finally done. i hope you'll enjoy it. also, i don't think i have to warn you what will go down in this chapter.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fast forward to twenty-four hours since he discovers that Bell is fucking someone, Lazar drops about half a dozen of dusty manilas on his desk. Adler’s eyes sweep over them. He recognizes Bell’s handwriting etched across the memo attached to one of the folders right away.

He picks it up. It’s becoming second nature to him lately; drawing himself to her, an ineradicable magnetic force pulling his end of the pole.

A muscle on his jaw twitches.

For a moment, Adler despises her. He allows himself to really despise her. She’s started something in his head- a war; an intangible, unmanageable riot and if he lets her, she’ll rearrange him until he’s insane.

And he can’t let that happen. He’s the one holding the leash here, not vice versa.

“This is what we have on Dragovich’s activities in Yamantau,” Lazar informs him, pulling him back down to earth.

Adler stands, keeping his face easy, neutral. “Is this everything?”

“So far, yeah. Bell says she’ll let us know if she digs up something more from the archives though.”

Bell- the Bell in question- can be heard sighing, like she turns the corner and finds herself at a cul-de-sac; hunching over her desk, reading, her fingers keep buttoning and unbuttoning the top of her shirt, madly distracting (him).

She remains in her seat, for pretty much the remainder of the day. Eyes glued to the pages before her, factory-like dedication. She hardly looks up when Sims borrows her pen or when Park stands over her, sipping her coffee, inquiring about her progress behind a plume of smoke.

The only- truly time Bell ever lifts her head from her work is when Mason approaches her desk. She gazes up at him, notes forgotten, a kittenish smile etched across her face, come-hither eyes that could have time hung in motion, or held at ransom, perhaps. Mason’s own smile is full-blown, too wide, too genial, as he stalks closer and closer to her table, her whirlpool.

Adler does a double-take, like his eyeballs only functioning for the first time. He might as well be hallucinating it because no... this can’t be right, can it?

But then Mason is touching her hand, a blink-and-you-miss-it movement that was not lost on Adler and oh, she’s looking at him hopefully now.

The knots in Adler's stomach are vertiginous. Realization rings in his head like a gunshot, nearly leaving him in a daze. There’s no denying it. Not when the exchange unfurls before his eyes like a broken, warped film reel and there’s nothing to stop him from seeing it.

The thought of her and him haunts the rest of his waking hours, until there’s absolutely no telling how far he’s fallen into his own pit. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ( Alex Mason fucked her that night.

Mason was in her bed; beside her, above her, under her. Inside her. He imagines her fingers digging into the mattress as Mason rolled her onto her stomach, mouth trailing down the ladder of her spine. Their breaths intermingled in the seraphic glow of her hotel room.

Alex Mason fucked her. It shouldn't leave an acrid taste in his mouth, but it does.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ She haphazardly reaches for the mug and takes a hearty gulp of its content. It’s not hers.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Bell says, mortified and places the mug down noisily on the desk. “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine.”

The rim of his mug is now stained with her lipstick. Adler bites down on a careful retort.

He thinks he knows now. Why he lets it happen, why he thinks of her in metaphors, why she gives him that vertigo. The answer is at the tip of his tongue- he can almost taste it, like spoiled milk or rancid gardenia. But it’s much easier to ignore it until the words grow diminuendo and disappear, that he thinks he imagined it all along.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t obsess without turning around and getting lost in the middle.

Or losing a part of yourself in the process.

The idea of obsession, to obsess, perhaps is a far riskier thing for a person to have than playing the knife game, blindfolded with absolutely no telling where to start.

Yet we all do it, despite knowing the very dark flipside it possesses.

Perhaps it’s the very nature of humans, tucked deep within the pigeonhole of our minds, suffused by the very promise of bogus achievements that usually leads most of us insane, thinking that obsession is essential to living. But without it, artists are corporate slaves, slack-jawed know-it-alls moving stiffly in the middle of the hullabaloo that is our world; Paris would be just as unrecognizable today without Napoleon’s artistic legacy.

Obsession is good.

Obsession is dangerous.

The very dichotomy should have us all warded off of it.

Yet, again, we all do it. Again, and again, and again until it taints our veins. And it’s always far too late until you realize, that yes, now all you see is her, the air has been poisoned by her perfume, that her name is now forevermore engraved in your skin, like an overgild tattoo.

That you end up in downtown Berlin, out of sight, out of mind.

He finds them there, in a shoebox-sized cafe. Ill-lit, low-ceiling, coffee-stained floor that shows the wear of three decades worth of boots, pantoffels and high heels and Adler is sitting in his car, nursing a beer with but one all-consuming, perplexing thought:

Bell and Mason.

Someone told him they arrived together, about an hour ago. The cafe has become their usual haunts, his source said, ever since they’ve returned from Ukraine and Adler just can’t wrap his head around this- them. In his head, they’re wholly different entities. Two proper nouns separated by a conjunction, or a comma if mentioned in a list.

They’re the kind of opposites that he thought don’t attract, yet here they are.

Perhaps it's inevitable, both are products of brainwashing. Maybe they sensed one another, speaking in code, like detecting an RF signal from a nuclear bunker.

Then the doors to the cafe swing open. They step outside, cheeks flushed, his arm wrapped around her waist, her lips glueing on the slope of his neck. Shaded eyes watch them from the opposite street, his disgust obvious.

Now, Adler wonders how this all began. Someone must have made the first move.

He wonders if it was her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You wanted to see me?"

Adler looks up from his desk and nods. "Lock the door behind you."

And Alex Mason, the root of all this trouble, obeys. Looking somewhat uncertain under the scrutiny of the harsh lights, and shuts the blinds. Unlike Woods, he takes a seat at the chair Adler sets up before the desk.

"What is it?" Mason asks, after a long, almost unending silence. His curiosity seeps through the room.

There is very little control when the first domino falls. Oftentimes, once it starts, it’s like crossing the Rubico n and the next thing you know, you are lying flat on the ground in some theater, 23 fresh stab wounds decorating your body and the beat of your pulse seems dim and distant, everything feels cold except your blood; warm, bright and thick like gasoline, crawling into every space until it goes into your throat and strangles you, kills you. Fini, kaput.

But then again, he's not Caesar and this isn't Rome.

Adler pushes the first tile.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks without fanfare, tight and composed as ever. Never mind the way his eyes ignite like cold blue fire behind his glasses.

"How long has what been going on?"

“You and Bell." And Mason blinks at him in surprise. Bingo. "I saw the two of you leaving for her hotel from a cafe in Downtown Berlin last night. So don't bother skirting your way around this.” Adler leans forward across his desk. He’s a man on a mission- there’s no stopping him now.

“Now, let me rephrase the question, how long have you been fucking her?"

"Hold on, hold on, you were stalking us?" Mason asks, waspish.

Adler winces inwardly. "I was keeping an eye out for my asset.”

“Asset?” Mason hisses, like Adler just blasphemed. “Jesus Christ, Russ, is that all she ever is to you? An asset? She’s your protégé, for god’s sake- a person! What is wrong with you?"

"Plenty. Or apparently, so I've been told.”

"I don't find you amusing.”

“I'm hardly ever,” Adler parries. Mason remains silent, yet the tilt of his lips translate exactly what words can't. "And you haven't answered my question."

“Bullshit. I don’t owe you anything."

"Listen, Al-"

"No, you listen to me. You may be calling the shots around here, but this has absolutely nothing to do with you. Whatever- or whoever - we're doing in our spare time is none of your business, do you understand? So you can just drop it," Mason seethes, bitter, and, much to Adler’s surprise, rises to leave. “We’re done here.”

"That's where you're wrong."

Mason has only managed to put a few paces between them before he turns around, once again stepping inside this metaphorical boxing ring.

"What?"

"This has everything to do with me," Adler says coolly. "You said it yourself, I'm the one who calls the shots here. Meaning, anything that could potentially fuck up my operation is my concern and I have the right to intervene should it needed. This, being a case in point."

Mason looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What the hell does fucking her have to do with this whole operation?”

“Everything.” He says it like quiet resignation. It’s time to acknowledge the truth, he thinks, to that unusual idea that has been swirling in the deep recesses of his mind, that everyone’s weakness is varied.

Achilles had his heel, and Adler has her.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, Al. You don't even know her."

Mason gives him a level stare. "And you do?"

Adler is so hard-pressed to say 'I made her' but even he wouldn't stoop that low.

"That is beside the point,” Adler tells him instead as he turns to his vice- one of them, at least- and lights it.

“There is literally no point to this conversation.”

“The point is, stay the hell away from Bell. I'm saying this for your own good."

"My own good or yours?"

Adler does not flinch, but his hand does ball into a fist under the table, how the fingers curl and then flex.

"Don't be ridiculous. I gain nothing from this except assurance." It's a lie, it's the truth. There's no in between. He doesn’t know which is which anymore. "You, on the other hand, I'm sure the old ball and chain wouldn't be near as thrilled about hearing this if word ever gets out."

Mason is quiet for a beat.

"Is that a threat?"

"Only once I pulled the pin," Adler replies, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice.

But the thing with Mason, he'll come to realize later, is how much, like with Bell, weaving through his mind is like trying to grasp for purchase in the dark as he, once again, does the unpredicted and smile- a venomous grin warps his face, like he’s mocking him, challenging him to move his piece on the board and make this mistake.

Adler stares back, surprised despite himself.

He shocks him further by saying, "Go ahead, then. Pull the pin, throw the grenade, tell her. See if she cares."

Adler’s eyes narrow at his askance. He then drags his attention to Mason’s left hand, and something grave and familiar rises in his chest.

The absence of the metal band around his ring finger tells him why.

“You know where to reach her. If anything, I’m sure she’d trust your words better than anyone else’s. So please, do it.” And Mason’s so goddamn sanctimonious about it. He’s clearly expecting this particular reaction out of Adler. It only leaves Adler angrier.

Another long pause stretches, heavy and unkind.

"Fine. Maybe she won't mind, but I'm sure the Agency wouldn’t be as tolerant.” Adler takes one last drag of his cigarette. He has that ‘Having nothing, nothing can he lose’ look on his face that makes Mason frowns. “Not when you’ve been fraternizing with the enemy.”

"What?”

"Bell. She’s not who you think she is, Al. Tell me, who do you think is the sorry bastard we saved in Trabzon?”

Mason blinks. His face is blank with shock, then he shakes his head. And he keeps shaking it, almost manic. If he laughs, which one would come first, he wonders, the gun or his fist pummeling the side of his face?

“You’re lying.”

“And why would I lie to you about this?”

"No, no, no, Woods- he told me the guy’s dead,” Mason says, his words are shaky.

“He’s not. And he wasn’t a he."

A crease forms between Mason's eyebrows, the starting of another frown.

“Hold on, if she’s helping us get Perseus then why is she the enemy?”

"Because she doesn't know that."

"Doesn't know what?"

"That she's the enemy."

Mason holds his gaze for a moment, his expression tense, like a slingshot.

And that cold elastic band finally snaps.

“What did you do to her?” He’s openly glaring at him now, mouth tight, an icy fury that is no longer dormant and for the first time since Adler has known him, he finds the man dangerous.

Adler takes a steadying breath. “We did what had to be done.”

"You sick son of a bitch. You brainwa- You-” Mason clamps his mouth shut, trembling hands finding his head. “Shit. How could you?"

Adler ignores his colorful outburst.

“She resisted every form of interrogations we threw at her, Al. We had no choice but to implement MK-Ultra as a last resort. We needed what’s in her head.” Mason is silent in reply. Adler continues, “Look, it’s nasty business, I know, but some of us have to cross a line just to make sure that line's still there in the morning. And as much as I hate agreeing with Hudson, he’s right. We need to preserve our way of life.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to play God,” his voice is resentful and crisp. “Do you have any idea what you are doing? You could jeopardize everything, and for what? You’ve seen what this- this experiment did to me, this won’t end the way you think!”

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

"You’re really willing to gamble on that?”

Adler scowls. “I don’t gamble, Mason. I calculate. And if by some chance I was given a second chance, I’d do it all over again. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Mason doesn’t say anything at first, his loaded gun stare never falters. Then, “The flag may be different, but the methods are the same.”

"What was that?”

“Someone warned me, a long time ago, about how people like you will use people like me or Bell as pawns in your own game. You’d do whatever it takes to get what you want- and my, how you get results, don’t you? But you’re actually no different than the rest of the assholes you're fighting against,” Mason tells him, like he’s spitting out acid in Adler’s face.

“Bell may be the enemy- heck, she could be the architect behind all the chaos Perseus has done, but what you’re doing to her is vile and unethical. There are many ways to make her spill the beans, yet you chose the most immoral method there is out there. I sincerely hope you rot in hell for this."

Before Adler could formulate a response to his tirade, Mason stands to his feet.

“You want me to stay away from her? Fine. Consider this as my formal resignation. After Yamatau, I’m done. I’m out of the team. And if you know what’s good for you, you stay the fuck away from me because I don't ever want to see your face again, do you hear me?” he snarls. “If you think Woods is dangerous, Adler, just remember I nearly could have killed my own president."

Then Mason turns on his heel and walks out of the room, once and for all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The fist is very much expected, and so does the pain that follows.

"You're out of your fucking depth, shithead," Woods spits, venom lacing his words.

Adler doesn't even bother to retaliate.

He doesn’t see the point. He didn’t think it would get this far. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The garage grows quiet and stodgy with now Mason and Woods are out of the picture. Everyone settles back into their own normal rhythm, the same routine before both men set their feet here almost a week ago.

Hudson doesn’t take the news of their departure kindly, naturally. He stands in Adler’s office, pacing, fuming. Adler ignores him, trying to nurse the skull-splitting migraine he's having at his desk instead. The nasty black eye hidden underneath his glasses. A secret locked, the key thrown away.

His headache, thankfully, has subsided when Sims takes a seat on the other side of the desk, hours later after Hudson left.

"I'm not trying to cause an alarm here, but you'd better watch your back."

Adler's brows furrow but doesn’t look up from the papers before him. "And why's that?"

"'Cause I think you just pissed off the wrong beast," Sims tells him. Adler pauses, then lifts his head to look at his cohort. There's genuine worry flashing over his face.

“Are you talking about Bell?”

“Who else?”

If she's a beast, then what am I? What he wants to ask, but there's a knock at the door and he swallows the words down his throat.

"Come in," Adler says, pretending to be reading again.

The door opens and Bell, fucking Bell, enters his office. It's like watching a tiger pass by your hiding spot in near dark. Neither he nor Sims breathes a word.

Bell's gaze immediately swings to him, like a cosmic pull. She's watching him as she wanders over to the desk and the weight of her stare burns him like Greek fire.

He pushes the documents close, all the while returning her stare. He is never the one who backs out of a challenge, and at this point, he knows that she probably knows that. Maybe that’s why she initiated it in the first place.

"Bell, what is it?" Adler asks firmly, in possession of his full power in this place.

Bell produces three diskettes from her pocket. Something odd definitely shining in her eyes.

"These have been lying on Lazar's desk for hours, but he's busy, so I thought I'd deliver them to you myself," Bell says. And he's trying to work out on her angle but she is unreadable. As always.

Adler nods, frustrated and indignant. "You can leave them here. Thank you."

It is only once the woman leaves that the two agents share a dark, significant look. That was too close.

And it goes without saying, something needs to be done about this. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 7th. A's insistence on raising the dosage is illogical. Recent behavioural analysis indicates depression. Will monitor for the next few days. Considering lowering the dosage instead. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The elevator reeks of smoke, cheap Soviet air freshener and something far more poisonous than the devil’s spider, silky hands.

It embodies the woman standing next to him right now- this special animal, emotionless, a constant mystery wrapped with a warning sign.

Adler is tempted to shut his eyes.

Or get out of here. He doesn’t dwell well in this atmosphere, this limited space shared with her alone. He probably should have listened to Hudson about taking Bell for this mission, but she’s the only one he trusts who won’t fuck this up. Not to mention her spotless Russian has proven to help them blend in with the crowd seamlessly.

He needs her, whether he would admit it aloud or not.

But she puts his head in such a spin.

She’s been near-mute since they departed from Germany. She barely acknowledges his questions and orders, barely looks at him. She’s been treating him as if he’s another shadow on the wall.

He rubs the side of his jaw. Something does need to be done about this.

“Are you going to stay quiet forever?” Adler asks. He’s bad at this, but he can’t stand her silence for much longer. Not to mention, they’re at the Lubysnka- the fucking lion's den. If she wants to wallow over Mason’s absence or sinks into whatever melancholic feeling she’s in, she can do it later.

Bell hums, her mouth curls up like serpentine. Adler sketches a confused frown.  And she says, “I don’t know. Should I?”

And then, sudden and swift, Bell undoes the cuffs of her uniform. Beady eyes never leave his.

The sight catches him off guard. Somewhere in his mind, he curses something like ‘you’re a beast’ and ‘what the hell are you?’ at her, all in negative connotations. The effects she inflicts on him is maddening.

“What are you doing?” Adler doesn’t bother to hide his surprise.

Bell shrugs and gestures to the duffle bag at their feet. “Gearing up.”

Oh. Embarrassment wells up in him. Fucking hell, this woman will be the death of him.

Her fingers quickly move on to the buttons, still indifferent, nearly tearing them from the seams. The first glimpse of her skin and Adler can’t help but give in, openly stares at her in a way he has never imagined before. Her clavicles like daggers glinting in the lamplight.

Curiosity is a dangerous and heavy load.

He should have closed his eyes.

“Enjoying the show?” Her voice pulls him back from his musings. Her eyes still zero in on him, cutting him to pieces.

Her cleavage comes into view.

The lines on Adler’s face grow taut.

“What do you want, Bell?” He asks, intending for a bark but it ends somewhere like a plea.

“I want many things. As of right now, I want Alex’s cock inside me.” And Adler nearly chokes on his own breath. Bell, eagle-eyed as ever, caught the movement. “But it seems someone insists on being in control of everything, isn’t he?” she snaps.

Adler’s back goes rigid. Trepidation bubbles up in his chest.

Of course, she knows.

“It's not about control.” Adler turns around. He doesn’t quite know what he’s avoiding at this point, her flesh or the truth. “It’s about what’s right.”

He hears her uniform touches her floor as she laughs, mirthless, like broken chandeliers. “I didn’t know whose cock I’m riding is any concern of yours.”

“It is when he’s a member of the team,” he seethes. “What you’re doing with Alex will only lead to complications. And I can’t have tha-”

“Because this is all about you, isn’t it? It’s about upholding your precious reputation in the Agency, controlling the narrative the way you want it no matter how many characters you kill off in the process. It’s always about what you want.” Bell interrupts, not missing a beat. “You selfish motherfucker.”

"This has nothing to do with my reputation in the CIA."

She scoffs. "Spare me the crap, Adler."

Adler turns to fully face her again and holds his arms open, the way someone is facing the firing squad. “Fine. Fine, yes, I’m a selfish motherfucker. I did it because I thought it could ruin the operation. Is that what you wanted to hear? Now, what are you going to do about it?”

She says nothing at first. He silently catalogues her movements as she steps towards him now, half-naked and furious. He feels pinned.

Then, “What do you want me to do about it?”

His mouth dries at the implication. She is temptation, benediction, the coarse ice block before the carver.

How terrible it is to lose control, even just once.

A knowing, vicious smirk flashes over her face. Adler feels like he’s just shown his hand.

“You are one selfish bastard and a coward to boot, aren’t you?” Bell sneers before he has a chance to respond. “At least, Alex was brave enough to make the first move, but you…” her gaze raking up and down his figure coldly, a jeweller presented with second-grade imitations. Wind her up and this honey bee stings.

“You’ll always be the man who hides behind his shades,” she says, dry as dust, and steps back and snatches her clothes from the bag.

This is, without a single doubt, the longest elevator ride he’s ever experienced in his life. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler arrived back in Berlin breathing a little harder. Worry wrapped around his neck like a noose, placed by Bell herself; the judge, jury and executioner.

The knot tightens every time his mind refers to her.

The agency trained him, specifically, to keep calm under pressure. He didn’t coin the title “America’s Monster” from his colleagues for nothing. They don’t fear him because he’s hot-headed or thinks in large-scale violence— guns blazing, napalm-induced flames over the hill in the morning, bloodied knuckles and fractured jaw, blood-soaked soles tarnishing the white marble floor. Someone can point a fucking shotgun to his face and he’ll barely flinch. Only monsters remain impassive to direct threats of violence.

But there’s something about Bell that elicits this visceral, primal reaction out of him. Something strange and new; lightning about to be uncapped from its chains.

It chokes him, frightens him to the core.

How gauche is it, don’t you think, that his own mind is conspiring against him?

Now, in the garage, where it dawns on Adler that she’s probably the only person who can make him walk around the city, feeling like a fool, he decides he’s had enough. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I’ll drive you back.”

Adler apprehends Bell outside the garage. He kind of assumed she’d have a pistol aimed at his head right now, but she spins around, hands shoved deep inside her pockets and clayey mouth curls in distaste.

“Get in the car, Bell,” Adler says tightly, almost adding please.

But he would not beg.

The brunette remains rooted in her place. For a moment, a calculating look crossed her face. Always, always that sharp mind of hers turning and he wonders where it would take her this time.

“Try asking nicely,” she demands.

Adler’s eyes flash. She really is testing him. But fine, he'll play her game.

“Bell, would you kindly get in the car?” He is all but snarls, teeth gritting. Bell hardly wavers- he wishes she would waver for a change.

She does what he asked of her, finally, the shadow of a smirk on her face mocking him. Adler follows suit, teeth still clenched together, and starts the car and drives away.

It's sort of like a deja-vu, he supposes; him and her in this very same car, except that stupid krautrock music is absent this time. Neither says anything for the first twenty minutes. Everything feels heavily still.

Until he realizes she’s probably waiting for his move.

This might gloriously blow up in his face, yes, he knows this. Especially remembering the last time he was alone in a tight space with her, it had cost him his pride.

And his mind.

But he’s been here before, in the eye of the storm. He was at his calmest here. He has his cards prepared now.

Adler inhales deeply.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he utters resolutely. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t want to. “I was out of line, I admit it. Your affair with Mason should be no concern of mine but I really am just trying to look out for you.”

It’s weak, he knows. The words feel more like an anchor than an actual apology in his tongue anyway, but Adler didn’t expect that Bell would give him nothing. Not even an acknowledging hum, a scathing retort, a scoff. Nothing.

A twinge of irritation brews in his stomach. Why does she insist on playing games?

The car comes to a stop. They’ve arrived. Adler wrests his hands from the steering wheel to say something harsh to her, but Bell is already stepping out of the car.

She stands on the sidewalk; an enigma in royal red, and her lethal, all-seeing eyes gravitate to him in the night.

There is a long paralyzing beat where they just stare at each other- which seems to be a running theme between them lately. Adler is fuming, as he is confused.

It feels like hours, centuries, eons, but, like all magic, the spell is broken. Courtesy of a stranger hailing a cab behind his car.

Bell turns and walks inside the building. She doesn’t bother sparing him the final glance or extend her appreciation for the ride back and Adler thinks to himself, this universe, god fucking damnit, nothing makes sense here.

But it is also in moments like this that the world spins, when he notices a singular, significant detail that makes his stomach roll, nearly throwing him off balance:

Bell left the passenger door open.

And he’s insane- he has to be, right? He’s looking too much into this. It doesn’t mean anything. His mind conjures an image, like a graphic guideline or something, step one: get out of the car, two: make your way around and close the passenger door, and third: zoom out of the neighborhood while your sanity is still intact, all in that order. Easy to comprehend, to follow.

Adler only does the first two steps. He’s ass-backwards doesn’t even bother to digest the third step.

He enters the hotel instead and takes in the surroundings. The lobby is pointedly bare, but warm and smoky. The concierge is reading behind the counter- a young, wiry boy with shocking bleached hair- with headphones on. It’s late, he probably doesn’t expect anyone to check in at this hour.

A movement by the staircase catches his interest. He sees Bell climbing up the steps slowly, leisurely. Adler makes his way there.

Halfway reaching her floor, Adler has the inkling that she knows that he’s following her. Also, because the next she does is glancing back at him over her shoulder. He waits for her to push him down the stairs or wrap those delicate hands around his neck. She does neither. She doesn’t want him gone.

Yet, his mind betrays him. Only because she doesn’t know what other atrocities he’s committed to her.

She stops by her door, opens it and goes in first. Adler, without waiting for a formal fucking invitation, slips in behind her.

Her room is much smaller than his. The TV is still on- a German dubbed of All the President’s Men is playing- a stack of books and meds lying haphazardly on the desk table.

The door clicks shut behind him. Bell wanders over to the table and turns off the TV. Her back to him.

She doesn’t bother turning the light switch on. The green neon of the hotel sign outside illuminates the room, bathes her in it, making her look even stranger and faraway.

He doesn’t take off his sunglasses.

“What do you want, Bell?” Adler is all but snarling. His anger comes in a bottle with a twist-off cap. “I’m fucking sick of playing your games. I apologized, I admitted I was wrong- I fucked up, but what more could you want?”

Jesus, and now he’s losing his temper over a brainwashed Russian who rarely talks. How did it come to this?

She tugs off her gloves. Once again, barely acknowledging him. Apparently, if ignoring him is an art form, she is the fucking Monet.

Until:

“Take them off.”

Adler blinks hard behind his glasses. Like he’s just stepped into a whole different earth.

His mouth moves.

“What?”

“Your sunglasses. Take them off.”

He stares at her back. Trying really, really hard to make sure he’s not hallucinating this, but then Bell turns around, a finger tapping against her arm, waiting.

Realization hits him like an uppercut in the face and nearly leaves him in a daze. He’s walked into a trap. That much is clear as day. She wants him to suffer as she does. An eye for an eye.

Adler holds no modicum of control in her domain, not unless she gives the reins. Once again, she plays the judge, jury and executioner at her own court.

But, like before, he’ll play her game.

There, the glasses are off. His eyes, bare, blue like fractured ice, meeting hers. In the dark, he feels her eyes shift to assess his bruise.  

His heart booms against his ribs.

"Kneel,” she says glibly.

He obeys, again. His legs and hands don’t shake, but his mind is much less governable than his limbs. No, the CIA didn’t prepare a manual for situations like this and he doesn’t trust his instincts to help him dance his way around this.

Nor does he want to.

The thought fucks him up to a degree.

Adler should have known that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees, no, no. That would have been too easy, anyway. Although history has dictated and taught him that women are never to be underestimated, Adler hasn’t expected that one woman would be able to do the deed and succeed.

But then again, when that woman is Bell, he supposes anything is possible.

When Bell approaches him, he’s unable to take his gaze from her. Her eyes spangle with determination, an avenging soul in the neon lights. Her fingers work on the sash of her coat. The line of her mouth is flat and inscrutable. The air crackles with electricity and a promise of the unsayable, the unattainable.

She stands over him now, gloveless and coatless. She’s powerful like this and he can only crane his head up at her, ceding his fate in her hands, against his better judgement. She catches that.

Suddenly, something unpleasant breaks on her face, like when one’s smelling something foul or pungent.

Bell reaches down and grips his jaw painfully in one hand, her nails digging into his skin, and tilts his head sideways. Strange that his stomach leaps at that.

“Say you’re sorry,” she spits furiously. “And say it like you fucking mean it.”

He feels, suddenly, triumphant and chuckles darkly. Eight fucking long weeks and the beast finally shows her claws.

“Try asking nicely,” Adler parrots her words from before, not a beat missed. Two can play that game, he thinks. "Or are you above niceness, Bell?”

Her grip tightens.

"You’re one to talk,” Bell says. Then, rubs the pad of her thumb over his scarred cheek and it feels like forgiveness, or the beginning of it, at least.

His confusion spikes.

Her nose skims down his jawline.

A better, sensible man would apologize. He'd squander it until his tongue burns acid, he'd beg for her forgiveness like a man asking for repentance before his god.

“Why did you do it, Russell?” Bell whispers against his skin now, baleful and raspy. Her chest rising and falling too rapidly.

But he’s a sick bastard, a selfish motherfucker, a heartless monster. All he does is hurt the people around him. He doesn’t get to take from her, not after what he's done.

Still, Adler catches her wrist. Relishing the way her wrist bone grinds under his hold. He pulls his face back to look at her.

“You know why.”  

Her eyes flick dangerously to his lips.

Desperation really can make the most vulgar things tolerable.

“Then prove it.”

So he does. As his hand reaches up to her neck, past the delicious column of her throat and with a precise swift, Adler grabs a fistful of her hair, the feminine gasp escaping her mouth is like a jolt to his groin, and kisses her.

Bell responds in kind. That little beast. She grasps his collar and drags him up to his feet, impatient with want. She laps at him, bites and sucks. His free hand snakes around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

She pulls away, catching her breath, and his teeth skim down her jaw, her neck. He bites her there in retaliation, on the delicious junction of her neck and shoulder, into the fabric of her shirt, making his intentions clear. Bell chokes in surprise and scrapes her nails over his scalp.

It hurts. But with pain, along comes pleasure and it’s good. It’s so good, Adler melts with a shaky breath.

His gloves come off first. Next, she pulls him free off his jacket, his sweater and snakes a hand between his legs, stroking him. He bites off a strangled ‘fuck’ into her throat. He’s worked up real fast already. Adler manages to make a short work of her shirt, unclasping her bra before he’s all but pushes her onto the bed.

Adler settles above her, capturing her lips in another feverish, hot-blooded kiss. He tugs her zipper down and slips his hand inside her pants. Her cunt’s everything he’s come to expect: wet, warm and oh-so wrong. She sucks in a breath. Her hips move against his hand. His blood sings. She throws her head back against the pillow, while his finds her earlobe.

“Has this proven my point, Bell?” he asks. His answer starts on a moan and ends with a breathless ‘yes’.

He doesn’t let her come that easily. No, he wants to drag this out for as long as he can until it drives her mad. So, Adler peels the rest of her clothes away, pulls her shoulder and turns her onto her stomach. He pins her down, hard. She gasps loudly against the white pillowcase, her hand fists into the sheets.

Adler slots himself behind her. His hand tracing along her spine, followed by his mouth, just how he fantasized once upon a time. His other hand quickly undoes the snap of his pants. Everything has been poisoned by her and her only; she is in his tongue, his veins, his mind, his lungs. She takes the centrefold of his mind and it's ridiculous.

He presses himself against her ass. His mouth falls open. Her body trembles. She’s all sin and racing hearts and sweaty flesh. She’s perfect. His now free hand slides up to the nape of Bell’s neck, reaching her throat, pressing down. She makes this high-pitched, demanding noise as she moves her hips back against him, leaving him wanting, helpless at the thought of having her right here, right now, in the warm neon glow of her hotel room.

“Please,” Bell begs. He groans in response and he gives it to her. Fuck, he’d give her anything if she begs just exactly like that.

When Adler is finally inside her, he thinks his world drops dead. He sets a merciless pace. He is not a gentle man and there is nothing gentle in the supple arch of her back, a rose bent backwards in the wind, as he pants along her neck before he pulls out, twists her onto her back again and pushes deeper into her until she comes apart underneath him (he’s made sure she begs for it- please, Russell. Oh god, Russell)

(He didn’t have to. Russell Adler is never the kind of man to fall for his dark side, but Christ knows he is only one man)

[snellyfish]

May I ask..... what is in your post game V3? I dunno how to ask this without sounding weird.

HM!!!!!!!!! GOOD QUESTION;;

I mostly only have braincells for Kiyo and Angie so not a lot of my thoughts are straying from that unfortunately LMAO, I was able to branch off a bit answering this though so thank you for indirectly helping me develop more!!

But I like to think it's the same scenario as the second game where it was all just a simulation. I know what I fantasize about is a VR AU and that "postgame" tends to refer to the survivors but literally none of my favorites survived so reality can be whatever I want: postgame Shinnaga is so canon it's unreal!! I'm sure there's probably a VR fic for them somewhere out there in the world, I wouldn't know because I suck at reading fhdjfk, but I would love to write my own someday HEH

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

They'd all wake up one by one as they die and end up all in the same facility where they're taken care of by the Danganronpa team, unable to leave until they’re well again due to the contracts they signed prior to playing-- Meaning Angie wakes up, Tenko wakes up a few hours later, Kiyo another few hours later, etc. Angie jumps back pretty quick from things so she'd be already VERY excited to see Kiyo*  after watching the trial, mostly because Angie like immediately caught onto what his sister really was to him (HINT: CONTROLLING AND AWFUL) and yelling at her screen saying "GOD WILL SMITE YOU ALL FOR PICKING ON THE WEAK" at everyone just calling him some incestuous freak during the trial. Angie does have genuinely incredible intuition (thanks god!) so she looks past the fact he murdered her Scarily Fast. Everyone would definitely mistrust and hate Angie even more as she tries to preach to them afterwards about Kiyo and how they need to forgive him since he’s a victim and God (most important opinion) already forgave him, but no one ever listened to her anyway especially postgame so it’s all in vain 😔

*whom might take a bit to wake up and fully acclimate again because...idk this man was boiled alive that's kinda Fucked I think all the executed would take longer to wake up because they went through more lengthy + traumatic deaths I guess? This just means even more time for Angie to sit on her thoughts about what happened to her+Kiyo yuh yuh

Everyone becomes a mix of their pregame selves and the identities they were given, they'd end up being mediocre/average (sometimes bad) at what their handpicked talent was but a lot of them still keep up doing it until they DO become good again. A very small amount of them try to replicate their killing game outfits and kinda live off the high of being what they once were and accomplished in their fake memories, like Miu and Himiko. (this also makes me think about Irumeno a bit more 👀) Pretty much every single one of them in pregame saw themselves as nothing, being disposable enough to be in a killing game (even if it turns out to be virtual), so the new identities would overpower the mix for the most part since they’re the more intensified and dramaticized personality--IF THAT MAKES ANY SENSE LOL.

--Angie absolutely never stopped her art and has a less intense view on Religion, since garnering more experiences in life she’s just be less intense in general I'd think; more open with her emotions in that she'd actually cry, but still very manic and bubbly and optimistic nonetheless. After getting help (mostly from Kiyo who deals with the same thing), Angie is able to differentiate her thoughts and desires from “God”’s thoughts and desires, YEA she still has a funky little friend in her head. She's not AS pushy especially not with her equally traumatized fellow killing game participants but she still absolutely gets her moments of intensity and assertiveness now and then if she thinks something God is telling her is absolute truth and for the betterment of everyone: she is still Angie afterall, truly believing everyone would be much happier with her God in their lives but having enough self-restraint to know everyone will just push her away further if she tries to help them in that regard. She has her moments of desperation but most everyone’s too far gone from her already.

--Korekiyo is such a complicated one--I do like to think of pregame Kiyo as transfem/nonbinary and that would partially stick into his postgame identity in some way...killing game Kiyo was Just A Dude but after becoming the mix of the two identities he'd be VERY confused, especially with the influence of his (simulated) sister's influence. (genderfluid time? :)) He'd have varying degrees of when his...sister...alter...thing...comes out, or is present in his head in any regard, she'd be gone or slowly disappearing from his mind for months at a time and he'd initially be extremely unstable about it because he feels extremely isolated and lost when he can’t talk to her, but he's got Angie by his side so he becomes significantly less stressed about it over time, learning to cope with it. Eventually he finds himself no longer dependent on sister and...has to learn a SECOND time to not be unhealthily dependent; on Angie this time. (funky little idea I’ve been wanting to draw/write about sometime...hnnrngm) They’re both miracle workers when it comes to each other’s mental health it’s kinda insane. Of course, after realizing that Sister never really existed, he harbors near-immediate guilt for having murdered Angie and Tenko once he’s alone with his thoughts, not being puppeteered by sister, realizing everything he ever did he did for HER and realizing how fucked it all was pretty quickly--he does crave interacting with his victims in a positive and healing light but he’s sort of traumatized by it all to the point he is TERRIFIED when they’re around him at first.

--Tenko ends up EVEN MORE protective and grudgeful after she wakes up, trying to shield everyone and everything from most of the blackened, absolutely makes Kiyo manage to feel like even worse shit when he's got 1 extremely supportive and loving woman he killed and 1 extremely spiteful woman he killed who might legitimately murder him in return if he’s not careful. Tenko never makes amends with Angie and becomes close with Himiko (who's close with Gonta despite Tenko's wishes (she hates him for killing Miu, local woman)), managing to keep Himiko far far away from Angie, not only for "stealing" Himiko in the Student Council but also for the fact Angie's glued to Kiyo's side--making her the second least trustworthy person to Tenko..

--Himiko is very traumatized after the game due to surviving all the way til the end, likely making her (along with Shuichi+Maki) very disillusioned and lost--unable to decipher anything from fiction or reality--it takes a long time for Himiko to really “accept” anything; tried to cling to both Tenko and Angie but ends up just stuck on Tenko, mourning the loss of her friendship with Angie while doing so. Himiko would probably be shoved away from Gonta at first as well, but Tenko felt a lot more confident in Gonta so after a long while of her aggressively trying to teach him manners and keeping an emotional deathgrip on him whenever he wants to interact with Himiko, they’d end up close friends again. Still thinking about Irumeno-- Also with the whole ~~Survivor Delusions~~ thing, I think that helps play into Himiko’s attachment and insistence to keep up her old magician identity, because she has a very hard time trying to tell what’s real n fake ykno, and it takes her a while to realize she doesn’t have her talent anymore; absolutely ending in tearful breakdowns and unending determination to find herself again by forcibly trying to improve and push herself to her limits.

For the most part Kiyo and Angie are outcasted from everyone else, a lot of that being due to Tenko's preaching but...also everyone just doesn't understand what actually happened to Kiyo and they are all deathly worried about Angie, but not enough to get themselves involved; they're scared of Angie too, afterall, not as much as they're scared of Kiyo but ykno-- They think her naivety and determination to “fix him” is going to get her murdered again, every day they’re just counting down the minutes until it happens again. (spoiler alert: it doesn’t)

I could ABSOLUTELY go off more but I really have to end this at some point so fhdsjkfds--

TLDR;; Angie (and God alter) forgive Kiyo almost immediately. Sister alter likes to disappear sometimes making Kiyo sad and unfortunately dependent on Angie. Both Kiyo + Angie help each other heal and recover from their issues. Tenko hates both Kiyo + Angie with a passion and protectively forbids Himiko from seeing either of them. Himiko is close friends with Tenko and Gonta and Maybe More with Miu.

[the-bau-quinjet]

You are in Love

Chapter 14 of In Breakable Heaven! This is the last chapter, although I might revisit this later on to write some little blurbs or something if you want!

Summary: Reader and Spencer finally talk about things.

Warnings: none!

Word Count: ~1600

Spencer’s POV

 He stopped outside your door, ready to knock when he heard JJ ask “Why didn’t you tell us what happened? Or even that you were seeing anyone?”

 You sighed, “I don’t know really. At first, it was because it was like a game between us. We actually had a bet going about which one of you guys would figure it out first. I was actually planning to tell you all at Rossi’s last family dinner, but then with everything that happened it just…”

 “Y/N” Morgan started, “what can we do to help? Do you want me to kill him? The team can probably hide his body.” He felt himself tense up at the sound of Morgan threatening to kill him. 

 “No. The truth is I’d rather feel like this in a world with him than be happy in a world without him. It’s not his fault. I… I was supposed to meet him for dinner that night, but he had to cancel. That’s part of why he blames himself. Or at least I think so. I genuinely haven’t talked to him about it. ” His heart broke again with the same twinge of guilt at causing you so much pain. Without thinking too much about it, he knocked, greeted by Rossi as he opened the door to the dressing room.

 Meeting your eye, he manages a weak “Hi Y/N.”

 “Morgan said you had to talk to your Mom’s doctors, is she okay?” you responded, the concern clear on your face. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of amazement over how concerned you were even after he broke your heart. “Oh, uh yeah she’s fine. They just wanted to switch her medicine again. Thanks for asking.” You nodded in response, not knowing what else to say.

 “I think, um, I think I’m just gonna go home now.” You said, staring at the floor to avoid everyone’s sympathetic looks. “I just want to go to bed and hope for the best, ya know?” You began pushing your way through people, your bag on your shoulder.

 He grabbed your wrist, looking at you with a mixture of sadness and guilt over everything. He wanted to say how he felt. Tell you and everyone the truth. But, he felt you pull away and recognized the look in your eye that said not now, not here. You were gone before he could say anything else. Tears falling from his eyes, he turned back to his friends.

 “Spence, are you okay?” JJ asked, wondering what the hell was going on. He sighed, sliding down the wall before hitting the ground. Tears were still running down his cheeks when he decided what he had to do. “No. I am an asshat.” He admitted. Everyone turned to him, surprised at his use of language. “I’m the asshat.”

 Every member of the team turned to him with varying degrees of shock and disappointment worn on their faces. 

“What did you do?” Morgan prodded him for more information. And he gave it. All of it. He started at the beginning, when he walked you home from your apartment the day he met you until that day in your apartment when he walked out of your life to keep you safe.

 “Oh my god.” Penelope wanted to smack him and she wasn’t a violent person. “How could you do that to her?” She shrieked.

 “I know. I messed everything up because for some stupid reason I didn’t think she would love me after everything. I thought she would want to forget me so she could forget everything that happened to her. I thought I was just a reminder of the bad when she deserved so much more. How do I fix it?” They all looked at him expectantly, as if he already knew the answer.

 “She clearly loves you. Just go tell her the truth and hope that the two of you will work this out.” Hotch was the first to speak up after he started back at them in confusion.

 “You’re right. I have to go.” Spencer stood abruptly, grabbing his bag and running to leave the room.

 He was still able to hear Hotch mutter “How did the two of them fool all of you for so long?” Rossi followed up with “It was so obvious when they did that little trivia competition.” as he ran out the door.

 --

 Y/N POV

 You were kind of expecting Spencer to show up after looking into his eyes backstage. He seemed so desperate, but it scared you. You didn’t know if he just wanted to be friends or if he wanted you to move on.

 When you arrived home, you didn’t even bother with the lights. You collapsed face down onto the couch to wait.

 You aren’t sure how long you were laying like that before you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peephole to confirm your suspicions, you opened the door, backing up and gesturing for him to come inside.

 Without uttering a word, you returned to your position on the couch.

 “Y/N… I don’t know what I could say to make up for what I put you through, but I’ll start with this. I am so sorry. I was an idiot. No, I am an idiot. I was so scared of you not wanting to look at me anymore, of you blaming me for what happened like I blame myself, that I ran. I pushed you away and thought you’d be better off for it. I never wanted to hurt you like this. And then I completely shut you out for almost a month. You didn’t deserve any of that.” He paused trying to calm his racing heart so he could continue. “You deserve everything good in the world. So much more than I could ever give you, but I will gladly spend the rest of my life trying.”

You didn’t move from your spot on the couch during his impassioned speech. You didn’t need to. Listening to the regret in his voice was enough to bring you to tears. Just minutes ago you were so sure he was going to say something about just being friends or trying to get you to move on, so this was a surprise to say the least. 

Spencer noticed the slight sobs that overtook your body as you buried your face further into the couch. His voice broke even further at seeing you so upset. “I’ll, um, I’ll leave if you want me to.” 

Hearing him move towards the door was enough to force you out of the couch. “No!” Your voice came out louder than either of you expected. Spencer was quick to turn around at the sound of your voice, his face falling even more at the sight of your bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. 

The sight of him brings tears to your eyes again, but you do your best to prevent them from falling. You stutter out a shaky “I don’t want you to leave” before walking over to him and pulling him into a soft hug. “For a certified genius, you are pretty stupid.” 

 You can feel him nod his head against you as he pulls you into a tighter embrace. “I promise, I’ll never do anything this stupid ever again.”

“Good, cause then I might have to let Morgan hit you.” Spencer visibly shuddered at the idea, causing both of you to chuckle. Slowly, the two of you made your way through your apartment to the bed, laying down and cuddling as close as possible to each other. Just before falling asleep, you realized you hadn’t told him how you felt to his face. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

--

Three days later, you, Spencer, and the rest of the BAU were all at Rossi’s for a “family” dinner. Immediately upon entry, Penelope pulled you into the living room so she could attack you with questions about you and Spencer. You answered every rapid fire question as best as you could before Rossi called everyone over to sit and eat.

Before long, you couldn’t help but ask “I know Rossi and Hotch figured it out, but did the rest of you really have no idea that we were dating?” You glanced at the profilers around the table.

Penelope chimed in first. “First of all, rude. Second of all, I knew there was something there, but when we found out Spencer had a secret girlfriend I put the idea on the backburner since I didn’t think my best friend would keep that from me.” She said the whole thing while glaring at you, well as close to a glare as Penelope could manage for someone she loves. 

“I would like to agree with that sentiment.” JJ stated with a much more convincing glare directed at Spencer. 

“But, seriously. The trivia game? You all know how obsessed with Taylor Swift I am. Plus,” you turned to Derek and Emily, “the three of us have made so many Parks and Rec references. Where else could Spencer possibly pick up all that knowledge?”

Derek and Emily looked slightly offended at being called out. Quick to defend himself, Derek piped up. “Well, we figured out he was seeing someone!”

“Yeah, we just didn’t put it together that it was you...” Emily finished the thought. 

“I’m glad you all know now though. No more secret phone calls or sneaking around.” Spencer looked at you and his face was the perfect depiction of the heart eyes emoji. You quickly pecked his cheek before turning back to the rest of the team. 

“Just one more question, how have none of you noticed the ring yet?” You held up your left hand, wiggling your fingers. You and Spencer laughed at the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. The chock quickly wore off into congratulations and hugs as you thought about how lucky you are to have found such a loving family.

tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets1967 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean @awkwardnesshabitat @loveheathens @fan-girl-97 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @akuri-shinsou @prongsyy @panhoeofmanyfandoms @sherlockmarvelharrypotter @lizziebritish @measure-in-pain

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

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

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

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

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

Word count: 12.1k

           “Reid is in jail.”

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

           Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

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

           “In Mexico.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What type of drugs?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

           “Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

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

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

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

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

           “Three days.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

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

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

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

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

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

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

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

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

“You two are close, I take it?”

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

“He’s my best friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if they’re cute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I absolutely hated it.

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

--

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

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

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

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

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

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

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

           “Where did you meet her?”

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

           “I… I don’t remember.”

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

           Spencer nodded in affirmation.

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

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

           “And you’ve been drugged?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

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

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

           “No.”

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

           “Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

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

           “Can… Can you stay?”

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

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

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

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

           And then there were two.

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

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

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

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

           “I’m… In Mexico.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “Wait, so, where are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “Love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           It would have to be enough for now.

--

           Nadi Ramos was dead.

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

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

           And target him he fucking did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “Do I want to know?”

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

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

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

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

           “I’ll try.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

           We are so beyond fucked.

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

           “I don’t know how.”

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

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

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

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

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

           Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

           “Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

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

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

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

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

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

           “Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

           “It was for the right reason.”

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

           “We do, too.”

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

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

           “Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

           We cannot give him that recording.

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

           “I didn’t record it.”

           Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

           But so is Scratch.

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

           “Since when did you get so insightful?”

           A grin stretched its way across his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

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

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

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

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re on our own.”

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

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

           -Storm Constantine

[maxwell-grant]

Charlie Chan. Who is fascinating, because he was created explictly to be an anti-Yellow Peril character. Unlike most Chinese characters of the time, he's both intelligent, physically capable, and unambiguously heroic. In the novels, he's simultaneously proud of being Chinese AND proud of being an American citizen. He gives orders and instructions to white people, and the narrative treats this as perfectly normal and acceptable. There's a bit in the first book, when an attempt to trap the..(1/2)

(cont'd)There's a bit in the first book where an attempt to trap the protagonist fails, because a message supposedly from Charlie clearly isn't because Charlie's English isn't broken, it's like poetry. Etc. The movies made him more stereotypical, & played by white actors in yellowface, but still, he's a heroic Chinese man, who is as capable and patriotic as any white man. Nowadays, he's thought of as racist caricature. Which he is, but still, it makes one think.

I'm not nearly as acquainted with Charlie Chan as you are (and I definitely suspected he was less racist in the original books because that's nearly always the norm when it comes to pulp characters) but yeah, that "Which he is" is forever going to be the most unfortunate and saddest part of it all when it comes to Charlie Chan. For all the virtues that can be bestowed on Charlie Chan, for everything great that the character had going for him and inspired, the fact that the least offensive image of the character I could find to put here for illustration's sake is from the Hanna-Barbera cartoon kinda exemplifies the big elephant in the room when it comes to Charlie.

Charlie Chan is a great example of two things: One is the way progress is never a fixed quantity and often what was progressive and forward-thinking in it's time can become something outdated and backwards and downright offensive given enough time, and the 2nd is my constant stressing that this is all the more incentive to reclaim the pulps and either highlight or fix aspects of them, instead of dismissing every aspect of them based on the preconception that everything about it's history is unforgivably bigoted and must be handled with the nuance of a sledgehammer.

I stress time and time again the need to highlight and understand the prejudices that went into pulps, because either ignoring them or wielding them as a weapon to attack them does no favors to anyone. The pulps weren't exceptionally bigoted - look at literally any medium in it's time period and you'll find bigotry and prejudice and hatred - and they were exceptional in the number of POC heroes and heroines. Pulps were a medium of experimentation and cheap entertainment that gave way to much, much more varied kinds of protagonists than were permitted in films, serials, novels, comics and radio serials of the day. Imagine if no one was allowed to bring up and discuss superheroes without mentioning the Superman Slap-a-Jap posters or the Captain Marvel story so horrifingly racist it was recounted by an American ambassador after it deeply offended a friend's son and a major influence on the 1950s anti-comic trials. "Pulp fiction had deeply, unforgivingly racist depictions that deserve intense scrutiny and cannot be ignored" and "Pulp fiction was significantly ahead of every other medium at the time in regards to authors and editors striving to publish stories about heroic POCs, this cannot be dismissed and is something that needs to be perpetuated" are not exclusive facts. "A product of it's time" is not an excuse and never was, but it's a fact nevertheless.

Every time someone speaks favorably of Charlie Chan in any capacity, they have to start with a long preface of everything positive that the character had going for him. Yes, he's a deliberate subversion of the Yellow Peril, he's a heroic protagonist, he's plump and good-natured and humorous but far from a joke, he's friendly and pleasant and well-educated and wise, he's a good dad and family man and a terrifically sharp detective who's so good at his job he gets called to solve crimes all over the world, and none of these traits are apparent to people who have to google the character and repeteadly see a white man in awful make-up into every single image of the character, who watch the movies and cringe at the broken English. It's hardly relevant in the face of all the Asian-American critics who acknowledge the character's virtues but rightfully point out that this fortune-cookie spouting caricature, acting subservient to whites and whose virtues are based around his proximity to a white American ideal, doesn't represent them and they shouldn't pretend it does.

Which isn't to say that to like Charlie Chan is "wrong", a lot of East Asians love Charlie and the character's obviously got fans in Asian Americans. It's a complicated subject and I obviously cannot begin to vouch in a subject so heavily based around perceptions I cannot experience. And I deeply detest the idea of speaking for others on their particular experiences on this kind of matter, which is something Americans do a lot everytime they talk about representation in media.

So instead, I'm going to tackle this on a roundabout manner by going on an unrelated tangent to bring up an example of representation that isn't quite representative of what it's supposed to be, has a lot of issues that have been dissected by critics among the people it was supposed to represent, and none of that stopped the character from being popular and beloved and from being claimed anyway. And it's a Brazilian fighting game character, which means it's completely within my ballpark.

Yeah, obviously Blanka doesn't look like anyone who lives in Brazil (whatever resemblance he bears to redheaded jungle protectors of Brazilian folklore is purely accidental). Obviously neither Jimmy nor Blanka are Brazilian names or even exist in the Portuguese lexicon. Obviously there are issues in Street Fighter's approach to representation across the board, sure, and I'd actually say Laura is much worse than Blanka in that regard (again, my opinion, obviously not universal), but the fact remains that Blanka is and has always been pretty controversial. Obviously there's Brazilians who took offense to Blanka and they weren't wrong to do so, and I obviously do not speak for everyone here, that goes without saying.

Obviously the idea that Brazil's major representative in a global cast of characters, the first big name Brazilian character in videogames, is going to be a freakish jungle monster who roars and bites faces has problems, as is the fact that all the others get to be regular people representing fighting styles from their countries while Blanka doesn't. None of the Brazilian SF characters represent Capoeira, which is kinda shitty to be honest. And there's a whole stereotype of Brazil as a backwards land of beasts and savages that Blanka's creation played into. There's no shortage of ground to criticize Blanka's representation and Ono actually apologized in an interview once, but then he learned one teensy little thing:

Street Fighter is very popular on Brazil. Would you like to leave a message to the fans from there?

"Ono: Yes, I'm aware. At the time of Street Fighter II a lot of the arcade machines produced went there, so I knew we had lots of fans there. A message to Brazilians, well, I'd like to apologize. I know Blanka's a weird character and I don't want any Brazilian to feel uncomfortable with that.

When Blanka was conceived, we knew there were forests in Brazil, and so we thought he could look like that. I was actually kinda nervous knowing I'd meet Brazilian journalists. Still, this is the first Street Fighter in ten years, so we'd like all fans to play, including Brazilians, which are many.

Thanks. Well, but you should know that Brazilians love Blanka

"Ono: Ah, good! I was scared of getting beat up if I ever went to São Paulo! (laughs)"

(That's from a 2012 tv special called The Greatest Brazilian of All Time where over a million viewers voted to elect whoever they wanted, and Blanka was going to win. He was polling ahead of Aryton Senna and PELÉ, fucking Pelé, yes this happened. He wasn't even disqualified for being a cartoon character, it was an open poll, he was disqualified due to canon stating he had been born in Thailand, which I think may have been retconned since then. Again, A MILLION BRAZILLIANS voted for this contest, and Blanka was going to win.)

Blanka is great and sweet and lovable, he made the best out of the incredible shitty hands fate dealt him and became a cool and strong green man who shoots lightning and flies, a self-taught warrior who rides whales and planes to fighting tournaments, and he loves his mom and friends and kicks ass and after he's done he dances in joy and gives the kids of his village piggyback rides, and Brazil loves him. He doesn't represent any existing person or fighting style, he's rooted in a negative stereotype and incorrect assumptions, he's not even really Brazilian, and he's our boy and nobody can take him away from us.

No criticism of Blanka, no matter how in-depth or even right it is, is ever going to affect that, because regardless of what was wrong or misguided and offensive about him, we claimed him and loved him so throughly that Capcom kept playing up Brazilian representation in every subsequent game post Alpha, and because of Blanka's impact and reception in such a big game, Brazilian characters have become a staple of fighting games, and that's how we got much more diverse representatives in those games. Fighting games have more Brazilian representation than LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE on media not produced here. It started as BAD representation, with way less thought put into it than Charlie Chan, and it still mattered to a lot of Brazilians who reclaimed it and made it better than it was ever intended to be, and as a response to it, it gradually became better. 

Progress is not a fixed quantity, it's an uphill battle, and it's not unwinnable. Everything's gotta start somewhere.

The Good Asian is a ongoing comic that I think does the best job I've seen yet of handling an Asian American detective protagonist, which is not really a high bar in the first place, and more to the point, The Good Asian illustrates the 2nd part: the reclaiming. The Good Asian deals a lot with the realities that a 1930s Asian-American detective would run into, the strained circumstances and relationships between said character and the world around him, because it's born from an author who took a look at Charlie Chan and Mr Moto and the like and recognized the potential in those stories that could not be fulfilled in it's time period by the people writing said stories. 

The Good Asian pays little reverence to Charlie Chan, but it acknowledges that it cannot exist without Charlie Chan, and it reclaims the Charlie Chan premise at the hands of someone more adequately equipped to tell a gripping story that goes places none of Charlie's contemporaries would ever go. Regardless of how good or bad of representation Charlie Chan was, Charlie Chan mattered and was beloved and inspired a better example for others to improve on or rebel against.

I desperately wish that I could google Charlie Chan without having to look at a guy in yellowface, and the ONLY way that's going to happen is if the character ever gets meaningfully brought back and reclaimed for good by people who can meaningfully tackle the character and present him as he should have always been presented.

And then, I imagine it would be a lot easier to show people on how swell Charlie really is. A true, positive role model and hero, who no longer has to look like a gross cartoon to be able to exist at all. Who can finally be what he was always meant to be, and always was deep down.

[whack-ed]

It’s a lie (draco malfoy x reader)

Synopsis: Y/N had a bad reputation, everyone knew that. And apparently, Draco didn't care about it, he even managed to get some fun. Little did he know how it was going to end.

Warnings: Suggestive talks; kissing; teasing; sex tension; fluffy.

Reader: Female

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: Well, a fic based on “it’s a lie - the vamps ft. tini” cause i’m a cureless cliche teenager, thank you.

Just to remember: Y/N= Your Name; Y/L/N= Your Last Name; Y/H/C= Your Hair Color; Y/E/C= Your Eyes Color; Y/H= Your House; italic it’s for past & bold it’s for the fic theme.

Everyone knew Y/N's reputation. Everyone knew that she was not good company for any boy. None of the boys who got involved with her kept their heart intact. The list was varied, from Ernest McMillan to Michael Corner, Dean Thomas was unable to escape and some would say that she was the only one who had managed to win Blaise Zabini. And none of them had achieved the opposite effect, Y/N always seemed a step ahead of any of them. Well, until now.

At the beginning of his sixth year at Hogwarts, Draco had a million things on his mind. His father had made his life hell for the past few months, all he felt was anger. A lot of anger. He did not knew where to discount all these accumulated feelings.

"Draco, you're floating again" Pansy's voice woke the boy from his daydreams. The selection ceremony was over, but Draco hadn't paid any attention.

"Whatever" He replied with little concern.

"You are unbearable, you know? Since we got on the train you're like this. What do you have?" Blaise asked without patience to the blonde beside him.

"Why don't you mind your own business, Zabini?" Draco replied rudely.

"For merlin's sake you really need a girl, this can only be sexual stress" Blaise replied short and dry. Pansy did not like the answer.

Draco ignored the comment. Or at least he thought he had ignored it. Blaise's words, no matter how insignificant they were, stayed with Draco for the rest of the day. Classes were going on and the boy started paying attention to the girls who passed by the corridors. He never worried too much about girls, but maybe this was the right time to do that, it was a good distraction from the living hell at home. He had never noticed how many beautiful girls there were at school. Until then he did only notice Pansy, but he found she slightly irritating to try anything.

During the last class of the day, with Professor Flitwick, they shared class with Y/H. The class itself was particularly tedious, so once again Draco started to notice the female faces of the place where he was. It didn't even last 3 minutes, one face in particular caught his eye. Y/N Y/L/N. Ah that name he knew well. Like everyone at Hogwarts, Draco knew the girl's reputation. He knew that with Blaise's thing it was a lie, because well, he was close enough to know that Blaise didn't like what Y/N had to offer, if you know what I mean. And without noticing he got lost in the girl's face, he watched every detail closely, he had never seen a girl as beautiful as she was.

"Of all the girls at Hogwarts, you are interested in Y/N?" Blaise asked raising an eyebrow "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"I know who Y/N is" Draco replied without taking his eyes off the girl.

"If you knew, you would have this idea out of your head right now, Draco" Blaise said turning his attention to the parchment to write down what the professor was saying.

"Is that kind of a challenge?" Draco said with his usual tone of superiority.

"OK, now you're sounding like yourself. But I still think it's stupid, she will break you into pieces, Draco."

"Not if I prepare myself. And Blaise, no one break me into pieces."

And so it was. Since that day whenever Draco wanted to distract himself from something related to "family matters" he stared at the beautiful Y/E/C eyes of a certain Y/H. The first contact he had made with her was at dinner, the same day he had challenged Blaise. He saw the girl enter the main hall with her friends and went to her with the best smile he could.

"Hey, Y/N, right?"

"Hummm" The girl looked him up and down "Not for you" And went to sit with her friends.

Draco didn't understand anything. Was she playing hard? Or was she just not interested? No. It couldn't be. All the girls at Hogwarts were at least a little bit curious about what it was like to be with Draco Malfoy. Y/N couldn't be different, could she?

Now more than ever Draco was focused on getting Y/N interested in him. It was no longer just a challenge between two friends. Now it was a matter of honor.

So whenever he could, Draco used his best charm on Y/N.

"Leave it, I'll pay for you" He said in Hogsmade.

"You play really well, Y/N, it almost made me lose focus" He would say after a Quidditch game.

"You are almost an alchemist, you know?" He said in potions classes.

And Y/N couldn't deny that she was enjoying the attention. At first she was cold because she knew how Draco was not interested in any girl in school, and thought it could only be a bet between him and some classmate. But when she noticed that the flirting went on for another two weeks, for another month, she thought that no one could go that far with a bet. She knew he was an idiot with most people, but there was no denying it, he was the most beautiful boy of his year. Sometimes the girl thought he could be asexual, and how wrong she was.

Despite wanting to, Y/N was not going to give her arm to cheer. She wanted to see how far the boy was going. So she did, for a whole month, until the girl showed some interest. It was on a trip to Hogsmade that she finally gave some sign of an answer.

"I didn't know it was possible for you to get sweeter, but it looks like it is" Draco said as the girl took three boxes of chocolate frogs.

"It's to compensate" Y/N replied with a smile that Draco had never seen, he liked what was going on.

"Compensate for what?"

"Everything you steal from me, you really take away all my sweetness sometimes, you know"

Draco laughed sarcastically and looked at the girl with a malicious smile.

"Y/N, saying you don't want me, it's a lie, and you know it" He said approaching the girl.

Y/N now could see that Draco had a little blue in his gray eyes, he was so close. It had a very pleasant smell, a woody smell that weirdly reminded her of home. He noticed how interested the girl in front of his face was.

"Saw? A huge lie" He said getting closer.

Now it was so close that Y/N could feel the boy's breath on her face. Draco ran his hand over Y/N's face and stopped on the cheek to caress it. People around could say that Y/N was hypnotized, because the girl was completely unresponsive, she didn't take her eyes off Draco's eyes for even a minute. The boy gave another laugh, patted his cheek, walked away, and winked at Y/N and left the store. There was no denying it anymore, she wanted him.

To be honest, Draco was the only boy Y/N had really wanted since her fourth year, but as all the boys always said he was not good company and he never got involved with anyone, so she never tried anything. She drowned hers desires in other lips, that's why she ended up breaking so many hearts. But when Draco finally paid attention to her, the girl was already so into the character, that she didn't miss the chance to finally play with the famous Malfoy, right on her fingers.

The next few months went on as expected, Y/N and Draco "having fun" up and down. They kept it secret for a while, so as not to attract more attention than necessary, and of course, that little by little people started to notice. Draco was great at hiding family secrets, but he wasn't very good at hiding a girl he was fulling around with. The looks between the two during meals and classes were far from discreet. The sexual tension always exposed between the two was always explicit. Sometimes a student caught them going out from a empty classroom together. And a young ravenclaw swear he saw the two of them holding hands by the lake.

With the end of the year approaching, close to October, the students' traditional secret Halloween party in the come and go room was being prepared with the smallest details by some slytherin and gryffindor students. The party had become a tradition 4 years ago, but only sixth and seventh graders could participate. As it was in the come and go room, they didn't care about the noise, just what to bring. The organizing students always took things from the kitchen, among them, a lot of firewhisky.

"Are you going to Halloween party, Y/N?" Draco asked the girl who was fixing her shirt inside a broom closet. The two of them stopped going to empty classrooms when they we’re almost caught by Professor Snape.

"Of course, the first year we can really get in, how can we miss it?" She said smiling with the shirt already in place, although some buttons were missing.

Draco was silent. He wanted to invite Y/N to go with him, but he didn't know if they were on that level or not. How he hated not being in control of things.

"Draco?" Y/N caught his attention after the boy's face became serious and closed, something that rarely happened when he was with her. "Do you want to go?"

He never was going to deny going to a party - without teachers - where Y/N was.

"Of course, I will" He replied fixing his hair.

"We need to prepare our fantasies than, you know."

"Excuse me" Draco cleared his throat "OUR fantasies?"

Y/N laughed.

"What? Shouldn't I consider that we would be going together?"

A sense of relief washed over Draco's body as soon as the girl's words left his mouth.

"I had thought of something like, Mr. and Mrs. Dracula, I always thought you were pale as a vampire" Y/N laughed and put her arms around Draco's neck.

"We are in England, Y/N, we are all pale as vampires - The boy replied placing his hands on the girl's waist. "And by the way, who said I want to go with you?" Joked, the boy.

Their faces were very close. Smiling face to face. Dangerously close.

"Draco, saying you don't want me, it’s a lie."

Draco laughed and didn't wait another minute before kissing the girl in front of him. He had managed to win over the girl that everyone thought was unconquerable. But the truth is, he was so blinded by love as she, and of course, neither of them was going to admit that anytime soon. But honestly, It didn't even need to say anything, they both knew it had gone too far, and the both couldn't be happier that they let it happen.

[chalkrevelations]

Back, finally, with Word of Honor, Episode 11, which involved a lot of waving my hands around over precious button Zhang Chengling and his concern about whatever ridiculous argument between his Murder Dads left his shifu in a snit and must be solved right this minute. I really think if he could’ve just pushed their heads together like two Ken dolls to make them kiss and make up, he would have. Didi, I could eat you up with a spoon, although not in the creepy way that Du Pusa threatens. I promise.

First, though, due diligence: Spoilers, possibly likely for the entire show, not just this ep, so scroll away and come back later if you are still, at this point in the game, trying to watch the whole 36.5 eps unspoiled. Also, this is hella long. Strap in. Hashtag long post (remorseful).

First thing I actually want to do is point out a couple of scenes that I found particularly striking for various reasons. The first one is not quite the opening scene - which is super-brief and involves Yueyang’s prep for the Heroes Conference, Gao Shan (AKA Chengling’s bully-in-chief) being smug about Yueyang’s upcoming ascendance (oh boy, are you in for a surprise, you little schmuck), and Gao Chong’s extreme weariness at the idea of Yueyang’s upcoming ascendance. Gao Chong is very tired, y’all. It’s been a long 20 years. There’s also a ginormous sword on display, like Yueyang is now having a dick-measuring contest with who they think is the disciple of the Changming Sword Immortal (and oh boy, are you guys in for another surprise. I’m not sure what part of “immortal” y’all don’t understand). But I digress - as I said, this is a very brief scene, and then we cut back to Luo Mansion, where we left Ghost Valley and Lunatic Wen at the end of the last ep. Everyone is gone except for Wen Kexing, who’s still plotting, Beauty Ghost, who’s trying to stay tf out of this current shitshow as much as possible (good luck with that), and Tragicomic Ghost, who is totally and completely Done With This Shit. She berates WKX for acting crazy, he gets snappy back – I feel like their relationship is maybe a little bit fraught at this point – and Beauty Ghost attempts to soothe the waters, leading to an eyeroll from Tragicomic Ghost with a directive to stand the hell up and stop being scared of this idiot child throwing his weight around. WKX dismisses Tragicomic Ghost so he can plan a Very Secret Mission for Beauty Ghost in secret. WKX is … he is super-tired at this point. Painfully, achingly tired. I would almost say weary. We can see it in Gong Jun’s face. It’s a nice subtle bit of acting, and it definitely says something about WKX’s relationship with these women that he’s willing and able to show it in front of them, even as he’s still throwing his weight around.

Anyway, Liu Qianqiao proves her smarts by showing her hand just enough for WKX and us to see that she’s seen through the Lunatic Wen act to the utility of chokin’ out a dude as a warning, to try keeping Changing Ghost in line (good luck with that), but she also assures all of us that she only wants to serve the Ghost Valley Master and has no agenda of her own. WKX assures her that he has everything under control (Uh … huh. OK, my dude) and tells her he has a task for her, before detouring into a quiz about her disguise technique (learned from Qin Huaizhang, Zhou Zishu’s shifu at Siji Manor, and this is probably a tipoff that the Very Secret Mission will involve disguising herself), about Siji Manor, and about why she never visited there. We get some interesting vague hints about her past, including the fact that she met Qin Huaizhang when she was “little” and he took pity on her “disfigurement,” according to both the Youku and Netflix English subs. @coralcoloratura pulled out 童年时 (tóngnián shí) from the Chinese subs for me, which does mean “childhood.” Given that the going story is Yu Qiufeng’s wife threw acid in LQQ’s face over their affair, this opens up some questions about how old LQQ actually was when all that happened. Viki subs, per @janedrewfinally, add that she says she treated Qin Huaizhang to a meal, so she couldn’t have been too young. But Qin Huaizhang dies when ZZS is just 16, and LQQ can’t be any older than ZZS, and is likely younger (good lord, I just checked actor ages, and Ke Naiyu is 7 years younger than ZZH, so that’s probably not a good age gap to port over to the show, because just. No.). All this leads me to place LQQ at somewhere between Zhang Chengling’s age and Gu Xiang’s age (at most) when this whole tragic backstory happened, which is still pretty freakin’ young, and I can see why she would consider herself a child, at least metaphorically, in terms of naïvete, if not literally. I don’t know how much exploration has been done about this, on the fannish side of things, but it seems like an area rich for exploration. Also, I CANNOT TELL YOU how much I now want to read the AU of WKX and LQQ both actually being brought to Siji Manor at various times by Qin Huaizhang and staying there. I suspect that with those two shidi backing him, ZZS might never have had to go to Prince Jin in the first place. (Clearly this makes some things problematic, including A-Xiang, but I keep thinking about ZZS, WKX and LQQ growing up together … And anyway, I’m ALSO willing to read the AU(s) where WKX’s storyline stays the same, but LQQ does come to Siji Manor – both the AU where she and ZZS together manage to save the sect, and the AU where she goes with them to Jin, and the kind of weapon she could be for ZZS there, as he runs Tian Chuang. Who’s writing all this? Anyone? Anyone?) Anyway, when WKX asks why she didn’t visit Siji Manor, LQQ tells WKX that she’s a ghost now and doesn’t want to think about the living world anymore, which is probably a way of saying she wishes she had gone there and doesn’t want to talk about her many and varied bad decisions back in the day; it also acts as an unknowing reinforcement of that bright line WKX is desperately trying to maintain for himself between the world of ghosts and the world of humans. Plus it gives him the chance to speak the very portentous line that “Yes, we’re ghosts, and ghosts disappear in the light,” pulling the theme of light back in, again and giving us all kinds of foreshadowing. Cut away as he leans in to whisper her mission to her.

The other really striking scene, for me, happens near the end of the ep, when Gao Chong visits the shrine room, with the memorial tablets of his various brothers and friends. This hit me not just because of Hei Zi’s acting (which is great, don’t get me wrong) but also because this is a scene that reflects both backward and forward in the show - back to ZZS in Ep 1 and forward to the two scenes that Zhao Jing will have in this same room – as well as giving us all sorts of subtle clues about relationships throughout the show. So first of all, we see, in a shot that will mean more the deeper we get into the show, tablets for Zhen Ruyu and Gu Miaomiao (or, “his wife,” as the Youku subs call her, and this is me, rolling my eyes), who were apparently close enough to Gao Chong that he keeps memorial tablets for them on his home altar - which helps explain why WKX is so incensed that none of these Five Lakes Alliance assholes helped his parents when they were turned out of the Healer’s Valley, although that’s not something we would have known yet on a first watch through the show. Gao Chong lights some incense and apologizes to the tablet of Zhang Yusen for letting Zhang Chengling get kidnapped. He talks about waiting 20 years to learn the truth – which is kind of cryptic, but probably means the truth about who poisoned his sword before the spar with Rong Xuan, which we hear about in a later scene this ep – and gets a little bit salty about the fact that it doesn’t matter if everyone else doesn’t believe him, but why didn’t Zhang Yusen believe him? Again, I’m assuming this is about Gao Chong’s protestations that he’s not the one who put poison on his sword. We also learn in this same ep – from Chengling – that Zhang Yusen’s break with the Five Lakes Alliance seems to have at least started that far back, and that Yusen would have been at Mount Qingya to stand with Rong Xuan against his other Alliance brothers, if Yusen’s shifu hadn’t broken his legs so that he couldn’t travel there. (Yusen clearly had some strong feelings about this, if that’s what it took to get him to sit still for it. Also, it makes me wonder how Ye Baiyi’s feelings about Chengling might change if he ever learned that Chengling’s father intended to defend and stand with a guy who Ye Baiyi considered his own child, as well as his disciple.)

Gao Chong then proceeds to have a little crisis of faith – he’s very tired, y’all, it’s been a long 20 years – and talks about how no one understands him, and he’s old, and everyone’s dead. He also yells at Rong Xuan’s tablet, calling Rong Xuan da-ge but also saying he’s sorry he ever met him, but then there’s this brief little moment after, when he seems a little bit shocked at himself for saying it out loud, which reminds me, honestly, of the moment in CQL (we’ve all seen The Untamed, right, I don’t have to put spoiler warnings for it, right?) when Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are in the Yunmeng Jiang memorial hall and Wei Wuxian talks about Yu Ziyuan’s punishments back in the day, then pats his own mouth and says “My fault, my fault, my fault” before bowing to her tablet. Like, yes, their relationship was multiple levels of fucked-up, and his reaction is not out of place given some of his continuing neuroses, but also, this is just not a thing you do, speaking ill of the dead to their faces. I’m sure Gao Chong does regret ever meeting Rong Xuan, and the way that led to the building of the Armory and the Five Lakes Alliance to guard it, and the position that ultimately put Gao Chong in - not to mention that if he never met Rong Xuan he never would have accidentally killed him. But you can’t say things like that OUT LOUD to the MEMORIAL TABLET. Then contrast this to Zhao Jing, who literally takes a piss on the tablet in one of the later episodes. Because he’s the worst. And THEN, Gao Chong kneels and talks to the tablets of Zhang Yusen and Lu Taichong, his dead Five Lakes Alliance brothers, saying they must have met again in the netherworld, and that they’re probably swearing about him right now, and this is the point when I sit straight up and exclaim, out loud, “Fuck. Me. This is Zhou Zishu’s breakdown at the mirror in Episode 1.” When he talks to Jiuxiao about how Jiuxiao and Jing’An must have met again in the afterlife by now and are probably discussing what an awful shixiong ZZS is, right? And then Gao Chong even laughs bitterly like ZZS, and cries like ZZS, and I just. OK. FINE, show. I’ll try to go a little easier on Gao Chong, because you’re clearly linking him to ZZS, here, and I’m willing to forgive ZZS for anything. I suppose I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t try to extend just a little bit of the same grace to Gao Chong.

So, that’s a lot of verbiage, and I haven’t even gotten to Wenzhou yet, but trust me, I have some things to say about them. While WKX has been terrorizing the troops, ZZS left Han Ying’s place and immediately started drinking again, because that continues to be the best way – in combo with his Nails – he knows to kill himself by increments, but so sad, he’s run out of wine as he wanders the marketplace, alone and zhiji-less. Inside Yueyang, Chengling finds a note purporting to be from “Xu,” instructing him to meet at the North Gate that night, and like the little idiot they keep calling him (he really is too pure for this world), he takes it at face value. On his way that night, he runs into Gao Shan, who inadvertently almost saves him by interrupting his sneaking around to try to bully him back to his room. Something something food as bonding, because the lie Zhang Chengling comes up with is that he’s hungry (he’s not eating Yueyang’s food, and it’s not nourishing him), and he’s on his way to find something to eat (because he and his Murder Dads are in a mutually nourishing relationship, and that’s who he wants to be with). Also, no, he would prefer going to find something to eat for himself and not eating whatever Gao Shan will bring back to Chengling’s room. (A little bit, I’m sad there’s never any place to fit in some canon-complicit long-form enemies to failboats to lovers fic for these two. I have to admit, I would read it. Someone should do something with the tension between them, although I don’t really want it to be anything that will make Best Boy permanently sad.) Anyway, A-Xiang shows up just as Gao Shan is about to frog-march Chengling back to his room, and Gao Shan never sees her coming before he’s knocked out on the ground. A-Xiang is confused about the note but nevertheless helps Chengling get to where he’s supposed to meet “Xu,” whereupon she gets beat up and gets her didi took by the Scorpions. (There’s an interesting moment here where Pretty Arhat is fighting with A-Xiang and asks what her relationship is to Beauty Ghost, which whaaaaaat? THERE’S some backstory I need more on. I’m assuming this is based on A-Xiang’s hand-to-hand fighting style, which I think is the only thing Pretty Arhat has seen at this point, and exactly WHEN has she gotten so familiar with Beauty Ghost’s fighting style? Also, I like the apparent nod to Beauty Ghost’s influence in raising A-Xiang (and we’ll see more of this).) Meanwhile, ZZS has been inexorably drawn to the place he left his child disciple child and is moping right outside of Yueyang, so he sees Pretty Arhat fly away with Chengling. Murder Dad 1 springs into action.

Yueyang disciples run around like ants whose hill has been kicked over, looking for Chengling in town, and two of them encounter Wen Kexing, out for a midnight stroll in a fetching pastel blue and green combo. They ask him about seeing a guy. With a pipa. Or maybe without a pipa. So maybe just a guy. Wen Kexing correctly deduces they’re asking about Phantom Musician Qin Song, who covered Pretty Arhat’s getaway by incapacitating everyone with his magic music. YY disciples are excited and tell WKX yes, this dude was involved in kidnapping Zhang Chengling! Y’all. WKX’s face when he hears that. He is not happy. Almost immediately, he spots Qin Song on a rooftop. Murder Dad 2 springs into action.

So, WKX the Ghost Valley Master finds Qin Song, asks him where Chengling is, crushes his playing hand, threatens to break every single bone in his body one at a time (meanwhile dropping the tidbit that he learned the number of bones in the human body from his dad), and tells him a little story about a time when – apparently – he asked another guy the same question (about WHO? has A-Xiang been kidnapped in the past, because that’s about the only other person I can imagine him being like this about?) and only had to break 80 bones before he got an answer. Meanwhile, ZZS actually finds Chengling, in the Scorpion lair where Du Pusa and Pretty Arhat have variously been molesting him (srsly, I feel like I should probably say something to a trusted adult Murder Dad), torturing him with unpleasant magic pixie dust, smacking him around (he loses a tooth, y’all), and waterboarding him. During all this, Pretty Arhat says she’s yet to meet a man who can stand up to waterboarding, and I’m kind of reminded of WKX’s scene threatening Qin Song, and I don’t know if that’s on purpose or not. Chengling literally spits in her face and proclaims that he’s the son of Zhang Yusen, none of whose sons are cowards, and about then, ZZS busts down the door like he’s WKX (by throwing Monster Jiang through it), tells the Scorpions he’s their daddy, and gets into a big fucking fight with all three of them. He flags a little bit somewhere in here as he starts having some Nail pangs (which, yeah, it must be getting about midnight, which is when that’s supposed to happen) and spits some blood, but he reassures Chengling and then tells the Scorpions no one can stop him from killing who he wants and getting what he wants (OK, Wei Wuxian …). Then he shoots some projectiles from some little contraption up his sleeve that we get a quick look at that I did not remember AT ALL from my first watch of the show but is literally like the gun hanging over the mantel in the first act. Huh. Anyway, he kills Monster Jiang, and Du Pusa (who didn’t give a shit about Monster Jiang OR Qin Song earlier), wants to capture him alive, supposedly so she can get revenge for them by teaching him how it feels “to want to die more than live.” Joke’s on you, lady – too late! That’s literally his constant state of being!

About this time, Qin Song comes flying through the doors – or what’s left of them – gasping his last breath as WKX makes his dramatic entrance. Chengling not only calls him “Wen-shu” but also has already figured out exactly how to manipulate Murder Dad 2 and tells him that in addition to kidnapping him, they also hurt ZZS. WKX is predictably murderous, and Du Pusa and Pretty Arhat run away and hide behind the skirts of Xie Wang’s robes as the Zombie Drug Man Army approaches. WKX tells ZZS to take Chengling and leave, ZZS refuses, and Xie Wang LITERALLY SAYS “IN LIFE AND DEATH YOU WILL NEVER PART. WHAT A TOUCHING MOMENT.” and I am DYING. Also, this will not be the last time ZZS/WKX will exhibit what Xie’er wants from his Awful Yifu. Anyway, Xie’er calls ZZS “Leader Zhou,” then tells WKX that he’ll tell them who he (Xie Wang) is if WKX tells them all who he is first. ZZS is Very Done with all of this and smoke bombs the Scorpions to escape. Xie’er shows he actually does know who both of them are – even though each of them doesn’t know everything about the other’s identity yet, and won’t for a while – by telling Du Pusa and Pretty Arhat that they’re the leader of Tian Chuang and the leader of the Ghost Valley and wondering “How did these two devils end up together?” Like calls to like, I guess.

OK, this is getting super-long, so I’m going to attempt to wrap up with the actual Wenzhou material. We cut to Murder Dads and Chengling sitting in the forest, around a campfire, and Chengling is in heaven, back with his family. He’s super-emotional, and ZZS is all, come on, be a man, don’t cry (OK, crybaby). WKX gives some campfire-cooked rabbit? maybe? to ZZS, who starts a precedent by passing it to Chengling. Please, A-Xu. WKX wants to feed his laopo, will you eat something, ffs? Chengling, still emotional, tells them that he knows they’re the only ones who are sincerely kind to him, that Five Lakes Alliance has all kinds of agendas and none of them care about him, and nobody has asked him what he wants. (I know, bb, they were awful.) ZZS asks what he wants, and Chengling says he wants to learn martial arts, to get revenge, and to not be a useless child anymore. Oh god, the cut to WKX here. His face, y’all. He is not cool with the fact that Chengling thinks he can’t be a child anymore, and probably with whatever role he (WKX) had in it. He is so sad. It’s killing me. However, it’s not as if WKX has lost his edge, and he also pounces, asking Chengling if something happened that made him suspicious of the Alliance. Chengling spills that his dad already didn’t trust them and also told him not to trust anyone ever, but he trusts his Murder Dads! This kid, I tell you. He tells them that his dad hid the Mirror Lake Glazed Armor in his stomach and starts getting ready to cut it out for them before ZZS stops him. He tells them Yusen gave him a letter for the Changming Sword Immortal detailing Rong Xuan’s injury (and we get our first iteration of the story of the battle between the Five Lakes Alliance brothers and Rong Xuan, the poison on the sword, and how that turned Rong Xuan evil). Per Chengling, the original argument was about the Combined Six Cultivation Method. Also per Chengling, the Alliance bothers should have been responsible for Rong Xuan after that, but no one stood up for him – I mean, Zhang Yusen would have, but his legs were broken. We learn that the poisoned sword that injured Rong Xuan belonged to Gao Chong. ZZS looks taken aback, but this all just CONFIRMS WKX’s SUSPICIONS.

Cut away for another scene. Cut back. ZZS has suddenly remembered that he’s pissed off and that someone (else, not him) is sleeping on the couch tonight. Earlier, they were sat in order of Chengling, ZZS, WKX. Now Chengling has been put between them. WKX asks for wine, A-Xu is being passive-aggressive and ignoring him before finally handing the wine gourd to Chengling to pass to WKX. He won’t even look at WKX. It is hilarious, particularly as he only remembered he was mad after they’d all eaten dinner, which WKX cooked, and the pair of them made sure their child was OK. Chengling wants to know if they fought and tells them there’s nothing confidants can’t resolve. He’s in full puppy mode. He tells WKX to hurry up and comfort ZZS, because you know he looks tough on the surface but he’s got the softest heart! Didn’t you teach me that tough women can’t resist clingy men? ZZS’s indignant little face at this is a picture. Chengling offers to apologize for WKX. WKX’s face is all fondness for Chengling, except for the eyebrows, which are doing the Tragic Sadness Eyebrows at ZZS. ZZS is all, OK, fine, although he immediately changes the subject and starts talking about the kidnapping attempt. He tells Chengling that the world is dangerous right now, and the safest place for him is Yueyang Sect. ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS? Chengling sadly nods. My little dude, c’mon. ZZS’s Nails are bothering him and WKX takes the chance to feed him qi, which ZZS accepts – might I note - without complaint. WKX waxes rhapsodic about A-Xu’s shoulder blades, and says he once saw a dead body with beautiful shoulder blades. Smashcut to a flashback of two people who we don’t yet know are Zhen Ruyu and Gu Miaomiao dead on the ground. Although this takes place immediately after the scene of Gao Chong at the altar, when the first tablets we see are Zhen Ruyu’s and Gu Maiomiao’s, we also don’t know yet to connect those names to these bodies. Tricksy, show. We see Zhen Yan place his hand on Gu Miaomiao’s back, and WKX’s voiceover talks about how he could tell she was a beauty despite the blood everywhere. ZZS interrupts this morbid tale to say they should let the past stay in the past, and then tells WKX, “My condolences,” even though WKX hasn’t actually mentioned anywhere in the story about this dead body that it was even anyone he knew, let alone someone he was related to. Because A-Xu isn’t stupid. Immediately after this - after saying they should leave the past in the past - ZZS asks WKX who he is. WKX goes into his Philanthropist Wen evasion spiel. ZZS shakes his head, visibly steels himself, and apparently comes to the decision to model the behavior he’s trying to encourage by coming clean about his real name, his relationship to Siji Manor, all of his bad decisions, his choking guilt over the deaths of all the Siji Manor disciples, and his reign of state-sanctioned terror as founder and leader of Tian Chuang. Notably, the very first word Chengling speaks to ZZS after hearing this rundown of supposed and actual crimes is to call him “Shifu” again to get his attention before asking for more info about the Scorpions. THIS CHILD. MY HEART.

ZZS tells them both, “I spent half my life alone, doing things I didn’t want to do and killing people I didn’t want to kill,” and I literally want to reach into the screen and shake WKX, because OMG LAO WEN. You are reflections of each other, and he’s baring his soul, and you’re going to continue to be so afraid that he’s not going to accept every part of you that it’s going to be episodes and episodes before you open up, and even then, only after he figures it out on his own. :hands: To make things even more OBVIOUS, ZZS then asks Chengling if he still wants ZZS to be his shifu after learning all of this, and Chengling doesn’t even hesitate, he says “Of course,” and ZZS and I are both about to cry. UGH. Zhang Zhehan, your face. It’s killing me. This is a man seeing the hope of resurrection for the sect he was convinced he had ground into dust. ZZS and Chengling are both so busy being emotional at each other that WKX has to take matters into his own hands, encouraging Chengling to bow, and we get a real bow to shifu this time, in a scene that once again mirrors the later scene when Zhen Yan makes his bow to Qin Huaizhang to become a Siji Manor disciple.

ZZS tells Chengling, all right, then. You are the first disciple of the sixth generation. (SHIXIONG. NO PRESSURE.)

End ep.

[ibis-gt]

Poker Night

dippin my toes in the writing pool again with a short one about anya and felipe! there’s a bunch of side characters in this one that i just now made up so don’t worry if you have no idea who they are, i don’t either skdjfklsf

just under 2.5k words, kind of hurt/comfort. warnings: fearplay, threats of violence, bullying, peer pressure, felipe not having a very good time at all

Felipe looked around at the five giants seated at the table he was currently sitting on and forced a smile. Once again, Anya asked him to come along to one of the parties her friend Emily often hosted, and once again she’d dropped him off at the husbands’ table while she caught up with her friends. Quite literally dropped him off, plucking him off her shoulder and depositing him on the wooden tabletop with a “Play nice, fellas!” as she waltzed off.

Usually, they did play nice - Anya was built like a brick shithouse and would defend her tiny human husband with every ounce of strength she had. But tonight there’d clearly been some drink passed around, and now the five giants eyed Felipe with varying levels of displeasure. Seth glared at him with annoyance, Rolf looked bored and disinterested, Leo seemed resigned to essentially babysitting the tiny man, Amos heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, but it was Bruno that really worried Felipe. Bruno was staring down at him with a mostly blank expression, but Felipe could see gears turning in his head, and he could tell it was going to come out to trouble.

He jumped as Bruno suddenly clapped his hands together, beaming brightly.

“Who’s up for a game of cards?” Bruno produced a deck from his pocket and began to shuffle them. The others took an interest, nodding their approval.

That took Felipe by surprise. It sounded harmless enough. “Yeah, that sounds like fun. Uh, don’t know if I’ll be able to play, though.” The cards were probably as big as he was, and he could maybe hold onto two at a time. Any more than that, and there would be serious delays as he figured out what to play. “Oh, don’t worry, I know how you can participate,” Bruno assured him. This was not, however, reassuring.

He dealt out a hand to each of the giants at the table, then began sorting out a set of huge wooden chips. Each one was about two feet in diameter. They had different colors and markings to indicate their value, but Felipe wasn’t sure which one meant what, and no one seemed like they were about to explain it to him. 

Felipe shuffled his feet and glanced around nervously. He hadn’t been dealt a hand, and he didn’t know what Bruno had in mind, but he didn’t think it would be all that fun for him. His suspicions were proved right when Bruno tossed a few chips in the middle to start the betting, then grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dropped him next to them. Felipe let out a quiet grunt as he hit the table and looked up in confusion. A few of the giants seemed to have caught on and were grinning down at him, but for the ones who were slower on the uptake, Bruno announced, “You’ll be one of the chips, of course.”

Felipe sat bolt upright and stared at him wide-eyed. Then he laughed nervously, trying to calm himself down. “Oh, haha, good joke! No, but seriously. What am I...” he trailed off, turning from side to side to see their faces.

Silence. Everyone stared at him. Some were still grinning, some were serious. Leo spoke up.

“C’mon, Bruno, you know Anya wouldn’t like that. Just let him sit it out.”

“Oh, lighten up,” Bruno grumbled. “It’s not like she’s gonna find out, is she?” He looked around the table, getting a head shake ‘no’ or a shrug from each in turn, then down at Felipe. “Is she?” he asked again.

“Uh…” Words failed him. He wanted to say yes, emphatically yes, he’d squeal at the first opportunity, and in fact he was going to stand up and start waving his arms and shouting right now to get her attention. But truth be told, Felipe was terrified. Everyone had been drinking and he didn’t know how deep in their cups they all were. Who knows what they’d do if he didn’t go along with it? Maybe if he was quiet and played along, they’d get bored and leave him alone. “...no, sure, she won’t. Ha.”

“Good,” Bruno said, giving him a smile that was not in the least bit comforting. “Then let’s start.” He threw in a few of his own chips. The others followed suit, betting based on whatever combination of cards they had. Felipe flinched every time a chip hit the table. They were being careful - none of the tossed chips hit him, but they landed close enough to worry him. He hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself as small as possible.

Bruno won the first round. He grinned that awful grin again and reached out, putting both hands around the stack of chips and pulling them in close. Felipe, still seated, was dragged along with them, back pressed up against the palm of Bruno’s left hand, trying to resist the urge to his feet and push back.

“Hi,” Bruno said, looking down at him. A few of the others chuckled.

“H-hi,” Felipe stammered, forcing a smile. “Uh, so, what - ”

“Chips don’t talk,” Bruno interrupted, and started dealing out the next round of cards. Felipe shut his mouth and hunkered down, hoping Bruno wouldn’t get any good hands. He was lucky for one round, and Bruno only tossed in two chips before folding. The next round, though, Felipe’s luck ran out. Bruno glanced at his cards and the corner of his mouth went up just a little. He tossed in four chips, then snagged the back of Felipe’s shirt again and dropped him down in the middle. Rolf whistled and looked at his own cards, tapping a chip thoughtfully on the table.

“How much is he worth?” Rolf asked. “Like, how do I meet or raise or whatever?”

“I don’t care,” Bruno said. “Whatever you think he’s worth.”

Rolf threw in six chips. Felipe wasn’t sure if he should be offended or flattered.

Seth ended up taking the hand, and as soon as he slapped his cards down in triumph, Felipe scrambled to his feet and jogged over to him, not wanting to be pushed across the table again. There was a snort of laughter from one of the other giants but he paid it no mind. Seth raked in the chips then looked down at Felipe, tilting his head to one side, seeming to appraise him. Then he gave a horrid grin of his own and pinned Felipe down with a thumb on his chest.

“Ain’t chips supposed to be flat? So you can stack ‘em?” he asked, clearly thinking he was being clever. “Should I…” The pressure increased slightly, and Felipe began to panic and struggle, trying to get himself out from under the thumb.

“Cut it out,” Bruno growled. “You hurt him and Anya’ll have our asses.”

The pressure disappeared as the thumb lifted up and away. Felipe got to his feet and backed away from Seth, eyes fixed on the giant. He felt like his knees were going to give out. Being meek and quiet hadn’t helped one bit, but now he couldn’t find his voice to call out for help. His throat was dry and tight from terror and it felt like his heart was lodged in it. Seth scowled at him and poked his chest with a finger, knocking him on his back.

“Go on,” he grumbled. “I’m bettin’ you. Hope I lose.”

Lose he did. Leo took that hand. He didn’t look too happy about it, either. “Well, come on then,” he sighed, and Felipe managed to stand on his shaking legs and wobble over. Felipe looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Leo was the least happy with this setup, other than Felipe himself. Maybe he’d speak up now that he had him and could put an end to the whole thing. But Leo didn’t meet his eyes, just picked up his next hand and tossed a few chips in. Okay, next best thing, Leo never bet him and he could stay put and as far away from Bruno as possible. And Seth. Actually, just all of them.

Leo only managed to hold onto him for two hands before Bruno spoke up.

“Don’t get greedy, now,” he called. “Let us have a shot at him, too.”

Leo sighed and finally glanced down at Felipe again. “Okay, you heard him,” he said. “Get.”

Felipe got. Rolf won. Then Amos. Then Bruno. Then Bruno again. Each time, he’d slap his cards down as he reached for the chips, not giving Felipe time to register his victory. He seemed to delight in pushing the little man around and didn’t like it when Felipe tried to walk himself over to whoever had won him that time. Unfortunately he seemed to be the best at the game they were playing, with an impeccable poker face and a decent winning streak. Since he was also the dealer, Felipe half suspected he was cheating, but he lost often enough not to irk anyone else at the table. Bruno started to play with him whenever he had him. He’d dangle him by the back of his shirt and gently swing him back and forth, or pin him under his palm and drum his fingers on the table. Once he even picked Felipe up and began to toss him up in the air and catch him, not very high, but enough to get a frightened yelp out of him. Bruno seemed to think that might draw too much attention, though, and quickly set Felipe back down, shaking like a leaf and trying not to hyperventilate.

Rolf looked about as uncomfortable as Leo had when he won Felipe for the first time. Felipe caught him glancing at Leo and looked up at the giant too, but the combined effort of their stares still couldn’t persuade Leo to speak up, and Rolf didn’t seem to have the nerve to try on his own. Felipe changed hands a few more times before ending up with Bruno yet again. At this point he was fighting back tears. He desperately wished they’d get bored and give it up already, but it seemed pride was on the line for Seth and Amos, and Bruno was enjoying himself immensely. Felipe’s mind started to wander towards what would happen when the game was over for good. What would whoever had won him do? Would they try to take him home? Stuff him in a pocket or a cupboard for later? Or would they make him do something public and embarrassing? More embarrassing than being reduced to a literal object to be passed around, that is.

Just then, his saving grace appeared. He practically melted with relief as he heard Anya’s voice.

“Hey, y’all, what’re you up to? Where’s Felipe?” She caught sight of him and smiled. Despite how terrified he was, his heart sang out at the sight of her. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The others shifted nervously in their seats and glanced at each other, except for Bruno and Leo. Leo’s eyes were locked on Bruno and his face was grim. Bruno looked at Anya with his perfect poker face intact, although he was betrayed slightly by a small trickle of sweat down the side of his face.

Anya took in the scene and started to pick up on the energy at the table. Her smile started to fade. “No cards for you, honey?” She asked Felipe. “Are you helping Bruno, then? I’ll tell ya right now he doesn’t need it. He’s just about the best player here.” She looked around at everyone and then back at Bruno. She looked at the chips on the table all around Felipe, took in his posture, his expression, the way he was trembling ever so slightly. Her smile was completely gone now, and she set her jaw. When she spoke again, her voice was flat. “He’s not helping you, is he. He’s not playing at all.” 

Anya held out her hand palm up to Felipe, and he nearly tripped over his own feet sprinting across the table towards her. He leapt into her palm and wrapped his arms around her thumb, pressing his forehead to the tip. “Thankyou thankyou thankyou thankyou,” he gasped, his fragile facade of calm completely gone. The tears started to flow and he let them. Who cared anymore. He was safe, he was with his wife, the whole rest of the world could go to hell.

“You sons of bitches,” she spat. “I can’t believe you - ”

“Anya,” Felipe squeaked, and she held him up, her face instantly softening. “Let’s just go. Please.”

She looked like she was going to argue, but instead she shot a look at the cowering, ashamed giants, and stalked off. She headed for the exit, putting a hand on her friend Emily’s shoulder on the way.

“You set your husband right before I do it for you,” she warned. Emily spun around to glare at the husbands’ table.

“What kind of bullshit did you pull this time, Bruno?” Emily called, just as Anya slipped out the door, Felipe held to her chest.

She put a fair amount of distance between them and the house before lifting him up close to her face so she could see him better, the light dimming as evening approached.

“Honey? Are you okay? Do you want me to drop you off at the house and go back and kick their asses?”

Felipe managed a strangled laugh through his tears. “No, no, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter,” he lied. “I just want to forget it all.” That bit was true enough. He was so embarrassed by the whole thing. He wanted to pretend like it had never happened.

“I’m so sorry, I should never have left you with those idiots. I knew they’d be drinking, too, and Bruno always gets that mean glint in his eye when he drinks…”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Felipe said, sniffing and wiping his nose on his shirt. “They were just being dicks.”

“Did they hurt you? Because I’ll tell you right now if they did, I swear I’ll - ”

“No, no, they didn’t. And I’m not just saying that so you won’t go twist ‘em into pretzels. I’m fine, really.”

Anya gave him a Look. She rubbed his back with her thumb, working the tension out of him bit by bit. “I believe you that they didn’t hurt you physically,” she said softly. “But I don’t believe you’re fine. You were shaking like a leaf, honey. They scared you. You can admit it. There were five of them, they’re several times your size and could’ve snapped you like a twig without thinking about it.” He shivered, dropping his gaze. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m never leaving you alone with them again. You poor thing. Let’s get you home.”

[vexedtonightmares]

hey :) do you mind sharing some more about the skam austin panel today?

yeah for sure!! i’ll put what i remember under the keep reading tab for ppl who wanna hear about it :) i only went to the panel, not the rewatch (bc money lmao) so there are probably some other things they talked about that i missed, but i’m sure there are other ppl on here that can fill you in on any gaps that i miss!

it was valeria (jo), julie (megan), and lakeisha* (shay), and pedro (p jo) on the panel (he was the moderator, the other three did most of the talking), though they did mention other castmates throughout :,) 

*lakeisha was the name they went by on the panel, and in the info before the panel it said they use they/them pronouns, so that’s how i’ll be referring to them throughout this 

all of them started out by talking about what they’re doing currently, julie said she’s dropping out of school because her therapist told her “you as a person matters more than you as a student” which i thought was a great sentiment as well 

lakeisha said they’ve been making a lot of clothes and music (also throughout the whole thing they kept showing us their shoes and they left to pee like halfway through something they were answering one time hfjskaj)

they then talked about their audition processes (val had the most chaotic series of audtions omg i would love to see her audition tapes)

val originally read for either jo or megan, and she had literally just moved there like right before casting and almost didn’t go to her audition

she said that she decided to be the loudest person in the room so that they couldn’t ignore her, and that carried her through most of the rounds of auditioning

she said that at the end she said “if you don’t choose me, which you should choose me, but if you don’t, please choose another latinx actress because you have no idea how much it means to see someone who looks like you on screen”

julie auditioned because she was hoping julie (andem) would bring lisa and tarjei and she basically wanted a free meet and greet djkfshk 

she found out about skam og on tumblr !! she’s one of us 😌 

she thinks julie andem is the coolest person in the world 

they told her that she was pretty much everything they envisioned megan to be, so they cast her fairly early on and then had her partner with the marlon prospects 

giovanni, who eventually played tyler, auditioned for marlon and they kissed during their audition even though they weren’t supposed to

julie went to high school with till who ended up playing marlon and people would always ask her what it was like to get to make out with him and she was just like .... we just working bruh

lakeisha found the ad to audition on instagram and decided why not because it said it was a paid job 

they looked up a bunch of improv games the night before because they had no experience and had no idea what they were doing

in the audition julie asked what the tattoos on their hand meant (and also the one thing lakeisha was excited about being out of contract was that they could get as many tattoos as they wanted without asking for permission)

they all had a lot of love for julie andem and loved working with her

val said that she’d always try to make julie laugh and she said that julie is the reason og and austin are so good, because it’s her story and her vision 

they roasted the shit out of fb too (as they should)

basically fb ghosted them and never renewed the show but also never cancelled it so technically they don’t even know if anyone else could get the rights to reboot the show somewhere else (lakeisha said ‘skam austin onlyfans’ lmao)

i don’t remember which one of them said it but they said fb is like an inconsistent dad lollll

they also think that fb sort of finessed julie/her team because they were under the impression that it would be like og where they had their own website for the show and everything, but then it ended up just being a facebook page

they also filmed promo for season 1 that never ended up being used but they don’t know why 

lakeisha felt super disrespected by the fact that not only did they not get their season, but also the fact that they just dropped the show like it was nothing and none of them even found out that they probably weren’t getting more seasons until they saw that their instagram accounts were gone

everyone was upset about the igs getting deleted too because they put so much work into the content on there for it all to just disappear 

val said “no one tells a story like the one that was about to be told” and everyone agreed

val said that if the show would have continued, jo would have been undocumented and they would have shown her trying to navigate college (not only were we robbed of a jo season, we were robbed of college seasons 😤)

jo x jo were definitely going to be a thing

val said that when they wrapped s2 she was like finally!!! because now they could get into the stories that they really wanted to tell and really knew would make a difference (everyone vehemently agreed)

they were proud of the fact that they’re the most diverse cast and that they don’t just treat the characters of color like sidekicks like the other remakes do

julie talked about how skam france was the only remake to have jonas not accept isak right away when he was coming out and how it was suspicious that he happened to be the only non white jonas and that was the choice they made

val said that druck is the only remake she’s watched but she likes it

they also talked about how, even though it’s great that the cast was so diverse, practically everyone behind the scenes was white

val said that she didn’t really think about it much at the time because she found it hard to speak up since she was very young and inexperienced but looking back she wishes jo’s body wasn’t so fetishized as a latina (she didn’t clarify whether she was talking on a production level or within the fandom, but she talked about costuming so i assumed she meant more on a production level)

they all wished there was more representation off screen as well as on

shay x megan was brought up and julie said that shay was going to have her own love interest (am!even !!!!) come season three, and that it wouldn’t have been megan 

she also said that megan was mostly just confused and like ‘haha i kiss girls when i’m drunk’ but then she also said that megan and shay never had feelings for each other at the same time so 👀 

she was upset that they made megan and marlon get back together at the end of season 2 because she wasn’t a fan of them together, but she said it also makes sense because a lot of teen girls go back to their toxic exes even when they know it’s not good for them

lakeisha said that they hated shay’s acrylic nails because it didn’t make sense to them for her to have them (especially since shay was a musician)

they also said that they’ve been pretty confident and open with their sexuality since they were around 12, and that one time in middle school they dated a boy because he had an xbox and then they were like oh no is this toxic am i using him because he actually has feelings for me?? hdskafja 

they also said that the cfgc music happened because they heard that the boys from og also had a song and at first i was like wtf are they talking about but now i think they meant the penetrator song 💀💀 

julie has a cfgc shirt :,) and they all stole a bunch of clothes and stuff from set, val said she took a bunch of outfits that jo never wore which makes her sad to think about now 

val’s favorite scene to film was the car scene in s1 before the party (she said it was one of the best moments of her life) and julie said she liked that one as well (val said there’s a shot of her looking into the camera and flipping it off but they didn’t include it in the show, i feel robbed)

people asked how it felt for lakeisha to be the first lesbian isak and they said that they didn’t feel like they were, because they didn’t really get the chance :(( but they also said that the idea itself was very intimidating and there was a lot of pressure around it

they also said that they and gio were very very close both on screen and off, they said it wasn’t even like they were an extension of one person, that’s how close they got

there were a lot of improvised scenes, particularly with val, and she also said that incorporating spanish into jo’s dialogue was mostly improvised 

julie, val, and pedro also all talked about how they’re all mexican, and how each of their life experiences vary so much from one another, on the show and off and julie said megan’s upbringing was a lot like hers 

they all also said that they liked the music the show used and a lot of them have emotional attachments to a lot of the songs 

val said she wishes they used more frank ocean and i agree 

they also said they’re not sure if there are bloopers or anything, but they’d love to see them if there are 

i’m trying to think of anything i missed ahhh i feel like they talked about so much but i think i’ve got the key points soooo

that’s all !!! hope this was interesting to ppl who still care about austin like i do :,))