#I'm very serious about my slow burns

[noonaishere]

@irlkpop, because I finished writing these fics last year and scheduled it all late last year, I always feel like a janitor or something in charge of a building that isn't mine, because I don't remember what day each chapter is scheduled for (because I did the schedule one day and then did the scheduling another day, and there's like 117 for each and then five epilogues they share so like.... *does math* like 239 chapters minus the few chapters that are shared that I don't remember which ones those are anymore because I've been working on new things and my brain is shot) and I have to go to the proverbial boiler room to check.

So since I'm procrastinating working on a book outline (I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN 😭😭😭) I decided to take out my giant ring of janitorial keys and go into the depths of the queue and SCROLL to see when he shows up, and I'm sure you'll be happy to know...

Everyone's favorite golden retriever man will be back in a small capacity (a flashback to happier times), and then back in the story proper this week.

But I hope you're holding onto the reins of all your horses because him being back means the angst is back as well, so don't get too excited lol

(and then I walk away, spinning my keys on my finger, whistling)

[hopeymchope]

No hardcore fandom has ever died so quickly and so completely as Veronica Mars. This is the story of its murder.

They should study Veronica Mars in Hollywood. I'm serious. It's an incredible story of how to go from "loud, passionate fanbase with its own fandom name that campaigns and advocates constantly for it" to "absolutely zero fucking interest" damn near OVERNIGHT with just ONE epically terri-bad decision.

If you weren't there, you don't understand: From 2007 to 2014, the fandom — the "Marshmallows," as they called themselves — were everywhere in the Internet's geek spaces, my friends. They routinely beat the drum about the series' three seasons and its excellence, lamented its cancellation, pushed others to give the show a try, and always - ALWAYS - proudly and loudly called for the series to be revived.

FULL DISCLOSURE/CONFESSION: I've not even watched that much Veronica Mars, frankly... ? Yeah, I'm sorry! it does seem pretty good from like the four-or-five hours I've experienced firsthand. I just never took the time to sit down with it. Regardless, I find fandoms and their dynamics — both how they operate internally and how they display to others externally — deeply fascinating. And I honestly find them easier to study from the outside than the inside. Like, if I'm IN a fandom, I'm more likely to stay in my corner and ignore places that seem negative. But being on the outside lets me just... absorb what's out there, looking into every forum without judgment. It's like studying pop-culture sociology or something? And it helps that I'm very close to some serious(-ly burnt) Marshmallows. It makes it so much easier to find and absorb the gamut of the fandom.

Besides: There is NO fandom story I've ever seen that's anything like what happened to Veronica Mars and the Marshmallows.

(Time to insert a brief explainer for the uninitiated: Veronica Mars was a TV series that aired from 2004-2007 on the now-deceased UPN network wherein Kristen Bell played the titular character, a high school girl whose single dad was a private detective in the fictional community of Neptune, California. She grew up working "unofficially" as his assistant, which meant that she herself was effectively a teenage private detective.

The three core elements of the series were: 1) Veronica investigating each week's big mystery with plenty of quips and snark, 2) Watching Veronica's various relationships develop and shift, with most of the focus given to a) her relationship to her father and b) Her romantic pursuits (which began as the Veronica/Duncan/Logan triangle before eventually becoming focused on the slow-burn, off-on Veronica/Logan love story), and 3) The gradual development of that season's "mytharc" — the overarching BIG MYSTERY that doesn't get resolved or wrapped until the season finale. So it went over the course of two seasons that took place in high school and the third, shorter season that was at the start of Veronica's collegiate career.)

Just how big and how passionate were the Marshmallows? WELL! When series creator Rob Thomas (not the Matchbox 20 guy) and star Kristen Bell announced the Kickstarter campaign for the Veronica Mars movie in March 2013, it achieved its heretofore-unprecedented goal of TWO MILLION GODDAMN DOLLARS within less than 12 hours. At that time, it was the biggest Kickstarter goal to ever succeed — and certainly the fastest to reach that kind of height. Fans fell OVER themselves to pay out for it. Hell, my own significant other was DEEP in the tank for VM at the time and invested enough to get multiple t-shirts as backer rewards as well as a disk copy of the movie when it eventually came home.

And AFTER the movie hit in 2014? It was thankfully beloved and embraced! The once-teenage characters were adults who were actually out living on their own and working for a living, but the fandom had grown up with them, so it wasn't like they were begging for them to stay young students. They embraced Adult Veronica and her new adventure. The fandom rejoiced loudly and continued to be all over the geek side of the Internet... where they, of course, still wanted more. Sure, there were new novels in the aftermath (which were written by the creator of the series), but most of the Marshmallows were calling for more movies or a streaming revival.

And then, at long last... season four was actually announced. And there was much (premature) rejoicing yet again.

Yes, Veronica Mars returned for a fourth season on Hulu in 2019. It was just eight episodes, and it was heavily centered on one season-long mystery instead of sprinkling that amongst a bunch of smaller ones, but it would still feature the same ol' Veronica. They promised a new, more "adult" mystery/investigation plus a strong focus on Veronica and Logan's love story.

New Hulu purchased the rights to the first three seasons and hyped up its presence on the platform while marketing the return for the new run. The marketing team played up the most popular quips from the show's history plus put out TONS of stuff centered on the Logan/Veronica ship to pump up the fans.

The season was dropped all at once using the classic Netflix "binge" model in July 2019. And then... afterwards?

There was a brief explosion of LOUD RAGE from the Marshmallows at what series creator Rob Thomas had to done to burn and spite the fandom and ruin his own goodwill.

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4: See, at the end of the movie, Veronica and Logan finally entered into a long-term relationship. In season four, they've been dating for years, and Logan proposes marriage. But of course there has to be drama/obstacles: In this case, Veronica isn't sure she's ready to marry... or capable of being in a marriage. Ah, but of course she eventually realizes how much Logan means to her. The two are married, and, in the season finale... Logan is killed by a car bomb in the penultimate scene. The final scene is a flashfoward to a year later, where Veronica leaves Neptune alone.

For most fandoms, that'd be a memorable point of pain. A big ol' speed bump that ultimately throws some people off the bus, leaving only the die-hards. But the fact that fans had been invested in this relationship for literally 15 years and that Hulu (and creator Rob Thomas) had heavily marketed the new season as being a big romantic event for the ship... it was too much. Unlike the aftermath of the Star Wars sequels, there was no lingering group of die-hard fans who were open to whatever was next — at least no significant one. I did some Googling and could only find TWO people who still wanted another season.

Funnily enough? Critics LOVED this. Hell, Vanity Fair infamously penned an editorial about how Veronica Mars had "finally grown up" with this finale. I suppose all the other murders and deaths and drug overdoses and r*pe weren't "mature" enough before now for... some... reason. (The same editorial also featured the author openly hating on Veronica ever being in a relationship because it causes "arrested development" and declaring that the movie -- which was acclaimed by both critics AND fans alike, I remind you -- was a lame dud. So. The writer must be a reeeaaaal fun person.)

But a series doesn't live based on critical acclaim, as it turns out. The fandom was murdered overnight. "Marshmallows" stopped appearing in geek spaces online entirely. No one expressed interest in seeing the next season or the next movie. The constant flow of fan AMVs on YouTube and fanfics on AO3 dried up to nothing or damn nearly so.

Since 2019 ? Nothing. Chirping crickets. An intensely dedicated fandom of 12 years was just... vaporized.

I've never seen anything like it before OR since.

That's why it's so fucking fascinating.

So what went wrong?

Creator Rob Thomas was adamant about two things: ONE, the series was intended to be a noir show, which meant there couldn't be any happiness for its protagonist. And TWO, the death of Logan was necessary to evolve and grow the series.

Thomas thought that having Veronica in a relationship would be holding her back, and that a marriage would absolutely kill the series and leave her stagnant. It never even occurred to him that marriage isn't the end of a character's life and growth. It never occurred to him that plenty of drama can be had AFTER someone is married, or that development/growth could be that the characters mature enough to be capable of maintaining a committed relationship. Thomas' view of his own universe was so myopic that he couldn't conceive of any possible way that Veronica could still be a private detective involved in life-threatening investigations AND be married at the same time. Futhermore, he felt that fans just wanted Veronica to become a pregnant housewife, which is about as far from what Marshmallows were after as you can get without straight-up killing Veronica and/or Logan. He managed to do the only thing wronger than what he wrongly thought was their insistence.

On top of the above, Rob Thomas only viewed "noir" as a vehicle for total fatalism... despite the fact that many of the most famous noir stories are cynical and full of moral ambiguity, but they still feature a positive outcome. The Big Sleep still has the protagonist get the girl. The Set-Up arguably ends with the happiest possible ending in spite of the beating the hero receives.

Perhaps most importantly? Despite Thomas own insistence that Veronica Mars was always "noir," the majority of both TV critics and fans did not think that designation ever truly applied. I suspect that's the reason why Thomas decided to go as dark and fatalistic as possible: He wanted to be noir, and he was being told that he wasn't. So he went so far into noir that he killed his own most popular property.

He was adamant that it was the only way for the series to grow. But as it turns out, it was instead the only way for the series to permanently end. Without that season four finale, a passionate group of fans would still be begging for more. With it? It's over. Nobody fucking cares now.

That's kind of amazing.

[ambrosia-vinca]

There's a kind of defensive attitude towards criticism re:Lucanis' romance in many corners of the fandom that I partially understand because Veilguard gets a lot of shit thrown at it, and if you enjoy something you naturally want to defend it. But this type of attitude also rubs me the wrong way when people who loved the way his romance played out say that anyone criticizing it must just not understand slow burns/not like slow burn as a genre/not understand Lucanis' character and his trauma properly/must have been expecting explicit sex scenes and a Zevran 2.0.

Maybe some people criticizing his romance don't like slow burns, or were wrongly expecting him to be a sex god, or ignore his trauma. I've seen a few. But that's not all the criticism there is.

Personally, I love slow burns, it's my favorite genre both to read and write (I'm the type of fic writer to think up 200k words enemies to lovers longfics where they've barely kissed after 100k words). I'm also the type of ace person who's not into extremely explicit sex scenes or super kinky romances (especially with male dom stuff, which I personally dislike). And lastly, I'm the type who picks the angstiest possible romance choice.

All this to say that Lucanis and his romance were theoretically made in a lab for me. Slow burn because the character doesn't trust easily and is traumatized by his past experiences and has many things he must resolve, excruciatingly slow to open up? Unexpectedly very sweet, wet, sad man with puppy eyes? Romance scenes that are caring and romantic instead of outright steamy? Perfect, right up my alley! I keep romancing Fenris in DA2 exactly for that reason because I love him dearly, and he breaks up with Hawke for 3 whole years! Still my favorite!

But the whole point of a slow burn are the steps. It's a slow burn, which means little step by little step, the relationship slowly builds to a conclusion, from tentative acquaintances who don't trust each other, to slooowly evolve into something more, and it's precisely these crumbs that make the trope enjoyable.

To me, Lucanis' romance doesn't feel like it does little steps, it feels like it skips steps. I can see the main story beats of a good slow burn, but not the crumbs that make a slow burn. I don't want him and Rook to jump each other after 2 scenes, I want to see more of the fumbling, the hesitation, the dancing around each other. No, dragon age isn't a romance game, I'm aware, but if romance is an option, and it is written to fit a specific trope, I would like it done properly. They've done slowburns and angsty before, and they were good (even Solas', and his romance is super short). I want the evolution of the relationship shown to me, not told in broad strokes and big steps, and I don't want to have to write half the romance in my head or rely on ao3.

We get nothing between the coffee date and the almost kiss, absolutely no reaction of any kind to the flirting, not even a blink. If Lucanis and Rook were capable of having an entire conversation about coffee and kisses metaphors when they barely knew each other, then I think they can flirt a bit more in the following conversations when you pick the romantic option, dance around each other, have Lucanis fumble a little more like he does with Neve when he actually registers Rook is sincerely into him. Even just a sign that he heard Rook when they pick the romantic option in the following conversations, because as it is he immediately resumes whatever he was saying. And if his lack of reaction is because he's suddenly afraid and thinks it's a bad idea, I would like it shown on his face, or as an actual noticeable pause/hesitation. It didn't look like he thought it was a bad idea at Café Pietra, unless he just thought Rook was flirting just to flirt and wasn't serious, but again, none of that is hinted at in any way.

Then there's the almost kiss that follows and is the first actually romantic moment we get after the coffee date, and suddenly Lucanis is all smooth and confident about flirting again. With nothing in between ever since *Illario voice* he got all romantic about roasts. Was he reluctant before and that's why he didn't react to Rook's flirting/caring concern? We have no idea, because while he warns Rook it's a bad idea to be attracted to him, he doesn't seem scared, more amused at their daredevil tendencies. The first time in his entire romance we get a clear indication he's afraid and won't open up for a long time is at the end of this specific scene, when he pulls away, and the way it happens is like Lucanis himself wasn't expecting his fear to overcome him. He wants, he lets himself be pulled forward, and then he suddenly gets drowned by overwhelming terror, and he pulls away.

The beginning of the romance (the date + almost kiss) reads to me as if Lucanis was trying to forget the Ossuary, letting himself flirt and feel attraction and just simply live again as if nothing happened, believing if he didn't think about his trauma and forcefully moved forward then it would stay buried, and then the Ossuary unexpectedly caught up to him, because you don't just bury things like that, it always comes back up at some point if you make no effort to actually process what happened.

And then there's nothing again for a long while. I can imagine Rook leaving space for Lucanis because they're considerate of his feelings and they can see something is deeply wrong, but still, something big and awkward happened between them! Not even one conversation where they try to gently broach the subject and Lucanis immediately clams up? What about some mentions of how awkward things suddenly are between the two? Even through party banter? We got plenty about Hawke and Fenris' situationship in DA2 after Fenris pulls away. The other companions comment on their breakup and how it's painfully obvious they're in love still, no matter what happened, and there are a few banters between Hawke and Fenris themselves. Surely things are a little tense and awkward between Rook and Lucanis as well at that point, and their friends would notice? They don't spend as much time together as they used to, Lucanis doesn't talk directly to Rook much anymore unless he has to, can't quite look them in the eye, doesn't want to stay alone in a room with them. He is still protective of them because he obviously cares very much, but can't bring himself to have an honest talk about his feelings and fears because he's still completely locked in his mind prison and would rather deal with his problems by stabbing his enemies.

Rook being lost because they haven't been inside his head yet and they're not sure if it's because of what Lucanis has been through, or if they did something wrong to get them rejected, and they're stuck because Lucanis completely refuses to open up. There are so many little things that could have been implemented to actually serve as the little steps for the slow burn. You're telling me even Emmrich or Neve, perceptive as they are, wouldn't have noticed their two friends suddenly being awkward and sad and not try to talk to Rook about it at the very least?

And then there's the mind prison where Rook gets all Lucanis' fears and insecurities explicitly told to them. Immediately followed by the scene where you lock in the relationship as he makes them dessert.

Were they in a relationship?? When did they get together? Do they get together right there in the kitchen by the sheer power of cake (ok, relatable)? You don't know! They almost kiss, things are theoretically painfully awkward between them for a while, Rook discovers the substance of his trauma, and poof. They're a couple. Yes, I know that Lucanis' love language is acts of service, but did they communicate at all at any point about what's going on between them? Surely even if Rook helping him out of his head puts him on the road to eventual recovery, it didn't suddenly erase all of Lucanis' trauma and fears and doubts.

I liked Rook calling out the subtext of what Lucanis says in that scene (“it's nothing, or not enough”/”it is, and you are”), I did think it was sweet and perceptive of them. But still, we go from attraction to pulling away to suddenly committing to a relationship with never actually discussing exactly what goes on between them. Never outright deciding they want to try something serious. There wouldn't have been much actual flirting or sincere conversations between them after the almost-kiss, for obvious reasons, so how does Lucanis know Rook hasn't moved on/isn't angry at him after all this time, considering how they didn't communicate at all afterwards and he's not exactly the best at feelings and self-confidence? He just talks as if it's a given they're attracted to him still, and only worries about not being good enough for them. I wanted crumbs of reassurance from Rook, more than what we got, because Lucanis' probable guilt is never actually tackled in any way – he had perfectly valid reasons to pull away, of course, but considering how much he blames himself for anything and everything, I'm pretty sure he would also blame himself for hurting Rook's feelings, even if they're understanding and not actually angry with him at all.

Idk. I have a lot of thoughts, especially about the middle of his romance. The last big scene we get is one of my favorites through all dragon age games, it was so sweet, but I still felt like the entire middle part of the romance lacked a lot of slow burn crumbs, and I was still hungry when I got to the end.

[allthelovenina]

Gone girl

Give this man a break.

Summary: you basically triggered his abandonment issues

Warning: MDNI, smut, not sfw.

Sensual, smut, slow burn(I guess? I mean I tried so-)

English is not my first language, I apologize in advance for the grammatical and dictation mistakes.

Two whole months.

No, two months and 4 days to be exact. That's how many days you were gone. You left your resignation on Erwin's desk and left the scouts with no farewell. No one knew where you went to and no one was really concerned. After all, it wasn't unusual for scouts to quit.

No one except for Levi. At first, he was in denial, telling Erwin that he must look for you, that you wouldn't leave just like that and something was oddly off, what if someone forced you out? What if someone kidnapped you? The first few days were indescribable. He felt helpless, desperate and worried. Erwin would talk to him, tell him there was no reason for anyone to kidnap or threaten you, also Hange had seen you leave with your stuff packed in a suitcase in the middle of the night and you told them that you were leaving for a quiet life. He was heartbroken. You left without saying a word to him. He felt stupid for thinking he was special. He felt played and betrayed.

On one hand, he was relieved that you wouldn't be putting your life in danger anymore, that you were more likely to live a long and happy life. But on the other hand, why didn't you tell him? Wasn't he worthy of a proper farewell? Why wouldn't you at least write to him? He didn't admit it, but ever since you had left, he would check his mailbox every day. Desperately looking forward to a letter from you. On his days off, he would leave the HQ to the city, wishing to see you somewhere on a random street. How helpless and pathetic he felt, wandering around the crowded city all day long until his legs gave up. Yep, the legs that belonged to humanity's strongest soldier, the very legs that would be searching countless hours outside the walls would give up after almost 18 hours of walking and carrying the weight of this man's concern and despair. He felt like he lost his safe spot once again, his home, his lover.

He just needed to see you doing fine, that was all. He just wanted to make sure you were safe and sound. He swore to himself he wouldn't be mad or bitter if he saw you in a good state of health, he wouldn't yell and blame you for leaving him with no words. All because he couldn't help but feel like you were in danger.

He never gave up on searching for you but he didn't seem as concerned from outside after a while. To everyone, he was like his usual self again. However, he would be getting even less sleep, lose his temper even faster and barely eat.

One night he had the documents signed, read and summarised. Ready to be on Erwin's desk. He left his office for Erwin's only to find you there, in the corridor. His eyes were wide open in shock for a second and then his uninterested expression came back as he let out a loud sigh. "What the hell are you doing here?"

You remained speechless. You didn't really expect him to be this grumpy and oh if you only knew, he was controling himself. Otherwise you'd know "grumpy".

"I...I'm back."

"Changing your mind so easily is not like you." He was angry...furious yet so sad and also happy all at the same time. You left, you hurt him, made him feel like a fool and there you were standing in front of him looking prettier than ever, making him feel the butterflies in his stomach. You made him furious.

He wanted to cry and ask you why did you do that and selfishly beg you not to leave again, even for a quite less dangerous life. You made him sad.

But you were back! In one piece, you weren't dead and didn't seem to be injured(in a fatal serious way at least), he felt relieved. Your mere presence made him happy.

"I...wasn't really gone, Levi. I was sent to wall Sina for a secret mission. In order to steal some documents from the MP and gain information about their next move. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but that was Erwin's wish."

Betrayal after betrayal. How dare you all? How dares Erwin to take away what was his and convince him she was the unfaithful one? He was just about to storm into Erwin's office and give that bastard a lesson when he felt your arms around his waist and your face buried in his neck.

"I missed you..." you mumbled and it crashed his soul because he could hear in your voice how broken you were. "It was a long nightmare...and you weren't there...I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you about the mission."

Your grip on his body tightened, he could feel your tears moistening his neck leaving it warm and wet. All of that anger gave its place to sympathy.

"I...was really worried. I never disobeyed his orders why would he do this to me?" Levi asked, almost whispering.

"He thought...it would be better for my cover if you were unaware, you know. "

"That's stupid. What about Hange? Did they know?"

"No...they didn't."

You remained quiet in his arms for a while with his hands brushed against your hair. "I missed you too...I was worried sick but ...you're back to me..."

Back to me, back in my arms. My love, my angel, pretty girl. I love you so much.

His words in his mind sounded so different from what he actually said. "You idiot. Don't ever do that again." He pulls you out of his arms to cup your soft face with his calloused rough hands. Giving you the luxury of his soft glare. "Let's go to my room. Erwin can wait for his documents after fucking me up like this. "

*

It didn't take long for him to take you to his room, pin you down on the bed and devour your soft lips. He couldn't get enough, forcing his tongue into your mouth as his hands travelled from your hair to your face and then went lower on your delicate neck. Hell, only if you and him met under different circumstances, you'd make the perfect wife for him with your grace and inner beauty. How much he wished for a quiet life with you in the countryside, but that was no option right now. At this moment the most he could get from you was this. Sticking his tongue basically in your throat, swirling around yours while gripping your hip with one hand your breasts with the other. He needed to breathe, but he could still hold on. He wanted to waste no second of having you. (even on catching his breath)

Until he felt your hands on his chest, pushing him away to catch breath, you were a panting mess. Your hair all out of place, covered in sweat and blush all over your face. Oh, how much he missed seeing you like this.

He started unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your body but didn't take it off. He moaned only at the sight of it and had his lips on your clothed nipples. The friction and the dampness from his saliva gave you a delicious tease. You deserved this; be teased. A merciful punishment from Captain Levi, for putting him through hell and back. Yes, you had no control over it, but in a way, you did.

He moved back on your neck, making sure your neck would be covered in hickeys that looked like a beautiful amethyst necklace around your neck.

"L...let me kiss your neck too."

"No. You don't get to touch me unless I say so."

How cruel of him. "B...but I missed you, let me show y...you baby. How much I m...missed you."

You had a silver tongue that almost got Levi. Almost. But he stood on his ground. "Bad girls don't get their wishes met."

You moaned in desperation but knew better than to talk back. He was impatient and didn't even waste time undoing your bra (which he always had difficulty with) instead he ripped it off. You were surprised by his action, never had seen him like this. He had always been so...reserved but now he just tore the strap of your bra and invaded your breasts. Spitting on them and smearing them on your breasts, pinching your nipples until you begged him to move on to the actual business, only to get a hard smack on them. He then leaned on you and bit them red and hot. The bite marks were gonna last a day or two on your skin. His mouth ran all over your upper body from up to down until it reached your skirt. He smirked. Pulling the waistband down with his teeth halfway, he got up to pull the rest with his hands and get the full view of you from above.

You were so pretty, all flushed and helpless under him, naked. He could still torture himself a little more by making you wait longer.

"Did you touch yourself when you were gone?"

The embarrassment on your face was visible, you hid your face behind your forearms as you nodded. "Speak! Cat ate your tongue?"

"I did." He grabbed your wrists and pinned them on each side of your head. "Look at me when I talk to you, dove. Now answer me again. I'm running out of patience and I might as well leave you like this."

"N...no, please...that's right, I touched myself."

He guided one of your hands to your pussy. "Do it again. Show me how you would do it and tell me every naughty idea in that pretty head of yours."

You wanted to protest, to tell him you had enough of your fingers in the past two months, what you needed was him, but he had already threatened you to leave and your mind was too filled up with lust to think properly so you obeyed him.

Pushing one finger in, your mouth was open in an O shape. Digging in deeper and deeper. "I...would always th...think about y...you."

"Elaborate."

"I ...think about your handsome face...between my thighs and...your red lips on...my clit."

"Is that all you wish for?"

"N...no...I craved for your cock ...but the reality hit me every time that my fingers were not enough...I missed your fingers and cock in me, I missed the way your tongue flicks in me ...please..."

"Add another finger, now."

You swallowed and obeyed, adding another finger and searching for that spot, speeding up while having your eyes locked into his. He knew you found it when you inhaled sharply and moaned.

"Am I allowed to?" You whispered. "Cum all over your fingers. Make a mess." He leaned and kissed your forehead as you were getting yourself off. Then moved on to your ears and whispered "Beg for me." Then he tugged your earlope with his teeth.

"Please! Levi, I want you. Nothing is e...enough compared to you! Please I beg you!"

As you were begging, he noticed how your knees started to shiver, implying you were close. He let out a cruel, evil and short laugh as he grabbed your wrist and pulled your fingers out. You felt empty all of a sudden after being so close.

You looked so confused which he found out so cute. "B..but you said I was allowed."

"And you had promised to never leave me yet you left me for 2 fucking months! Do you think I'm that kind to let you have it all so easily now? Oh princess, it's a punishment if you haven't noticed already. Now get on all fours."

The unbuttoned shirt, though exposed your body and gave Levi as easy access, was still on. You had no intention of taking it off completely but once you did as he had said, you felt his hands were just about to tug up the shirt.

"N...no...I want the shirt on, please."

Levi was confused, it wasn't as if there was something underneath the cloth he hadn't seen already, he loved this position cause he could run his fingertips on your spine and make you shiver and moan.

So of course, curiosity and selfishness got the best of him and despite your request, he tugged it up anyway only to see several new scars on your back. They weren't deep but they implied you had been attacked during the mission. His heart sank. You looked so vulnerable and he just wanted to take good care of you, make you feel good and safe in his arms once again. Who did this? Who fucking dared to do this? When did this happen? Probably one of those nights that Levi was awake, thinking to himself how cruel you were for leaving him like that. How could he judge you and doubt you so easily? He felt like a piece of garbage.

"Is it that bad?" Your voice brought him back to the room from his thoughts. You were looking at him with half of your face pinned on the mattress. "It's not half bad. I was just thinking how to kill the bastard who did this to you."

"Hmm...so sexy when you talk about killing people while we're being intimate. Don't worry they're dead already."

He ran his finger on the old scars. Most of them were small but there was a huge one on your left shoulder blade which was continued to your waist on the right side.

As he was caressing the scar, he asked "Why you wanted to hide them?"

"They are not the prettiest accessories on me and also, didn't wanna concern you."

He frowned. How could you say that? You were soldiers, scars weren't uncommon. He had more than a few on himself which you found sexy. But you didn't see them that way for yourself.

"I actually think they're matching to mine." Levi said.

He leaned on your back, leaving wet kisses on every single one of them. You shivered and he smirked in satisfaction.

His attitude slightly changed, he just wanted to take care of you. Clearly, you'd had it rough already.

His cock was killing him, it's been hard from the start of the session yet he managed to endure it. As you were fully naked in front of him with your shirt gone, he was fully clothed. He unbuttoned his shirt in no time and unzipped his pants, pulling them down with the underwear and taking them all off. He grabbed his cock, swirling the tip around your already wet entrance. You moaned loudly "Don't tease me anymore!" He could hear the pouting in your voice. No smile appeared on his lips but his eyes softened.

His tip, already wet by precum, made its way through your hole. With no rush and slowly, he was halfway in. You were sucking him in so willingly it was as if your body was telling him how much you missed his touch.

He pushed a little further and was now fully in you, filling you up nicely. Your delightful moans sounded like angels singing to his ears. Oh how much he missed you.

"Y...you can move, Levi."

He grabbed you gently by the throat, adding no pressure. Just pulling you closer to himself until your scarred back met his chiselled chest. Once he had your head backed on his shoulder, he left no time to start kissing it so gently. Eventually, he started to move inside you back and forth.

"Ngh...I missed you, Levi."

His hands were on your nipples now, pinching and playing with them. He whispered in your ear "You have no idea how much I wanted you back by my side."

His arms wrapped around your shoulders as he paced up his movement in you. He bit back his moans just to hear yours as he was hitting that spot in you. Your mouth hung open while you were seeing the stars and moaned uncontrollably. As much as he loved hearing them, you were getting louder and louder so he pushed to fingers into your mouth. "Keep it...down...fuck."

Once again, your knees were shivering, if Levi didn't have a grip on you, you'd fall on the bed. Yet, you ran your hand through his hair at the back of yours, pulling it a little. "You fucking tease."

You were both close, Levi took his fingers out of your mouth and started massaging your clit with them. His nubs rubbed against your needy clit which had been begging for attention. He started drawing ghostly circles and little by little, his moves became faster and rougher. You were almost there.

"L...Levi! I'm...close..please..."

"Cum for me baby. I mean it this time."

In less than a second, you made a mess on his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm. Wanted to fill you up so badly. His cock was twitching in you, he almost couldn't believe he was feeling your hot gummy walls around himself again, shaping your insides like his cock.

His grip on you tightened and you knew by then he was going to fill you up in no time. He let out a loud, sexy moan while he shot his seeds in you. You felt so warm inside, he didn't pull out until he fully emptied whatever he had in you and softened.

You were both panting. He slowly pulled out and you felt the cum dripping down your thigh. Your skin was still red and burning from his thrusts. He laid down naked on the bed waiting for you to lay next to him.

"Where are the papertowles? Your blanket it gonna get ruined."

He rolled his eyes at you, the clean freak couldn't care less at this moment he just wanted his lover next to him. He grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you on the pillow next to him. "I have to wash them anyway." He said.

His eyes were locked to yours once again. Tucking your hair behind your ear which was all red now. He grabbed your hand and held it tightly, brought it close to his lips and left a few kissed on it as he was watching you.

"Don't ever do that shit again."

You smiled, you didn't say anything. It hurt to see him like this, you knew how much you hurt him by leaving without telling him but you were unaware of this. You had no idea he would be this devastated. Perhaps you underestimated his love which made you feel so bad about yourself. Still, you knew you would do this again if Erwin commanded so. You knew there was no place left for emotional bonds in the army yet you fell for Levi. This is the cost of following your heart, to get hurt willingly only to follow orders.

But screw Erwin and screw humanity at this moment you just wanted to have Levi's head on your chest again.

You pulled him close, he rested his head on your chest as you wished as you nuzzled his head. He could probably get some proper sleep in this state after a very long time. He felt his eyelids getting heavy and before he knew it, he was snorting in your arms.

What a day to be alive.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.” 

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.” 

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice,  he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments. 

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else. 

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve. 

“No. Don’t worry about it.” 

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?” 

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using. 

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Well obviously something’s wrong.” 

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?” 

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?” 

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?” 

“I’m not upset!” 

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-” 

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him. 

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon. 

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?” 

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins. 

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.” 

“It’s not a joke.” 

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time. 

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you. 

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-” 

“I didn’t get in.” 

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke. 

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock. 

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?” 

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!” 

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has. 

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” 

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand. 

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation. 

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say. 

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?” 

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.  

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds. 

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?” 

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-” 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.” 

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive. 

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest. 

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to. 

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear. 

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you. 

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you. 

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed. 

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?” 

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving. 

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.” 

“Where?” 

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace. 

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.” 

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for. 

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified. 

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.” 

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home. 

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers. 

“You promise you’ll come home, right?” 

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.” 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too. 

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.” 

“Anything?” 

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness. 

“Anything.” 

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.” 

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did. 

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.” 

Frankie, Present 

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point. 

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings. 

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you. 

Well, he can’t think about you as much. 

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him. 

He let you take the first  shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run. 

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you. 

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!” 

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.” 

“You barely run the mile in gym class.” 

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.” 

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you. 

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to. 

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans. 

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day. 

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement. 

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.” 

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings. 

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.” 

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.” 

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.” 

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.  

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).” 

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past. 

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible. 

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him. 

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer. 

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school. 

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too. 

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school. 

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble. 

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed. 

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to. 

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him. 

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”  

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage. 

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment. 

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him. 

August 18th, 2006

Frankie, 

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage. 

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe 

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL. 

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person! 

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha). 

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo. 

From, 

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line. 

October 13th, 2009

Frankie, 

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet. 

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do. 

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.  

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie. 

Kenzie 

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. 

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong. 

February 4th, 2011

Hey, 

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways. 

I guess I’ll see you when I see you. 

MacKenzie 

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business. 

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull. 

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done? 

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[akamitrani]

— Backstage Pass —

David Howard Thornton x Fem!Reader (Pt.1?)

Warnings: Mild suggestive, flirting (and the massive amount of tension that comes with it), release of the tension, slow burn.

Summary: You manage to get backstage access to a Terrifier panel where David is present, you end up striking a conversation with him and one thing leads to another.

[A/N: Hi guys, this is my first ever published fanfic – Be kind ☠️ – Sorry if anything lol. Btw, I hope y'all like to read fr cuz this fanfic surely is for readers]

[ · · · ]

The low hum of the convention floor buzzed around you, but for the moment, it felt as though the world had quieted down. You stood backstage, just outside the makeshift white room where David was preparing for a panel at the horror convention. Your excitement of meeting the actor behind Art the Clown was palpable, it was the man himself – the warm, approachable, and genuine David

You had spent the better part of the day anxiously navigating your way through autograph lines, fan meet-and-greets and photo ops, but now, standing backstage, you had a rare chance to speak with him outside the chaos. You never expected an encounter like this but here you were, a quiet moment with the very man who had terrified and fascinated you all at once

David’s head peeked from behind the curtains, his bright blue eyes meeting yours – “Hey! You’re the one who was talking about makeup techniques earlier, right?” – his voice had a casual charm, free of any of the sinister vibes Art was known for

You nodded, a bit stunned that he’d even remembered you from earlier in the day – “I'm Y/N by the way... And yeah, I’m just starting to get into prosthetics, but I love how the horror community brings so many elements together”

He smiled, a grin that reached his eyes and softened the sharpness of his features – “Y/N. And oh I totally get that. There’s something about horror that feels like a puzzle, you know? Acting, makeup, lighting… everything needs to come together for the whole thing to work”

It felt like a small moment of mutual understanding, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to his enthusiasm. Here was David, the man behind the terrifying clown, speaking with such openness.

“So...” – David said after a beat, his tone playful – “what’s your favorite kind of horror?”

“It’s a toss-up but I’d say psychological horror, something that messes with your mind, makes you question what’s real” – You said

He nodded thoughtfully, his expression turning serious for a moment – “Yeah, that kind of horror is powerful. But I have to admit, sometimes I miss just making people jump... It’s a bit of a guilty pleasure for me”

You laughed loud, the sound echoing through the quiet backstage space – “I bet! It’s a great feeling though, knowing you can make people react like that”

David’s eyes lit up, a mischievous glint appearing – “Well... I think we’ve got some time for a little more talking, but it’s not going to be quieter once the panel starts, I'll eventually get busy... You’re sticking around, right?”

You hesitated, the pull of curiosity and excitement making you eager to continue the conversation – “Of course! After the panel, would you like to talk more? What about... Grabbing a drink?”

David raised an eyebrow, the playful smile tugging at his lips again – “Perfect, was just thinking the same thing. And I could definitely use a quiet moment away from the crowd... There's a nice café nearby, just behind the building”

You felt a jolt of anticipation. This was no longer just a fan encounter. The conversation had shifted from polite exchanges to something more personal, a subtle invitation hanging in the air

“Perfect!” – You replied, feeling your nerves melt away – “See you there then”

“I'll be there as soon as the panel is finished" – He replied

[ · · · ]

sorry but I don't have the patience

to write a 'in between' lol

You entered the café David mentioned about earlier, the ambiance was calm as expected. Dave was already there tucked in a corner booth, his eyes eventually meet yours and he sweetly waves at you. Walking in his direction you sat down, wasting no time to start chatting. David had his hands wrapped around his coffee mug, leaning slightly forward, completely engrossed in the story you were telling him

“And that’s when I realized..." – you laughed, glancing down in embarrassment – “I’d been talking to the director with fake blood still smeared all across my cheek!”

David chuckled – “You’d fit right in on a horror set with a story like that” – he said, tilting his head with that trademark playful smile – “Sounds like you were born for the genre”

You felt a warmth rise in your cheeks, not just from the flattery but from the way he looked at you — as if you two were the only people in the room. For someone who could be so chillingly silent in his role as Art, David had an openness and kindness that made you feel immediately at ease

Both of you shared another laugh, you noticed his fingers drumming gently against the ceramic cup, a little habit he seemed unaware of. The small, endearing detail felt so far removed from the menacing persona he played on screen. In that moment, you wondered how many people really got to see him this way, relaxed and unguarded

“So” – David said, breaking the silence – “I have to ask... why horror? Why would you willingly choose a field that involves blood, guts, and a thousand ways to terrify an audience?”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering an answer – “I think it’s the honesty of it... Horror doesn’t hide from what people fear. It embraces it. And creating that… It’s almost like a dance between knowing what scares people and making them feel safe enough to face it. It’s–”

“Powerful” David finished for you, a look of understanding in his eyes – “Yeah. I think I know what you mean” – he paused – “That’s exactly what draws me to it. There’s something about the way people’s walls come down when they’re scared. You can see who they really are”

Your eyes met with his, a silence settled between you and him, charged with something unspoken. You felt a flutter of nervous excitement, this was David Howard Thornton, a master of horror, sharing his personal thoughts with you as if you were an old friend

“Hey-” – David’s voice softened, breaking the tension – “I just realized how late it’s getting. But honestly…” – He glanced down, almost shyly, before looking back up with a small grin – “I don't want this conversation to end just yet”

You hadn't realized how much time had passed, you feel your heart skip – “Me neither...”

He hesitated, then gave a casual shrug – “I have a bottle of wine back at my hotel...” – he said with a hint of playful mischief – “If you’re up for it, we could keep talking there... No pressure though — I promise I’m far less terrifying off the set”

You both laughed, but you felt a thrill run through your body. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect, but the invitation in his eyes, the warmth in his smile, left little room for doubt

“Well...” – you said, mirroring his grin – “as long as you leave the clown mask behind”

David let out a low, warm chuckle and reached out, his hand brushing against yours just briefly – “Deal.”

[ · · · ]

at the hotel

The elevator doors slid open, then shut with a soft thud – the hum of the machine filled the otherwise quiet space between you both. David stood closer, his presence palpable as the two of you ascended to the upper floors. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, the subtle hint of his musky cologne, the faint rustle of his clothes as he shifted slightly

The tension from the café was still there – unspoken, but thick. You could both feel it in the air, like an electric charge that had been building ever since the moment you'd first exchanged words. But now, in this small quiet space, it was almost impossible to ignore

David caught your eye, a soft smirk playing at the corner of his mouth – “I’m glad you agreed to come. It’s nice to get away from the madness for a bit you know”

You nodded but you could feel your heart rate picking up, the proximity between you and him making your thoughts scatter – “Yeah, it’s… really nice” – your voice sounded quieter than usual, and you couldn’t help but notice how close he is standing, how his shoulder brushed against yours every so often

The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival at David’s floor, you both stepped out. David led the way to his room, his long strides confident, though there was a subtle energy about him – something different than the actor you’d seen on stage. The man before them now seemed grounded, a little more vulnerable, but still just as captivating

As you two reached the door, David turned to you with a quiet smile – “Make yourself at home” – he said, pushing the door open and holding it for you to enter. The room was cozy, warmly lit

You stepped in, the scent of fresh linen and something faintly musky lingering in the air, his cologne you thought. You took a moment to glance around but David was already moving toward the small bar area by the window, pouring two glasses of wine

“Care for something?” – he asked, glancing over his shoulder with a playful glint in his eyes

“Sure, why not?” – You replied, voice a little breathless. It was hard to focus on anything other than the man before you, the way he moved, how effortlessly he carried himself. It was a strange mix of charm and allure, the kind of presence that seemed to draw people in without effort

David handed you the glass, his fingers brushing for just a second longer than necessary. His touch lingered, and you both looked up at the same time, locking eyes. There was something in his gaze – soft yet intense.

“Cheers” – he murmured lifting his own glass, clinking your drinks together

The conversation flowed easily at first, light and casual, but the air felt heavier now. David shifted slightly, moving a little closer as he leaned against the back of a chair, eyes never leaving yours. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was the opposite.

You set your drink down on the table, feeling a quiet tension building – “You know... I never thought I’d end up in a hotel room with someone like you”

David raised an eyebrow – “Someone like me?”

You laughed softly, a little nervous – “Yeah, someone so… different from Art”

David’s smile deepened, and he moved a fraction closer – “I think I’m a little more like Art than you realize” – he teased, there was a softness in his voice and a hint of something else, something that wasn’t just playful

“I don’t know…” – your voice faltering for a moment – “M-maybe you’re right”

David didn’t say anything for a moment, but his gaze darkened just slightly, his focus never wavering. He stepped a little closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the best way

“You know Y/N” he said quietly, almost a whisper – “I’m glad you stayed”

[···]

The silence between you both thickened, hanging in the air. David's gaze softened, his lips parting slightly as though he was considering something. Drawn to the warmth of his presence, you got closer. David didn't move away. Instead, he stood perfectly still, giving you space to decide what to do next. A quiet hunger in the way he looked at you.

“I dont want to rush this” – David said softly, voice low and deliberate – “But, I can't pretend I'm not completely drawn to you”

You reached up, fingers brushing against his arm, the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. David inhaled sharply, his body tensing just a bit at the contact.

“Are you sure?” – he whispered, his hand reached out, fingers barely grazing the edge of your wrist. You nodded, voice barely above a breath – “Yeah, I'm sure.”

David's hand gently cupped the side of your face, thumb grazing the curve of your jaw – savoring every second. David's face was so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first. His hands slid down, pulling you closer. He grabs your waist hard and you accidentally let out a small moan... That's when he finally kisses you, letting out a low whimper himself. The kiss gets deeper, sucking and biting. You respond instinctively, fingers threading through his gray hair, drawing him in as the kiss became more urgent, more desperate.

You break the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, foreheads resting against each other and trying to collect yourselves. This had been building all night, ready to break.

“You're incredible” – David murmured, his voice thick with desire

You met his gaze – “I can say the same about you”

“I've wanted this all night” – He confessed

David's hands slid down your back, guiding you firmly towards him, towards his thighs. Now straddling him, your fingers tightened in his hair as his hands moved, exploring the curves of your waist, savoring every detail about it. His hands slid down your dress, up your thighs and finally resting on the hem of your panties... His eyes pledged for yours, for assurance – You nodded

“You're not going to regret this” he whispered

[sungbeam]

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — part one

nonidol!ji changmin x f!reader

messing around with demonic rituals isn't exactly how you imagined getting bound to changmin's soul. (note to self: salt circles don't work when you draw the pentagram inside it...)

▷ genre, warnings. f2l, technically a college au, demon au (it's different from night terrors i swear. also it's not as intense lol), comedy, suspense/mystery, swearing (a lot... sorry 😭), drinking, low fantasy/supernatural elements, mentions of chronic illness, mentions of rituals and pentagrams, self induced soulmates? 🤔 but ofc 😂, kissing, mentions of blood, very small amount of violence (like one scene), what is a mfking slow burn like who needs to take their time w falling in love i sure don't 🤷🏻‍♂️, one allusion to death

▷ part word count. 16.3k out of 34.8k / read part two here

▷ inspired by. incantations (composed by richard meyer) it's not like,,, the fic's "soundtrack" or anything. i just think it sounds cool lol

this is my submission for deoboyznet's boyz who bite event! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

a/n: i'm telling u that i resisted the idea of another demon changmin au for ONE WHOLE MONTH. i went through THREE OTHER IDEAS BEFORE FALLING BACK ON THIS DRAFT. I SWEAR. so pls reblog + comment + enjoy! :') and thank u to @justalildumpling as usual for reading this for me 😭💖

PART I: THE CATALYST

THERE WERE WORSE WAYS TO GO OUT, you supposed. However, the paranormal wasn't often a subject you frequented, so sitting atop an ashy-white pentagram wasn't exactly how you expected to be spending a Friday night.

“Changmin, you're always hooting about this shit,” Juyeon said as he peered over his shoulder at the boy lurking in the far corner of the living room. “Are you seriously all bark and no bite?”

No one really paid attention to Changmin's response besides you and Juyeon (kind of—he was busy lighting the candles). Technically, it was a new behavior; Changmin was usually the one obsessed with horror movies and the paranormal, constantly getting you all to participate in Halloween horror nights and haunted houses, and bringing his beloved (cursed) Chucky doll to any and every group movie night. But now that you were finally acting on his demonic big talk, all of that stuff and nonsense dissipated like the snuffing out of a candle.

A shadow fell across his face. “I already warned you guys. This isn't something you should be toying around with.”

“It's a Ouija board—what could go wrong?” Shuhua wrinkled her nose as she began tapping out a circle of salt around your body and the pentagram on the floor. “I saw them on sale at Toys R Us for half off.”

Because you were the last one to arrive tonight, you were chosen as the sacrifice. It wasn't really fair because this was literally Juyeon and Changmin's apartment, but it didn't matter much in the end. You didn't believe in this stuff and it wasn't your salt being wasted. (You were also exempt from venmoing Hyunjae a portion of the paycheck he spent buying candles and chalk. Save fifteen bucks and sit on a pentagram in a salt circle? Why the fuck not.)

“Don't we need to draw blood or something?” you asked, half joking.

“No.” Changmin's expression somehow grew even darker. Your eyes widened slightly; you'd never seen him so serious. “Absolutely not. Do you want this to turn out worse?”

“Changmin, dude, you gotta chill, man.” Hyunjae dumped the Ouija board he'd dug out of his parents’ attic onto the floor next to you, just outside the salt circle.

Shuahua squawked. “Oy! You're ruining my perfect circle!”

“Just redo it, dumbass!”

“You redo it, asshat,” she growled back, tapping out some salt to finish it.

Juyeon, as if to placate your friend, said to Changmin, “The salt will protect her.”

You blinked. “Oh, that's what it's for?” You could've sworn that was what the candles were for, but again, you didn't believe in this, so why would you know a thing about it?

Changmin's face hit the palms of his hands with a resounding slap. “Absolutely not. You can't have Yn in the circle if she doesn't even know what the Hell is going on.”

“So do you wanna be in the circle?”

His left eye seemed to twitch as he cocked his head to the side. Something about that movement made a shiver crawl down your spine. The sensation was akin to watching a predator consider its prey from the brush… but that wasn't right. Changmin was all dimpled smiles and goofy shenanigans and twinning with his horror doll child. There wasn't anything remotely scary about him, unless you made him mad (you hadn't yet). So why were your inner alarms screaming for you to run? “That's actually not a bad idea—”

“Okay!” Hyunjae called his hands together. “Let's get started, shall we?”

The thoughts were brushed beneath the dusty rug in your head. You shrugged at Changmin. “Too late, I guess.”

You thought you heard him mutter out something under his breath in frustration, but you didn't understand the language.

All of your other friends began to gather on the side of the circle where the Ouija board was. You weren't even sure what all the pomp and circumstance was for, but Changmin didn't seem up to correct anything. He continued to sulk in the corner with his arms folded over his chest, eyes shaded by the brim of his cap as he stared onward.

Hyunjae's eyes fluttered closed as he, Juyeon, and Shuhua placed their fingers upon the planchette. “To the spirits who may be here in this room with us—”

“And demons,” Shuhua murmured.

A choked sound came from Changmin's side of the room.

Your eyes flickered open and saw him rub a hand down his face as if he was stressed.

“We are opening the veil between your world and ours,” Hyunjae continued. “My name is Hyunjae, and with me are Shuhua, Yn, Juyeon, and Changmin.”

Shuhua inhaled shallowly. “Is there someone here with us?”

The apartment was consumed in a dead silence as the five of you waited. You sat cross-legged in your ring of salt, cheek resting against your fist. Your eyes were drifting to half-mast—it’d been a long day for you, and considering it was approaching midnight already, it was about time you went to bed.

“We brought you a sacrifice,” Hyunjae said. “We were wondering if you could tell us your name.”

A chilling breeze brushed past your cheeks and you glanced up, expecting the air conditioning to have caused it. There was no vent above you, however. Strange.

You wrung your hands in your lap. “You could possess me if you'd like.”

Your eyes joined your friends’ as you all pinned your gazes to the Ouija board. The planchette remained still.

After a beat, your patience ran thin, and you sat up to lean back on your hands—wasn't something supposed to happen?

The amber glow from the candles in the living room wavered violently. In your surprise, your fingers grated against the salt and hardwood as you nearly fell backward. You yanked your hand back to you at the sting.

The bodies in the room went taut, speechless.

A gust of wind—something impossible in this enclosed space—whipped past you in a wide circle. The salt circle was no more, the candle flames were snuffed.

You sat stiff as a board. For a moment, you could swear you felt some invisible, foreign weight rest upon your chest. It sank deep into you, a phantom hand reaching into your body as if to latch onto your very soul.

Ba bump ba bump ba bump, your heart drummed wildly in your chest.

Howls and gasps of delight were drowned out by the blood in your ears; they were sounds of awe from your friends. You placed your hand over your sternum in the dark to feel for that unseen force, but there was nothing.

The room flooded with warm light. It chased away the shadows to the furthest corners.

You glanced up and saw Juyeon at the light switch with a boyish grin stretched across his lips. “That was crazy! Yn, how do you feel?”

Eyes darted to you.

The pentagram beneath you was smudged, the white chalk staining your pants and your hands. You managed a smile, and then a slow nod. What you felt earlier was probably nothing.

“I'm good,” you chirped. You glanced over at Changmin in the corner, his eyes still shaded by the brim of his cap, but with the muscle in his jaw clenched. Why? Why did you look at him? You couldn't fathom why survival instinct had you encoded to turn toward that which was capable of your demise. “Yeah, I'm good.”

A yawn tore through you as you stepped into your darkened apartment. Your hand fumbled for the light switch and you tucked your shoes away on the rack, before depositing your keys onto the table with a noisy clatter. The remainder of your time spent at Juyeon and Changmin's had been spent cleaning up the failed ritual, and you hit the road as soon as it was over.

Your roommates were all out for the night, so the apartment was cold and quiet as you stumbled down the hall to your bedroom. Compared to your friends, you'd left rather quickly because of a text you'd received from Lee Chan, a good friend of yours and former neighbor from childhood. His home life hadn't been the most spectacular, so you and he became fast friends during the moments after school when you hung out on your front lawn.

He'd swung by your apartment earlier to drop off banana muffins, but you hadn't been home. I'm home now! But you can totally come by in the morning instead, you texted him after setting your backpack down and peeling off your jacket.

As you sat in the dim gold illuminating from your desk lamp, the pressure in your chest returned. You could feel your heart pick up speed in your ribcage and you lifted your finger up to your mouth to suck on the dollop of blood that had welled to the surface. It was a small scratch from when the candles went out—your own clumsiness—but it was nothing a My Little Pony bandaid couldn't fix.

A featherweight sensation drifted over your arm, and you slapped your palm over it as if to catch whatever invisible insect crawled atop your skin.

There was nothing though.

You glanced over at the window to your right. The sky outside was an unpeculiar ebony riddled with the white speckles of distant stars. No breeze drifted in from outdoors and you double-checked that the window was closed.

You startled as your phone vibrated on top of your desk.

dino!!: oh it's okay! i have dance practice early in the morning, so i'd rather bother you while ur still awake haha dino!!: i'll be by in about 10ish min if that's cool? your phone: sounds good lol and tysm :’)) love mingyu's banana muffins

You smiled to yourself at the thought of those delicious pastries. Chan's friend Mingyu baked whenever he was stressed, and he usually gave out the results of his stress-bakes to friends. The first time you'd tasted his banana chip muffins was the closest you would ever get to heaven on Earth.

“I'm glad he makes you smile at least.”

Your phone clattered to the floor, your physical body leaping five feet in the air as your soul flew out of its encasing. Everything in you jolted like one, big heart palpitation, and your wide eyes took in the sight of a person standing by your window.

Ji fucking Changmin had nary an apology on his lips for scaring the everloving Hell out of you. It was as if he hadn't even moved out of his position at his apartment: the crossed arms, the tense posture, the clenched jaw.

Except, his eyebrow was cocked this time, unamused by your very valid fear.

“Oh, fuck you.” You braced your palms against your bed as you stood opposite from him. “Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you.”

“I got it the first time.”

You could have blown steam out of your ears. “What the fuck are you doing in my room, you creep?”

He raised his palms up, finally breaking pose. “I know what this looks like—”

“You know what this looks like?” You let out a scoff, throwing your arm out in wild gesticulation to match the throttle of your heartbeat. “This looks like Edward Cullen in Twilight, except this isn't a movie, you're not Robert Parkinson, and you just climbed up a five story building!”

Changmin stepped forward, and you took a very obvious step back. He exhaled, pressing his lips together. “Okay, I deserve that,” he muttered.

“No shit. I should call the cops on you, friend or not. What is the matter with you?” You had known Changmin for as long as your college career thus far. The five of you had met in the freshman dorms and stuck together like a package deal since. You were all quite close, and you'd spent more than your fair share of quality time with Changmin.

But this—nothing could warrant this behavior.

“I need to talk to you about something important.”

You enclosed your palms around your arms, defensive. “Then you call or text or use the front door. My window was locked—”

“The lock on your window should be the least of your concerns,” he huffed. There was a firmness in his voice and behind his words, and a matching gleam of desperation in his face. He pressed his fingers against your bedspread and the air seemed to still.

That phantom breeze had returned and it drifted against your arm. It came accompanied by the weight in your chest. “What,” you stammered, “do you mean?”

He glanced away then, that tension seizing his shoulders again. He scratched his jaw seemingly at odds with words. “The ritual that happened tonight… that was real.”

You paused. “You have got to be shitting me.”

“I'm not.”

“Changmin, I'm way too exhausted to deal with your pranks right now. If tonight was all an elaborate thing you guys did to get back at me for waking you up at 4AM—”

“Yn.” The tone of his voice made you stop. It made you think. You considered the graveness of his expression differently; you had never seen him so serious. It was jarring. “I am being incredibly serious. The thing that happened to you tonight? That was a summoning ritual, and you were actually put into contact with Hell.”

You remained quiet, unknowing of how to answer. All logic in your brain was countering his statements profusely—it wasn't possible. There was no way something as little as chalk, salt, and candles could open up a portal to Hell.

At your lack of response, Changmin continued, “Tonight, a line to Hell was opened. The ritual was meant to contact a demonic entity. Usually, ritualists use it to make deals and bargains with whoever answers the call. The human link—the 'sacrifice’” —he looked at you pointedly— “is one half of the signing party responsible for fulfilling whatever the bargain is.”

A shudder rattled down your spine at what he revealed to you. This had to be a joke, you thought. This could not be real. But every time you looked at Changmin, the expression on his face did not change and his voice did not waver.

You swallowed, hard. “So,” you said finally, your voice barely a whisper, “you're saying…”

A lone nod. “You made contact with a demon tonight.” He paused for a beat, something warring behind his eyes. “You made contact with me.”

What. You sputtered out a laugh.

Changmin released a small, but sharp exhale, patiently waiting for you to let your giggles out. There were undoubtedly better ways to reveal it, but any way would still evoke such a reaction from you.

“Okay, now I know you're fucking with me,” you said with the lingering curl of a smile on your face. “You're saying that you're a demon?”

He seemed to weigh an idea in his head for a millisecond before caving. He flicked his chin out toward you. “You cut yourself tonight?”

You flinched and instinctively curled your right hand, your other fingers running over the small slice in your index finger. “What?”

“Come on. Let me see.” At your balking, he lifted up his hand. “I bet you I have a matching mark.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What hand and where?”

“Right hand. Index.”

“This doesn't count because that's the most predictable hand and finger.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yn, don't be silly. I literally have the same mark.”

Slowly, he stepped his way around the bed to your side, stopping only close enough where you could inspect his hand from a distance. Lo and behold, the flesh of his index finger was neatly sliced open, slightly diagonal in the top right quadrant of the finger—exactly where yours was.

The breeze returned like a cool breath, gentle against your cheek, as you raised your eyes to meet his again. The horror in your gaze must have confirmed that he'd convinced you of who—no—what he was.

“So what does this mean exactly?” you asked him. There were no giggles this time.

Changmin sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “We are now bound via soul,” he said and extended his hand out slightly. His fingers curled inward and he gave a tugging motion level with your chest, and something deep within you moved.

Your eyes went as wide as a full moon. “What the Hell…”

“That's the line we're connected by.”

“I'm on a leash?”

Changmin glanced toward the ceiling as if mentally counting to three, then took a breath. “Not a leash; it's just a line. That's what was created between us when I became the demon on the other end and you spilled your blood on the pentagram. It doesn't mean we're restrained to stay within physical proximity of one another, but it does mean that you can't run away and hide from me.”

You shuddered. “That sounds scary.”

“It would be if you didn't fulfill your end of a bargain, but you never made a bargain.” He lifted his baseball cap up to card a hand through his blond hair before replacing the hat on his head. “Which basically means that we're stuck like this. We are emotionally and metaphysically bound to one another.”

There were a lot of words that had been said over the past few minutes, and most of them were difficult to wrap your head around. The worst truth of all was the brief, but very real sensation you had felt when Changmin had tugged on the invisible link between the two of you. That weight on your chest from earlier… had that been the “bond” settling into place?

“How could sitting on a chalk pentagram even” —you waved your hands around as you attempted to formulate words— “how was all of that possible? I thought Ouija boards were fucking toys?”

“I told you guys that you shouldn't play around with those things.”

“Well, how the Hell were we supposed to know this was going to happen?” you countered. The four of you had done some innocent fooling around, and now, you were “emotionally and metaphysically bound” to Changmin. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Changmin sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “We can undo it. I think.”

You think? “How?”

“I—I need to do some research,” he said with a grimace. “I've never heard about instances like this and I didn't think it was even possible. I thought I could just intercept the call—”

Intercept the call? You shook your head. “I need you to start from the beginning, but slowly, as if you're speaking to a five year old.”

He opened his mouth to retort, then stopped abruptly.

A change in expression flickered across his face. It was brief, almost instinctual. You swore it looked like mild irritation, but it was gone before you could be sure. “You should probably answer the door.”

“Answer the what?”

You nearly yelped at the sound of loud knocking at the apartment door. Confusion pummeled you first, then you were swearing. “Chan.” You forgot he was stopping by.

“I'll be right back,” you said, moving toward the bedroom door.

“It’s fine. I need to go looking for answers.” Changmin stopped you before you went out, and you couldn't suppress the violent shudder when the invisible line in your chest pulled taut. “And Yn? Don't do anything stupid.”

You made a face at him from over your shoulder. “I'm already soul-bound to you by accident. How much more stupid can this get?”

He threw his hand up in the air. “Just don't do anything Hyunjae or Shuhua would do. Actually, just don't tell any of them about what I just told you.”

Why not? You were about to ask when you heard Chan's voice at the door calling out to you. Another swear fell from your mouth and you rushed out into the hallway to rip the door off its hinges.

Chan startled as it opened, his eyes going wide like a deer's in the bright hallway lights. There was a loose blue hoodie hanging over his green dinosaur pajama pants. He had his phone in his hands along with a paper bag undoubtedly carrying the legendary banana muffins. “Oh, hi. Sorry, is someone here with you? I thought I heard another voice.”

You braced a hand around the doorframe. Don't tell anyone. “Ah,” you winced, the lie curling up your tongue, “I was just on a call with a friend and he wouldn't shut up. Sorry about the wait.”

“No, it's no worries,” he insisted with a classic, easygoing smile. It made the adrenaline in your veins calm somewhat. Chan had always been a good presence to be around. There was something perpetually warm about his persona that made you want to stay in his orbit. “Oh, right!” He handed you the bag. “These are all yours. Mingyu says to let him know how they taste this time around, as always.”

As you accepted the bag, your face lit up like a Hollywood billboard. “I can guarantee that they will taste as divine as always. Tell him thanks for me” —you glanced up sheepishly from the paper bag— “and also, thanks for stopping by. I wish I was home earlier so you didn't have to drive all the way back.”

You didn't realize your face had contorted into a grimace. If only you had come straight home instead of indulging your friends’ curiosity tonight. Then, you would have been here with the banana muffins and one less soul-bond to worry about; and you would have been none the wiser to the fact that one of your college friends was a demonic entity.

Hadn't Changmin mentioned that you were now emotionally and metaphysically bound? Did that mean he could feel your emotions?

The smile had long since slipped from your face, but now your hands grew cold. When you got your muffins just now, did he know—

“Yn?” You perked up at the sound of your name. Chan's hand froze midair, then retracted back to his pocket. Concern shone on his face as stark as day. “Are you okay? You look like you just forgot you have something due tonight,” he chuckled half-heartedly, but the sheen in his eyes told a different story.

“Oh.” You forced out a laugh. “I'm fine! Yeah, I was just reminded of something. Actually—uhm, I shouldn't hold you up for any longer. It's getting late.”

Chan stared at you for a moment longer, and for that seemingly infinitesimal second, you feared he could see the invisible knot tied to your ribcage. “Right,” he said suddenly while shaking his head. “You should get some sleep.”

Your hand reached for the doorknob. “Thanks for dropping by again.”

“Wait” —his palm pressed against the door to keep you from closing it— “are you sure you're okay?”

It was as if your guilt was written in plain words across your forehead: No! I just became magically handcuffed to one of my demonic friends! And I also sat in a pentagram salt circle less than two hours ago! Please help me!

You channeled all your energy into a convincing smile. “Yes, I promise I'm okay. Have a good night, Chan.”

It was enough. That easygoing beam graced your eyes once more and he took his hand back. “Okay,” he said, “good night.” He waved to you as he turned on the ball of his foot, and you waited until he turned the corner before closing the door.

Your entire body deflated as you let out a rather dramatic sigh. That sigh turned into a loud groan, which eventually escalated into a borderline scream.

Like a woman possessed (would possession have been a better outcome than this?), you slunk back into your bedroom with your treasures in your grasp. “Hey,” you muttered as you kicked the door closed, “I'm… back.”

The room was vacant. Not a trace of the blond demon could be found.

“Son of a gun.” You settled into your desk chair and pulled out one of Mingyu's stress-baked muffins. As you peeled the parchment wrapper from the muffin's bottom half, you attempted to process all that had occurred within the past two hours. Every time you rewound the events, you met the same dozen or so questions. If only Changmin were still here to answer them, but he mentioned something about going off to answer questions of his own, including ones pertaining to undoing this rather inconvenient situation you’d found yourselves in.

“He should have stopped us,” you garbled between bites of banana chip muffin.

Your chewing came to a gradual halt as you marinated on that thought. “He… should have stopped us.” Why didn't he stop the four of you? If he had stopped you and suggested a movie instead, or any other activity for that matter, you wouldn't be here and he wouldn't be stressed.

He should have stopped you since he knew what you were getting yourselves into.

You crumpled the now empty muffin wrapper in your fist. Ji Changmin had far too much to explain to you.

PART II: THE CONSEQUENCES

IF THERE WAS NO REST FOR THE WICKED, Changmin didn't want to be wicked anymore. By popular perception, he and half his heritage were “evil.” While his father was a human from this mortal plane, his mother hailed from one of the nine circles of Hell. They'd fallen in love, conceived a halfling child, and the remainder was history.

“You look like shit, Ji.”

Changmin's eye twitched as irritation needled beneath the surface of his skin. “Thanks,” he drawled, not bothering to spare Lee Chan a glance. If he had limited energy reserves, he wasn't about to spend a drop on giving Chan the time of day.

Plus, Changmin was more than aware of the thick shadows that lingered beneath his eyes like fog clinging to cobblestone. He had woken up from his ninety minute power nap, trudged into the bathroom, and faced his own gauntness in the mirror. Why the fuck did Lee Chan think it necessary to point it out?

Chan's stare lingered on him through the practice room's mirror for a moment longer until he was called away by Kwon Soonyoung. Only then, when Chan's attention was passed elsewhere, could Changmin release the breath he was holding onto.

It was one thing that Changmin couldn't shake the offputting energy he felt whenever he was near Chan; he could stomach being on the same dance team as the guy, even though they each harbored an unspoken dislike for one another; but it was another thing entirely that he and Chan were both friends with you. The two boys attempted to be civil in front of you because your comfort was more important than their pettiness, but currently, said truce was nowhere in sight just as you were.

Simply, there were less reasons for him to be amiable today, including his thinning patience. Last night’s debacle had drained him of his energy. He was a halfling, not a pure-blooded demon. Additionally, his mother wasn’t a high-ranking demon by any means, which basically screwed him in the area of power stores. He had magical capabilities, but it could only handle so much. Answering ritual calls and creating soul bonds required a decent amount of power, which was why they were usually only answered by the more powerful demonheads of Hell. They enjoyed making human suffering a pastime.

Tacking onto that Changmin’s brilliant idea of warping into and out of your room last night instead of using his own two feet, as well as spending hours digging through the occultish corners of the internet, added all together to make for one exhausted, stressed, and grumpy halfling.

A presence—this one being far more welcome than the previous one—appeared by Changmin’s side in the mirror. “You really need to start going to bed when you say you're going to bed,” Juyeon said as plopped down onto the laminated hardwood to stretch out his calf muscles.

Changmin followed his lead onto the floor, but opted to slide into a left split. “I was tossing and turning the whole night,” he dismissed with an innocent lie. (Well, “innocent” was subjective.)

“You should try this new matcha that Hyunjae got from his hyung. He brought it back from his recent trip from Japan.”

For a second, Changmin let the words feed into his head one by one: matcha… from Hyunjae… from Hyunjae's brother… which one was he? Oh, the one who just got back from Japan, Sangyeon. When his tired brain finally caught up, he gave a nod. “What about it?” he asked, raising himself up to switch his hips into the right split.

Juyeon looked on with envious admiration, even if this was the thousandth time he stretched with Changmin. “It’s really refreshing and has a bit of a caffeine kick, but it's not as awful as coffee. Indigo likes it, too—said something about it being one of those rare finds that you can only get in the secluded countryside or something.”

Changmin paused. Juyeon's girlfriend Indigo was someone Changmin got along with well, but that wasn't why he was slightly interested in the matcha now. What Juyeon wasn't aware of was Indigo's witch heritage. Just as Changmin was hiding in plain sight, so too was Indigo. And if she recommended some countryside matcha powder, he was going to be inclined to try some.

“Yeah,” he coughed, “sure. Sounds like it wouldn't hurt to try.”

Pleased with the outcome of the conversation, Juyeon smiled and nodded. “I'll get you some later today then. Hopefully it'll help with the weird headaches you've been having, too.”

Changmin had nearly forgotten about those with everything that had happened. He'd recently been struck by random headaches; there were no patterns to their appearance, and no remedy—human, at least—that could soothe them until they faded on their own. He'd failed to ask Indigo about it because, well, he didn't think it was important enough to act on. But if this tea could help him out, then it would be taking out two birds with one stone.

Practice went on swimmingly. Though Changmin could only boast about his ninety minutes of sleep, when it came to dance, it was as if he was possessed. This was a hobby—a passion—that never failed to drive a fire through his veins. It didn't matter if he'd had the worst week in the history of worst weeks; when the music started, he was cued in, and he gave it his all.

As a river of sweat poured down his face and the room suffocated with the humidity of everybody's labored breathing, practice came to an end. Changmin hiked his duffle bag over his shoulder and poured water down his throat. Juyeon wasn't far behind as the two of them waved goodbye to their teammates and headed out.

Saturday mornings usually occurred in similar fashions: dance practice was held from 7AM to 10AM, then Changmin and Juyeon would return to their apartment to wash up; Changmin would then eat about an elephant's worth of food while he caught up on lecture recordings—unless he had something else to distract him.

In the case of this Saturday, as soon as Changmin had finished showering, he plummeted face-first into his pillows and was out like a light.

Demons could dream, one must understand. However, the demonic body tended only to dream when it was well spent—exhausted. Demons liked to correlate a weakness with having dreams, because foolish visions meant that one was unable to control their own mind. Control was rather important when dealing with magic.

Even if the dream was about, say, something real and occurring right at the moment Changmin was asleep—it was still considered a dream. Because he had not yet learned to leash his mind from meandering down his fresh soul bond, he found himself in a body that was not his own.

Yours. It was your body.

Was this real, he wondered, as he soaked in the familiar sight of your bed, the desk, and the closet space. He'd been in here just last night—albeit, in a fashion that wasn't agreeable—and he didn't expect it to change, but it did look real.

It was like he was actually sitting in your room, except he wasn't able to move or control his own body. The heart that beat in his chest was yours, the blood that pumped in his ears was yours, and the breath that fell from his mouth was yours.

He inwardly sighed as you adjusted your position at your desk chair. What a predicament he found himself in. He could feel the ache in your back from the uncomfortable piece of furniture beneath you, as well as the knots in your shoulders. (Did that mean you had a bad night of sleep?)

Though, it wasn't all bad, he supposed. He did adore the smell of your perfume lingering in the air and clinging to the sheets, the walls, the furniture… You would never know this of course, if he could help it.

You were currently reading a book—for class or for enjoyment, he hadn't the foggiest. The left side of the novel you clutched in your hand was riddled with colored sticky tabs, and you had the back of a ballpoint pen pressed between your lips. (His lips? …No, this was a precarious line of thinking.)

Changmin followed along as you read. Well, he tried. Whoever designed the layout of this book must have had perfect vision and no sympathy for someone visually challenged. The font size was likely less than ten point, and good grief, the line spacing—

“Holy shit.”

He paused. Right, that was you and not him.

You leaned forward and brought the book closer to your face as you read over the line again.

“Oh my gosh, Eliot, you incredible, talented woman.” This earnest compliment was swiftly followed by a colored tab to mark the passage. Changmin was about to read what you tabbed, but your eyes went down to the desk to scrawl a thought onto a post-it note. “Dorothea, you poor, poor soul. Casaubon needs to get the fuck over himself—you are fifty, dude.”

Changmin, frankly, had no clue what was happening. But he didn't entirely mind, because the pure joy that fluttered in your (his) chest was enough to keep him satisfied. There was something oddly serene about being in your sphere of presence, and in this state of being, that kept him at ease.

The stress of breaking this soul bond ebbed away like the receding edge of a tide.

Alas, all good things had to come to an end. Changmin couldn't tell how much time passed before you bookmarked your place with an index card and pulled your phone toward you.

12:04PM was what your lockscreen read.

Oh, so he was definitely catching up on sleep, at least.

Wait—had you not eaten lunch yet? The unmistakable void in the pit of your stomach…

Yn! Eat lunch, you silly girl! Eat—

“He could just be away from his phone,” you muttered to yourself. There were a few app notifications waiting for you, but each dismissal was fueled with mild disappointment.

Who were you talking about, he wondered.

A flash of bitter annoyance pierced his chest at the memory of who you'd been texting last night with that big smile on your face. However, any of that sentiment was dashed clean away when you pulled up your text chain with him, not Lee Chan.

Changmin's heart sped to a gallop as he watched you swipe out just as quickly as you'd checked in. The reason was two-pronged: one, you were wondering about him; and two, you had texted him while he was currently asleep and he did not know how to wake himself up.

Ji Changmin, he chastised himself, you're not only intruding, you're also inadvertently ignoring her.

He could understand that he put you (and abandoned you) in a worrisome place last night. If he could tear out the strands of his fried, blond hair he would.

You were his friend, were you not? He cared about you, and this soul bond wasn't only stressful to him, but to you as well. Maybe ignorance really would have been bliss in this case.

Your phone emitted a low vibration as it rang. Changmin had missed the moment you decided to call someone. Juyeon's contact name and photo was displayed in the middle of the screen, and he answered before the call went to voicemail. “Yn, what's up? You're—you’re not mad about last night, are you?” The wince in Juyeon’s voice was audible.

“No, I'm not mad,” you promised him as you leaned your cheek against your palm. “I was just wondering if you know where Changmin is. I texted him an hour ago and he hasn't answered yet—I guess I'm just a little antsy.”

Shuffling, then, “Oh! Changminnie's sleeping. He didn't sleep well last night, so as soon as we came home from practice, he was knocked out.”

Relief made your shoulders sag. “Ah, okay.” A smile, self-deprecating in nature, curled up on your mouth. “No worries then. Thanks, Juyo.”

“No problem. I'll let him know to call you once he wakes up.”

“No, it's okay” —you began putting your materials away— “have you had lunch yet? I can swing by with food; I haven't eaten yet.”

“Really? I haven't eaten yet, and Changmin hasn't either. I'll split the cost with you.” Changmin wished he could say that he would also split the cost. Why were you coming over? He hadn't gotten a good look at the texts you sent before.

(It had to be because you wanted to see him, right? To talk—of course to talk and not for any other reason.)

You stood up from your chair and stretched out the stiff muscles in your back. “I'll be by in—maybe twenty or thirty minutes?”

“Sounds great!” Juyeon chirped. “Thanks Yn-ie. See you in a bit.”

You let out a small laugh. “Yeah, see you.”

As the call cut off, Changmin was left with a daunting task: to wake himself up. There didn't seem to be many options as to do this. If demonic dreaming was activated based on lack of control, that meant he had a lack of energy. Thus, if he couldn't yet regain control, it could only mean that he was still tired.

There were a great many things that he had yet to figure out about this kind of magic. It wasn't like his mother ever anticipated he would need to know about it, so she never explicitly taught it and he never asked.

He was kicking himself in the head now.

Meanwhile, you had busied yourself with getting ready to leave. You'd selected a jacket from your closet, swiped on a thin layer of lip gloss, and spritzed yourself with that divine-smelling perfume. It made his toes curl and his chest feel fuzzy.

Just as you were filling your purse, your phone jolted with an incoming call.

Changmin soured as he saw the caller ID through your eyes and felt, not disdain, but pleasant surprise. He couldn't fathom what you saw in Lee Chan, but he never said anything; you and Chan knew each other longer, after all. It wasn't his place to say anything, especially when his reason revolved around something as subjective as a “vibe.”

“Hi Chan,” you greeted when you accepted the call.

It was funny—a dull, but annoyingly familiar pulsing appeared in Changmin's head. It beat steady against his cranium, hard and relentless. The longer it continued, the more it hurt. Could you feel it, too? The sensation was recognizable at this point after so many instances of the random headaches popping up. Was he seriously getting another stupid headache during a dream?

He winced to himself, but suddenly felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach when he heard you audibly grimace.

Was this headache yours or his? Should he be worried?

“What was that? Are you okay?” asked Chan from the other side.

Changmin/You clenched your jaw as your vision went spotty for a moment. Your hand whipped out to catch yourself against the table.

Panic seized his chest as you muttered out a reassurance, though unconvincing. The invisible string that tied Changmin to you tightened, stealing the breath right out of his lungs. It was as if his own physical body was yanking him back.

He was waking up.

No, he thought, no I need to make sure she's okay—

Distantly, he heard yours and Chan's voices. Your words between one another were muddied and distorted to Changmin. Before he could even begin to understand what was happening, his eyes opened.

“I could smell lunch through the door,” Juyeon sang to you in greeting as he eagerly beckoned you into the apartment.

You chuckled, shucking your shoes off under the rack by the door. In your hand, you held onto a large bag containing a box of delectably fragrant fried chicken and fries. Oh, glorious sodium and cholesterol. “Yeah, well, imagine my suffering as I was driving over here with it in the car,” you mused.

Juyeon locked the door behind you and took the bag out of your hands.

It was another thing to return to the site of last night's ritual. You'd been in this apartment dozens of times before, but it was difficult to look at the specific spot on the living room floor where the chalk and salt had been. Even if the vacuum cleaner had taken care of all that remained, you couldn't help but choose to sit on the end of the couch farthest from that spot on the floor.

“Oh, could I get a glass of water, by the way?” you asked Juyeon as the two of you began taking things out of the bag to lay them out on the coffee table. “I was feeling a bit lightheaded earlier.”

Juyeon's eyebrows creased as he straightened to head into the kitchen. “Shit, yeah—of course. You drove here while feeling like that? What if you passed out, Yn-ie?”

You snuck a fry into your mouth, murmuring your thanks as he handed you the cup of water. “I'm fine,” you insisted with a vague wave of your hand, “it was just the blood rushing up to my head, I think. And besides, you were already expecting me and I was hungry.”

“I would have woken Changmin up and dragged his ass out of bed.” Juyeon settled onto the couch with you and cracked open the can of Sprite he'd gotten out of the fridge. “You know, Changmin's been getting these random headaches, too. I guess not exactly nausea, but you guys have gotta be more careful,” he waved a fried potato at you as he said this.

The irony could not escape you, and you failed to keep a sarcastic smile to yourself. Uh huh. Be more careful, you say? Too late for that. You took a ginger sip of the water. “Is that right? Maybe he just needs more sleep or something.”

“That's what we thought at first,” Juyeon hummed, idly scratching the back of his neck, “but they happen no matter what he does. There's not really a noticeable pattern.”

You wondered if it had anything to do with his demoness. You couldn't be too sure because you hardly knew anything about his species yourself, but that could explain the seemingly randomness of the headaches. Perhaps it was another question to add to your list.

“Huh.” You frowned. “Well, I hope they go away for him soon.”

Juyeon nodded solemnly. “Yeah, same. Hyunjae's gonna bring over some matcha for him to try… oh, hey! You like matcha—do you want some?”

“Sure, I'd love—”

Your phone buzzed violently in your jacket pocket. A laugh of disbelief flew from your mouth when you saw the caller ID, and you flashed the screen at Juyeon. “Speak of the Devil.”

Juyeon chuckled as you answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, I'm so sorry I missed your text.” His voice, rough from sleep, was accompanied by heavy breathing and the sounds of fabric shuffling in your ear.

You nearly choked, but you remembered that Juyeon was none the wiser to the weird spike in your heartbeat, nor the reason for it. “It's all good; I was being impatient. Juyo said you didn't sleep well.” Your eyes darted to his closed bedroom door and wondered why he hadn't come out yet.

“Yeah.” A brief pause. “Are you—are you okay?”

“Of course, I'm okay,” you drawled, glancing over at Juyeon. “Why? Should I not be okay?”

“No, I mean—” His voice in your ear and behind his bedroom door overlapped one another like two ocean waves colliding along the sand. His door ripped open.

Changmin stood on the threshold with his phone in one hand and the other clutching the doorknob. He was in a loose white T-shirt and sweatpants, a thin layer of sweat making his cheekbones shine. His eyes, a wild creature of their own, landed on you—all of the tension in his body melted away.

He exhaled and sank against the doorframe, ending the call. “Hell…” he muttered under his breath as he dragged a hand through his hair.

Concern had you rising to your feet. “What? What's wrong?”

Changmin closed his bedroom door behind him and collapsed onto the couch somewhere between you and Juyeon. “Bad dream,” he grunted. “How much are we splitting?” The latter was asked as he shoved a fry into his mouth and pulled out the Venmo app on his phone.

You and Juyeon exchanged glances over the blond head: what just happened?; you think I know?

Juyeon sent you a shrug. “Well Yn?”

Now their focus was on you. You took your seat again and reached for your glass of water. “Ten bucks each.”

All of the food that you brought turned into crumbs faster than Cinderella's carriage at midnight. Considering all three of you had barely eaten all day, it was expected. At some point, Juyeon dipped out of the apartment to meet someone for a group project, so that left you and Changmin alone. It was the perfect opportunity to get what you came here for.

“You left pretty abruptly last night,” you said to him as you returned to the couch with a full glass of water. Changmin stood nearly opposite to you, his back against the wall by his bedroom door. He also nursed a cup of water. “And I have some questions.”

He let out a small laugh, his lips pressing his dimples into his cheeks. “I'm sure you do. Sorry, I realized that after I left,” he admitted and raised his free hand up to grab the back of his neck. “So shoot.”

It was strange, you thought. There was no way this guy could be a demon, but was that leaning into stereotype? Last night, that feeling you got when he looked at you from beneath the shadow of his cap… your hairs had stood on their ends and you couldn't shake the spike of adrenaline in your bloodstream. It had been undeniable.

But here he was with a pretty, boyish smile as if he was a completely different person.

“What did you mean by 'intercept the call?’ What exactly happened during the ritual last night?” you asked.

The smile slipped from his face a little, and his eyes flitted over to the spot you had been sitting twelve hours ago. “Like I said,” he began, “you opened a line to Hell—like a phone call, basically. I channeled enough energy to answer it before anyone else from Hell could. And instead of, y'know, appearing in front of you like another demon would, I was already there and just chose to stay quiet when the candles went out.”

You straightened. “So the breeze in the room was your doing?”

Changmin cocked his head to the side with a wince. “I think so? At least, I can't control it yet. Think of it as a physical manifestation of power.”

A physical manifestation of power—you imagined last night's scene from Changmin's point of view, where he stood in the far corner. He would have focused his energy toward the breach between the worlds, and that fulfillment swept through the room like a gust of wind. But then what about all the other times? That moment wasn't the only other instance of a cool breeze on your skin.

When you brought this up to him, Changmin pressed his lips together. “Ah. This?”

On cue, something lightweight and cool brushed past your cheek. Your hand darted up to cover it, and you looked over at Changmin who arched a brow at you. “You get creepier and creepier the more I know you.”

His mouth burst at the seams with a smile. He ducked his blond head, shaking it. You were missing some kind of joke here. “Don't speak too soon,” he said. When he raised his head back up, he ran his tongue over his smile. “It happens when I want it to, it happens when I don't want it to. Just depends.”

“Great.”

“I'll get it under control,” he promised.

You leaned forward onto your knees and pressed your mouth into a slight pout. “Is there anything I can do to bug the shit out of you? This seems like it's only entertaining for you.”

“Well,” Changmin shrugged helplessly, “that's kind of the point of why demons started to do this. They find humans entertaining, and they also like to hold them accountable. The line” —he gave a gentle tug at the invisible string you still couldn't find— “is an insurance policy.”

“Saying it like that just implies it's that much harder to work your way around it.”

“Pretty much.” A grin split his face, and you were struck by the ease you smiled back without having meant to. “Don't look too excited now.”

You flattened your face and voice. “I'm thrilled.”

Before Changmin could respond, you suddenly remembered the main question that plagued you last night. You cleared your throat, your fingers dancing around the sides of your glass. “By the way… why didn't you stop us last night?” You watched his facial expression and how it was carefully knitted into something blank. “If you knew what was going to happen, you could have insisted we stopped, and we would have. Why let us get to this point?” you asked, gesturing between the two of you.

Changmin's throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I was pretty confident that I could intercept it, so there wasn't any real risk with doing the ritual if you guys wanted to have fun. I just didn't count on…” He lifted his right hand, where the pinkish scar was left on his index finger.

He hadn't counted on you getting cut and sealing the bond.

You pinched the space between your eyes. “Ah. My clumsiness has now doomed me to be metaphysically handcuffed to you.”

“I wasn't going to say it…”

“Oh, go to Hell.”

Changmin laughed. “Only if you come with me.”

Heat rushed to the surface of your skin. Sometimes, his mouth moved too fast. You snuck a glance at him through your fingers while he sipped on his water. If you peered close enough, the tips of his ears were flushing to a light pink.

He lowered the glass from his lips, and a crease formed between his brows. “Also,” he said carefully, his tone starkly different from less than a minute ago, “I do have another side effect to add to the list.”

Your stomach flipped. Not another thing—

“I may or may not be able to occupy your physical body when I'm dreaming—”

Changmin grimaced as the bottom of your glass banged against the wooden coffee table. That expression only deepened at the wide-eyed fury—fear—on your face. “And when I was asleep earlier,” he continued on, dooming himself to walk the plank, “I kind of intruded on your reading session, and when you called Juyeon, and when Chan call—”

“Can I murder you? Would that harm me in any way?” you cut in.

His mouth was open, but no words were coming out.

You stood, abandoning your seat on the couch and your water glass, to step across the room toward him. “Because if I could,” you said while pressing the back of your knuckles to your lips, “I can rid myself of the absolute creep of a friend I have!”

Changmin's eyes widened as soon as it hit him—your hand. Your hand hit his shoulder.

He bolted.

“Hey, let's talk about this, Yn-ah!” he exclaimed and dove into the kitchen to duck behind the counter. Some monstrously high-pitched scream left his mouth as he scrambled to stay out of your reach.

“We are talking about this, Changmin-ah.” You charged after him, chasing him around the counter and back out of the kitchen. If you didn't respect Juyeon like you did, you would have fully embraced becoming a bull in a china shop.

Your fist hit the solid plane of his bedroom door just as it slammed in your face. You let out a sound suspiciously close to a growl. “You possessed my body without my consent!”

“It's not like I consented to it either! It just happened!”

“That's not a valid excuse, you panini head!”

“I don't want to possess your body!” he insisted through the door with his voice going higher than the Eiffel Tower. “Why would I want to possess your body? I don't wanna be around when you and bestie Lee Chan gush about Star Trek.”

On certain occasions you really wished you had Superman's laser vision. Then you could burn through this stupid piece of door and roast a demon. “You're not helping yourself, Ji.”

A beat passed. “Look,” he huffed. “It only happened because I was exhausted as shit, okay? I really had no control of it, I swear on my life.”

You remained still with your arms braided across your chest without a word coming to mind.

“I didn't see anything sensitive, I promise, and my body woke me up and pulled me out of it when you got that really bad headache.”

Huh? That bout of lightheadedness… was that related to how the connection was severed? Or at least, hindered? You brushed the curiosity aside; weren't you supposed to be mad at this guy?

“Which was also why I was worried when I woke up and asked if you were okay,” he added in earnest. He did look worried like you were going to die when he woke up…

You glared impetuously at the closed door to the point you were sure even the wood grains were two seconds from apologizing to you. “Okay, fine,” you relented. “But you're not fully off the hook; I just won't use the kitchen knives.”

A choking sound filtered through and you felt the corners of your mouth tug upward.

“What can I do to make it even?” Changmin asked, though he continued to remain behind the closed door.

Frankly, there weren't many things he could do to even the score unless you chose to be creepy and sit in on his private moments. You shuddered—you’d rather not. Those were private for a reason. Maybe he could burn his eyes out with bleach. (Kidding… ish.) “I don't know,” you said half-heartedly, ”tell me a secret.”

A moment of silence passed. “I thought it was hot when you asked if you could kill me.”

Not even an ounce of shame with this one, huh? “You're sick. I'm leaving.”

For the second time today, his bedroom door ripped open. “No, wait, I was kidding! Yn, I was kidding.” (He was not kidding).

You stopped, half-whirled around. In your periphery, he stepped out of his room, but refrained from getting too close. When you turned around fully, the red that dusted his cheekbones was unmistakable. Unfortunately, seeing him flustered was enough for you at the moment.

With a feigned, heavy sigh, you motioned to him. “C'mere.”

Changmin perked up like a confused puppy.

“Come here,” you repeated with more urgency this time. You curled your hand toward you to beckon him closer.

He crept closer to you. There was a gleam of uncertainty and suspicion in his eyes as you continued to gesture at him closer… and closer still. Your heart throttled against your ribcage; your physical body was even unsure of what exactly you had in mind.

Only once his face was close enough you could count his eyelashes were you satisfied. You could hear him gulp.

And maybe you let the moment linger too long. His gaze flickered away from your eye contact for a heartbeat, eyelashes fluttering as he considered something out of the bounds of friendship.

You raised your hand up to his forehead and flicked him between his eyes. Hard.

Changmin yelped and fumbled backward to the boisterous sound of your laughter. He rubbed his forehead furiously where an angry, red mark formed and smarted. He snarled at you, “Not cool!” His face was nearly as red as the mark… oops.

“That's what you get!” you countered with an accusing finger. “Now. Promise me you'll never purposely possess my body in your dreams, you perv.”

A grumble came from the depths of his throat—agreement. “I never did it on purpose,” he mumbled, slapping his hand with yours in a binding handshake. He sounded like a teen boy who's gaming console was just taken away.

“And promise me that you will take care of yourself, so that we can get out of this binding thing and so that you don't accidentally possess me.”

“Didn't you offer to get possessed last night?” Changmin stiffened as the words left his lips. “I didn't mean that! Don't get the kitchen knives!”

His giggles pierced the air, sharp but endearing, as he scrambled back into his room with you clinging to his heels. “Or get the kitchen knives—it’s kind of hot.”

“Ji Changmin.”

PART III: THE RELATIVE

WHEN YOU APPEARED IN YOUR 8:30 biopsychology lecture on Monday morning, you had nearly forgotten that the world had not completely turned upside down when you bound your soul to Changmin’s. No one else but you and he knew about it, and it seemed he was determined to keep it that way. Nonetheless, when you settled in your usual seat about midway up the lecture hall, close to the exit on stage right, you looked into Yeh Shuhua’s terrifyingly beautiful eyes and almost blurted your secret.

It was because of that reason, and the fact that she was one of your close friends. She was one of the participants of the ritual; it was only right that you disclosed to her the consequences of all your actions. However, the reminder from Changmin echoed in your head like a dull heartbeat: Don’t tell any of them. Don’t do something stupid like Hyunjae or Shuhua. He realized that ‘stupid’ applied to him, too, right?

“You seem antsy,” were her first words to you as you finally decided on how you would roll up your jacket. It had taken a couple tries and configurations before you settled on just draping it over the chair behind you.

You straightened in your chair. Perhaps subtlety was not with you this morning. “My coffee was too strong,” you said.

She snorted, a bright and unassuming sound, as she pulled her laptop out from her bag. “Honey, you don’t drink coffee.”

…Right. You let the words sink in to properly register your dumbassery, then settled on the most basic excuse known to college students. “It’s too early for this.”

“Amen.” Conversation saved.

When you first signed up for this class, you were under the impression that it would be a riveting insight into the brain and its inner workings. Alas, your professor from Psych101 did you a disservice by testifying to Psych210’s interest factor, because it was entirely lacking in interesting things. The majority of what was being discussed in lecture could be read about via the slides, but unfortunately, participation was mandatory. Even worse was that this class was the prerequisite to the neuroscience class that was actually interesting.

You didn’t like to critique the teaching skills of a professor who was meant to research and not to teach, but you were going to for the umpteenth time.

Beside you, Shuhua barely swallowed a yawn and hid the last bits of it behind the lid of her coffee tumbler. She took a sip, then leaned over to you. “I’m pretty sure I learned all of this in freshman year biology.”

“Is that right,” you murmured. You hadn’t taken the introductory biology series because you were only minoring in psychology, whereas Shuhua was a neuroscience major. “You must really be suffering then.”

Her head slowly touched down onto your shoulder. “Tell me about it… by the way, did you hear about the house party that’s happening on Saturday?”

You hummed. “Who’s hosting?” House parties were usually something you needed to be a part of a friend group to be invited to. Though, that was usually the case for all parties in college, you’d found out. Fraternity parties were oftentimes exclusive to Greeks, or if you knew a frat brother or sorority sister. Other parties were spread by word of mouth and required an entrance fee that amounted to a fraudulent sum of money. Thus, if you went to any party, it was either a house party hosted by a friend of a friend, or one of your friends’ birthday parties.

“Hm… it’s my family friend’s kid’s friend group.” She paused, then clarified her statement, “Yangyang. You know Yangyang, right?

You made a sound of acknowledgement. “Isn't he friends with Xiaojun, Kevin, and Yuqi, that group?”

“That's the one,” she chirped. “But he only lives with Xiaojun and a couple other guys. It's a house in one of the neighborhoods nearby.”

“I see. Are we going?”

“Of course we are, silly.” Shuhua blindly patted one of your hands and you imagined that her eyes were likely already closed. You and your friends were accustomed to forcing one another to socialize outside the group from time to time; it made the college riptide a bit easier to swim through. “I just didn't know if you were aware or not yet.”

“Well, now I am,” you chuckled.

“You sure are.”

The remainder of the lecture went by as dull as it usually did, and 9:30 could not come faster. You and Shuhua bumbled out of the packed auditorium among the crowd of others filing out.

A yawn stretched your mouth open as you checked your phone. “You've got a class after this, right?” you asked Shuhua.

She nodded. “Unfortunately. Do you wanna have lunch together afterward?”

“Ah” —guilt anchored itself to the pit of your stomach, allowing the urge to spill your secret to dwindle— “I'm actually hanging out with Changmin today.” Neither of you had terribly busy Mondays, so you both decided to do some solution-hunting together, whatever that meant. He just needed to be back by the time his dance rehearsal started.

Her mouth quirked to the side in a slight frown. “Oh, okay. Just you two?”

“Yep.”

For a second, you thought she was gazing right into your soul where the invisible knot was tied linking you to your mutual friend. But she suddenly smiled and blew you a kiss. “No worries! Have fun.”

You blinked, the anxiety lingering. “Yeah… thanks. You, too.”

Shuhua left first to hurry off to her next class while you remained in the lobby. You had fully expected that she would at least ask what the two of you were doing, and you were prepared to come up with another dumb excuse. It wasn't suspicious that you and Changmin were hanging out alone, right? There were plenty of instances where you hung out solo with your close friends.

You brushed it away. It was the paranoia talking.

You headed toward the nearest parking lot. Because you lived relatively close to campus, there was usually no need to drive, but since you and Changmin were going elsewhere in the city, you opted to drive.

As you settled into the front seat, you sent him a text to let you know you were on your way over to his apartment. It would be convenient if you could somehow use the soul-bond to communicate with him instead, you thought as you navigated through campus to a nearby neighborhood. Alas, based on what Changmin told you before, the bond was more useful to him than it was for you. How wonderful.

You let your car run as you pulled up to the curb outside of his apartment complex. Through the windows on the first floor, a periwinkle sheen caught your eye. There wasn’t much doubt in your mind that it was the ribbon Changmin tied to his bicycle. It was his favorite color—not that you knew that for any particular reason, other than the fact that you were friends. It was useful information for birthday cards, was your reasoning.

Before you could meander down some weird mental road of thoughts, the passenger side door opened and closed. Your counterpart was dressed in dark green today: dark green sweater, a darker but muted shade of cargo pants, followed by a matching cap shoved over his blond hair. “Hi,” he said, strapping himself in with the seatbelt and setting his bag down by his feet.

He looked particularly pocket-sized today with the cheeky, dimpled smile on his face and you smiled in greeting. “Hi!” you chirped back. “Where to?”

“An aunt of mine lives downtown. Do you know how to get to Union Station?”

You nodded, tugging the car into drive, “Yup. Wow, she lives down by the waterfront?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. When he did, he ducked his head so you only caught a glimpse of that dimpled smile. “She’s married to a siren.”

Your eyes went wide, and his laugh grew louder. You flattened your expression into a deadpan as heat rushed to the back of your neck. “Don’t laugh,” you muttered. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’d say for you to not pout then, but it’s cute,” he replied with that smile lingering on his face in the form of a half-smirk. He had pulled his phone out to text someone. “I’m only laughing because I had a feeling you’d react like that, and I was right.”

You huffed. “I feel like I’m at too much of a disadvantage around you.”

“You have more power than you think.” Changmin passed you a glance and deposited his phone in the cupholder. He leaned his cheek against his knuckles. “You just need to exercise it.”

“Well, I can’t exactly threaten you with kitchen knives and forehead flicks all the time.”

He shrugged. “That’s not what I meant, but it’s whatever. How was class?”

Changmin, Juyeon, and Hyunjae were all aware of yours and Shuhua’s disdain for your shared biopsychology class. The complaints had filed (flooded) in as soon as the first week of classes were over. You could gab on and on about the boredom that plagued you, but you hardly wanted to be a broken record when there were other things to talk about. “It was fine,” you said, then swiftly moved to something else. “I think I almost told Shuhua, like, twice about the soul bond thing. Why can’t we tell them again?”

“Do you really think they’d believe us?”

You thought about it—about the twin cuts on your index fingers, the unseen string that tethered your souls together, the dream that Changmin had. They would think Changmin had roped you into his regular shenanigans, and in a way, he had. You sighed, albeit reluctantly. “True. But it just feels…” you grimaced. “Is it weird that I feel guilty?”

Changmin shook his head. “No, I’ve had to tiptoe around my mom’s and my true nature around you guys for years. It’s natural to wanna be truthful to your friends, Yn, but some things are better left unsaid.”

“Is there a reason why the supernatural community stays hidden? Is that something I can ask?”

“Of course,” he said easily, turning his gaze out the window. “It’s just that it’s better—safer—for us this way. Humans can hardly handle differences amongst themselves as it is; imagine what would happen if they found that even more species of sentient beings existed, y’know?”

Truth was a difficult pill to swallow. It was a capsule that often found itself lodged in a throat rather than being digested. And even if it eventually managed to make it to the stomach, it sank to the bottom like a body anchored by bricks in a river. There was, unfortunately, much merit to what Changmin said.

Your eyes flickered to your side mirrors as you merged onto the highway. “I see.”

“It’s definitely relieving that at least one of my close friends knows the truth now, though.” He knocked the back of his hand against your arm in a warm gesture, and although you were unable to return the expression or even look at him then, he was looking at you.

Because you and Changmin set off just after rush hour passed, the drive through the downtown scene was relatively easy. The rest of your time in the car was spent chatting about the party Yangyang and his housemates were throwing, as well as Changmin directing you to his aunt’s residence by the marina. His ability to give directions left much to be desired; your car was filled with shouts and bickering whenever he told you to turn too late.

Somehow though, you arrived at the right street, and he even helped you find a parking spot along a curb that didn’t involve ungodly hourly parking rates. You wouldn’t call it a complete redemption, but he was on his way toward one.

“Are you sure it’s cool if we just show up unannounced like this?” you asked him, tilting your head back to peer up at the apartments that towered above you. Some of the windows were left open and their curtains drifted whimsically in the mid-morning breeze; some of the fire escapes were connected by copper-colored ladders, fitting together like a puzzle. You liked to think that complexes like this housed residents who were friendly to one another like some fantasy video game—a pair of friends hanging out of their windows to gossip across the fire escapes, a cat sleeping in the window—that sort of thing.

Changmin stood next to you, but his gaze was turned out to the marina in the distance, the sails of boats in the foreground of the slate blue-gray of the bay water. “Yeah, it’s cool. And we’re not exactly unannounced; I told her we were coming.”

“When?” You followed him in through the front door. The hinges squealed upon use and the door shuddered violently when it closed.

“In the car.”

You deadpanned at his back as you followed him up the stairs. “You’re an awful relative.”

“Don’t all relatives show up to their other relatives' homes unannounced?” he jested. “I’m a model nephew, actually.”

“A model in what standard? Hell?”

He shrugged up ahead, glancing back to pass you a boyish grin. “Yeah, basically. My mom says demons just kind of teleport into their relatives’ homes unannounced.”

“So that’s where your incredible lack of boundaries comes from,” you said and glowered up at him.

You met Changmin on the landing of the second floor and ducked out of the stairwell into the dimly-lit corridor. It was quiet here in the middle of the day, but you could hear the muffled sounds of television programs and voices emanating behind different doors you passed by. The carpet was well-trodden and didn’t kick dust up when you walked, and the overall smell was vaguely fishy and reminiscent of the seafood section of a supermarket.

“Cultural difference,” he replied cheekily. “This is hers, Aunt Jenna’s.” He gestured to the door he stood at with a rusted, gold B29 hanging on its surface just above the peephole.

You tucked your hands into your jacket pockets. “Anything I should know before going in?”

Changmin paused and his face flashed with realization. It translated roughly, but accurately enough, to ‘Uh oh.’ He opened his mouth to say something, but the door beat him to it.

Correction: his aunt beat him to it. Or at least, she was who you assumed was his aunt. Her facial features and bone structure weren't similar to Changmin’s at all, but those eyes—dark like the deepest corner of a shadow; engulfing, embracing, enveloping—her eyes were what made familiarity pang in your chest where the soul-knot sat.

Her mouth stretched into a bright smile. “Changmin-ah! And his significant other, isn’t it—or kids these days say partner instead, hm? Don’t be strangers now; come in, come in!”

What did she just say? You have got to be kidding me.

Too overwhelmed to think, you let his aunt usher you and Changmin in through her front door. You threw—chucked—an alarmed glance over at your counterpart, who could only meet your wide eyes with his own. Shoes were exchanged for slippers, and you were guided toward a couch settled in one part of the cozy living space.

“It’s nice to meet you, Aunt Jenna,” you finally managed to say through the heat flaring up your neck and behind your ears. “But I do have to, uhm, correct you.”

Changmin coughed beside you on the couch as his aunt perched on the coffee table across from you both. “She’s not my romantic partner, auntie. Yn’s just a friend.”

You nodded earnestly.

His aunt’s face flickered from that sunny smile to a more somber surprise. She broke into a sheepish sort of laugh, absentmindedly brushing a lock of hair behind her shoulder. “Oh, well how silly of me. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—I got embarrassingly excited,” she confessed. She addressed Changmin specifically, reaching over to whack his knee, “You used the word for lover when you texted me earlier!”

Changmin’s hands rocketed up as both you and his aunt fixed him with pointed looks. “It was a typo and an honest mistake,” he swore. “I haven’t spoken or written in that demonic dialect in awhile,” he said to you, “and the words for friend and lover are, like, one letter different.”

His mouth had pursed into an unconscious pout, and you reached over to flick him between the eyes. Bone against fingernail, and the dense thunk sound the impact produced was quite satisfying.

“Ow! I'm sorry!”

You turned to a rather amused Aunt Jenna. “I'm sorry I did that in front of you. I swear, I won't make a habit out of it.” That remained to be seen, however. How had you refrained from flicking him for his behavior before this?

She chuckled. “I'm sure he's warranted it more than once. It's nice to meet you, Yn.”

“Likewise. You have a lovely home.”

Changmin held his forehead with his hat now sitting in his lap, and his eyes narrowed at the two of you. “This was the worst idea I've ever had.”

“Do you drink tea, Yn?” his aunt asked you, waving aside her nephew's comment. “I'll make us some tea and we can talk about whatever you both came to discuss.”

Tea was served on an elegant tray made of polished dark wood. The color was a deep red, as if it had been dipped in a vat of blood, and was engraved with images of what you assumed to be flowers with long stems crowned with big, beautiful petals. You nursed a Finding Nemo mug between your palms, gently blowing on the steam that wafted out of the aromatic floral tea.

Just the fragrance of the drink was enough to put you at ease. The muscles and knots in your shoulders loosened, your frown lines smoothed over. You took a gentle sip and savored the tangible warmth that streamed down your throat and into your stomach.

You nodded to Aunt Jenna who's dark eyes gleamed knowingly over the rim of her mug. “That's very good,” you said.

“Isn't it? Would you like to take some home?”

Changmin harrumphed from beside you after taking a hulking gulp of his own drink. “Guys, please.”

“Mm yes, yes.” Aunt Jenna waved her free hand flippantly. “Your problem.”

While Jenna had prepared the tea, you and Changmin explained to her how your souls became tied together. Most of the explanation consisted of specific details of the ritual itself, not the circumstances before. You described the physical sensations on your end, and Changmin added in his out-of-body experience.

When your piece was said, it left Aunt Jenna to marinate on all the facts. She took a sip of her drink first. “Well, you're both fools, but you” —she wiggled an accusing finger at her nephew— “especially. How could you be so irresponsible as to let your friends go through with a bargaining ritual?”

Changmin grabbed the back of his neck and hung his head like a kicked puppy. “It didn't seem like the end of the world if they wanted to have fun.”

“I suppose,” Jenna muttered, but not without some sympathy. She was a demon living amongst humans, too, after all. “But look where that's gotten you both. There are just far too many unforeseen variables that could have made this situation ten times worse. You and Yn becoming soul-bound is probably the best outcome, frankly.”

You would beg to differ, but you kept your lips stitched together and attached to the rim of your mug.

“But as for undoing it, I'm afraid there aren't many options.”

You detached your mouth from the mug.

You and Changmin exchanged a glance with one another. He asked, “What are our options?”

Aunt Jenna's mouth pursed slightly to form small divots in the sides of her cheeks. “The one most accessible to you is to bargain with another, more powerful demon to take over your bond with Yn.”

“Absolutely not,” he interjected. “That's out of the question.”

“I guessed as much,” she said, taking another sip. “Then it's quite literally impossible—unless you used cursed magic—but even if you didn't care about facing the hellish consequences, gaining access to a Book of the Diabolical is insanely difficult.”

Though you were completely ignorant to almost everything Aunt Jenna was saying, you weren't so ignorant to her message between the lines: you were fucked. Supremely.

Looking over at Changmin only confirmed what you were thinking. There seemed to be a war being waged behind his eyes as he clutched his mug in his lap and glared at a grain in the hardwood floor. This situation was partially your fault and his, and now, the only thing you could do was to drown in the consequences.

You turned to his aunt. “Then how can we live with it?” In your periphery, Changmin's head raised. “I mean, are there techniques to better control this situation, like on both Changmin's end and my end if we can't simply rid ourselves of it?”

Aunt Jenna considered you for a moment, then nodded slowly. “There are,” she said. “Control is something very valuable to demons, Yn. I don't know how much Changmin's told you—”

You sent him a thin smile.

“—but mastering your own body is one of the most integral things young demons first learn. If you don't have control over your mind and body, then how could you possibly be trusted to control anything else?”

That made sense, you thought. It was a thoughtful principle, too, that others (humans) could learn from. What other parts of demon culture and values were there that these two would be willing to share with you?

Jenna had finished her cup of tea by now and set her empty mug back onto the tray. “So the easiest way, I think, to safeguard yourselves against one another is to strengthen your minds.”

What exactly Aunt Jenna had in mind was meditation. Because you were human and couldn't exactly perform the same demonic energy rituals and mind exercises that Jenna and Changmin could, meditation was the next best group activity. In order to do this, Jenna shut all of the curtains and sealed the living room off from the outside world. The coffee table and sofa were shoved to the edges of the room, while the empty space was occupied by three bath towels and a Bath and Body Works candle.

It was reminiscent of the ritual from That Night, but your heart rate sat a little more stable with the belief that you were in capable hands this time.

The three of you arranged yourselves in a loose triangle around the lit candle, its small flame shuddering at the force of your breaths.

“You can place your hands wherever you're most comfortable,” Aunt Jenna said lowly, softly—a vocal embodiment of the small head of fire upon the candle. “Sit up straight, close your eyes, and breathe in deep… let the darkness envelope you.”

There weren't many moments when you considered yourself petty, salty, or bitter. But at this very moment, you were most certainly all three at once.

“Are you really still mad that you fell asleep?” The question was posed with as much audacity as there was incredulity in his voice.

You didn't have to direct your glaring eyes at Changmin for him to feel the edge. “It was embarrassing,” you grumbled.

“Aw, it's okay. Not everyone has the mental fortitude to meditate.”

And you do? you wanted to snap back like a five year old. Instead, you tightened your grip on the steering wheel and focused on not steering the two of you off the road. “I will literally ditch you on the highway.”

He leaned his head against the window to watch you with a twinkle in his eyes and a toothy grin on his lips. “And I will literally haunt you in your sleep.”

The pair of you were in the car driving back up to the university. You had just left Aunt Jenna's about fifteen minutes ago after the failed meditation session (for you) and her insisting you both stayed for lunch. With your stomachs full and your heads quite literally empty, there was nothing left to do but to return home.

There had been a moment before you both left when Jenna pulled Changmin aside to have a private conversation. You had lingered outside the apartment door, but couldn't hear anything despite it being left slightly ajar. There must have been some crazy soundproofing done on her apartment. A charm, perhaps?

But when Changmin came to join you, you picked up the tail end of their talk. It had to do with Changmin pleading with her not to tell his mom about what happened; Aunt Jenna would only agree if he promised to babysit her kids next week.

That thought made you smile to yourself even through the cloud of salty pettiness in your vision. What was Changmin like around kids? The guy was rather childish himself, but… you wouldn't deny that he would probably be good—

“What are you smiling about?” he mused as he peered out from under the brim of his cap. He reclined his seat back a little and crossed his arms over his chest, settling himself in for the ride back.

You scoffed and forced the smile away. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He hummed. “Methinks it was about me,” he teased and tugged his cap further over his eyes so even his mouth was barely visible. At your silence, he murmured, “Also, I hope you're not bothered about earlier.”

“Hm?”

“I mean—the fact that you weren't able to meditate. And,” he added quickly, “I'm not trying to make fun of you. It's just that that was the only way Aunt Jenna could think that you could safeguard yourself against me. I'm gonna be really good about this, Yn, I swear. I don't—y’know, I don't want anything to change between us.”

Ah. Well, since his hat was over his eyes, you allowed your smile to slip back into place. The weight in your chest was warm, a comforting sort of tightness. You were gradually getting more accustomed to its presence, and at this particular moment, you were glad to be aware of it.

“I believe you,” you said to him. “And I don't want anything to change between us either.” You were friends before the ritual, and you would continue to be friends after it.

You were content with being accompanied by your thoughts and the radio for the remainder of the ride. Your companion in the passenger seat had drifted to sleep at some point when the highways began to grow rather congested with the early afternoon traffic. Changmin had a dance rehearsal in a couple hours, which gave some leeway as to what time you needed to get him back by.

By the time you hit the university district, the sun perched lower in a sky spotted with cirrus clouds, wispy and drifting in the autumn breeze. The filter it cast over the world was a mute gold, warm.

Changmin peered out his side window as you navigated through the busy streets, his face nearly pressed up against the glass because his cap was turned around. There was far too much foot traffic at three in the afternoon, but it was unfortunately a popular time to be out and about for students on a Monday. “Could you drop me off at the sandwich shop on the corner over there?” he asked suddenly, his voice gravelly from disuse. He inclined his chin further down the block, and you had enough time to switch lanes.

“Yeah, sure,” you murmured, glancing over at him. “You don’t want me to drop you off straight at the dance hall?”

“Nah, I’ve got a couple hours, so I think I’m gonna get another bite to eat first.” He rummaged around in the bag at his feet, double checking that he had brought along everything he needed. “D’you wanna…” His voice trailed off as he turned his head up toward you.

You hummed in question and furrowed your brows in concentration to direct your car into a parking spot along the curb.

“Did you wanna come in with me? I don’t know what your plans are after this.” Changmin had one foot out the door, but the rest of his body remained here with you, in the car, as if hesitant to leave just yet. With the brim of his cap turned around, you could better see his face, the hair pushed out of his dark eyes. There was a small smile seated upon his lips, hopeful in the way it curved into his cheeks in the way you always found slightly endearing.

Your hand lingered by your seatbelt. What were your plans after this? Nothing, right? “I mean, if you don—”

“Yn, is that you?”

The voice and the interruption elicited similar jolts from both of you. Your head whipped around on instinct to locate the person who had called out to you.

Crossing the street to you now was Lee Chan. He had his backpack slung over his shoulder, and he waved a hand at you when he caught your eye. But they flickered away from you to someone behind you—Changmin straightened to his full height, his head appearing over the roof of the car.

You glanced back at your counterpart. That smile, so boyish and innocent, had grown an edge.

“Thanks for the ride, Yn,” Changmin said to you, ducking his head to address you. He reached into the car so he could clasp your hand, his fingers clutching yours as he stole your gaze away… they lingered. “I’ll talk to you later, hm?”

You nodded, unsure why you were so dumbfounded. “Yeah, sure,” you stammered out. “I had fun today.”

“Same.” And there was that smile again. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it had softened out at the corners. With a final raise of his hand, he shut your passenger door and jogged off toward the shop.

You blinked as air suddenly filled your lungs again. Had you been holding your breath the whole time? You forgot to wish him a good rehearsal.

A knock on your window had you swiveling your head around. Chan grinned as you rolled your window down. “Hey, what’ve you been up to?”

Not a mention of Changmin, you noted. You were aware of Changmin and Chan’s dislike for one another, and though it caused you a torrent of internal conflict, there was nothing that you could do about it. If they were unwilling to talk about it with each other or with you, then there was no use. Both of them were important figures in your life, so it was just as important that you could keep them both—was that selfish? It seemed that they were able to somewhat coexist, however, if they participated on the same dance team. How did that even work out?

“I was out with Changmin for most of the day,” you said. “We were just… y’know, visiting a relative of his downtown.” There was no harm in saying that, right?

Chan’s expression didn’t even shudder. “Oh? I didn’t know he had relatives downtown.”

Of course, you didn’t. You appreciated that he tried to be civil about Changmin around you, but sometimes the pretense was more aggravating than the petty disdain. “Yeah, they were really nice. We drank tea and chatted a bit.”

“Glad it was a chill time,” he smiled. “Ah, speaking of—I was wondering if you wanted to go visit Chaeyoung noona with me sometime this week? I've been trying to figure out the best time to go see her before midterms.”

You brightened at the mention of Chan's older sister. Though his parents had passed away before Chan graduated high school, he was supported mostly by his older sister, Chaeyoung. You'd heard and seen for yourself the chronic illness that she was cursed with, however. There had been a decent stretch in time when her situation looked much better, but recently, she had been forced back into long-term care at the hospital.

“Yeah, definitely! It'll be nice to see her after so long. Just text me and let me know what day you decide.” The last time you saw Chaeyoung was probably at the start of the past summer break when you went home to see your parents with Chan. Though you and Chan were around the same age, he acted more as an older brother figure to you, likely because of Chaeyoung's good influence.

The golden hour sun glinted its rays into your eyes, and you were reminded of the time. “Oh, don’t you have dance practice soon? Need a ride over?”

“Yeah, I do, but I don’t need a ride,” he said. “I was about to meet Vernon in the cafe down the street though. Do you wanna come with?”

The idea of accepting his invitation crossed your mind, but the ache in your legs and at the nape of your neck were suddenly a lot more prominent than before. You hadn’t even realized how tired you were. “Not this time; I think I'm a little tired. Thanks for the invite, though!”

He pressed his mouth together in slight disappointment, but waved it away with a casual hand motion. “Of course. Drive home safe, then.”

“I will. Have a good time, Chan.”

Chan returned the sentiment back to you, but instead of leaving right away, his lips parted another time. He paused, concern gleaming in his eyes—or was that the setting sun? You couldn’t tell the difference, but there was something he couldn’t quite articulate with words that his facial expression was desperate to reveal to you instead.

You frowned. “Something wrong?”

He let out a small laugh and brushed away the thought. “No, don’t worry about it.”

Are you aware that you've been cursed?

Aunt Jenna's words echoed in Changmin's head ceaselessly throughout the dance rehearsal. They had been subdued slightly when he was asleep in your car earlier, but consciousness tended to surface more nightmares than the unconscious state. Even in the bright light of day, those shadows found a way to creep in and force him into some horrific tunnel vision.

No, he wasn't aware that he'd been cursed. How could he?

Out of everything he thought she pulled him aside for, that was the last thing he expected. The look in her eyes—those dark irises that mirrored his in depth—had been stricken by a grave worry. Those all-knowing eyes, far surpassing his in experience, had taken one look at him coming in through the door and determined something horrible had happened.

A curse?

You haven't been feeling strange lately? She had grasped him by the shoulders, her hands firm in their iron grip. Any strange aches and pains?

The headaches. He told her about the random, spotty headaches that had been plaguing him recently. It hadn't occurred to him at all that they could even be a side effect for a curse.

I've heard some strange things have been going on to the demons in your area. The curse has subsided for now because of your half-humanness, but…

Changmin could fill in the blanks.

His appeal to Aunt Jenna about not telling his mom about any of this included both the soul-bond and the curse. Based on what his aunt told him, there have been demons in this area who have been forced into critical conditions by an energy-stealing curse. That would explain his frequent headaches and his increased exhaustion. Though, the headaches had been on the decline as of late, which coincided with the other part of Jenna's warning.

He was at odds. He couldn't simply sit around and wait for whatever maniac was at large to suddenly stop. He and all the other demons around him were sitting ducks. Worrying about the soul-bond was one thing, but he supposed this now took priority.

Changmin hunched over his bag in one of the darkened corners of the practice room. The lights had been turned down slightly as their four reserved hours drew to a close. It was a hard night, but the sweat, heat, and adrenaline was a delightfully addicting mixture.

Absent-mindedly, he rubbed a palm over his chest. The invisible knot there that linked you to him tightened at the attention. He had made a habit of this over the course of the past few hours; the physical sensation of the string tugging grounded him and kept him from disappearing into his head too much.

Could you feel him on the other end? He was certain you could if he made it obvious. If he tugged just right—

“Ji. I need to talk to you.”

The only sign of surprise Changmin let Lee Chan see was the raising of his eyebrows. “I don't need to talk to you.”

“It's about Yn.”

Changmin's movements froze. He let go of his bag's strap and zippers with a sigh, then straightened up to meet Chan eye to eye. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What about Yn?” You were his problem now, whether you liked it or not.

Chan's eyes narrowed at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I don't know what you think you're doing with her, but you need to stop. It was enough that she's friends with you—”

He couldn't help but scoff. What the fuck is he going on about? Changmin's mouth twisted into an incredulous smirk, the points of his canines peering out from under his lip as he jabbed his tongue into his cheek. “I was wondering when you'd finally drop the Nice Guy act.”

“This isn't about me putting up a front,” Chan quipped in hushed tones. He wouldn't have done so if he wanted to make a scene. “This isn't even about us not liking each other. My problem is that you're roping Yn into your—your fucking bullshit.”

Changmin furrowed his brows. “You're being vague and dramatic, Lee Chan. I really don't have the time or the patience for this.”

“I know who you really are, Ji.” In any other context, those words in that order would have made Changmin bark out a laugh.

Changmin shuddered as he sized up Lee Chan in a different light. It was almost funny how perspective could change everything. In the daylight and bright fluorescents, Chan was a model kid with a charming smile and unshakeable charisma. He cared about you and watched over you like a brother. But without the presence of light was when Changmin was most afraid of what he saw. It was not because he was afraid of the dark—the shadows, frankly, were a demon's ally—it was because the dark did something to Chan in the same way blood infested clear water.

Chan's mouth was set in a firm line, and nothing about his facial expression or stance gave even an inkling that he was bluffing.

“I still have no fucking clue what you're talking about,” Changmin replied lowly, scooping his bag up and brushing past Chan.

He went to find Juyeon. The organ in his chest pumped his blood wickedly fast through his system; the blood thundered in his ears, loud and deafening, like an oncoming train. Aunt Jenna was in his head, you were in his chest, Lee Chan was at his back.

Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom—

He and Juyeon were out the door in a flash, but Changmin glanced backward—because we always turned toward that which was capable of our demise; that was survival instinct—and he flinched when Chan's eyes caught his again.

Changmin let the door slam behind him as he stole into the cold night. If only the darkness could hide him from whatever just happened.

read part two here (if the link isn't there yet, refresh out of this page and it'll be linked at the top)

permanent taglist 1: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu / fic taglist: @tbzhubrecs

[lady-of-endless]

Risotto Nero romantic headcanons (sfw+nsfw)

Author's Note: Sorry for being an old-school romantic and writing headcanons like these, don't come at me. I wanted to take my time with Risotto as he is so complex. I really hope that those are not too far-fetched. I hope you'll enjoy it! The lovely gif is not mine, I'm thanking the owners for it.

P.S. Prosciutto will be next. I just have to calm down from the feels I have for the husband, I mean Prosciutto.

SFW

- The most beneficial context for your relationship is for it to start off as a partnership, a team. This way, you go through many critical and dramatic experiences together and that will only bring you closer and strengthen your connection. Even after confessing, this dynamic remains, you are still a team, watching for each other.

- Everything about him indicates a slow burn. From obtaining his trust first and then his heart. Even after those two are won, he's still reluctant to the new dynamic. He will never deny those feelings even if he thinks that someone in his position should. Risotto is not just rationally intelligent but also emotionally intelligent so he knows that such desires of the heart cannot be stopped. He doesn't deny the feelings but he suppresses them. He knows how complex those emotions are and that's the problem, it complicates everything around him and you. But little by little, he starts giving in and surrendering to his love.

- At first, he analyzed you only from a strategic point of view (regarding your abilities and how you can work with his team) and in time, it escalated into a deeper and more emotional point of view. Because of this and because Risotto values other opinions and perspectives from his teammates, he seeks advice. No, he won't ask directly but he'll be more attentive when the others talk about you. However, the only one who Risotto might ask for an opinion is Prosciutto because he shares some morals and principles with him. Surprisingly, Prosciutto will put his rational arguments aside a little bit because more than the respect and admiration he holds for Risotto, he wants him to experience this sort of happiness.

- Risotto will not know how to react when receiving your affection, at first. There are many thoughts and morals that don't let him receive affection right. Many of those thoughts are regarding his line of work. He has made peace with the fact that he's not a good man, that he doesn't deserve good things. He's okay with it now, he did what he had to do.

- His preferred love language is acts of service. He's used to doing things for others (but even so he doesn't see how selfless he is) so acts of service are his way to show his feelings. He would do anything for his close ones so for you, his loved one, he would die for you, kill for you, protect you, anything, you name it. Plus, Risotto is always very observant and because his interest is your well-being, he pays extra attention to your needs. About receiving, it can be anything. Again, he doesn't see himself worthy of love.

- He rarely smiles so when you finally catch a glimpse of this rare occasion and compliment him, Risotto is lost. Any sort of comment like this will have him feel things he never felt before, in a good way. As a result, he starts smiling softly more at you in privacy.

- If you get severely injured on a mission, he still keeps his composure in your presence while helping you, patching you up, and even trying to heal you with Metallica. He's serious while doing it but it will be the only time in which his hands start trembling. After helping you, while you rest, he's still there watching over you fully neglecting his need for rest. As you sleep and he looks at your injuries, that's when his composure breaks. The guilt he's feeling is heavy in his heart, thinking how this way of life is not what you deserve and it's his fault.

- He's capable of many things, he's also a strategist but that doesn't mean that he doesn't have moments in which it all gets too much to process. That's where you come to the rescue. He doesn't want to pass his difficulties to you so it will take a lot for him to let himself tell you what's wrong.

- Secrecy and subtility are a must. But he'll get you (he'll make it), a dainty and thin silver bracelet with a charm that resembles some sort of blade. Whenever he's thinking of you and wants to let you know it, you'll feel that bracelet move a bit from his magnetism, as a reminder.

- As subtle as he thought he was, in time, every member of La Squadra will know what his feelings are towards you. Melone was the first to notice the way Risotto looked at you. Since his discovery, Melone couldn't keep it for himself and since then, they all started behaving suspiciously. They smirk every time you talk to Risotto about missions and other formal details, they try to let the two of you alone more, and so on.

NSFW

- Contrary to popular belief, he's not rough (not every time at least) or freaky behind closed doors. His usual and favorite approach is slow and deep. He likes to take his time with it as he sees sex as not just a way to get pleasure but a moment of deepening the connection you have already.

- He never wants to use sex as an outlet for his pent-up frustrations and stress but if you give him the green light, he might give into it when things get too much to bear. But he still holds back a little bit, worried about how rough he can easily get. If you're into this rough approach as well and it's noticeable, he'll feel less guilty but still careful.

- He can go on with the foreplay for hours. Risotto likes to feel the tension build. Enjoying the reactions and the growing desire gives him the most pleasure, more than the act itself. Because of this, he might sometimes slip into trying orgasm denial with you.

- At first, he doesn't see the point of experimenting with kinks because he's so touch-starved. He only needs you. However, gradually he will start asking you for consent about some ideas he has. Watch out for your hands. If you get them close to the metal bars of the bed, your wrists will get caught in metal bindings in the blink of an eye.

- Quiet in the beginning but soon you'll see him losing his composure and start grunting and growling close to your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Not only that but you'll hear sweet words of affirmation, unheard before as he gets lost in the feeling of you.

- Aftercare is obligatory. It always gets intense, sometimes even rough, and he's aware of his size too so calming you down and taking care of you is both a way of showing his gratitude and also a duty (don't get this one wrong, he sees the act of aftercare as important as the rest of his duties, that's it). The aftercare always ends with him holding your hand and kissing it as another silent expression of his gratefulness and adoration for you. It's his unbreakable habit.

- He has to admit, he likes to mark you. Not in a possessive way, that's why those marks will only be on parts that are not usually visible. But because he loves the image and concept of your skin reacting to his affection. You can leave marks on him as long as they're not visible, again, it's about secrecy and subtility. He might feel a bit proud, just a bit, when he looks in the mirror at the scratches you left on his back.

- Doesn't get bored of being on top. After all of that slow burn and build-up of your deep connection, of course, he wants to look into your eyes when you both let yourselves be engulfed in the pleasure. Might even get a little mischievous with it when he's in a good mood. "If you look away, I'll stop."

The only situations in which you are the one on top are when you simply ask for it or when you tell him you want to help him relax. Hearing those words coming from you while you start touching him with care and warmth is going to be the death of him.

- Not a fan of quickies. He needs the whole thing. As mentioned before, he needs to feel the tension built and loves taking his time with it. But also, above all, he wants to treat you right so a quickie will never be enough for this.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 1

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 1

Word Count: 4145

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Special Warning 2 : I advise reading the introductory chapters first, as they give a sense of the story, introduce characters and locations and, this chapter starts off immediately after the Sanji chapter. Your first interaction with Law is in those chapters! If you don't want to read the other characters, I recommend reading, at least, Law's Chapter since it's their first interaction!

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: First chapter of Law's story! I'm already writting chapter 4 so I think it's safe to start posting this. I'll try to update regularly, but life usualy kicks my butt so I'm aiming for one chapter per week (though this can change!) Also, this story is more sugestive than Ace's was, since reader has slight kinks (described in tags) that will influence the story. Read the tags, people, they're important! I guess this is it. Have fun!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

|Chapter 2|

The ride home is uneventful. You have come out empty-handed from your job hunt and, as your car drives by the clinic, you remember that there is still a very serious conversation to be had with your father about his surgery. He has to have the surgery as it will improve his lifestyle. 

Shanks is eating chips straight from the bag as he screams something at the players of a football game on the TV when you arrive. That is all fine. Except his posture, however, makes your eyes twitch. He's completely hunched over, and every time something exciting happens in the game, he jumps, throwing his back as if he doesn't have an injury on it. 

You bang the front door especially hard just to get his attention - he hates when you do that - but he simply yells an angry ‘careful, bug!’ without tearing his eyes from the television. Sighing, you enter the living room and place your body in front of the TV. 

“Hey! My game!” He yells, hands in the air and another jolt to his back. 

“Dad! Your back! You want to throw it out again?” You cross your arms in defiance, moving your body as he moves his head, blocking his view even as he tries to see behind you. 

“Bug, I'm being careful.” He whines, clearly more interested in what’s going on behind you. 

“I'm going to set up an appointment with Dr. Law. We are going to schedule the intervention and you are going to get surgery. But first, you will speak with him and get all your fears and worries out of the way. He seems very competent. You're in great hands. Do you agree?” Stomping your foot down, you raise your eyebrow at him. 

“Can I have some time to think about-...”

“Not if you want to see the game!”

Shanks grunts and falls against the back of the couch. 

“And don't make those sudden movements! You'll throw your back out!”

“Fineeeee!” He drags the ‘e’ so much that he sounds like an exasperated child. “Schedule the appointment.” A heavy sigh parts his lips. “Now get out of the way, bug.” You remain stoic, eyebrows raised even higher now. “Please?” He begs as he sits very straight on the couch. 

At that you nod in satisfaction, turning to leave the room and already dialling the clinic’s number to schedule an appointment at Law's earliest convenience. 

-*-

Unfortunately Law's schedule is not the same as your father’s, and there will be about a week where their schedules conflict. So, after speaking with your father and assessing his fears and worries, you decide to go alone to this appointment and see where it gets you. 

Does it seem silly that you are looking for the cutest dress to wear to the appointment? Maybe. But Law is freaking eye candy. How can you not want to look good and maybe catch his eye? And the only other thing he saw you in was torn clothes, so this time you want to be presentable. 

Besides, you can't stop thinking about those tattoos… Just how many does he have? How far down do they go? 

Sighing you deem yourself ready. Your father is with his neighbour and friend Benn Beckman, helping him around his property, so you pray your car works, pat it nicely, like your father told you to, and off you go.

Once you enter the clinic, Kaya is ready for you with a wide smile. You can't help but smile back at her, even though you know she is going to tease you about Law. 

“Good morning, Kaya. How are you today?”

She sing-songs your name as she pulls your father's file from the archive on the computer. “I'm doing very well, thank you. Just getting ready for another chapter of my novel!”

You arch an eyebrow, an intrigued smile on your lips. “Oh? What are you reading?”

Kaya giggles with a hand covering her mouth. “A romantic novel about a young doctor who falls in love at first sight with a patient's daughter. It takes her a bit longer to realise he's the love of her life, but she's getting there.”

The unamused look on your face only makes her giggle more. “That's not funny, Kaya.”

“It is to me! I have a bet going on with Shachi and Penguin. It's about you two, but I'm not going to tell you what it is. I have a lot of money riding on this thing, Usopp would kill me.”

As she fills you in about who Usopp is, and you lean on the counter, engrossed in your conversation, you don't sense someone approaching. 

“Nurse Kaya, you are paid to do your job. That does not include idle chitter-chatter with patients. I was calling you so you could let Mr. S. in.” He says your name and his low voice makes it sound like the most beautiful word in the world. “Good morning. I hope you're feeling well.”

“I-... Hmm, hmm!” You cringe internally and hiss through your pursed lips. A college graduation and a master's degree and this is the best you can do? Shit. 

Spying the hint of that sexy smirk he showed you last time, he glances around the waiting room. “No Mr. S.?”

With a heavy sigh you shake your head. “He ‘couldn’t make it’.” You emphasise with an eye roll and air quotes. “But I want to ask some questions to assuage his fears, if that’s alright with you?”

Nodding, he gestures towards his office. “Follow me.”

Your feet immediately follow him without contest. There's just something in the assuredness of his voice that makes you want to do as he says. Not to mention that now every time you do something he asks you to, all you can hear in the back of your head is that slurred, low-vibrato ‘good girl’. And damn it, just thinking about it sends shivers down your spine. 

After entering his office, he follows you, closing the door behind him and sitting across from you, his hands resting against his chin with his fingers entwined. 

The combination of his piercing amber gaze and the hand tattoos is making your heart race and you're glad you're not hooked up to any monitor now. 

“How have you been feeling?” He uses your name again and you gulp, actually thinking before uttering your response so you can articulate a clever answer this time, or an actual answer. 

“Perfectly fine. I'm in good health, Doc. Physically at least because if you could peek at my ebooks or listen to my audiobooks, you would say I'm unhinged!” You snort before regaining composure and cursing internally because that was way more information than necessary. “Fine, I'm fine!” You add with an eye roll. 

What is it with this man and his ability to render your brain into mush? 

“That's good.” You almost have to stifle a whimper. “And how's your father?”

This is a safe topic, so you feel more relaxed as you lean back and cross your legs, forgetting for a moment that you’re wearing a tiny summer dress. 

“His back has been fine, his habits, not so much. I fear he might come back sooner rather than later. And he's so afraid of the surgery that just speaking about it sends him bolting out of the room like lightning. I swear-...”

You stop talking as you notice that Law's hands have risen from his chin and are now covering half of his face leaving only his amber gaze - which is fixed on your bare thighs - and the slightest hint of pink on his cheeks. 

Shit. 

You just gave the doctor a peep show. 

Blushing, you uncross your legs and tuck them neatly to the side, like the old etiquette books demand, resting your hands on your lap as Law realises he was staring. 

Though he seems unfazed. “Well that aligns with what we've seen since discovering the hernia. Mr S. completely ignores caution when moving around and doesn't want to hear anything related to surgery.” He sighs and you tilt your head. So he was paying attention, not just staring at your nearly exposed thighs. 

You reach into your purse and take out your notebook with a sigh. “He has questions. I did some research too, so I jotted down a few more. If he won’t come here, then I need to be reliable enough to give him the right information. I’ve divided the questions by theme and organised them from the most common to the really crazy ones my father came up with and-... what?” You ask, annoyed at the amused look he’s giving you. “Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckles softly as he leans back in his chair. His piercing gaze should be unsettling, but instead, it makes your heart race and leaves you breathless. 

“It's not that. You're a control freak with a need for organisation and planning, and an endless search for perfection. You have high standards and expectations of others, but mostly of yourself. Am I right?”

Your mouth hangs open for a moment before you snap it shut, your cheeks flushing red. He’s right on the money. 

“Is that a proper diagnosis, Doctor?” You ask, crossing your arms in defiance. 

“No, not at all. I'm not a psychiatrist. That was just a random guess.” That damned smirk again. 

“Random?” You raise an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping your lips. 

“No. Not random at all. I tend to always be in control, so I understand it. But, there are ways to just… let go… and relax.” That damn sexy smirk is back again and you realise it does things to you. “But we’ll talk about that some other time, if you’re interested.”

A warmth spreads through your cheeks as your body responds to his intense gaze. 

“How about this, you lend me that notebook and I’ll take a look at all your questions. We won’t tell your father anything, and I’ll make him a house call with the answers. If we ambush him, he’ll have to hear us out.”

Biting your lower lip you run his plan through your mind. It’s flawless. Shanks will be caught by surprise, with no way to escape. 

“Sounds good!” You say smirking as you close the notebook with a light tap. “But I’ve paid for a full consultation. What should we do with the rest of the time?”

He makes a low hum, almost a grunt. Something primal and instinctive that makes your hairs stand on end. But when he speaks, his voice is calm. “The way I see it there are two options. Either I do a full checkup, or you ask for a refund. Which we don't offer.”

Well that isn't fair at all. He’s playing you like a fiddle. 

“Law, you're being unfair. That’s hardly an option at all. I just said I didn't want to waste this consultation.”

When he leans forward, his chin resting on his hands again, giving you a perfect view of his hand tattoos and long, slim fingers, you gasp for breath. 

“No point wasting it. Hop on the table.”

You don't know why your heart keeps pounding at an insane rhythm against your chest, but if you are about to be examined by a doctor, he’ll immediately realise that you're nervous. Still, you get up and do as he says, because, once again, you find it very hard not to obey his commands. 

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm your racing heart, you climb onto the examination table, fixing your eyes on your legs instead of on him. But when he approaches, you realise he's wearing spotted jeans. He looks like a cute leopard. How did you not notice that before? 

“Look at me.”

You do. Shit. What's with his hold on you? 

Law points his flashlight at your eyes, one at a time, testing your pupil reactions. You try to focus on the light, but all you can see is the yellow of his eyes. And he's very close. 

“Follow the light.” He moves it up and down, left and right and you follow it. Your breath keeps coming out in shallow pants and you scream at yourself in your head. You're being ridiculous! This is an exam! A professional one! 

“Now open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue for me.” You swallow hard before complying. In most of your books what follows this command isn’t exactly office appropriate. His gloved hand cups your jaw gently, opening it further as he shines the flashlight into your throat. “Say ah!”

The sound you make is rather sinful. You can't help it. You told Kaya you weren’t interested in men in general and you weren’t interested in Dr. Trafalgar Law in particular. But your body didn’t get the memo your brain sent out. Because you're twitching, throbbing, and clenching. And he is just there. Ready for grabbing and taking. 

But you have to be rational. You’ve just met the man. There's undeniable attraction, but there's no way you'll act on it. However the way his pupils darken at the sound that leaves your lips makes you realise that the attraction is mutual. 

And the two of you could have so much fun together. 

You close your eyes and dig your nails into the examination table, making the paper crinkle and tear beneath your fingers as you ground yourself. 

“You can close your mouth now.” His voice sounds hoarse, so he clears his throat as he takes a step back, removing the stethoscope from around his neck and placing it near his ears, not yet covering them so he can speak with you. 

“I'm going to listen to your heart, lungs and abdomen, checking for murmurs or abnormal noises, is that alright?” 

It's the first time he asks permission to do something and you realise it's because he's going to have to touch you, so he needs consent. “Yes.” Your voice seems weak and distant, charged with desire and want. You're pretty sure he picks up on that tone as well, but he doesn't comment on it. 

He places the stethoscope in his ears and the flat part against your chest. He starts with the lungs. “Deep breath through the nose.” Once again you follow all of his instructions. “Out through the mouth.” He keeps moving the piece on your bare chest and back, repeating the orders. His gloved hands are warm, big and firm and they make you feel things. “Your heart now.” He states and you gulp. Your heart is not going to be beating at a normal rhythm at all. 

He notices immediately as a small chuckle escapes his lips. You drop your gaze to your lap again as you bite your lower lip. “Interesting.” He replies and you don't really ask what he finds interesting, knowing the conversation could veer down very dangerous paths. 

Removing the stethoscope from his ears, he asks you to lie down as he reaches for a sheet, placing it over your lap and covering your legs. “Can you pull up your dress so I can listen to your abdomen?” You notice him asking again. He doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

And you're not. 

“Yeah.”

Adjusting the sheet to cover your panties, you pull the dress to expose your belly and he listens to whatever odd sounds come from it. There's a spot he touches on the side that tickles you and you squirm and twitch with a hearty laugh. He seems surprised and looks at you with a glint in his eyes before resuming the examination. 

“Palpation next. Abdomen first to check for irregularities.” He looks at you for confirmation and you nod. This whole ordeal is overwhelming. You try to look away from his form, his eyes and his hands, but it’s impossible. He’s focused on his task, professional and attentive, yet… There's a hint of mischief in the way he looks at you every time he presses your flesh.

And you can’t help but to blush as your breaths grow more and more ragged. 

“Joints and muscles next.” His hands trace your ankles and calves, then your knees - front and back - before climbing towards your lower thighs. You hold your breath, but he doesn’t go higher. “Sit up.”

“Yes, s-... doctor.” The flush in your cheeks nearly rivals his own. Neither of you expected this reaction. You were about to call him sir? Stupid, stupid, stupid! You should really start reading self-help books instead of filthy smut. But his voice… Law’s voice is deep, assured, commanding! You can barely help the way you want to bend to his words and do everything he asks of you. 

In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s deepening his voice on purpose. He’s been using a more commanding tone since the beginning of the consultation. He probably picked up your little kink when you told him to call you a good girl when you met. And now he’s taking full advantage of it. 

Trying to push the whole ordeal behind you, you sit up and close your eyes, willing your mind to focus on something other than the sheer sensuality of a freaking doctor’s appointment!

He keeps touching and squeezing you. Wrists, elbows and shoulders are next. “You’re doing very well.” He says, adding your name and making you blush even more. If you weren’t sure before, now you are. He’s doing it on purpose. 

And damn, it's working!

“Open your eyes.” You try to fight it, pressing your lips together and shutting them even tighter. “I need you to look at me while I do this, can you?” There’s tenderness beneath the firmness of his voice, and the combination sends shivers down your spine. Yet again, you do as he says and open your eyes, only to find his face directly in front of yours. “Good.”

Fuck. You’re about to declare the time of death for any decency you thought you still had, because the huskiness of his voice is enthralling and mesmerising. 

His tattooed hands wrap around your neck and you gasp, your pupils dilating as your hands grip the paper beneath you. His smirk is no longer veiled as he now knows exactly the effect he’s having on you. His fingers move, pressing against your thyroid and under your jaw, and he lets out a satisfying hum that you instantly want to hear again.

But closer to your ear, much, much closer. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“No nodules, that’s good. Now, take a deep breath, relax. You did very, very well.” You want to scream. You want to cry or smirk or laugh. Anything to express the warmth you feel in your chest from his praise. 

You discovered this little kink of yours some time ago but you were always too fearful to ask Ichiji, your ex-fiancé, to explore it in the bedroom. Ichiji was, by nature, violent and controlling, but in a frightening way. You never meant to tempt or provoke his behaviour intimately. Yet with Law…

Your mind was already picturing all kinds of scenarios, each hotter than the last. You knew, you just knew that you were screwed. There was no way you could get this man out of your head now. 

Even though he was very professional with his touching. It was your head that created all the scenarios. Your horny head!

As he sat down by the computer, typing away notes on your file, you composed yourself by pulling your dress down and passing your fingers through your hair. Taking a deep breath, like he said, to steady your racing heart. 

When your eyes landed on him again, his professional demeanour was back in place, as if it were a cloak he had donned over himself after all this teasing. “Tell me, have you done any palpation of your breasts?”

“What?”

The chuckle that escaped his lips was low and soft. “Self-examination? Looking for nodules or abnormalities. A breast checkup?”

Oh. Dumbass. “Yes, yes! I have. All is well.” With wobbly steps you return to the chair in front of him. 

“Any concerns with your health? Something that feels off, or any indispositions? Headaches, stomachaches, or any other aches?”

You keep shaking your head at his suggestions until a snort escapes your lips at his last suggestion. “Does heartache count?” Then you immediately blush and lower your eyes. Thinking about Ichiji earlier revived very unpleasant sensations within you.

Law stops typing while his piercing gaze returns to you. “I can’t offer any medical assistance for that, per se, but I can always lend an ear, if you ever want to talk about it.” As you glance up, the smirk on his lips is replaced by a stern smile. You nod and mumble a low ‘thank you’. 

“Anything else?” He’s not teasing now, nor being playful. He’s being strictly professional and that makes you realise he was teasing you on purpose during the examination. 

“No, thank you.” Your voice still seems very small. You thought that the mere mention of your ex was not enough to alter your state of mind so much, but it really affected you. Maybe it had something to do with being highly stimulated by all the sensations Law was provoking and then crashing when you came down from that high just by thinking about Ichiji and the heartache he caused you. 

His eyebrows scrunch and he stares at you for a while, waiting for you to add something else. When you remain silent, he gets up. “Okay. You’re all set, then.”

“Thank you, Law.”

And without barely saying goodbye, you hasten out of his office, quickly saying goodbye to Kaya and telling her you have to run some errands and you can talk some more another day - since you already settled the payment when you arrived. 

You had just unlocked your car when you heard your name. It’s Law’s deep rumbling voice again and you almost gasp.

“Law?”

He approaches you without his doctor’s coat on and you blush as your eyes take him in. His t-shirt shows off even more tattoos on his arms. Just how many tattoos does he really have? And why do you want to trace them all?

“Can I have the notebook?” You look at him with a raised brow. “You said you’d leave it with me so I can review the questions.” He says with a slight chuckle at your aloofness. 

“Oh!” Smacking your forehead with your palm, you reach into your purse and hand him the notebook with a slight shake of your head. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He takes it in his hand and fidgets with the ribbon from the page marker. He looks slightly embarrassed and you don’t know what to make of it, since he seemed so sure of himself in his office. “Did… did I go too far?”

The look on your face is one of surprise. Does he think you’re acting like this because of his teasing?

“No!” You almost scream. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you try to compose yourself. “Not at all! You were very…” Endearing? Seductive? Sexy? Irresistible? “Professional. I’m just…” Another chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a sigh and a dismissive gesture. “I’m a mess! I’m still terribly affected by my past relationship and-... well, thinking about him stirred up some bad memories. I’m sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s completely understandable.” He seems much more at ease now that he’s sure you weren’t weirded out by all the teasing. 

“I’ll be reviewing these, then. I’ll make sure to schedule a house call so we can surprise your father.” 

“Oh!” You gasp in surprise as you reach for the notebook again, fishing a pen from your purse and quickly scribbling your number on one of the pages. “There’s my number. If it’s a surprise visit we don’t want Shanks to be the one to answer the phone.” 

Your easy smile makes him chuckle as he, once again, takes the notebook, tucking it neatly under his arm. “All right. See you soon?”

You nod. “Yes, Law, thank you.” He nods back but, before leaving, he reaches behind you, his arm grazing your side as he opens the car door for you. Such a random, simple gesture has you blushing, and once again thinking about how, in four years of relationship, not once had Ichiji held a door open for you. 

Muttering a muffled ‘thank you’, you climb into your seat. Law says goodbye again before closing the door to the car and walking away. 

You let out the biggest sigh to ever escape your lips as your head falls forward against the steering wheel. 

Why did your father’s doctor have to be so freaking hot?

|Chapter 2|

[ssa-dado]

18 - I'm Always Running To You

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: slow burn, fluff, whump (?) Summary: Back at the BAU, nostalgia and familiar faces reignited memories and emotions you thought you’d left behind. As you navigated the team’s playful camaraderie and handled a skeptical detective, you couldn't ignore the weight of Hotch's absence and the unique bond you shared. Though you left for Peter and a life of stability, two weeks back may reveal whether you truly want the life you’ve chosen - or the one you left. Warnings: CM case, P***r gets mentioned... also... I did a thing. Word Count: 11.6k Dado's Corner: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

masterlist

“... I could tell you about my very first day, the momentous occasion of ‘Teach’s debut’.”

“Oh, please do,” he replied, clearly amused. “And tell me, is my office still intact? Or have you scattered it with sticky notes and red string?”

“Don’t tempt me, but no, I’ve preserved your precious workspace.” you replied with a chuckle, picturing his face as he visualized the mess you could create. “It all started when…”

---

It felt strange, almost surreal, to be sitting in Hotch’s office - your office, at least temporarily. The air was still thick with his presence, his signature cologne lingering like an old friend. Most of his things were still exactly where he’d left them; you had no doubt he’d done it intentionally, a silent stand against Strauss. It was his way of asserting that this space was his, and it always would be.

The most noticeable difference was the absence of his personal photos. The frames that had once held Haley’s warm smile and Jack’s bright eyes were missing, and that small detail made the room feel emptier. Still, he had gone out of his way to replace the pens on the desk with the ones you preferred.

-

“Although, for the record, I’ve switched to the 0.7mm tip now. Same brand, just… a thicker line. So, you know, if we’re going for accuracy here,” you teased, stretching out on the hotel bed with a grin.

There was a pause on the other end before Aaron replied, his tone more serious than you’d expected. “I noticed, actually. In the files you handed me last time - you used the 0.7mm. I wasn’t sure if it was a permanent change or just a one-off. But, in case you didn’t see them, they’re in the top right drawer.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by how closely he’d paid attention. “Wait, are you serious? You noticed that?”

“Of course,” he replied, as though keeping track of something so small was the most natural thing in the world. You could almost hear the shrug in his voice. “Figured you’d want them there.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Aaron, I swear, sometimes this nerdy side of you is a little unnerving. Also - you could’ve told me about the drawer thing before I dug around like an idiot.”

“I’m the nerd?” he chuckled, and you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “You’re the one who’s willing to switch back to the 0.5mm just to keep the ‘continuity’ in your files consistent.”

“Of course I am,” you retorted, grinning at the sheer ridiculousness of it. “I can’t just start with one pen and finish with another. You know as well as I do that consistency is key. I mean, you’re the one who keeps a back-up tie in his desk in case your tie gets stained. And besides,” you added, leaning into the playful banter, “this is all your fault for messing with my routine in the first place.”

“You could say thank you, you know,” he said, his tone warm and teasing. “Here I am, making sure you have exactly what you need, and all I get is passive-aggressive commentary, not quite the gratitude I was hoping for...”

“Oh, of course!” you replied with over-the-top sweetness. “Thank you, my most esteemed noble prosecutor against the crimes of chaos,” you cooed, letting each word drip with playful charm. You could practically feel his discomfort rising on the other end of the line - perfect, just as planned. “And thank you ever so much for keeping such an impeccable archive of my pen preferences.”

He let out a dry sigh. “…Always happy to help,” he replied, his tone barely masking his exasperation. You grinned, knowing you’d hit the mark.

-

And then there was the nameplate, covered with sticky notes. He’d written your name over his in his distinct, bold handwriting. It made you smile, remembering the early days when you’d shared a desk, continuously passing notes scribbled on Post-its.

But that little personal touch from Hotch had been balanced out by the formidable stack of case files placed dead center on the desk - a welcome gift from Strauss, no doubt. The pile seemed impossibly tall, a silent reminder of the bureaucratic weight she could wield when it suited her. You’d kept your composure on the phone with her, but it felt like she was testing you, making sure you knew this wouldn’t be easy.

Time slipped away as you sifted through the stacks of case files, the silence in the office thick and unnerving. It wasn’t just the absence of sound or movement, it was as if something essential had been stripped from the room, a heartbeat that once pulsed quietly in the background now stilled.

You’d always been one to come in early, even back when you first started at the BAU. But back then, you’d never been the first to arrive. You’d grown used to Hotch’s subtle routines: the way he’d already have a fresh pot of coffee going by the time you arrived, the sight of him hunched over files, deep in thought, yet somehow always aware of your presence, a reassuring constant.

That morning felt like a quiet reminder of all the things that had changed, and all the things you wished, just for a moment, could stay the same.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see JJ standing there, smiling softly. “You’ve probably been here for hours already, haven’t you?”

You stretched your arms, letting out a small laugh. “Me? Never. But what are you doing here so early? You’re not due for another half-hour.

JJ stepped further into the office, a knowing look on her face as she held up a file. “Actually, I came in a little early to show you the ropes, but from the looks of all these files you’ve already gone through, it seems like you’ve got everything under control.”

You glanced at the neat pile of case files in front of you, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Guess I couldn’t resist the urge to keep up with Hotch’s reputation. I’ve got to maintain the early bird standard around here, right?”

JJ chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re definitely living up to it. At this rate, you’ll have his entire routine down before the end of the week.”

You leaned back with a grin. “Just promise me that if I start communicating in cryptic stares and monosyllabic responses, you’ll stage an intervention.”

-

“Excuse me?!” he said, feigning offense on the other end of the line.

You couldn’t help but laugh, recognizing that his mock outrage was, in fact, a perfect example of the very thing you had just finished saying. “Right, because that wasn’t a textbook example of a monosyllabic response - alright, maybe three syllables, but I’d still count it.”

-

JJ laughed, giving you a playful nudge. “Noted.” She took a breath, the humor fading slightly as her tone softened. “Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know - Gideon called in sick, didn’t give much detail. This is today’s case.”

A frown tugged at your lips as JJ passed you the file. Hotch had warned you to keep an eye on Gideon, especially after what happened in Arizona. The weight of Sarah’s death still seemed to carve deeper lines into his face with every case, his once-steady demeanor unraveling.

Gideon had been a cornerstone of your time at the BAU, a bridge to those early days. Now, without him, the weight of responsibility pressed harder on your shoulders, the pressure to hold everything together more overwhelming than ever.

“Thanks for letting me know,” you said, taking the file from her hands, feeling the weight of it. “I guess it’s going to be one of those days.”

She gave you a sympathetic smile, her eyes warm with understanding. “Hey, we’re in good hands. I know stepping in isn’t easy, but you’ve got this.” Then she added, “Oh, and I went ahead and set everything up on the screen in the conference room. No need for pinning photos or scribbling on the board like back in the day.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair with a look of disappointment. “So, just one sentence, and I’m already labeled a dinosaur? For the record, JJ, I’m only three years older than you, and just a few months ago, I was still in my twenties. I think I’ve got a ways to go before ‘ancient relic’ status.”

JJ chuckled, shaking her head. “Relic or not, don’t worry. You’ll settle in just fine.”

You laughed, standing up and gathering the files. “If you say so...” As you followed her to the door, you asked, “I’m heading to the coffee machine. Need me to grab you anything?”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful spark in her eyes. “I thought that’s supposed to go the other way around, Chief?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Oh, come on, no need for all that formality. I’m still getting used to it myself. Just stick to my name… at least until Morgan decides on something else for everyone, I know his reputation precedes him.”

JJ laughed as the two of you headed down the hallway, your footsteps echoing softly. “Well, you know him. Whatever it is, I have a feeling it’ll stick.”

You shook your head with a smile, following her towards the coffee machine. "I’m sure I’ll survive - though if his nickname is too creative, I might have to pull rank on him." You teased, knowing full well that wasn’t your style.

---

By the time you finally stepped into the conference room, the familiar rhythm of the BAU began to settle around you, but that’s when the weight of your nerves - the ones you had tried so hard to push down -suddenly hit you like a punch to the chest. You hadn’t even realized it had been building until it was too late.

Coming in early had given you the luxury of solitude, a quiet space where you could pretend this wasn’t real yet, where you could almost convince yourself that everything would be just like the old days. But now, with the hum of conversation filling the room, the reality crashed down on you all at once.

The team was here.

The case was here.

And you were standing in Hotch’s place.

The familiar energy buzzed around the room, the usual anticipation that always lingered before a new case, but none of it felt normal to you. There was a sense of expectation that weighed down every breath you took.

Each step toward the center of the room felt heavier, and with every pair of eyes that turned in your direction, the weight became unbearable. You knew that even if they didn’t realize they weren’t just looking at you - they were looking for answers.

They were waiting for the guidance and steady leadership they had come to trust in Hotch.

But you weren’t Hotch.

Morgan was the first to spot you, and as usual, he was impossible to ignore. His eyes lit up as he crossed the room with his signature swagger, that confident, wide grin already plastered on his face. His easy demeanor was infectious, a kind of effortless confidence that seemed unshakable, and as he made his way toward you, you wished you could channel even a fraction of it.

“Teacher!” he called out, wrapping you in a strong hug before you had a chance to say anything.

You laughed, returning the hug and rolling your eyes at the nickname, but the moment you released him, you felt the tremor of anxiety creeping back. “Good to see you too, Morgan. For a moment there, I was almost surprised you didn’t have the nickname ready and waiting the second I walked in the door.”

He chuckled, his smile widening as he winked. “Oh, trust me, I’ve got a whole list lined up. I’m just pacing myself, you will fear me.”

You tried to match his lighthearted tone, but your mind kept wandering back to the task ahead.

Your first briefing as Unit Chief. Don’t mess this up.

Just then, Prentiss strolled in, catching the tail end of your conversation. She crossed her arms, a playful smirk already forming on her lips. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said with a gleam in her eyes, looking between you and Morgan. “I think Morgan is the one who’s secretly terrified of you.”

Morgan scoffed, his usual bravado showing, but there was a spark of amusement - and maybe a bit of truth - in his eyes. “Terrified? Of the teacher? Come on, Prentiss, you’ve gotta do better than that.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow, clearly relishing the banter. “Oh really? Because, if I remember correctly, you couldn’t stop talking about that guest lecture she gave at Quantico. You’ve been on edge about it ever since.”

You chuckled, leaning slightly into Emily’s side, grateful for the camaraderie. “Is that so? I knew there was something you weren’t telling me, Morgan.”

Emily’s arm draped around your shoulders, and she gave you a reassuring squeeze. The warmth of her support should’ve been comforting, but instead, it only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

What if I disappoint them?

“You know I’m all about team morale” Prentiss said ironically ”especially if it involves messing with Morgan. It’s nice to have you back, and I’m excited to watch you put him in his place for the next two weeks.” You grinned, but the weight of her words added to your anxiety.

Two weeks. Don’t screw it up.

“Oh, I’ll keep it low-key,” you said with mock innocence, glancing at Morgan. “Wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers on my first day.”

Prentiss shook her head, laughing. “No way. Go all out! Quiz him, put him on the spot he deserves it. Trust me, it’s been a long time coming.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, amused but clearly unfazed. “Careful, Prentiss. You’re tempting fate.”

Before you could respond, Reid approached quietly, lingering on the edge of the conversation as he often did, waiting for the right time to join in. Finally, he stepped forward, offering a small wave and a hint of a smile – his familiar shyness was a welcome distraction from your mounting nerves.

“So, Morgan settled on ‘Teacher,’” he said with his usual calm precision. “For the record, there were 11 other options on the list, but ‘Teacher’ seemed the most fitting in my opinion.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” You hadn’t spent much time with the team before that day - just a couple of occasions, really - but from the few moments you’d shared with Reid, you knew how much he valued the chance to break down his thought processes. You gave him the space to elaborate, genuinely curious to hear his reasoning.

A spark of excitement danced in Spencer’s eyes, and he straightened a little, clearly appreciating the chance to share his insight. “Well, it’s actually pretty poetic,” he began, his voice tinged with enthusiasm. “Your first academic publication was on Plato, right? And Plato wasn’t just a philosopher - he was a teacher at his own school, the Academy. And now, here you are, teaching at the Academy. Even though you’re taking a break from it for the next couple of weeks, the nickname ‘Teacher’ seems… poetically appropriate.”

You smiled, touched by the thoughtfulness of his connection, but a shadow of doubt still lingered.

They all see you as capable. But what if you’re not?

“That’s a beautiful interpretation, Spencer. Plato’s one of my favorites, so I really appreciate that you found those links.” You tried to sound confident, but the tension in your chest remained.

Spencer’s face brightened, clearly pleased by your response. “Thanks! I try,” he replied, a bit shyly. You could tell he was happy to have made the connection for you, and that warmed your heart.

You leaned in slightly, knowing he’d appreciate a chance to continue the intellectual thread. “By the way, since we’re on the topic, do you know why it’s called the Academy?”

Spencer looked momentarily taken aback, shaking his head. “No, actually, I don’t.”

“It’s because of the land it was built on,” you explained, enjoying his anticipation. “Plato’s Academy was set up in a grove just outside Athens, named after a local hero, Akademos… or Hecademus, depending on the source. The fact that the land was sacred wasn’t incidental; it created a space that felt set apart, a place where learning and reflection became almost a spiritual process for Plato and his students.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, captivated by the backstory. “That’s… incredible. I had no idea,” he admitted, visibly impressed. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Though, I have to say, it’s a good thing the local hero had a dignified name. The School of Bob might not have carried the same historical weight.”

Before either of you could dive deeper into Philosophy 101, Garcia swooped in with her usual whirlwind of energy, wrapping her arms around you in a hug so tight you could barely breathe. “Welcome, naughty Teacher!” she exclaimed, her grin stretching from ear to ear.

You laughed, trying to shake off the creeping anxiety. “Nice to see you too, Penelope. But I’m afraid we’ll have to drop the ‘Naughty’ part unless you want HR knocking on both our doors. Anything more PG, I’ll gladly accept.”

Penelope gasped dramatically, clutching her chest with exaggerated flair. “Alright, alright, just ‘Teacher’ then,” she conceded, but her eyes twinkled with mischief. “But know that I’ll still think ‘naughty’ in spirit.”

You shook your head, chuckling as you nudged her playfully. “Noted. And I’ll make sure to blush and feel flattered by it - purely in spirit, of course.”

She pouted playfully, then cocked her head, adding in a teasing, faux-flirty tone, “Teach, just checking… you still taken? Engaged and all that?”

You grinned, crossing your arms as you replied, “Affirmative, Penelope. The position is still filled.”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Ah, tragic! Well, it’s truly the world’s loss then,” she said, winking. “But you know, if the situation ever changes…”

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “I’ll be sure to update you on any status changes in a timely manner.”

She winked, giving you a playful shove. “See, now that’s why I always keep my options opened.”

Despite the playful banter, the clock was ticking, and the weight of what was about to happen settled in more heavily than ever.

It’s time. Don’t mess this up.

A few moments later, you clapped your hands, bringing the room to order. The friendly chatter died down, and all eyes turned to you. This was the moment you had been dreading - the first time you’d lead a case briefing as Unit Chief. Your heart raced, but you forced yourself to project confidence as you stepped forward with the remote in hand.

With a click, the screen flickered to life, displaying the crime scene photos in stark, unsettling detail. You could feel the weight of their gazes, their expectations.

They trust you. Don’t let them down.

“Alright, team,” you began, forcing your voice to steady even as the nerves rattled within you. “I’d love nothing more than to catch up, but we’ve got a triple homicide on our hands, and time isn’t on our side.”

You took a breath, signaling for JJ to start, and she took over, filling the team in on the case basics. “We’re looking at three victims in Newport,” she explained. “Different ages, different backgrounds. The first two were killed a week apart, but the last one was just three days ago. The timeline’s escalating.”

You nodded, moving closer to the screen as you clicked through the crime scene photos. Gesturing at the images, you continued, “There’s a pattern here. The unsub leaves a white mask over each victim’s face, with holes cut around the nose and mouth. There’s no sign of a struggle, no defensive wounds - this is clean, methodical work.”

You paused, letting the silence settle as they took it in, but the stillness only made the knot in your stomach twist tighter. Am I explaining this right? What if they’re questioning my judgment?

“Whoever this unsub is,” you went on, pushing down the doubts, “they’re confident, careful, and they’re taking their time. We need to figure out why.”

Are you really enough for this team?

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at it, feeling a sudden jolt of surprise and relief as you saw the name: Lawyer – it was Aaron.

Lawyer: 

Don’t second guess yourself. You’ve got this. I trust you, I hope you know that. 

Lawyer:

P.S. If you could avoid winning everyone over in the next two weeks, that’d be great. Try to be a little unlikable, so they’re actually glad when I come back. ;)

And just like that, the voices of doubt went silent.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, feeling steadier now. You turned back to the team, ready to continue.

Don’t second guess yourself.

You’ve got this.

I trust you.

---

Once at the Newport precinct, you could feel eyes on you as soon as you stepped inside. The local detectives seemed disoriented by your presence, their confusion was evident as they exchanged glances. You’d prepared for this reaction, but it still stung.

You introduced the team with a smile, doing your best to mask the flicker of irritation that flared up when one of the older detectives barely glanced your way. He muttered something to his colleague, just low enough that you couldn’t catch it, but you could feel the dismissiveness in his tone.

The insinuation was clear: Too young, too inexperienced, too… female.

Shaking it off, you divided the team into two groups. “Morgan, Prentiss, you two head to the medical center to review the autopsies. Look for anything that might indicate how the unsub maintains such precise control over the victims. Drugs, maybe something else.” They nodded, Morgan already heading toward the door with his usual confidence, Prentiss following closely behind.

You turned to JJ and Reid. “We’ll stay here. JJ, let’s start with victimology. You and I will talk to the families. Reid, you’ll work on a geographical profile. See if you can figure out a pattern in the locations.”

You and JJ arrived at the small, quiet home of the third victim’s parents, Filipino immigrants whose grief seemed to fill every corner of the room. Stepping inside, you felt as if the air itself mourned with them. Family photos lined the walls, capturing a life now painfully incomplete. The parents sat close together, their hands intertwined, clutching at each other as though any moment they might shatter.

“Kamusta po. Ako po si Y/N, kasama ko si JJ. Galing po kami sa Behavioral Analysis Unit ng FBI. Alam kong napakahirap ng pinagdadaanan ninyo, at hindi ko po madadala ang sakit, pero nandito kami para makinig, para tulungan kayong mahanap ang hustisya para sa inyong anak na babae. Kapag handa na po kayo, gusto sana naming magtanong ng ilang bagay.” 

“Hello. I’m Y/N, and this is JJ. We’re from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I know the pain you’re going through is unimaginable, and while I can’t take that pain away, we’re here to listen, to help bring justice for your daughter. When you’re ready, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

The mother’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, her posture softening as she realized you spoke her language, a small but meaningful gesture that bridged the gap between their grief and your willingness to understand. Her grief was still raw, but she opened up, telling you about her daughter, sharing the little details that made her life beautiful.

As you finished with the first family, you and JJ stepped outside, the weight of the interview hanging heavy in the air. You turned to her, noticing the sadness etched in her eyes, the pain she tried to conceal. You could see how she always felt deeply, letting herself absorb the grief around her, and it showed.

“You good here?” you asked softly, searching her face. She hesitated, eyes distant for a moment before she nodded.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. “I’ll handle it. You head back and see what Reid’s found.”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hey, listen to me. You’ll get through this. I know these cases hit hard, but even when you’re at your worst, JJ, it’s still better than anyone else’s best. You’re compassionate, and that makes you the best person to speak with these families. But if it’s too much, let me know, and we’ll switch.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, and she took a steadying breath, nodding slightly as she met your gaze. “Thanks,” she said, a glimmer of strength returning to her eyes. “I needed that. But I’ll be fine. Go on, you can head back to Reid. I’ve got this.”

You gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning back toward the station. Inside, Reid was hunched over a map, his fingers tracing the outline of the city as he studied the locations of the murders. He barely looked up when you approached, his mind clearly absorbed in the puzzle before him.

“So, Doc, what do you have for me?” you asked, leaning over the desk.

Reid straightened pointing to the map. “I’ve been analyzing the locations of the murders, but I think the most significant detail isn’t where they happened, it’s the masks the unsub uses.”

Your brow furrowed. “The masks?”

Reid nodded, his voice gaining momentum as he explained. “The masks only have holes for the nose and mouth, not the eyes. That suggests a couple of things. First, they’re not something you can just buy - these masks are probably handmade, which means the unsub has a certain level of craftsmanship or access to materials. And second…” He paused, waiting for you to catch on.

“They’re covering the eyes deliberately,” you said, the realization sinking in. “They don’t want their victims to see - or be seen. By obscuring them, the unsub is denying the victims any self-recognition.”

“Exactly,” Reid confirmed. “The eyes are the windows to the soul, right? It’s a symbolic way of stripping them of their identity”

You felt a rush of clarity, your mind connecting the dots. “That’s a really good observation, Reid. It fits with the unsub’s need for control. They’re not just killing, they’re staging a performance.”

Before you could delve further into the theory, the air in the room shifted. One of the local detectives, the same one who had dismissed you earlier, sauntered over, his expression smug as he cast a glance at Reid. “You guys find anything useful? Kid here looks like he’s barely out of high school.”

Reid blinked, momentarily taken aback, but before he could respond, the detective turned to you, his tone dripping with condescension. “And you’re telling me the FBI put someone like you in charge? Not even thirty yet, and you’re calling the shots? Must be some kind of joke.”

Your muscles tensed, breath hitching as you caught a glimpse of Reid, his face paling slightly, visibly shaken as he struggled to find the courage to respond. Before he could get a word out, though, the doors swung open, and Morgan and Prentiss strode into the station.

They caught the tail end of the exchange, their gazes snapping to you, their expressions quickly shifting to a mix of concern and simmering irritation.

Morgan, always quick to defend, took a step toward the detective, his jaw set and eyes flashing. But before he could say a word, you lifted a hand, a subtle gesture that stopped him in his tracks. You forced a smile, one that was warm on the surface but laced with an unmistakable edge of disappointment.

“Detective,” you began, your tone even, almost gentle, but carrying a weight that silenced the room, “I understand how frustrating cases like this can be. But if we spend our time underestimating each other, we’re only helping the unsub stay one step ahead. None of us can afford that.”

The detective’s expression shifted, slightly thrown off by your calmness. He gave a gruff chuckle, shaking his head. “I just hope the FBI’s got the expertise to handle this one. It’s not your usual serial killer, that’s for sure, a fancy degree won’t do the job.”

“We appreciate your concern, Detective.” you said, your voice steady and calm as you stepped closer, fixing him with a focused gaze, your eyes narrowed slightly. “If you have specific doubts about our methods, I’m more than happy to walk you through them. The problem I’ve noticed, however, is that you’ve been approaching this case from a narrow perspective.”

You continued, gaze unwavering as you explained “This unsub isn’t one-dimensional, and neither is their motive. Without considering the complexity - the layers of behavior and psychology involved - we risk making shallow assessments, which lead to mistakes. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve overlooked critical elements of the unsub’s psychology.”

As you spoke, Morgan leaned in toward Prentiss, shaking his head. “She’s got that Hotch stare down, doesn’t she?” he murmured, his voice low with awe.

Prentiss smirked, nodding. “Oh, absolutely. But there’s something different about it… his stare is all intimidation, but hers? It’s almost worse - like you’ve disappointed her on some fundamental level. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that.”

The detective blinked, visibly disoriented. “What do you mean, missing?” he sputtered.

You could hear their whispered comments, but you stayed focused on the detective, who was just starting to fidget under your stare. “The unsub we’re dealing with isn’t a sadist, despite what you’ve assumed. They’re not motivated by the need to inflict pain for pleasure. What we’re looking at is something much more complex - control, power, recognition. The masks, the staging? They’re not random. If we keep treating this like a sadist’s work, we’ll continue wasting valuable resources on a dead-end.”

You stepped forward slightly, your tone sharpening, though you remained composed. “And it’s not just this case. You’ve been missing the bigger picture all along, dismissing the insights we’ve been trying to offer. It shows not only in your handling of this investigation but also in your approach. You jump to conclusions, failing to consider the complexities.”

“See, when we try to prove a point, the evidence has to be accurate, or everything crumbles.” You paused, letting the silence hang for a moment. “Earlier, you mentioned I’m ‘not even thirty yet’ as part of your argument that I’m unqualified to lead an FBI team. If you had done your research, you’d know I’m actually thirty - I have been for months. Using incorrect facts, you made your entire demonstration falter.”

You leaned in, your eyes never leaving his. “This behavior of yours also affects your overall approach to this case. You rushed to label this unsub as a sadist, forcing everything into a narrative that fits your narrow perspective. And who benefits from that? The unsub.”

Morgan leaned toward Prentiss, nodding with a mix of admiration and amusement. “Man, she’s Hotch’s protégé. It’s like watching him all over again - tearing him apart on the technicalities, using the guy’s own words to back him into a corner.” He grinned, voice dropping slightly. “You can tell they spent years together.”

Prentiss smiled, her expression softening. “Yeah, but she’s got her own way of doing it. She’s not just channeling him, she’s making it her own.” She glanced at you, a note of pride in her voice. “That’s what makes her… her.”

Your voice remained steady, the edge of disappointment clear. “To be precise, that wasn’t the only demonstration of your failure to grasp the complexity here. Earlier you said I have ‘a fancy degree’ - once again - you didn’t bother to check your facts. The reality is that it’s not one degree - singular. I have multiple degrees - plural. And my colleague here?”

You gestured to Reid, who was observing silently, his sharp eyes taking everything in. “He’s the one you’ve underestimated the most. Not only does he have advanced degrees, he holds multiple PhDs – once again, plural . So, Detective, you haven’t just made the mistake of questioning my expertise, but you’ve managed to make an even bigger error by dismissing the experience of my entire team. More than just one individual. Understanding and managing the concept of plurality is essential, and it’s something you’ve consistently overlooked since the beginning.”

The room fell silent, your tone never rising but carrying the weight of undeniable authority. The detective’s face shifted, his bravado visibly crumbling, as he struggled to respond. His earlier confidence now replaced by a stunned, flustered silence.

Morgan leaned toward Prentiss again, barely able to hide the grin. “She just tore him apart. Without even raising her voice.”

Prentiss chuckled softly. “God, it’s like watching an artist at work.”

JJ crossed her arms, smiling faintly as she whispered, “Hotch is probably proud.”

The detective blinked, clearly struggling to keep pace with your explanation. You held your ground, your gaze steady, tone firm but calm. “We’re here to collaborate, not waste time. But if we’re not open to different perspectives, we won’t get anywhere. The unsub isn’t just killing; they’re constructing a narrative that reflects a need for dominance and recognition. Hegel’s master-slave dialectic is relevant here - recognition is essential to self-awareness, and the unsub is asserting themselves as the ‘master,’ with their victims as ‘slaves.’”

Reid nodded along, understanding where you were going. “The use of custom masks that only leave holes on the mouth and nose, are particularly telling. Hegel explains that the relationship between the master and the slave is based on mutual acknowledgment - each needs the other to confirm their own identity. Although the Unsub twists this dynamic at its core. By covering the eyes – the primary sense we use to recognize someone - the unsub symbolically denies the victims to engage in this shared recognition. So the unsub strips the victims of individuality, reducing them to faceless, passive entities. Objects.”

You continued, unfazed by the detective’s discomfort, speaking with the calm assurance born from your mastery in uncovering the intricate links between human behavior and philosophy. "The unsub doesn’t want recognition from the singular victims but demands it from society, a plurality. Which means that the unsub seeks godlike power over life and death, forcing us to acknowledge their existence through fear. It’s not about chaos; it’s a twisted form of self-affirmation. If we ignore these psychological details, we’re missing the core of their intent.”

Morgan raised his eyebrows at Prentiss, a smile spreading across his face. “Man, I love it when she goes philosophical. She’s got that deep dive style down to an art.”

The detective opened his mouth as if to argue, but your steady gaze cut him off before he could form a coherent sentence. Finally, he managed a weak, “Right… well, I suppose that makes sense… what do you need from us?”

“Full cooperation from your team,” you said simply, “and no more jumping to conclusions.”

As the detective shuffled away, visibly shaken, you turned back to the team, feeling a sense of relief settle in. Reid met your gaze, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, a silent thank you for handling the situation on his behalf. JJ gave you a warm, knowing smile, a touch of admiration in her expression, as though she’d seen a new side of you.

On the other side, Morgan and Prentiss exchanged glances, smirks tugging at their lips as they struggled to contain their laughter. Their eyes sparkled with barely concealed amusement, relishing the scene that had just played out.

They weren’t fooling anyone - especially not you. You knew that look all too well, it was the unmistakable glint of an inside joke, the kind of unspoken conspiracy that you could sense from a mile away.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. You’d been in their shoes before, that playful bond where just one look could spark an entire unspoken conversation. It was the same look you and Hotch used to share whenever Gideon and Rossi did anything remotely friendly toward each other.

Just the slightest hint of camaraderie between those two was enough for you and Hotch to start your own silent plotting, exchanging glances and letting your imaginations run wild about their “secret romance.”

And if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that Morgan and Prentiss were definitely up to something. “You okay?” you asked raising your eyebrows, catching the spark running through the group.

That was all it took, Morgan and Prentiss chuckled, their expressions carrying a mix of respect and pure enjoyment. You could tell they saw something of Hotch in you, but with your own twist, and that silent bond between you all deepened, shared in the moment.

“Oh, we’re good,” Morgan said, barely containing a chuckle. “Just… processing the show you just put on. Not bad, Teacher.”

Prentiss nodded, her eyes gleaming. “You definitely have that stare down.”

“What stare?” you asked, genuinely confused. “I didn’t realize I had a ‘stare.’”

JJ stifled a laugh. “Oh, you do... remember about the intervention? It’s a bit different than Hotch’s, though. His can be terrifying, but yours? Yours just screams disappointment. It’s brutal. I almost felt sorry for the guy.”

The team burst into quiet laughter as you gave them an unintentional demonstration of the stare, feeling the same subtle disappointment creep into your expression as you processed their remarks. “What’s going on?” you asked, the exact same tone Hotch used to use when he was catching on to their inside jokes, only fueling the laughter.

They laughed even harder, exchanging looks as if sharing an inside joke they hadn’t expected you to be in on. A bit intimidated but still chuckling, JJ finally spoke up. “It’s just… the way you said that, it was just like Hotch. Even the tone, the phrasing, it was all there.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “So, you all really think I’m like Hotch?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Prentiss replied, smirking. “You two have been partners since, what, the dawn of time? I’d bet good money you’ve picked up more than a few of his quirks over the years.”

You shook your head in mock offense, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, please! Have you ever considered that maybe he picked up my mannerisms? But even if that were true, I have no idea why you’re all so obsessed with comparing us. I’m my own person. And Hotch and I? We’re not similar. At all.”

Prentiss let out a laugh, eyes gleaming. “Uh-huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that. But from where I’m standing, you two are basically the FBI version of an old mar-”

“Watch it, Prentiss,” you cut her off, the warning playful but sharp. The moment the words left your mouth, you froze for a beat. Even you could hear it - Hotch’s voice, not yours. You’d definitely heard him say it just like that before.

They laughed again, their amusement only growing at your reaction. Morgan wiped his eyes, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s there. You two are practically the same person when you’re in the field.”

JJ added with a smirk, “You spent so many years together, it’s bound to rub off… you two were like the dynamic duo. I just wish we could see more of it now. The stories I’ve heard about how well you worked together are legendary.”  It was funny how you could practically visualise what Morgan and Reid were picturing in their minds at that exact moment. The best part was that no matter how many times the two of them tried to imagine you and Hotch dancing, it would never even come close to what it was like in reality. “You two were close, weren’t you?”

You two were close, weren’t you?

And just like that, your heart dropped, a pang of melancholy seeping in at her words.

They were right – no, actually – Aaron was right.

You’d missed working in the field, and coming back here reminded you how much you missed working alongside him, as a team, the way you once did every day.

But things were different now.

There was Peter who’d made it clear that he expected you to stay with the Academy.

A life at the BAU wasn’t compatible with settling down, and you knew if you came back, the job would consume you again, and any hope of a family life with him would fade

Seeing your expression shift, Morgan stepped a little closer, his tone softer but with that familiar edge. “You know, when I came across your file over a year ago, there was this old photo in there - had to be from Rossi’s first book party, back in ’99. The whole OG team was there - Rossi, Gideon, you, Hotch. But what really hit me? The way you and Hotch looked in that picture. He was actually smiling, like genuinely smiling. You were both laughing, heads tilted towards each other, practically leaning in. It’s the kind of picture that says, ‘yeah, those two have seen it all, side by side’.”

A soft ache tugged at your chest as the memory surfaced, sharper and more vivid than you expected. You hadn’t thought about that night in years, yet now it rushed back with startling clarity, as if it had happened only yesterday. No - more than that - it was as though it was unfolding right in front of you, playing out in real time, every detail suddenly alive again. You knew the reason Hotch was smiling in that picture.

---

The evening had only just begun at Rossi’s book release party, but the warmth of the room, the glow of dim lights, and the gentle hum of laughter and clinking glasses gave it a sense of timelessness. Rossi was in his element, charm radiating as he moved through the crowd with an easy confidence, his smile as wide as you’d ever seen it. He reveled in the attention, basking in the congratulations and admiration, the proud look of a man who’d earned every word of praise.

But you and Hotch had slipped away from the main throng, as you often did, drifting to a quieter corner where you could watch the scene unfold, cocooned in a world of your own making. The two of you had perfected this dance over the years, a private escape in plain sight. A shared glance, a quick smile, a whispered comment, and suddenly, the rest of the room faded into the background.

You watched Rossi work the room, the flicker of candlelight catching the satisfaction in his eyes, and you could feel Hotch’s presence beside you, steady and familiar. It was comforting, the warmth he brought just by standing close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed. His quiet presence was an anchor, grounding you as the world around you spun with laughter and champagne.

“Look at him,” you murmured softly, leaning in just a little, letting your voice carry between the two of you. “It’s like he was born for this moment.”

Hotch’s gaze followed yours, a faint smile touching his lips. “It’s the Rossi special,” he replied, his voice just a whisper. “A room full of people, and somehow, they’re all drawn to him.”

You chuckled, your smile widening. “He’s practically glowing.” Your eyes drifted over the scene, and then you spotted Gideon, standing just a few feet away from Rossi, sharing an easy laugh. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand gently resting on Hotch’s upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. The touch surprised him, and he turned toward you, his expression momentarily caught off guard. You tilted your head in the direction of your two “lovebirds,” and as soon as he followed your gaze, a smirk appeared on his face, as if he already knew exactly where your thoughts had gone.

Leaning in just enough for him to catch the soft, lingering notes of your rose perfume, he struggled not to lose himself in the scent he had quietly come to cherish. Your voice, low and teasing, slipped out in a warm, intimate whisper. “Tell me this doesn’t feel like the renewal of vows for our happy couple,” you murmured, your lips barely inches from his ear. You felt his breath hitch, a brief falter in his composure, as though the closeness had woven a delicate tension between you, one that hummed softly in the quiet space you shared.

“All that’s missing is a cake and matching rings,” you continued, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “They’re practically glowing over there, and I’m just waiting for someone to stand up and toast their ‘eternal bond.’”

Hotch’s gaze followed yours to where Rossi and Gideon stood, posing together in matching dark suits, looking more like a coordinated pair than the veteran profilers you knew. He leaned in even closer than you did moments before, so close that you felt the warmth of his breath as he spoke, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Oh, it’s definitely an anniversary,” he murmured, his tone playful. “Think about it - what are the odds Rossi’s book launch just happens to fall on the exact same date? Feels a little too coincidental, don’t you think?”

You felt a shiver run through you as he tilted his head, his lips almost brushing your ear. “I’d bet anything he planned this whole thing just to make sure Gideon couldn’t pull another stunt like last year. No way Rossi was letting him show up empty-handed this time.”

You laughed, quickly covering your mouth to stifle the sound. He slid his arm over your shoulder, holding you close to keep your laughter contained, as if he wanted this moment to stay just between the two of you, hidden from the rest of the room. “Oh, I remember that,” you whispered, still smiling. “What do you think he got Rossi this time? It’s bound to be something… serious, but just impersonal enough.”

Up close, you could see his eyes light up with a glint of mischief as he slipped effortlessly into profiling mode, his voice dipping lower in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Gideon’s practical to a fault. My money’s on something generic yet expensive, probably a leather-bound notebook set. Engraved, maybe. ‘For Loyalty Beyond Words’. Subtle but just close enough to the mark, a reminder that unlike Rossi, Gideon has probably never cheated on him.”

You stifled a snicker, nudging him playfully. “Oh, you’re definitely right. But seriously, look at them - matching suits? They practically look like they just walked out of a wedding chapel." You rolled your eyes dramatically, biting back another laugh as Rossi and Gideon posed together, their shoulders squared, yet there was something almost too intimate about the way they stood, like a pair of grooms posing after years of knowing each other’s every move.

“They’re definitely setting up for a solo photoshoot,” Hotch murmured, his smirk deepening, the soft light catching his dimples in a way that made them seem even more striking, like something out of a Caravaggio painting. “Look at the way Rossi’s arm is resting, just barely behind Gideon’s back, like he can’t help but pull him closer. And those cufflinks? They’re identical. There’s no way that’s an accident.”

Before you could reply, Rossi and Gideon turned in unison, spotting you both. Rossi waved you over with a grin, calling out, “Early birds!” while Gideon, at the same time, called, “Night owls!” The unplanned dissonance was so perfectly them that you barely suppressed a laugh, and Hotch was already looking away, shaking his head in amusement.

As you set your drinks down, you leaned in toward Hotch, your voice low and teasing. “Well, they’ll be arguing about that later.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch leaned in even closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he started to whisper, but before he could finish, the words spilled out from both of you, perfectly in sync. “Rossi’s already canceled the hotel suite for tonight.”

The unison caught you both by surprise, and you couldn’t hold back your laughter. It bubbled up, blending together, as you both tried - and miserably failed - to stifle it, the shared moment drawing you closer. You instinctively reached for Hotch’s shoulder, your fingers curling around the fabric of his suit as your body shook with laughter. He mirrored you, his other hand covering his mouth as he tried - and failed - to contain himself, his shoulders shaking against yours.

Hotch straightened, casting you a sidelong glance with that infamous, piercing stare of his, his voice mock-serious as he said, “Okay, composure. We’re professionals, remember?”

“Professionals, yes, and incredibly mature,” you replied, grinning. “But admit it, Hotch - if anyone’s going to storm out tonight, it’ll be Rossi, and he’ll be dramatic about it as usual just to keep up with their tradition. Gideon will be left speechless, staring at the door in disbelief.”

Hotch’s grin spread wider, the mischievous spark in his eyes almost gleaming now. “Oh, definitely. You know Rossi won’t go quietly,” he said, his voice rich with amusement. He leaned in slightly as he mimicked Rossi’s cadence and dramatic flair, “‘I simply cannot believe I’ve tolerated this for so long!’”

Hotch paused for effect, just like Rossi would, his expression mock-serious before continuing. “And then, he’ll make sure everyone’s watching - dramatic pause, hand on his heart - and just when the tension’s thick enough, he’ll storm out, tie flying dramatically in the breeze, leaving everyone in awe of his theatrics.”

Your laughter spilled out again as you nudged him in the shoulder, trying desperately to maintain your composure while he kept up his increasingly exaggerated impressions, practically daring you to crack. You could barely catch your breath, finally managing to say through fits of laughter, “Aaron!”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt a rush of warmth rise to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and surprise fluttering through you. You’d never called him by his first name before. It had always been “Hotch,” or, more often, “partner”, a term that had taken on its own intimate meaning between the two of you, a word that only belonged to you both.

He stilled, and a small, surprised smile softened his features. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, steady and warm. “Hey, it’s fine,” he murmured, a spark of amusement in his eyes. And then, with a rare, mischievous glint, he added, “You’re more than welcome to call me by my name. After all, we’ve already shared some… pretty intimate terms, haven’t we?”

Your eyes widened, feeling a fresh wave of heat flood your cheeks as you realized exactly what he was referring to. Of course, he was talking about that night you’d both sworn to never mention again. You nudged him again, this time a bit harder, your voice dropping as you whispered, “Oh, my God, Aaron”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “I think you said exactly that that night,” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “Followed by -”

“Oh, so we’re doing this?” you shot back, trying to ignore the blush creeping up your neck. “Want me to start listing off a few of the things you said that night? I’m pretty sure we’re close enough to Rossi and Gideon for them to hear us.”

His chuckle was warm, but you didn’t miss the faint flush rising on his own cheeks. He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Backing down already? That doesn’t sound like you.”

You grinned, narrowing your eyes playfully. “If I remember correctly, we both agreed to act like it never happened. But if you’re pushing, I can bring it up anytime, anywhere. Just say the word.”

He held your gaze, his smile lingering as he tilted his head. “I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending a thrill through you that you tried to hide. “I seem to recall you saying something similar… right before you practically dragged me to my bedroom.”

You bit your lip, fighting a smirk. “Well, you didn’t exactly resist, Aaron.”

He raised an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and challenge flickering in his eyes. “Didn’t exactly hear any complaints from you either.”

With a smirk of your own, you took a step back, looking at him with a mixture of playful defiance and barely concealed warmth. “Keep pushing, and I might just bring up the part you said you’d never admit.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he tried to recover. “Alright, truce - for now. I think we both know we’d have plenty to say about that night if we really wanted to.”

You gave him a sly smile, lowering your voice. “Fair enough. But remember, I’m keeping this card to play at just the right moment. Watch yourself, Hotchner.”

He chuckled, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze as he replied, “Guess that makes two of us.”

You both stepped toward Rossi and Gideon, who greeted you with smiles… little did they know.

Rossi leaned in first, his arm outstretched to give you the customary two kisses on each cheek. Then he moved to Hotch, who did his best to hide his discomfort, his jaw tightening slightly as Rossi followed suit. The sight was too much, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“Oh, don’t look so horrified, Aaron,” Rossi teased, stepping back with a smirk. “This is a celebration, after all.  And as much as the crowd loves me, I needed to be sure the two of you made it into some of these shots. You know, you clean up nicely for a couple of crime fighters.”

Gideon chimed in with a smile. “Especially you,” he said, looking over at Hotch, whose face remained perfectly composed despite the teasing. “You look more relaxed tonight than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

Hotch nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just trying to keep up with my partner here,” he replied, his gaze flicking back to you with a playful glint, subtly teasing at the so-called truce he’d declared between you moments ago. “It’s not every day we get a chance to unwind like this.”

Without missing a beat, you crossed your arms, refusing to let him see you crack. He was expecting it, so you turned toward Rossi instead, playing it cool. “What’s the deal, Rossi? Miss us already? Need a little inspiration for that next bestseller?” Your voice carried just enough teasing to shift the attention, and you caught the faintest smirk from Hotch out of the corner of your eye, knowing you’d managed to keep the upper hand - at least for now.

Rossi shot you a sly look. “Not at all, especially not Aaron. I still remember the night he woke me up in the middle of the night, convinced he’d cracked the case.”

Hotch shrugged, his lips curving into a small smile. “Someone had to keep you on your toes, Dave.”

You shook your head, laughing. “You say that now, Rossi, but I know you’d be secretly disappointed if we weren’t here. Why else would you be pulling us in for pictures?”

Gideon, smiling, looked over at you and Hotch, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I have to say, you two look sharp tonight. It’s nice to see you out of your usual work clothes. Especially you, Y/N—it’s good to see you in an actual color for once. That dark blue really suits you... both of you.”

You glanced down, suddenly noticing that the deep, rich blue of your dress matched Hotch’s shirt perfectly, right down to the exact shade. Hotch caught your eye, a faint smile playing on his lips as he feigned innocence, clearly enjoying your surprise. “Pure coincidence,” he murmured, his tone dripping with quiet amusement. “Great minds think alike, I suppose.”

Rossi rolled his eyes, giving you both a look of mock exasperation. “Sure, keep up the act. We all know you two are practically telepathic by now. Matching outfits, finishing each other’s sentences - what’s next, a joint desk at Quantico?”

You laughed, playing along, the banter slipping effortlessly between you. “Oh, that’s never happening. You don’t know how particular he is about his desk. But we might just take over your old office for ourselves, it’s starting to collect dust.”

Gideon chuckled, nudging Rossi with a grin. “Watch out, Dave. Give it a few more years, and they’ll be running this whole place.”

Hotch chuckled beside you, his laugh low and warm, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the gentle weight of his hand on your lower back. It was subtle, but not meaningless - not for him, that was certain. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep through the fabric of your dress, almost as if his hand were resting on your bare skin.

Your eyes met his for a brief second, a quick, almost tentative smile passing between you, and in that heartbeat, his hand was already gone, faster than the speed of light, leaving you bare of that ephemeral touch.

As you gathered for the photo, the opening notes of “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” began to play softly in the background, filling the room with its familiar, haunting melody. Gideon chuckled, shooting you a knowing look. “Perfect timing. They’re even playing your song.”

You shot him a playful glare, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you, and as the photographer raised his camera, Hotch’s arm slipped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. His hand was warm and steady, grounding you even as your heart raced but not as fast as his. You felt his fingers press lightly against your waist, sending a shiver up your spine.

The moment felt suspended in time, the music swelling softly around you as you reached up, slipping your arm around his neck, your elbow resting lightly on his shoulder. Your other hand - on his chest, fingers gently splayed. You leaned in, your bodies naturally angling toward each other, close enough that you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and catch the faintest hint of his cologne. The warmth of his presence, the closeness - it felt far too natural, a quiet intimacy that left you almost breathless.

As you looked up at him, you caught a flicker in his eyes, something that wasn’t wrapped in the usual teasing or the shared jokes that had become your comfort zone. Instead, it was something raw, something unguarded and completely sincere, a depth that made your heart stumble.

As Rossi and Gideon drifted away, already pulled into conversation by a colleague, Hotch’s hand rested lightly on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding you. You turned to look up at him, and he met your gaze with a quiet smile, his expression carrying a hint of something more.

“So,” he started, his voice teasing. “Seems like Rossi and Gideon’s anniversary isn’t the only remarkable event happening today.”

You tilted your head, completely oblivious to what he meant. “Oh?” you replied, eyebrows raised. “What else could possibly compete with the vow renewals of our favorite BAU lovebirds?”

Hotch chuckled, shaking his head. “Today also marks your first anniversary with the BAU,” he said, his tone softening. “It’s been exactly one year since you walked into the bullpen and, by some twist of fate, ended up as my deskmate.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a flutter of warmth and something deeper spreading through you. Between the long hours, the grueling cases, and the late nights, you hadn’t even realized what day it was. But Hotch had remembered, and that simple fact made your heart skip a beat.

Before you could say anything, he picked up the glasses of whiskey you’d left on a nearby table, raising one in a silent toast. “Here’s to you, and to one hell of a year,” he said, clinking his glass against yours.

You laughed, lifting your glass, still a bit dazed. “I didn’t even realize it. I guess I owe you a toast then, for putting up with me for an entire year.”

He smirked, setting his glass down and meeting your eyes with an intensity that softened as he spoke. “Actually, I have a gift for you,” he began, a playful glint in his eyes. “It’s a little different from my usual attempts - no pens this time. I noticed you haven’t even used the last one I gave you.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of his words, and his gaze remained steady, almost vulnerable as he continued. “This gift is… well, something I think you’ll appreciate more. You’re always the one diving into these philosophical speeches, so I figured it’s about time I gave it a try. Lawyers aren’t usually the introspective types,” he added with a smirk, “but I’ve learned a few things from you.”

He took a steadying breath, as if collecting his thoughts, before he began. “You once gave me “Hegel for Dummies”, and in all my time bearing you rant about philosophy, there’s this one concept that’s stuck with me – please correct me if I’m wrong: In order to fully understand itself, a self-conscious being needs to be seen and acknowledged by another. This process of seeking recognition is central to how we grow. We aren’t just… self-contained. We become who we are through the recognition of others.”

You blinked, surprised and deeply touched as he paused, his voice softening. “That recognition - of seeing and being seen - I felt it from the first day we worked together. I knew, right then, that you were meant to be my partner.” He smiled, the words flowing with a quiet sincerity that left you breathless. “In just one year, you’ve managed to become one of the most important people in my life, even with our ongoing rivalry - who’s at the office first, who’s cracked the case, and who’s snooped into the other’s files,” he added, his grin widening. “I’ll remind you, by the way, that I’m still unbeaten in arriving first.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling your heart swell as he continued. “But you’re more than just a colleague. You’re my partner, my best friend, and tonight, I wanted you to know that you have all the recognition you’ll ever need from me.”

He held your gaze, a softness in his eyes that he rarely allowed to show. “I don’t usually talk about these things out loud, but I know how much words matter to you. So, I’ll say it once, just to make sure you don’t let it go to your head.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you, philosopher.”

The words, though lighthearted, hit you deeply, his sentiment so sincere that it brought a sudden welling of tears to your eyes. You blinked quickly, smiling as you took a shaky breath, overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude. “I love you too, lawyer,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, his hand finding your shoulder again, giving it a gentle squeeze. For a moment, neither of you spoke, simply holding each other’s gaze, the weight of the moment settling between you like a promise.

You smiled at him, but a twinge of guilt twisted in your chest. “I feel terrible, you know,” you admitted softly, lowering your gaze before looking back up into his eyes. “You remembered our anniversary, and I didn’t even think to get you anything. I mean, this day is just as much about you as it is about me. It’s our anniversary as partners, after all. I’m no better than Gideon, forgetting about Rossi a year ago,” you added, with a small, self-deprecating smile.

You paused, letting the weight of the moment settle between you. “Even if we weren’t officially partners at first, I’ve always felt this day mattered for both of us.”

Hotch’s expression softened, his gaze steady and reassuring as he took a small step closer, his hand resting on your arm. "You don’t need to give me anything," he said quietly, his voice low but filled with sincerity. "You being here, by my side, is more than enough. I couldn’t imagine what any of this would be like without you, what a day without you sitting across from me would even look like."

His words sank into you, the depth of his sentiment catching you off guard. For a man who rarely spoke about his emotions, this was as honest and open as you’d ever heard him, and it struck you deeply.

"Maybe there is one thing," he added, a small smirk lifting the corner of his mouth, breaking the seriousness just enough to ease the moment. "It’s a stupid deal, really."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity tugging at your smile. "A stupid deal?"

He nodded, his voice warm and playful, yet beneath it, you could feel the gravity of his words. "Promise me that you’ll only leave me if you get tired of me. Otherwise," he paused, eyes locking with yours in that way that made you feel like the rest of the world had faded away, "I’ll always fight to have you back - and you have to let me. Deal?"

Your heart clenched at the sincerity behind the teasing tone. It was such a simple promise, but in that moment, it felt like everything. You blinked quickly, trying to push back the emotion threatening to spill over, and you smiled, a little shakily.

"You don’t need to worry about that," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you get tired of me first."

Hotch shook his head, a small, affectionate smile pulling at his lips as he looked down for a moment before meeting your gaze again, his eyes filled with a rare, raw emotion. "I could never get tired of you," he said, his voice so quiet it felt like it was meant just for you, a secret he was letting you in on.

"Deal," you whispered, a small smile curving your lips. "But just so you know, I’m going to hold you to that."

---

JJ looked at you carefully, reading the emotion that flickered across your face. “Why did you leave the BAU? I mean, we know you left to teach, but... you and Hotch? You had something here. Don’t you miss it?”

Your heart clenched again. You missed it more than you could ever admit, even to yourself.

You don’t need to worry about that.

I’m not going anywhere.

Not unless you get tired of me first.

The fieldwork, the adrenaline, the puzzles you’d solved together.

And Hotch.

God, you missed him.

But life now felt more complicated than it did in ’99.  there was also Peter waiting for you back home. He wanted stability, a life where you could start a family and youl couldn’t just deny him that. You knew that staying at the BAU, returning to those long, chaotic hours, would mean giving that up. And Peter? He wouldn’t forgive you for it.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I do miss it. I miss the field, the cases, all of it. But... Peter and I, we want different things. He wants to settle down. I thought teaching would give me that balance.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow. “But does it? Give you balance?”

You paused, the answer hanging in the air between you.

No, it didn’t.

Not really.

Not at all.

Teaching filled part of that void, but the truth was, your heart had never really left the BAU.

Morgan sighed, stepping closer. “I know we’ve only heard the stories, but it’s obvious you and Hotch were more than just partners in the field. You two had something special. And from what I can tell, he’s not the same without you. He doesn’t laugh like that anymore. Hell, he barely smiles.”

You being here, by my side, is more than enough.

I couldn’t imagine what any of this would be like without you,

what a day without you sitting across from me would even look like.

JJ smiled softly, “You could tell he really trusted you. And seeing the way you worked in just one day? Yeah... you’re definitely missed here.”

You glanced away, the melancholy creeping in.

You did miss the BAU.

You missed the work.

You missed him.

But could you really walk away from the life Peter wanted for you?

Could you sacrifice the chance to start a family for the pull of the field?

The silence in the room felt heavier now. The team could sense the conflict in you, the tug-of-war between your head and your heart. And as much as you tried to focus on the case, you knew that the real question was whether or not you could truly walk away from the one person who had always understood you completely.

Morgan broke the silence. “You’ve got two weeks with us, Teach. Maybe that’s enough time to figure out what you really want.” His tone was light, but the underlying message was clear.

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Maybe,” you whispered.

But deep down, a part of you had already made the decision.

All that was left was for you to recognize it.

But you couldn’t do this alone.

---

Phi's Corner: I hope the binomial unsub/victim captures how the unsub denies the victim participation in the intimate act of recognition, yet demands society’s acknowledgment instead. In contrast, the philosopher/lawyer dynamic allows both to engage fully in the process of mutual recognition. This reflects her realization: to understand she belongs back at the BAU, she needs Aaron too. Recognition falters when it’s one-sided; together, it’s complete. I hope that conveys the theme with a touch of badly written philosophy.

Repeat after me AS A FRIEND, AS A FRIEND, AS A FRIEND. It's honestly hilarious the English language doesn't have a term that differentiates platonic love with actual love. All the betterrrrrrr

P.S. Yes, a part of me wants to believe the smile Aaron had in the pic was similar to the one I've chosen for the thumbnail. Yes, I edited the color of the shirt myself. Yes, it looks horrible.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @todorokishoe24

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Locked In

Ah, the classic forced proximity trope (I'm such a sucker for this). This idea was suggested by @blueberrysquire so thank you very much! This one's for you, I hope you like the fic!

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Sho Haizono x gn! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k (2,170 words)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Sho get stuck in a classic forced proximity trope. What will happen when you have no choice but to confront your feelings for each other?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sho was going to kill Leo this time.

He really was. Sure, he’d said that before and Leo had talked his way out of it or Sho’s anger had dissipated once the issue was passed. But this time, he was serious.

That grey-haired idiot had pushed him too far this time and Sho was going to kill him.

What had happened to get him to that point? Simple.

The food truck had been a great success. Better than he’d ever imagined it would be. Each day came with more and more customers and, while Sho was happy his cooking was finally getting the recognition it deserved, that also meant more and more trips to and from the storage room to replenish his ingredients.

And then there were your visits. At the end of every day, Sho would experiment with whatever leftover ingredients he had on hand and make up new dishes. And somehow, you’d found out about this routine and started dropping by just as he was closing up for a free feed of whatever he decided to cook up that day.

Not that he minded the company. In fact, far from it. Despite his initial mental refusal, Sho had started developing something of a crush on you ever since your support of his food truck idea. He’d been around Leo so long, all it took was a few kind, encouraging words from you to get his heart racing.

And then, just as he was starting to accept his feelings, the last person he ever wanted to find out, found out.

~

“What, you got a crush on the NPC or something?”

Sho turned his back on where Leo was sitting and concentrated on not burning the chicken he was cooking.

It was the middle of the lunch hour and, as usual, Leo had dropped by to “help out” and “keep Sho company”. Of course, Leo’s version of helping was sitting nearby and gossiping about everyone on campus.

Today, he had been gossiping about you, the Honour Roll, the NPC, who was going around being a goody two shoes and helping all the houses with their unresolved daddy issues. Or mummy issues. Depending on who it was.

Sho had been distracted by his cooking and had made the stupid mistake of defending you.

And that was all the encouragement Leo had needed.

“Oh my god, you do!”

Sho refused to turn around. He could already imagine the look on Leo’s face, smug and vaguely disgusted at the notion of his friend having a crush on someone. And he refused to let Leo see the blush that had spread across his cheeks.

“Really? Honour Roll?” Leo sighed, “You’ve got to improve your taste. But whatever floats your boat, I guess. Could be fun after all.”

At that, Sho turned to face his friend. “No. No, no, no. Don’t you dare. I know that tone. You’re going to keep out of this. I don’t want any dares or bets or gambles. You’re going to keep your pointy nose out of this for once. Okay?”

A slow grin spread across Leo’s face. “You really like them, don’t you?”

Sho felt his face begin to burn again and turned back to the stove. “What is it to you?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

But Sho knew it was never just nothing with Leo.

~

Which brought him to today. The food truck had been exceptionally busy, even by his standards and by the end of the day, he’d had barely any ingredients left over to cook dinner for the two of you. He was just considering another supply run when your voice broke him from his thoughts.

“How was the truck today?”

You were standing in the door, grinning at him and he had to bite back a goofy smile of his own. Sure, he liked you but that was no reason to go blurting his feelings out so obviously.

“Busy. I’m all out of ingredients. No dinner today.”

Sho watched your face fall, then lift as you scrambled to cover your slip up. “Oh, that’s all good. Can’t get a free feed all the time I suppose.”

Sho nodded, letting the moment drag out before he let himself laugh, a smile breaking across his face. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I was about to go do another trip to pick up some fresh ingredients for dinner. I have to eat too after all.”

The way your face lit up was all worth it and Sho felt his heart race faster.

“C’mon. You can tag along this time. Since I’ve got to get the ingredients, you can pick what we have tonight.” He untucked his tie from where it had been sitting in his chest pocket and walked over to join you at the door.

On the walk across to the storage room Sho let his mind wander as you ranted about your day. Apparently, the latest house you had been assigned to was full of weirdos and you had no idea how you were going to make them all want to work together.

 “And then they decide to just leave. I mean who does that?”

Sho shook his head, smiling at your incredulous tone as he unlocked the storage room door. Leaving the key in the lock, he gestured you through, turning on the light with his outstretched hand. You pushed past him and he tried not to relish the warmth from your body.

“So, what’s on the menu?”

You made a humming noise as you looked over the shelves. Sho followed you into the room so he could better see what ingredients your eyes lingered over.

And then the door slammed shut.

Sho spun on his heel to try but it was far too late to prevent it from closing. He sighed and placed a hand on the door handle. But just as he was about to turn it to open the door a click came from the other side.

Sho felt panic build in him and tried to turn the handle. It didn’t move.

“Yeah, I locked it.”

Sho covered his hands, trying not to yell. Of course Leo was poking his nose into Sho’s business. And of course he would take matters into his own hands in this way.

“Leo. Unlock the door. It’s not funny.” Sho glanced behind him to see how you were holding up. Being locked in a room was never fun, even if there was plenty of food around. You looked more annoyed than concerned and Sho remembered that, even if he’d known Leo longer, you’d still had to put up with your fair share of his nonsense.

Leo made a tutting noise. “Uh uh uh. You and Honour Roll aren’t getting out of there until things get cleared up between you two. I don’t care how it gets resolved. As long as you leave that room with…no secrets.”

Sho turned away from you quickly, hoping you didn’t notice the blush on his face. “Unlock the door.”

“Enjoy!”

“Leo.”

Silence.

“Leo!”

Sho banged on the door with an open palm but there was still no reply. Leo must have walked away. Sho could imagine him going, swinging the key in one hand.

He sighed, resting his head against the door. He was pretty strong, maybe he could break down the door. But no, this room was specially designed to survive the brunt of ghoul strength to prevent theft. He’d left his phone in the kitchen, assuming it would be a quick trip to the storage room and back. And he’d seen you put your bag down inside the kitchen door and he guessed your phone was in there. Unless you were able to think of a plan to get out, you’d both be trapped until Leo took mercy and came back with the keys.

“So. Guess we’re stuck in here huh?”

Sho turned around slowly, almost dreading your expression. But other than lingering annoyance that he hoped was because of Leo, you didn’t look that put out by being forced to spend possibly hours in a locked room with him. Sho decided to take that as a good sign.

“Seems like it. Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Nah, all good. I didn’t have any plans tonight anyway. I don’t mind spending time with you. Despite the circumstances.”

Sho exhaled through his nose and sat down cross legged on the floor. He gestured for you to do the same. “No point in staying standing.”

You nodded your agreement as you lowered yourself to the floor and mirrored his position. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

~

The conversation had been flowing better than Sho could have hoped. Usually, you talked while he cooked and listened so it was a nice change being able to have a proper two way conversation with you. But it had reached a natural lull and you were both staring at the ingredients, trying not to make the situation awkward.

What was Leo anyway? There was no way of telling the time in the storage room but it had to have been a while. Surely he wasn’t going to leave them there overnight?

Then again, this was Leo. Even Sho didn’t know what he was capable of.

“Hey, Leo said something about clearing the air right?”

Oh no.

“Do you know what that was all about?”

No, no no.

“I think things are great between us. Even when we’re locked in a room, it doesn’t get weird.”

He was going to kill Leo.

“Nah, who knows what he was on about. Probably some new trend he saw on TikTok.”

You uncrossed your legs and spun around onto your hands and knees, crawling towards him. “You sure? It’s nothing like ‘you have a crush on me and you’ve been talking about me to Leo and he’s finally had enough so he locked us in this room to get you to confess’?”

Sho’s mouth hung open despite the voice in his brain screaming at him to get it together. You were just hypothesising, you didn’t know how he felt. But you were getting closer and your face was on level with his and the rest of his brain was short circuiting and he wasn’t sure he trusted his voice at the moment.

You paused. “It’s not that is it?” Silence. “Is it?” More silence as Sho looked away feeling his cheeks heating up. “It is.” You leant back, sitting down with a thump. Sho couldn’t bring himself to look at you. “Oh my god. It is that.”

Sho cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak but you raised a hand and he dared to glance at your face.

It was flushed and you were avoiding his eyes as carefully as he and just been avoiding yours. “Just…just give me a second.”

Sho nodded and leaned back against the door, bringing a slightly trembling hand to his head to brush back his hair.

“So, you like me?” Your voice was stronger and, despite the flush that was still evident, you were about to meet his eyes.

Sho nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I didn’t expect you to find out this way though.”

You let out a laugh. “I wasn’t expecting to tell you I like you back this way either.”

Sho blinked, letting your words sink in. You liked him back. You. Liked him. You liked him as well. His feelings were mutual.

He felt a smile begin to spread across his face and saw the same grin mirrored on your face. “You like me too?”

You nodded. Sho wasn’t sure which of you moved first but the next thing he knew, you were hugging him and he was hugging you back and everything felt right in the world, even if you two were still locked in the storage room.

You pulled back from the hug, keeping your faces close together. Sho felt a fluttering in his chest as you began to draw closer…and closer…

And then fluorescent light bathed the two of you as the door swung open and Leo shone a torch down on the two of you.

“Well, that took longer than I thought. If it hadn’t wrapped up soon, I was going to have to leave you two there until morning.”

“Were you sitting outside that whole time listening in?” Sho felt you stiffen in his arms as you realised your private conversation may not have been so private after all.

“Well I had to know when to let you two out. Really Sho, after all that and your secret got blurted out before you had the chance to tell her yourself. I’m ashamed.”

Sho gently pushed you away from him and began to rise to his feet. He stretched a hand down to you and help you up as well. Once you were upright, he smiled at you.

“You want to help me kill him?”

Your grin returned, clearly seeing the sparkle in his eyes. “Could be a fun first date.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

[chaotic-mystery]

Peeping Neighbor | J.M.

ꨄ Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

ꨄ Summary: Mr. Miller is your neighbor and he keeps calling you at the worst time…what could he possibly want?

ꨄ CW: smut! 18+, minors DNI, peeping neighbor! Joel, perv!joel, age gap implied (Joel’s late 30s and reader is early 20s), phone sex, mutual masturbation, pet names, reader watches porn (wxw/wxm) toys used, size kink, foul dirty mouth Joel.

ꨄ WC: 1.7k

(Technically this would be no outbreak!Joel, lived long enough to see smart phones be a huge thing.)

Let me know what you think! Enjoy!🖤

There was nothing good on TV this late at night and you knew that, but you flicked through the channels anyway, hoping something would jump at you and get your attention. Nothing did, it was all boring shit. You turned the TV off and suddenly your room was almost pitch black, the street light outside casting an orange glow against your bedroom wall. As you laid there looking at the ceiling, your mind wandered and before you knew it your hand was opening your nightstand drawer and grabbing your vibrator, going down your shorts. Slow and soft rubs buzzed against your clit while you thought absolute filthy thoughts. You were just getting into the motions when suddenly your phone was buzzing on your nightstand.

10:17 p.m: Joel Miller Calling

For fucks sake.

"H-hello? What's up Mr. Miller?" you sounded a little out of breath and frazzled. shit.

"Hey sweetheart, sorry I know it's late, did I happen to leave my tape measure there from earlier when I was helpin' your dad? I can't find it anywhere.."

Was he serious right now? Why the hell was he worried about a fucking measuring tape this late at night?

You scratched your head and sighed a little too loudly. "No uh, I'm sorry Mr.Miller, I haven't seen it, I'm sorry." god dammit you just wanted to get your rocks off and go to bed.

"Okay, thanks darlin', I appreciate you lookin' for me. Have a good night." He hung up before you could tell him goodnight, weird.

The app of all your saved favorite dirty videos you watch on a burner account, you know exactly which app, was staring you dead in the eye. You clicked your burner account and scrolled until you found your favorite girl on girl video you bookmarked, and your hand turned on your vibrator once more, pressing straight to your clit. The moaning, the kissing, the pussy eating was making you squirm with burning hot pleasure under your own touch. Crazy what a two minute video can do for you. You could see your orgasm approaching rather quickly when once more, your phone starting ringing and the call was flashing over the dirty video.

10:25 p.m: Joel Miller Calling

This is a joke.

"Yeah, Mr. Miller?" there was no hiding your panting this time, or your snappy tone.

"Jus' wanted you to know I found it, was in my truck." There was something else he wanted to say, he was too cheery over a fucking tape measure.

At this point you didn't even turn off your vibrator, why lose the momentum when you were so close? It was however, very distracting to focus on what he was saying.

"Mhm, yeah that's-that's great I'm glad you found it." Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and you almost let a moan out when he said your name.

"Is everything okay, sweet pea? You sound out of breath..and what's that buzzin' sound?" Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You quickly cleared your throat and turned off your vibrator, tossing it to your side. "Oh! Yeah, I'm fine, just doing some stretches before I go to sleep. Buzzing? I don't hear anything, must be your phone. Well I'm glad you found your stuff, but I really have to get some sleep. G'night Mr. Miller!" You hung up so fast he didn't have a chance to say anything.

Sighing deeply, you put your head in your hands and started giggling softly. That was so close. You grabbed your toy one last time and turned it on, pressing it to your soaking wet clit again. Finding another one of your favorites, you watched closely as they started making out, the guy moving down her body and sucking her nipples as he fingers her.

You bent your knees and moved your vibrator up and down along your overwhelmed bud and soft whimpers escaped your lips, eyes screwed shut pretending that was you getting your nipples sucked.

10:31 p.m: Joel Miller Calling

There was ZERO way you were answering for the third time. No, kindly fuck off Mr.Miller. You sent the call straight to voicemail and went back to looking through your catalog of videos. A notification popped up along the top of your phone saying you had one new voicemail. Curiosity got the best of you and you wanted to know what he said. You pressed the phone to your ear and listened closely to the message, vibrator still going against your clit.

"Hey sugar, I didn't get a chance to tell you what I got to see when I went to my truck. You should reeeally be careful with leavin' your curtains open. I was walkin to my truck when I caught a glimpse of you playin' with yourself. Now, It's not a big de-"

You didn't need to hear anymore. Your face was hot with humiliation mixed with anger. You turned off your toy and sat up in bed before you dialed his number back. Who the fuck did he think he was? You heard him pick up the phone and you didn't give him one millisecond to fix his lips to say hello.

"Who do you think you are leaving fucking voicemails like that on my phone?!" you harshly whispered, not wanting to wake up your dad upstairs Joel chuckled and that only pissed you off more.

"Listen to me, pretty baby and listen to me good. I'm gonna help you get yourself off and you're gonna accept the offer because let's be honest here, I've heard you moan my name before when I've come home late and your windows are wide fuckin' open for the whole neighborhood to hear. Now, you dirty lil thing, are you touching yourself right now?"

You never knew your face could get so hot until this very moment. Suddenly all those times you were moaning his name as you were orgasming came rushing back to you, and there was many of those nights. He was attractive, a good face to picture while you came, you admit it. Part of you wondered if this was a joke but the other part wanted to believe he wanted this too.

You took a deep breath and laid back down in your bed, closing your eyes gently. "No, no I'm not, just laying here."

"Ok, I want you to turn on your lil vibrator again like I heard earlier and put it back where you had it, against that pretty lil pussy." His tone was low and seductive, it was hard to stay upset when he sounded so hot.

You did what he said and pressed the buzzing toy against you, moans slipping from your lips. "oo-oh it feels so good Mr. Miller" you whined and pressed harder against the toy.

"Mmmm does it bunny? Would it be better if I was there using the toy against that wet clit of yours while I fuck you? Hm? My hard cock pumping in and out of you while I pinch those pretty nipples of yours and watch you swim in pleasure. Tell you how gorgeous you look wrapped around my cock while I fuck you so good your makeup is running down your face, would you like that baby?" His teasing tone was met with the sound of a belt being undone in the background behind and that added to the images floating in your mind.

"Yes I want that so bad, your cock filling me up to the brim, and I can't take all of it because you're so big. Make me take it all and shove your fingers down my throat before you kiss me, putting your tongue in my mouth. I bet your big cock would feel so good going in and out of my tight hole, Mr.Miller." you breathily respond as the pressure builds in your stomach and goes straight to your clit.

He grunted in pleasure as he took a moment to picture that, and he was breathing heavy now. "Wh-what do you think of when you're cumming sweetheart, why do you say my name? Call me Joel baby."

"Because you're so hot, Joel. I think about riding your face until I cry, I think about fucking you before we'd go to sleep, when we'd wake up, pretty much whenever I'd get a second alone with you. I see the way you undo your belt in your driveway as soon as you get home from work because you want it off so badly and all I can think about is you spanking me with it. " you were being so vulnerable with him, you didn't mean to go into such detail with that answer.

"Fuuuuckkk you naughty girl. You're so fuckin' nasty, I should've called you sooner. Yeah I bet you taste so sweet baby doll. God damn I'd pin you to my face until I'm done eating that pussy. I'd love to have my beard covered in your sweet juices, just glistening before I kiss you to let you have a taste. You want me to spank you with my belt? Throw you over my lap and kiss your ass cheeks before I spank the hell outta them, fuckkk-" he groaned out and you could tell he was close.

"Joe-l I'm gonna cum, i'm gonna fuckin cum right now, oh m-" you squeaked out and you went silent as your body shook with your orgasm. Soft whimpers danced through the phone into Joel's ear and it was enough to send him shooting his load all over his lap like a goddamn water fountain. He was loud when he came, he was cussing and grunting over and over. You laid there in bliss as you listened to him come down from his high, the grunts dying out softly.

"You dirty girl you, I've got cum all over my thighs and stomach. Next time you're feelin' like this, come over. Not like I'm super far." he joked and you laughed with him, replaying what just happened. "I will, Joel. Thanks for the fun. Get some sleep, maybe I'll come over for breakfast tomorrow." you hinted and he gasped slightly. "I better be ready then, shouldn't I? G'night pretty baby."

11:02 p.m: call ended.

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (1/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

summary: You had left the gang about a year ago. There were many reasons as to why, but that you had received a rather gruff rejection from the man you loved was definitely on that list. Now, Arthur appears in front of your little cabin with an interesting demand.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

Link to my Masterlist

1600 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

It had been a year since you had last seen him. He was one of the reasons why you had decided to leave the gang. Because it had become unbearable to be around the man you had feelings for. The man you had confessed those feelings to and the man who had rejected you. It had been an uncomfortable moment, to say the least. Dutch had been talking about a bigger score for a while now and the mission had only been a few days away. You had approached Arthur who had been seated near a campfire with Hosea and Reverend, deep in a seemingly serious but one-sided conversation.

"May I talk to you for a moment?", you had pleaded. Your hands had been shaking. You had been aware: every score the boys went on held the possibility of never seeing them again. And you had felt brave that day. Brave enough to finally confess that you had feelings for this man. He was kind enough and caring towards you. He never was someone to express affection too openly so you hoped...that even if he did not feel entirely the same, he might be open to get to know you better and give you a chance.

"Sure", Arthur had grunted, a little groggily and stood up. You had walked a few steps away from Reverend and Hosea, just far enough to make give them the impression that this was supposed to be a private conversation. Quickly, but precisely and not without a certain shake in your voice, you let Arthur know that you liked him. More than the normal amount at least.

You peaked through your curtains to watch this very man dismount from his horse and caringly fix its reins next to the one of your horse, which was barely acknowledging the visitor.

For a moment, Arthur had just stared. Then he had shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with a warm but stifled chuckle escaping his throat.

"Yer joking, aren't ya?", he mumbled as he nervously peeked back to Hosea and Reverend, who hadn’t exactly given you attention during this ordeal. When Arthur had caught your dead-serious face and how you swallowed after he had said those words, he knew that you, in fact, hadn’t been joking.

"I- ehr...I don't see ya like that, I'm sorry", he had stumbled over his words. His voice hadn’t been upbeat or hopeful, not even apologetic or friendly. No, the longer you had turned those words over in your mind afterwards, you heard how bitter, how disappointed, and somewhat accusatory he sounded. He had turned around and had walked back to his log, shaking his head, chuckling coldly.

Arthur's hand plunged into his jacket, and he pulled out a wrinkly, yellowy paper that he unfolded. As he held the paper in one hand, a grin flitted across his face, before he took a breath and started loudly:

"I'm looking for the fierce, the ferocious....", Arthur stopped and plucked a ripe tomato from its stem. You had been growing this beautiful tomato plant right next to the gate that separated your garden from the path that travellers commonly used. But Arthur was the first one who had the audacity to help himself. Then he went on: "The downright awful degenerate y/n. Supposedly, she robbed a stagecoach and left the driver in a condition that left much to desire...She has fled to find refuge from her abhorrent, ginormous bounty of 15 proud dollars!"

Arthur had a shit-eating big grin on his face when you finally pushed the door to your little cabin open. He popped the tomato into his mouth, savouring the taste as he watched you step into the light and lean against the door frame.  

"That you?", Arthur asked indistinctly with his mouth full, quick to catch some tomato juice with his sleeve as it escaped the corner of his mouth. He held up the bounty poster that showed the most unflattering sketch of your features that you had ever seen.

"I look myself in the mirror quite often, but I've never seen this creature staring back", you joked as you nodded at the sketch. You were still unsure what his sudden appearance at your doorstep was supposed to mean.

Arthur shrugged and sarcastically answered: "I really think they did ya justice. Have you seen the pictures going round of me?"

You had. They weren't nearly as bad as the one he held up of you. But they did paint him more cruel than he looked right now. Honestly, knowing him better, all you can see is an actually soft man which might look big and scary when he swings his gun around, but now, as he took his hat off, he looked harmless. The afternoon sun nearly blinded him as he looked at you, but he deemed the gesture necessary to be polite, apparently.

"Yer trying to take me in for a 15 dollar bounty?", you asked and crossed your arms.

"Don't want'a sound rude but that's barely worth it...", Arthur smiled, "No I ehrm...was close by. A farmer down that way told me you was living here. I helped him fix a wheel on his waggon."

"Sure...", you mumbled suspiciously. There was no way you would have naturally come up in this conversation.

"'s been a while...", Arthur commented.

"Yeah. More than a year. Took me this long to figure out how it'd bear fruit", you pointed at the tomato plant Arthur had stolen from.

Shamelessly, he plugged another one and ate it, "They're good."

"I know", you sighed. You had given up and moved aside to let the man into your cabin.

It was a humble little place. Just big enough to fit a table, three chairs, a bed, a stove and a cupboard. Arthur noticed the rifle that leaned next to the bed, the few books that were scattered on the table and finally his eyes fell on a couple of sketches you had pinned onto the wall. After leaving the gang, you had tried your luck with drawing. Yes, it was a way to remember Arthur, because though you haven't seen many of his drawings, you knew he sketched everything he laid his eyes on.

For a moment, you hoped that Arthur would comment on your sketches. There was one of a doe that you were particularly proud of, but Arthur just briefly scanned them before turning his attention back to you.

"Nice little cabin ya got here...killed the fella that lived in it before or...?", Arthur suggested, his eyes falling on a little hole in the roof that needed fixing and the bedframe which was uneven and brittle.

You almost laughed at the suggestion: "No. It belongs to an old lady who went to live with her sister in the city. She gave me the cabin to look out for, until her grandson is old enough to live in it."

"Oh", Arthur commented, fidgeting with his hat.

You had spent months trying to forget this man. You were sure you'd never see him again, not if you could have helped it. You were glad about leaving your affiliations with the van der Linde gang behind. However, this had never been the official deal. The deal had been that you could roam for a while, figure yourself out and then join back. You never did. And now you had a sour feeling as to why this man was currently scanning your backyard through the window.

"Why are you here?", you asked, your tone serious.

"It's good to see you again", Arthur light-heartedly said. It almost sounded like a joke.

"Arthur", you warned him.

"Lot has happened since you left...", Arthur said, still wandering around in this cabin as if he was scanning the small territory, "we lost some people in Blackwater...Mac and Davey...Jenny..."

You knew about Mac. It was reported in the newspaper, but when Arthur mentioned Jenny, your jaw dropped. You felt a sort of anger flare up. You had gotten along well with Jenny. She was a kind and funny girl and you had considered her a friend.

"How did- Why...How did this even happen?!", you grumbled, "Jenny wasn't someone who would be in the midst of a fight. Hell, she knew how to handle a gun, but-"

"I know", Arthur interrupted, "couple weeks ago we lost Sean, too."

"Why are you here, Arthur? And why are you telling me this?"

"Wanted to see how you've been doing...", he shrugged, but his demeanour changed when you opened a drawer. You didn't even need to pull out the gun before Arthur stopped with the sugarcoating.

"Dutch wants you back."

Hell, this didn't sound like a suggestion. It was more like a threat. Arthur was here to collect you. Not for a 15-dollar bounty, but for Dutch. Because he had lost too many people and now you needed to jump in. Also, every bit of hope you held close to your heart, that Arthur...that there was a tiny bit of him that wanted to see you. That he really wondered how you had been doing.

It died with those words. It stung.

"Get out", you demanded.

"Y/N-"

"Arthur, I'm not coming back."

"Dutch-"

"I don't care. I don't give a fuck what Dutch wants", you yelled, slowly pulling the gun out, "Honestly, you have some nerve showing up with this request."

Then, you had to laugh. Laugh at the absurdity of it and laugh because you were hurt. The laughter helped to supress the tears, for now.

"Ya ain't gonna shoot me, sweetheart", Arthur said knowingly, putting his hat back on and slowly backing out towards the door, arms still raised because he didn't want to give you the impression that he'd draw on you.

"Don't flatter yourself", you said, slowly walking towards him to make him move out of your house, "I wouldn't shoot your pretty face, but I can put holes in other parts of your body and it would hurt enough."

You felt bold, cocked the gun and aimed at his leg.

"Y/N..."

"Tell Dutch you didn't find me. Tell him I'm dead. Tell him I forced you to draw on me and you shot me...I honestly don't care. I'm not going back. I'm not...canon fodder for a cause I don't believe in anymore", you stated, your eyes fixed on Arthur. He might just notice that tears pricked your eyes, there was a hint of concern in his features.

When he opened his mouth, you were quick to interrupt him: "If you care for me just the tiniest fucking bit...yer gonna fuck off right now and not come back."

You thought about how he'd answer, 'I don't see ya like that', lasso you and drag you back into whatever hole the gang was hiding at the moment, but instead, he tipped his hat, turned around and mounted his horse.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Next chapter: here

I never have the nerve to keep a consistent taglist, but here are some tags for people who said they might be interested in that sort of story:

@pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @lonesome-ranger @twola @shiokitsune @hugthedragon @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463

If you want to be tagged, please comment under this post if you want to be included to the taglist for this story OR any fic I post in future.

Special thanks to @little-honeypie 'cause we've been cooking that story up together <3

[elspethdekarios]

I have thoughts about Anders

So I just finished Dragon Age: Awakening (I’ve played through all 3 main games, went back to do the DLC) and I have so many thoughts about how different Anders is pre- and post-Justice sharing his body. I think part of this is the voice actor change in DA2, but his personality seems so different, too. Awakening Anders is sarcastic, always cracking jokes, mostly light-hearted even after everything he’s been through. DA2 Anders has moments like this, but he’s much more intense and brooding. Awakening Anders has a few lines about wanting to settle down with a pretty girl or have a plump wife waiting for him at home, but DA2 Anders is PINING. And with the time skip, it’s a slow burn. Awakening Anders doesn’t strike me as the slow burn type—he’s very flirty and even a little raunchy at times. But Anders in DA2 doesn’t really act like that. He’s got a tortured, romantic soul. He’s much more serious. And maybe it’s just because he’s grown up a little bit, but now that I’ve met Justice as a character before he and Anders become one, I wonder how much of that change is Anders maturing vs. Justice’s personality coming through.

I know this game has been out forever and I’m probably not saying anything new, but Anders is so fascinating to me. More rambling and dialogue analysis under the cut:

The very first thing that struck me as different about Anders in Awakening (other than his general personality) was his response to Wynne telling the Warden Commander that the Libertarians in the Circle want to pull away from the Chantry, and Anders says that it’s a recipe for disaster. SIR! WHO ARE YOU?

Awakening Anders also doesn’t seem particularly interested in justice for mages or revenge for how he and other mages have been treated. He wants his freedom, and I’m sure he wants freedom for other mages too, but he’s not exactly radical like he is in DA2. In fact, it’s Justice who seems to inspire Anders to, well, seek justice. I’m emphasizing some of this dialogue to analyze it below:

Justice: I understand that you struggle against your oppression, mage. Anders: I avoid my oppression. That's not quite the same thing, is it? Justice: Why do you not strike a blow against your oppressors? Ensure they can do this to no one else? Anders: Because it sounds difficult? Justice: Apathy is a weakness. Anders: So is death. I'm just saying.

Justice: I believe you have a responsibility to your fellow mages. Anders: That bit of self-righteousness is directed at me? Justice: You have seen oppression and are now free. You must act to free those who remain oppressed. Anders: Or I could mind my business, in case the Chantry comes knocking. Justice: But this is not right. You have an obligation. Anders: Yes, well... welcome to the world, spirit.

Now, look at this conversation between Anders and Isabela in DA2:

Anders: I don't know how you live the way you do, blithely ignoring the consequences of your actions. Isabela: This is about the Qunari thing, isn't it? I'm not ignoring it. I just recognize that it happened years ago. Isabela: There's this fantastic thing called "moving on." You should try it sometime. Anders: Has it occurred to you that Kirkwall is only just recovering from the Qunari attack? Isabela: And you want me to... what? Flog myself daily? Isabela: Has it occurred to you that maybe there's no justice in the world? Other than that voice you keep in your head.

Isabela sounds more like Awakening Anders than Anders himself does in this conversation. Justice accuses Awakening Anders of ignoring the oppression of other mages like DA2 Anders accuses Isabela of ignoring the consequences of her actions (for the record, I don’t think either of these assumptions are 100% true, but I digress). In Awakening, Anders is cynical when Justice tells him he has an obligation. What can he change? He has to worry about his own survival as an apostate before risking his life even more to save others. Hence the line “welcome to the world, spirit.” Anders is pragmatic, even a little pessimistic, where Justice is idealistic.

But then, the conversation with Isabela! Like Justice tried to convince Anders of his obligation to other mages, Anders now is trying to convince Isabela to take responsibility for her actions. She’s ignoring the unrest that was caused by her stealing the Qunari tome instead of doing something to help—just like Awakening Anders is ignoring his oppressor. 

When Anders and Justice merge, Anders starts to see the bigger picture, the oppression that reaches far beyond himself. From the short story Anders:

I always knew I wouldn't submit. I could never be what they wanted from me -- compliant, obedient, guilty. But before Justice, I was alone. I never thought beyond my own escape: Where would I hide? How long before they found me? Now, even that thought repulses me. Why should so many others live with what I will not? Why must the Circle of Magi stand? Just because it always has, just because those who read Andraste's words twisted them to mean that mages must be prisoners? Why has there never been a revolution? … They will all die. Every templar, every holy sister who stands in the way of our freedom will die in agony and their deaths will be our fuel. We will have justice. We will have vengeance. And suddenly I'm alone, standing in a burning forest, with the bodies of templars and wardens at my feet. So many, and I didn't even know they were there. Didn't even know I had killed them, but the evidence is all around me. Not the aftermath of a battle as I've known it, but a bloody abattoir of rent limbs and torn and eaten flesh. This is not justice. This is not the spirit who was my friend, my self. What has he become? What have I become? We must get out of here. There is no place for me in the Grey Wardens now. Is there a place for me anywhere?

First of all, ow, my heart. But the point is: before he becomes part of Anders, Justice doesn’t feel a personal connection to mages’ freedom—he only cares because of the injustice. But once he and Anders become one, the source of injustice that Anders cares about the most, that he has deep resentment for, that has caused him great harm, becomes Justice’s cause. We know that Justice can sense/feel memories of the body he inhabits because he remembers some of Kristoff’s past, or at least feels connections to certain objects or people even if he can’t explain it. Kristoff was dead, though, so those memories were only fragments. I imagine that with Anders, he can experience those memories more clearly, including, of course, the injustice he and others have suffered at the hands of the templars. Justice is able to integrate into Anders fully, whereas with Kristoff, the body was an empty vessel with remnants of the past soul that was within it. 

Now, let’s talk about where Anders ends and Justice begins, something that even Anders himself is unsure of. Here are some DA2 banters about the division (or lack thereof) between the two of them:

(Outside The Hanged Man, Act 3) Anders: Justice doesn't let me get drunk anymore. I kind of miss it.

(in Legacy DLC) Anders: I've tried to forget about this side of myself. Justice is... so strong. Sometimes the Wardens seem insignificant. But seeing that poor bastard brings it all back. The Darkspawn taint. The call of the archdemon. It's inside me, as much a part of me as Justice.

Anders: Justice once asked me why I didn't do more for other mages. I told him it was too much work. Anders: But I couldn't go back after that. Couldn't stop thinking about it. Anders: Sometimes, I miss being that selfish.

Varric: So, the knight-commander... Boiling in oil? That one never gets old. Anders: This is past time for joking. Varric: I'm helping you indulge in elaborate revenge fantasies. I think it's good for you. Anders: Meredith will die. Do not doubt that. Varric: Go away, Justice. Can Anders come out and play? Anders: [Justice voice] Stop. Varric: You are no fun anymore.

(if Anders was taken to the Fade) Anders: I have tried to avoid the Fade since Justice. It's disturbing when he takes over.

The above dialogues imply that Anders and Justice are two separate entities in one body. The one from Legacy is tricky, since he compares it to the taint, but he still refers to Justice as separate from himself, which is why I included it. And that’s not even touching on the fact that Justice has a different voice than Anders. But these:

Aveline: So you're two people, Anders and... Justice? Anders: That's not strictly accurate. Aveline: But you are of two minds. Anders: Many people are.

Isabela: Hello? Is Anders there? Can I speak to Anders? Anders: You can stop yelling. It's always me. Isabela: Oh, good. I didn't want to talk to that other guy. You know, the stick-in-the-mud. Anders: He can still hear you. Justice and I are one. Anders: Anyway, you wanted to talk to me? Isabela: Not really. I just wanted to make sure it was you.

(If Hawke convinces Anders to give up his plan) Vengeance: Leave! This does not concern you! Hawke: This is Anders's decision, not yours! Vengeance: I am Anders! You have given into sloth. You would stand by while mages are abducted and tortured. Go. Anders has no need of you.

There’s not a clear answer either way. And I didn’t expect to find one. I think a lot of this back and forth is Anders trying to understand who he is now that Justice is part of him. He clearly still feels like he has some level of agency and individuality apart from Justice, but he struggles with it. This feels very anticlimactic, but I guess that’s just the nature of it all.

If you read this far, wow thanks. Now to not leave off on a sad note, here are some DA2 banters that feel very Awakening Anders to me - please enjoy <3

Anders: I keep thinking I know you from somewhere... Isabela: You're Fereldan, right? Ever spend time at the Pearl? Anders: That's it! Anders: You used to really like that girl with the griffon tattoos, right? What was her name? Isabela: The Lay Warden? Anders: That's right! I think you were there the night I— Isabela: Oh! Were you the runaway mage who could do that electricity thing? That was nice... Hawke: Please stop talking. Now. (Or if Varric is in the party) Varric: I don't think I need to know this about either of you.

Anders: So, I never expected to be palling around with the captain of the guard. Aveline: We're not "pals." Anders: We're not? What about that time we painted each other's toenails? Aveline: Do you want something? Anders: Love, life, and liberty. What more does a man need?

Anders: Nice day to be planning a trip into the Deep Roads, don't you think? Anders: The Blight, the dampness, the festering darkness filled with tainted rats... Carver: Shut up. Anders: You've got a real chip on your shoulder, you know? Carver: I've got a big blade on my shoulder, magey. Anders: Right. Wonder what you're compensating for.

Fenris: Is there something you want, Anders? Anders: You really don't have the temperament for a slave. Fenris: Is that a compliment or an insult? Anders: I'm just wondering how your master didn't kill you. Fenris: How have the templars not killed you? Anders: I'm charming.

Anders: Is that supposed to be Andraste's face on your crotch? Sebastian: What? Anders: That... belt buckle thing. Is that Andraste? Sebastian: My father had this armor commissioned when I took my vows as a brother. Anders: I'm just not sure I'd want the Maker seeing me shove His bride's head between my legs every morning.

(All dialogue found on the Dragon Age fandom wiki.)

[critterbitter]

What do you know- I'm trying out the askbox *eyes*

anyway I just wanted to say that high-key I think I'd follow any content you make at this point bc your art brings me so much joy. That doesn't tend to happen super often since i am,,,, very much so a hyperfixation-focused person HAHA

regardless I'm not exactly quiet about it but I adore your art and I look forward to each new time you post :D

I WISH i had the capability of pumping out art like you do bc man while I love to draw and have so many ideas all the time picking up the pencil is Hard Dude.

Also! In a recent post you mentioned the whole Twin Dragons AU and HC that people love to have- I'd be super curious as to your opinion on it!

-( ╹▽╹ )

I SEE YOUR TAGS AND IM.

I’ll have to slow down at some point on that Submas Grind, but the hyperfixation throes are REAL. Thank you for inhabiting the tunnels with me! People that tag and cheer artists on are the real mvps of the art economy.

As for twin dragon aus!

I’ve always seen Emmet as more zekrom esque, and Ingo more reshiram esque. Is it cause the typing matches their starters? Maybe, hehe.

Ultimately though, the guys are too multifaceted for me to easily split them into truth and ideals.

I also see the legendaries as Eldritch Abominations Beyond Understanding, so having the dragons in my iteration become the twins would, uh, have consequences. The funny goofy story would dip into horror territory instead. (Reshiram demands only truths, and anything not Absolute will burn. And zekrom’s ideals are beyond human understanding, and trying to understand the mad tangle of thunder would drive somebody insane.)

(I’m a huge tma fan. Can you see it? Man.)

((Also N’s a scary mofo for summoning reshiram. I’m digging directly into the whole “twin heroes have a civil war and it destroyed unova” backstory that pokemon set up, and the more I think about it the stronger my dread mounts at the idea of Zekrom OR Reshiram casually flying overhead.

But this is also just how I see the legendaries of the pokemon world! Lugia sinks islands. Groudon covers towns. Arceus loves the mortal world, and mourns because its immortality only brings grief. Giritina hates, because it’s the ghostly remains of every one of Arceus’s mistakes given drive, banished into the distortion realm. Normal stuff!)

You sly dog, you got me monologing! But here’s the tldr: Not sure i’ll ever make my own serious Dragon AU that follows my internal world building for pokemon. I’m too attached to my favorite trope: “the smallest people can still initiate the biggest of changes”, and I’m too attached to my other favorite trope: “legendaries are actually gods and you Should Be Frightened.”

So that’s why, in this essay, if the trio gets turned into pokemon, I’d make them route 1 run of the mill rats. Because rats can do whatever they want.

(Plus, patrats and pachirisu aren’t banned from the subway battles last I checked.)

If i had to make a goofy crack dragon au though, I think this would be the result:

The whole story would just be the trio and historians trying to figure out what the hell the twins got turned into, and concerns of other people becoming pokemon as well. So far, people are convinced they’re a paradox version of an archen. (I mean…)

(Alternate take of THAT, where elesa gets turned into a victini.)

[paragonrobits]

in adventure time stuff, Marceline is front and center as indisputably the single most popular character, widely loved within and out of the fanbase; she's kind of a distillation of the series' wacky tone because she is unironically a vampirized half-demon child of Satan Stand-In, a heavy metal rock star who's dated a mad scientist princess, her adoptive dad is arguably one of the most powerful entities in the setting and a terrifying ice wizard who survived the apocalypse through cunning BEFORE he was consumed by his curse, and the greatest hero in the land who is otherwise a mundane human won her friendship by punching her so hard she went 'FUCKING SWEET, WE ARE NOW BROS FOR LIFE'

but the thing about Marceline that is arguably the single most essential aspect of her character, and not something that is apparent from the joke or memes around her

is how nice and genuinely sweet she is.

Yes, she's a badass. Yes, she is probably the single most powerful character in a conventional sense among Finn's friend group, to the point that she is less present in serious situations because her picking a side would trivialize just about anything short of the Lich or the apocalyptic arrival of Golb.

But as we see more of her character, we see that she goes out of her way to actually avoid seriously upsetting people. The most recurring motif of her songs is that while they sound threatening or spooky, she says them in a very sweet and loving way that makes them too silly and harmless to take seriously. At her core, that's kind of who she is; she's honestly a genuinely nice person who deliberately distances herself from people because she outlives everyone she cares about, one way or another, and she pushes people away so she doesn't have to see it happen, but she can't help but get close to someone.

In a lot of ways, Finn helps her grow out of this mindset, and the relationships she establishes through him, or rekindles because of him, help her grow out of this. But even then, she has no real mean-ness in her

ironic, given the "MARCELINE WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN" song, but she gives her own answer right there:

"I'm not mean/I'm just a thousand years old and I lost track of my moral code"

Tellingly, when we see her as a young girl (and before meeting Simon, likely almost right before she met him), she has internalized the idea that she's a horrible, awful monster who scares people away. That she loses everyone around her, because SHE'S a scary monster. We see the source of her tendency to push people away, because that way she has some kind of control over it, and otherwise she thinks its inevitable.

But she can't help but get close to people anyway, and in many ways, her relationship with Ash is a very clear example that she is NOWHERE near as violent or ferocious as she looks. Their relationship openly has her abused, meek and quiet, and she is a nigh-unstoppable soul-eating monster that NO ONE could reasonably fight. Even so the closest she gets to actually lashing out against a guy who sold her most cherished possession (and the last remaining reminder of a father figure who can't ever come back) is to just end their relationship instead of lashing out against him.

Much like the reveal of her relationship to Ice King (which interestingly also maps to his slow recovery from being a villain at all, to the point that around the time this becomes a big aspect of his character he is functionally not really a villain, though still a danger to himself and others), its a slow burn. Showing that she's by far one of the least malicious beings in the entire setting, and she could be a hero.

And the answer to that one is: because she used to be. And that part of herself isn't as long-gone as she would like to think.