#god the valentines event was so fun …… that was so silly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zacharyleigh316 · 10 months ago

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the haunting cry of a hollow heart

the haunting cry of a hollow heart | E | 8.6K | Read here (or below cut)

Castiel, despite his interest in all things other, despite his favor for the fantastical, his love for reading stories and fairytales, despite his faith and religion, he didn’t believe in the supernatural. --

Though, regrettably, much to his chagrin, perhaps if he had, he wouldn’t have been so unprepared. --

He believed in the afterlife, believed in God, angels (he was named after one, after all) and demons, Heaven and hell. But that was where his belief both started and ended. He didn’t believe in those creatures the very stories he loved to read warned him about, the creatures that shape-shifted, or sucked humans dry. The creatures that feasted on dead flesh, or came from other lands, other universes.

Though, regrettably, much to his chagrin, perhaps if he had, he wouldn’t have been so unprepared. However, less regrettably, it did put him in the position of crossing paths with a man who, by all accounts would have never known he’d existed, a handsome athlete who ran in completely different crowds—or so he presumed originally—a man who he only knew in name until the very object of his disbelief brought them together.

Castiel was working late in the library that night, when he heard Charlie’s bright voice greet him from a distance.

“Yo, what’s up?” She had a grin on her face, of which he could hear before he even saw her.

Not that it was very hard, even over the stacks of books he was carting around, and through the thick bindings of ones already shelved, her bright red bob could be seen coming across campus.

“Charlie.” He said in lieu of a proper hello, but his tone was no less fond.

“Look at what I found.”

Castiel didn’t have time to ask before she was thrusting a piece of paper to his chest, a smug look on her face.

“And by found, naturally you mean…” he asked skeptically, pulling the paper away from himself and reading it.

“This is a flyer for the gala. The same flyer that’s been posted to the events billboard since the beginning of the semester.”

“Okay, so I might have taken-“

“Pilfered-“

Charlie playfully shoved his shoulder, and shot him a glare, without any of its usual bite, had it been directed toward anyone but him.

“-Taken,” she repeated, purposefully ignoring his correction, “from one of the boards, yes, but there’s so many of them, it’s not like they’ll miss one.”

Castiel hummed disapprovingly, but let her continue.

“I thought we could go!”

At that, Castiel furrowed his brow. “Go? To the Valentine’s Day gala?”

“Yeah! C��mon, it'll be fun. We’ll stuff our faces with free food, and watch people get shitfaced and make fools of themselves on the dance floor. Think of all the blackmail.”

“And with whom are you thinking of bringing as your date?”

“You, silly, duh! We’ll go together. As friends of course. Because you’re dreamy, but definitely not my type. Seeing as you’re not a girl.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You’re not my type either.” He muttered, handing her back the flyer.

The ‘seeing as I like guys’ went unsaid, but Charlie smiled anyway. They both knew this of one another of course, having been friends since freshman year, when Charlie bounded into his life uninvited but no less welcome, but Charlie liked to bring it up every now and then, “as a reminder” she had said once, flourishing it with a wink. Though, it was her odd idiosyncrasies that made her so likable by even someone like Castiel himself—not that he was entirely lacking in those either, except, people usually steered clear of him for his.

“And who knows, maybe there’ll be some hot people there we can hit on. Wins all around the board.” Charlie added jovially, taking the flyer back, only to wave it about the air as she gestured excitedly.

“You make it sound like we’re already going.”

She smiled at him guiltily, and Castiel couldn’t help but sigh.

“Charlie…”

“Don’t be mad, okay? Promise you won’t be mad?”

“That depends. What did you do?” He asked, though by the look on his friend’s face, he was certain he already knew the answer.

“About that…I…might have already…bought us tickets. To go.”

“Charlie…” Castiel said again, not bothering to hide the weariness in his voice.

“You said you wouldn’t be mad!”

“Actually I said it depends. But that’s not the point. You never asked if I would want to attend.”

“Well, that’s because I knew you’d say no.” Charlie snorted, not looking all that sorry for it.

Castiel knew she wasn’t.

“You don’t do anything fun unless we make you, and this is me making you. Besides, you can’t say you’d rather be working late hours in the library of all places, all by yourself, again, when you can be hanging out with the coolest people on the planet! And you know I’m right.”

Castiel sighed again, this time in, albeit reluctant, acquiescence. Not that Charlie would take no for an answer, anyway.

She grinned at the droop of his shoulders, knowing full well that was him giving up the fight. The queen, per usual, proved her right to the title; Castiel was no stranger to loss when it came to arguing with Charlie. He was certain no one was. She got her way in the end, eventually.

“Fine.”

“Yes! No one deserves to be alone on Valentine’s Day, Castiel. Even jaded history majors with a work study in the university library, such as yourself.”

“I’m not jaded,” he defended, turning back to his long since forgotten task of shelving the returns. “My people skills are just…rusty.”

“Unless they learned to talk back, which would be super cool by the way, burying yourself in work with books as your only company isn’t going to help.”

That, Castiel surmised, was a lesson he knew all too well.

Ever since her reveal that they would be attending the gala, courtesy to none other than herself, Charlie hadn’t shut up about it. Every chance she got she talked about it with the excitement erring on that of a small child, that Castiel couldn’t help but allow it to bleed into himself, despite his earlier grievances. He still had his doubts of course, feeling rather under qualified for a social occasion such as a dance, but it really did beat staying in library, or worse, in his dorm, all by himself, with nothing to do whilst his friends had fun living life—he’d also rather not have to hear the couple in the room beside him have raucous sexual relations all night. He, too, has learned that lesson the hard way.

“We should go shopping this weekend, make it a whole thing.” Charlie suggested to the table, before stealing some of the fries off Castiel’s plate, having finished her own minutes prior, and popping them into her mouth.

Gabriel snorted. “What makes you think we don’t already have outfits?”

Meg, who was pretending not to listen, but so clearly was, looked up from her phone with a smirk. “We’ve all seen inside your closet, that’s what.”

“I’ll have you know that everything in there is peak fashion.”

Meg raised a manicured brow. “To whom exactly? The dead guy you inherited it second hand from?”

“Hey! Thrifting is very efficient, and cost effective. You know, for a college student.”

“You’re a graduate student, mastering in business management, I hardly think you need to be frugal.” She argued, and Gabe crossed his arms, pouting.

“Cassie, you’re just going to let her be mean to me?!”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Meg didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

Gabriel gasped, looking thoroughly offended. He shook his head, and sullenly turned back to his own food.

“Don’t worry, Gabe, we’ll pick something real nice for you. Oh, we can even do a montage!”

“Sorry, Red. You may be able to get me to tag along at the mall with you, but I’m not going to be participating in that.” Meg said defiantly, her mind already made.

“But…montage.”

Gabe scoffed, muttering into his lunch. “Forget trying to convince this one, Charles, she’s stubborn. Like a mu-OW!”

Meg glared at Gabe, who was now rubbing his shin, from across the table. “Finish that, and die.”

“We’ll be there.” Castiel said suddenly, interrupting his friend’s antics. “Unless you’d rather show up naked.” He said this to his brother.

“Ew. Don’t give him ideas.” Charlie scrunched up her face in disgust, and Gabriel let out a laugh.

“Hey! There’d be a lot of people who’d enjoy that kind of show.”

“In your dreams.” Meg said, at the same time of Castiel’s, “not if it got you kicked out.”

“You lot are so boring.” Charlie whined, finishing off Castiel’s fries too. “Regardless of whether or not you guys are doing a montage, I’m making you watch me do one.”

The four of them set out that weekend to go shopping for outfits, and, although they shared their initial reluctance at lunch all those days prior to their outing, Charlie did, in the end, get her montage(s). Castiel, despite feeling foolish whilst modeling his various selection of outfits—all chosen meticulously for him by Charlie and Meg because he “couldn’t be trusted to put together a coherent look that both fit properly and wasn’t a boring color”—couldn’t have denied his red headed friend in the first place. By the two additional shows they got alongside his and Charlie’s, he figured it was much the same for Meg and Gabriel too.

Castiel wouldn’t be incorrect in presuming that Charlie already knew this, but he’d be damned if he told her that she was right, that he had fun, of course he did, in time that would have otherwise been spent in solitude brought upon by no one but himself, lest he inflate her ego any further.

With four new outfits under their metaphorical belts, they left their shopping spree in good spirits. It was only natural then, that the overall good mood wouldn’t last, and the playful camaraderie established between the friends would change the second they got back to campus, to blue and red flashing lights.

“What…do you think happened?” Charlie asked, her expression mirroring what Castiel was sure all their faces looked like in that moment.

He shook his head in lieu of answering, and swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.

As they neared the quad, they merged silently with the ever growing group of onlookers, most of whom were peers and faculty, whispers amongst the sea of people seeming all too loud over the eerie blanket of quiet. The cops, separated from them only by a thin barrier of police tape, stood just along edges of the area they cordoned off, no doubt keeping the crowd at bay. They offered no explanation, though Castiel could barely make out the murmured “stay back”s over the dread in his gut.

He did hear the sharp inhale beside him, however, that was Meg, he was certain, closely followed by a gasp, Charlie, and when he looked over, he saw why.

There, lying just beyond, was a body.

The grass was dark, no doubt stained crimson from blood, and the large gaping wound, from where the skull was bashed in, from which could be none other than its source, was still seeping, still fresh. The eyes stared out, wide and unseeing, as Castiel stared back in abject horror.

That was when he saw him. Jaw set and arms crossed, just across the way on the other side, stood Dean Winchester.

The man looked determined, not surprised at all to see the dead body of a classmate, in fact, and Castiel couldn’t help but watch, watch as Dean seemed to assess, seemed to study the crime scene in front of them, as if he was filing it away for later. Castiel recognized that look, because it was one he shared whenever he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Dean looked up then, like he could feel Castiel’s gaze on him, and their eyes met. The moment they did, Castiel remembered—albeit rather shamefully—the way stomach flipped for an entirely different reason than the horrific sight before them. Gabe’s iron grip on his arm was the only thing able to pull his attention away, and so he took the time to check in on the well-being of his friends, but by the time Castiel got the chance to look back, Dean was already gone.

To say the suicide—it was classified as a suicide—stirred up the atmosphere on campus, would be an understatement. Castiel couldn’t remember a time where he’d felt so shaken in his faith, so rocked to the core, raw and open and vulnerable. It was on everyone’s minds, and on everyone’s lips, and it was all anyone heard about the next few days. They didn’t cancel classes, or work, the world still went on—even though their fellow classmate’s’ was cut short, Castiel reminded himself—everything proceeding as normal, as if someone hadn’t just died, and perhaps that was worse.

Castiel didn’t know what he expected, or why he thought it would go differently, but he prayed and prayed and prayed for peace for the lost soul. Still, he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Nor could he get a certain cutting figure, but that was neither here nor there.

The very little information he had was acquired secondhand from the tail-ends of gossip, at work in the library. Apparently, or so the running theory was, the young woman, in a bout of madness, bashed her head against the tree until she dropped. Another student on their way back to their dorm found her and called the proper authorities. Castiel couldn’t imagine being the one to find the body, and he’d seen it for himself that night. He also heard that the woman’s boyfriend was beside himself with grief, most understandably, that not even he believed she would kill herself, that they were happy. She’d begged him to take her to the gala and he’d agreed.

Castiel also heard that her brains had been sucked out, but he was certain that was just hearsay; she had severe head trauma, after all, it probably only seemed like her brains were gone, when in reality they were just…well.

Shaking his head from his musings, if they’d even be called that, he got back to work, trying to lose himself in the repetitiveness of routine. Charlie had been unnaturally quiet the past few days, the dance quickly overshadowed by the recent events that transpired, and none of them felt it right to change the subject either. Castiel understood, for he was much the same, but he relished in being able to escape feeling for however long his shift was.

“Uh, hey, do you have any books on Gaelic mythology and folklore?”

Castiel paused what he was doing, and turned to greet the voice—definitely not Charlie this time—only to meet a pair of recently familiar, but quite beautiful up close, green eyes.

“Oh. Hello, Dean.” He said dumbly, but was rewarded with an amused smirk.

“Heya, Cas. Well, do you?”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “What.”

Dean chuckled. “Have books. On Gaelic folklore.”

Castiel inwardly cursed his ineptitude, and allowed himself to blink, forcing his basic motor functions to, well, function.

“Yes. We do. You know who I am?”

Dean regarded him curiously, brow raised. “Well, yeah. You’re friends with Charlie. We’ve never had the pleasure of meeting before, but she does talk about her other friends.”

“Oh.” He said again, finding himself at a loss for words.

Dean didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he still seemed rather amused by it, much to Castiel’s displeasure.

Instead of dwelling on it, however, Castiel abandoned his cart and gestured to Dean for him to follow, leading the other man to the section where he’d find what he was looking for.

“If you need anything else, let me know.”

He didn’t ask why an engineering student would need a book on Gaelic folklore, nor did Dean offer up an explanation.

“Awesome, thanks Cas.”

The nickname stole Castiel’s breath away with a familiarity he wasn’t aware they had, because they didn’t, not really—Dean was just friendly it seemed—also did he say he knew Charlie, she never said anything why didn’t she say anything—and he stood there, lingering longer than he should, awkwardly shifting in place.

“I’m…going to go…now.” He announced unhelpfully, and Dean had the decency not to comment on it.

“You do that.” He replied with a smile, and turned his attention to the shelves.

Castiel, released from whatever hold the other man had on him the second his gaze was elsewhere and no longer pointed at him, quickly made his way back to finish his work, lest he embarrass himself further.

“I wasn’t aware you knew Dean Winchester.” He grumbled to Charlie at dinner that night.

“Dean? He’s my handmaiden, of course I know Dean.”

Gabriel snorted. “Handmaiden?”

“There’s a story to that, I can tell.” Meg said, amused.

Charlie chuckled, a welcomed sound that the group hadn’t realized they missed until they heard it.

“There is, but I’m not telling. A queen’s gotta have her secrets.”

Meg clicked her tongue disapprovingly, and Gabriel groaned, complaining about “being edged, and not in the fun way” which promptly earned a smirk from Meg, a loud, boisterous laugh from Charlie, and a look of disgust from Castiel.

There was another ‘suicide’ reported that night.

Castiel was in the hall heading to his religious studies class when he next ran into Dean Winchester. He couldn’t fathom how he went his entire college career without so much as seeing a glimpse of the man, and now he saw him thrice in a matter of a few days. All because their peers appeared to be being picked off one by one.

There were now an accumulated three deaths since the first, and Castiel’s doubt had steadily increased right alongside the creeping uptick in body counts. He detested his wavering faith in the police, but there was only so many ‘suicides’ exacted in the same manner that they couldn’t be categorized as ‘suicides’ anymore. Two could possibly pass a coincidence, but three was a pattern; he knew that much. He had pondered, however, the reluctance in which the police seemed to label the ‘suicides’ as ‘murders’, but was only met with unease. For there to be murder, which Castiel was already (mostly) convinced was the case, would naturally mean for there to be a murderer.

But wouldn’t he want to know if his life was in danger? He wasn’t sure which option was scarier, but he was positive he’d rather be afraid and knowledgeable than ignorant but afraid anyway. So it was a dangerous doubt, Castiel surmised, since the only conclusion it led to was the authorities withholding the truth, regardless if it was due to their own incompetence or ulterior motives.

Dean looked furious, expression blazoned with a fierce determination, fiery and bright, even from the distance where Castiel stood. It was a devastatingly beautiful look on him, he noted sourly, seeing as his stupid heart couldn’t have picked a worse time to seek out another, and form a ridiculous infatuation that, Castiel knew, would go nowhere, regardless of their connection with Charlie.

He was talking with a much younger man, though, with the boy’s height, one wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance, and immediately Castiel knew this was Dean‘s little brother, Sam Winchester—a freshman in pre-law. Castiel recalled seeing him about, since a lot of their classes were in the same building.

“I’m pretty sure I know what it is, I just don’t know who it is.” Dean growled, crossing his arms in a posing figure, much like the one on the night they first met.

“We’ll figure it out, Dean. We always do.” Sam reassured, looking all the worse for wear as he said it, however.

Like he was trying to convince himself too.

“Yeah, but how many people have to die before then, Sammy?” Dean replied wearily, a horrifying dark look casting a dark shadow across Sam’s face.

Castiel’s chest seized in terror as he witnessed it; he’d never seen such a look on anyone’s face before, a look that, with resounding clarity, should not have ever had a place on the younger Winchester brother’s face.

“Oh hey, Cas.” Dean greeted as he noticed his approach, shooting a look at his brother before his face slipped into an easy grin.

Castiel noticed he did so with practiced familiarity, as if he was used to putting on a mask, but didn’t mention it.

“Cas?” Sam questioned, at the same time Castiel himself said, “hello, Dean. Sam.” With a cordial nod.

Were they actually investigating the incident? What business did two brothers have in a series of deaths? What could they do that the police already weren’t?

He didn’t think it wise to ask them any of these questions either.

“Hey, Castiel.” Sam said with a little wave, a small, friendly smile smoothing out his expression the same way his brother’s did.

“Just dropping off my baby bro to class.” Dean lied, just as easy as the rest of him, and reached across to ruffle Sam’s shaggy hair.

Sam squawked indignantly, knocking Dean’s hand aside with a rising blush to his cheeks. Dean chuckled at his brother’s embarrassment, which was an action definitely more genuine than anything else previously had been. Castiel had experience with this, after all, being a little brother himself, to Gabriel especially.

“You heading off to one of your smarty pants classes too, Cas?”

Castiel raised a brow. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I’m heading to my religious studies class, yes.”

Dean chuckled. “‘S’nothing, Cas. Just teasing you. Y’know, cuz you and Sam are both nerds, attending all your boring nerdy classes.”

Sam shot a glare at his brother, and Cas tilted his head to the side, curiously.

“Interesting. You seem to regard us as nerds, but you too are one. Perhaps not in the same way, but I would consider you a nerd most of all, considering your area of expertise.”

Sam snorted, his glare morphing into a smug grin as Dean spluttered. Apparently he had not expected Castiel to come back with such a lethal rebuttal.

“Damn, Cas.” Dean whistled, and Sam nodded his agreement.

“I’ve been telling him that for years.”

“Unfortunately I’ll be late if I stay any longer. Goodbye, Dean. Sam.”

He nodded his apologies as he said goodbye, and passed them by on the way to his class.

“See ya, Cas.” Dean said after him, before grunting in what Cas could only assume was an elbow to his side from Sam.

“Cas, huh?” He asked, amused.

“Shaddup!”

“I can’t believe we’re still going to this damned dance, after everything.” Meg mused, wrapping a long, thin section of her brunette hair around her curling iron.

Gabriel snorted, adjusting the cuffs of his creme colored blazer, as he stared at himself in the mirror. They were all getting ready in Charlie’s room, their hangout spot more often than not, since she bought out the double as a premium single (which meant more space and privacy), and could reasonably, and comfortably, fit them all. Though, Castiel shared the sentiment, and often wondered too, why they still planned to go.

It made him uneasy to think that it was just another excuse to sweep things under the rug and pretend everything was normal by the administration, since, aside from the plethora of grief counselors at their disposal, they hadn’t really done much in assuaging any actual grief by divulging in some sort of explanation why people were dying (read: being murdered, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, because people didn’t experience the same bouts of madness that drove them to suddenly kill themselves, all in the same exact manner as the one that succeeded them). He wouldn’t have believed it if he didn’t see it himself.

Safety, Castiel thought sullenly, apparently came second to whatever the reason was for the university’s decision to proceed as if nothing happened.

He was also still unsure what the Winchesters had to do with any of it.

“You don’t sound too displeased.” Gabriel commented, smoothing invisible creases on his maroon turtleneck.

Meg shrugged. “Do I like that people are dying? Of course not. But I suppose being distracted by a dance is better than focusing on the fact that life is short, and death is inevitable.”

Gabe groaned, and Charlie made a sound of discontent.

“Okay, yeah, bummer. I mean, at least we have each other, right? It can still be fun…”

Meg grinned, cat like. “Oh I definitely plan to still have fun.”

“Get laid you mean?” Gabriel teased, which only emboldened her.

Meg turned around, arms opened wide as she presented herself, devastatingly gorgeous in a satin crimson dress, with a black, mesh overlay, and a, in Castiel’s opinion, leg slit dangerously close to her upper thigh. It left little to be desired, but he couldn’t deny she looked amazing in it. Of course it wasn’t a surprise to any of them, since she’d chosen this particular dress during their shopping trip, that seemed so long ago now, rather than just last week.

“Have you seen me? Getting laid is half the fun. The remaining survivors won’t know what hit ‘em.” She all but purred, and Gabriel shook his head.

“Can’t believe you’d think about sex during these hard times.”

“Oh, and you aren’t?” Charlie quipped back, and Meg laughed.

He was glad his friends could find light in the darkness, but it didn’t sit right with him to participate. He did have the heart to. It didn’t feel right, when a guy lost his girlfriend, and then another girl lost hers. When another person lost their partner right after. And then, just the other day, another guy lost his boyfriend. It didn’t seem like the right time for anything, let alone love.

“Clarence, you okay? You’re awfully quiet over there.” Meg asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“I know it sounds kinda fucked up, but the situation is kinda fucked up.” Charlie added, reaching over to pat shoulder.

He loathed to be the one to bring down the mood so he forced a smile. “I know, it’s alright. I’m…okay.”

It was a lie, on every account, and they all knew it, but thankfully none of them pressed him further.

“Well, it’s settled then. We’re gonna go to the gala, just like planned, and we’re gonna have fun, stuff our faces, make fun of drunk people, and maybe get our flirt on.” Charlie said with a determined air of finality, and the rest of their group nodded.

“Are we all ready?” She asked, having been the first to finish, but looking nothing less than graceful in her fuchsia pantsuit.

Castiel looked down at himself, feeling a bit self conscious in black, slim fitting slacks, and a dusty rose colored dress shirt, his blazer a matching black with light, pink floral patterns, but both Meg and Charlie assured him when he tried it on, that he looked ‘hot’ in the outfit. He wasn’t all too sure he would have used those words, nor did he have desire to look ‘hot’, but he accepted the praise for what it was, and bought it with encouragement from all three of his friends.

He nodded reluctantly, and they all filed out of Charlie’s dorm, looking ready to take on the night. He tried not to imagine the walk to the campus ballroom as a death march to the gallows. Tried to ignore the impending doom settling deep in his gut, to think positive thoughts, about spending time with his friends having fun at the dance, what had been Charlie’s original selling point, when she approached him at work—which seemed like forever ago now—and proposed the idea of going to the dance in the first place.

He failed.

Castiel didn’t know precisely when it happened, but, at some point during the night, he and his friends got separated. He had excused himself to get some air outside in the hallway, away from prying eyes and warm bodies, tightly packed together on the dance floor, at cocktail tables, and hidden in not so secret corners.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, when the sound of distant thudding reached his ears, just under the sound of the music, like an undercurrent to the pulsing bass of whatever was playing in the ballroom.

At first, he attempted to ignore it, truly he did. But it continued, louder and louder and more aggressive; it was too far to discern anything, so, in what must have been a fit of insanity, for the serious lapse in judgment, he pushed himself off the wall and walked toward the sound, curiosity getting the better of him.

What Castiel witnessed then was no short of terrifying. He rounded the corner, and nearly lost all his breath, watching in frozen terror as someone bashed their head repeatedly into the glass window of a classroom, his knees almost buckling at the wet crunch of their skull cracking against the surface of the glass, icy fractures running up and out like veins in a splintered web as it, too, broke under pressure.

The person was crying, screaming really, hands cupped over bloodied ears, begging for someone to “make it stop, please just make it stop!” When, seemingly all at once, it did.

With one last sounding thump, they slid down to floor, smearing blood and brain matter against the pane of glass, and Castiel was helpless to do anything but watch, an unfortunate bystander to such a vile display, like an out of body experience that rattled his very soul, whilst his real, tangible body, this corporeal form, stay firmly rooted where it was.

But nothing, and he meant nothing, would have ever prepared him for the absolutely repulsive, ghastly looking, free-floating creature that materialized out of nowhere, before it stuck its long, equally repulsive tongue into the stranger’s head, and (honest to god) slurped their brains out. If Castiel thought what had just transpired was hard enough to stomach, it was nothing compared to watching this…this thing feast on someone who, only minutes prior, had been a living, breathing human.

Eyes wide and full of fearful tears, mind screaming at him to “move, just move, get out of here, run!” Castiel managed to take a step back. Unfortunately for Castiel, the movement was enough to rouse the monster from its food, dead, milky white eyes zeroing in on him and once again stealing his breath away. Choking on a silent gasp, Castiel had just enough time to see it unhinge its jaw, before he finally forced himself into a sprint back the way he came, stumbling only when an ear piercing shriek sounded from behind him, so loud it shook the walls.

An unnatural mist he hadn’t noticed before, sluggishly seeped from the tiled floor, surrounding his ankles, pouring endlessly up and out, creeping along the walls and pooling across ceiling, and out of it came the screaming beast, somehow right in front of him, blocking Castiel’s path. He cried out in pain as it screamed even louder, the sound reverberating in his skull, causing his vision to blur. He reached up to cup his ears, his heart lurching at the warm fluid he felt trickle against his palms.

He realized that, and perhaps a bit too late, but again with resounding clarity, that this was what had killed all those other people. That this was what was going to kill him.

“Hey, you ugly son of a bitch!”

Castiel snapped his eyes open—when had he closed them, he couldn’t remember—and watched the creature tear its attention away from him, snarling toward the intruder.

“Get away from him!”

Castiel flinched at the sound of a shotgun round, heard the shells clatter to the floor as the shooter reloaded, but was unable to look away from the thing in front of him as it dissolved into whatever before his eyes, just as quickly as it appeared. And yet, Castiel dared not take a breath, in fear that it would return because he had.

“Is…is it dead?” He asked, realizing the screaming had stopped, despite the residual ringing in his ear.

“Unfortunately, no. Only pure gold can kill these things.” Dean answered, guiltily.

“Right.”

“But not to worry. Rock-salt rounds are enough to stall them for a bit. Banshees take longer to recover than other spirits, so we have some time.”

Castiel said nothing, and Dean looked over at him, worry in his expression. He reached out, a comforting hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“You okay, Cas? I know that can be…a lot your first time.”

“First time?” Castiel muttered, brow furrowed.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean had the gall to appear abashed, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Y’know, your first encounter with the…supernatural.”

Castiel hated how he noticed how good Dean looked, even like that.

“The supernatural…” he parroted, as if trying it on for size.

And suddenly it all clicked in place. He glanced down at the gun, a sawed-off shotgun to be precise, in Dean’s hand, the one that had been used to blast away the banshee. He’d called it a banshee, a spirit, a malevolent fae spirit, from Gaelic folklore. Dean came to the library asking for a book on Gaelic folklore. He’d caught Dean and Sam talking about the murders after that. He remembered the ease at which Dean wore his mask then, how the lie came as free as breathing. The fierce determination radiating from both men, a look that Dean held close to his heart the very moment their eyes locked across the quad on the night of the first, and one Castiel noticed every time they ran into one another thereafter.

“Cas?”

“Dean.”

“Y-yeah?” Dean furrowed his brow, looking a bit put out by the lack of tone in Castiel’s voice, probably because he couldn’t read the situation anymore, but mostly concerned for, and about, Cas.

“You were investigating. The deaths.” A statement, not a question.

“Uh, kinda? Me and my brother we…hunt the supernatural.”

Castiel recalled how comfortable Dean looked when using the shotgun, the speed in which he reloaded after taking a shot, and hummed.

“A banshee. Did you hear it too then? You knew what it was.”

“Not exactly. I knew what it was because of the nature of the kills. Only its targets can hear its scream.”

Castiel closed his eyes and swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I heard it…”

“…”

Castiel opened his eyes, taking in the knowing look on Dean’s face, seeing the guilt and concern and anger—the latter not directed at him—there, all at once, wrapped into one gut wrenching expression.

“Am I going to die?”

“No.” Dean snapped immediately, sounding so sure that Castiel couldn’t help the flare of hope in his chest.

“Their screams are usually a death sentence, Dean. I watched…I watched that person get their brains sucked out. After they…killed themselves. It’s how the others died too, isn’t it?

“Fuck,” Dean cursed, shaking his head, “sorry you had to see that, Cas. It’s true I was too late to save them, but I will save you. I promise.”

Castiel didn’t feel like reminding Dean not to make promises he couldn’t keep. He really hoped that he could.

Castiel was in the middle of contemplating how mad his friends would be if he didn’t get to say goodbye, if he just left and disappeared without a word, when the walls of the hallway he and Dean retreated to (further, and at a safe distance, away from the ballroom) began to rattle. The lights flickered angrily, and the same mist from before returned, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Castiel heard its screams before anything else, however, and already knew it was back.

It materialized behind them, and all for Dean’s fast reflexes, he was still a tad too slow to react, and certainly felt it as his back made contact with the floor a good few feet away, after the banshee tossed him aside without even touching him.

“Dean!” Castiel called after him, only to be brought to his knees by the shrieking to his left, its rancid breath curling against his skin, and raising the hair on the back of his neck.

He grunted in pain, his ears ringing anew, and blindly struck out with the iron poker Dean had lent him, slumping when it, just as Dean said, disappeared. The relief was momentary, and it quickly reappeared beside Dean, who was still trying to grasp his bearings, looking downright pissed at being thwarted again.

“Son of a bitch-“ Dean’s curse was cut short, or rather, drowned out by another rattling screech, right in Dean’s face.

It reached out and pinned him down, and he turned his head, trying to wriggle out of its grip.

“Ugh! Ever heard of breath mint, lady?”

“Dean…” Castiel breathed, exasperated. He never ceased to be amazed by Dean’s tenacity to joke in the face of danger (literally).

Dean knocked their foreheads together, catching the banshee off guard, and managed to toss it off him, quickly grabbing his shotgun and taking a shot before it had time to recover. It exploded in a fiery cloud of whatever it was made of, and Castiel managed to pick himself up off of the floor, helping Dean up after making his way over to him.

“Thanks.” He said breathlessly, giving his hand a squeeze.

Castiel nodded, and didn’t fail to notice the way their hands lingered, before they dropped back down to their collective sides.

“Did you and Sam ever figure out why it’s here?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Our friendly neighborhood banshee is killing people because she’s jealous.”

“Jealous? Of whom?” Castiel asked, trying to make sense of it.

“Us. You know. Lovers, halves of a pair. Whatever. Guess Valentine’s Day stirred up some resentment, some bad memories.” Dean clarified with a shrug.

Castiel knew it wasn’t what Dean meant, when he said ‘us’, but he tried not to blush all the same.

“That’s why they were all people in a relationship?”

“Bingo. Banshees hunt in a particular place until there’s nothing left, and a college campus is basically a feast of couples, so our friend would have been well fed on us for a while, if it wasn’t for Sammy and I.” Dean sighed.

“Just wish we figured it out sooner.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Dean. But if what you said is true, why is she after me?”

“Eh, you got in her way. That, or you’re in love.” He said wryly, and at that Castiel did blush.

“Plus Charlie told me she signed you all up for the gala. Everyone who died so far was on that list. Could be a coincidence but…” Dean trailed off and shrugged again, but shot a smile over to Cas.

“You look really good by the way. Sorry you got caught up in all this. You got all dressed up and now you’re missing the dance, trying to hunt a banshee with me. You didn’t even know this stuff existed until now, and all you’re getting out of it is a ruined outfit.”

Castiel snorted. “And my life. I think surely that’s worth more. Along with everyone else’s life. I couldn’t care less about an…outfit. It was nice though.”

Dean chuckled. “Makes sense.”

“Besides, I didn’t even want to go. To the dance. Charlie made me. My only regret is that I didn’t let her know where I would be. But would you believe me when I’d say I’d rather be hunting a banshee with you, than in there with all those people?

“What, not a people person, Cas?”

Castiel shot him a deadpan look that made him laugh, and, despite himself, Cas found himself laughing along.

“Yeah. M’not either. Not really. Sure I talk a big game, but there’s only a few people who I can be real with, y’know?”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, when the light above them exploded, and the banshee flew into them, dragging them across the hall and throwing them into the wall on the opposite end of where they had been standing. They crashed into each other, the impact stealing all the breath from his lungs, and they tumbled to the ground in a pile, the banshee’s resounding cackle rumbling the building like an earthquake.

Castiel rolled off of Dean, looking sullenly at their weapons that had clattered to the ground and skidded across the tile just out of reach.

“Damn, this bitch is really getting on my nerves.” Dean grunted out, almost a growl.

“I think I’m starting to share your sentiment.” Castiel managed, glaring at the imposing figure of the banshee, as she floated above them.

This time, when she screamed, both Cas and Dean cowered away from the sound.

“Really wish I had a golden blade right about now.” Dean joked, and Castiel groaned.

“Dean!”

“Sorry.” He apologized, though he didn’t sound that sorry to Castiel at all.

The banshee reached out and grabbed the lapels of Dean’s jacket, as if reminding them she was there, and picked him up off the ground. He scrambled for purchase, struggling in her tight grip, but his efforts were fruitless, and, as she raised them higher, her screaming never faltered.

Castiel reached up, wincing as the pads of his fingers pressed against the weeping wound at his forehead, and shakily lowered them again.

“If you wanted a dance, all you had to do was ask.” Dean quipped, which worked well in keeping her distracted.

“But any more than that I’ll have to politely decline. Don’t believe the rumors about me, I need to be wined and dined a least once before I put out.”

With a vindictive screech, Dean went flying again, but this time he was expecting it, and tumbled out of his fall. It wasn’t graceful by any means, but it still impressed Castiel.

He managed to grab the poker, his shotgun stuck between him and the banshee, and swung it as she charged at him. The moment she disappeared, Castiel scrambled up and tossed the shotgun to Dean, before ducking behind him.

Grateful that the attention was off him, he got to work, as Dean wildly swung at the banshee, her attacks becoming more ruthless as his hits became more predictable. He glanced up at the two of them, the mist acting as a smoke screen as she disappeared and reappeared, swirling around the poker as Dean used his baseball prowess to hit her every strike and lunge. It was ineffective in the long run, and hardly a long term solution, especially as Dean’s stamina wore out, but it helped Castiel by keeping her distracted once more.

When he finished, he stood up, fixing the banshee with a hard glare, the movement drawing her gaze to him.

“When it’s two against one, make sure to have eyes on both enemies.” He growled out, and as she charged after him, knocking an exhausted Dean off to the side, Castiel slammed his hand down on the blood sigil he made, activating both it and its copy on the opposite side of the hall.

It glowed bright, and in a matter of seconds, the banshee was dragged backward, and trapped against the wall, bound by the line of sigils. She roared, struggling against her invisible tether, mist swirling angrily, lights flickering like crazy, but she remained trapped, her fretting useless against the Celtic blood trapping spell.

“Holy shit, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, both pride and awe in his tone.

“You may be a hunter Dean, but you’re not the only one who reads.”

Dean grinned. “Awesome. How did you know that would work?”

“To be fair, I didn’t. But I figured if banshees were real, then the magic used to trap them must be too. So, while you kept her distracted, I drew the sigils with my blood.”

“Awesome.” Dean repeated, and Castiel couldn’t help but smile back.

Then, startling both of them out of whatever moment they were just about to have, the banshee suddenly burst into flames with a cry, crumbling like burnt paper into floating, ashy debris, until there was nothing left.

“What-“

The trill of Dean’s phone signaled an incoming call, interrupting whatever Castiel was about to ask, and he looked over curiously as Dean fished the device out of his pocket.

“It’s Sam.” He explained before picking up. “Sup, bitch. Took your sweet old time salting and burning the body, didn’t you?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. Salting and what-ing the body?!

“Yeah, fucking thing almost took out me and Cas…” he blushed and glanced over at him, before quickly looking away, and lowering his voice.

“Uh, yeah, that Cas. I mean there’s no other, is there? Anyway Sammy, don’t change the subject. What took you so long?”

Dean snorted. “Excuses, excuses. What? Oh…uh…I don’t know if he’d be up for that.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Well would you if you just got attacked by a banshee?”

The features then smoothed from his face, and he grinned once more. “You shoulda seen him Sammy, he used his blood to draw these badass sigils and trap the banshee, it was awesome.”

Castiel felt the heat rising in his cheeks, unsure how he felt about the Winchester brothers talking about him whilst he was right there, and only able to hear only half of the conversation, but mostly he was just embarrassed.

“Yeah yeah, alright, I’ll ask him. Bye, bitch.” Dean hung up and fondly rolled his eyes, before walking over to Cas.

“Sorry about that. Sammy had only just finished digging…uh well, you don’t need to hear about that, haha, the less you know the better, but the banshee is banished for good now, and he should be on his way back, thank fuck, but he suggested that after we clean up, maybe we catch the end of the dance together, if you-mmph!”

Castiel surged forward, most likely encouraged by the adrenaline still pumping through him—if not for that, he’s certain he would not have been that bold—and sealed their lips together, cutting Dean’s rambling short.

“Yes.” He whispered between them as he pulled away, Dean blinking away the surprise as his brain rebooted and processed what just happened.

“Uh…yeah?” Dean said dopily, a smile tugging at his lips.

Those lips Castiel just kissed.

“Yes.”

“Even though you said you’d rather be fighting a banshee than go to the dance?” Dean asked, sounding amused.

“We fought the banshee.” Castiel replied rather seriously, earning a chuckle from Dean.

“True. Guess we do deserve a reward after that.”

“Besides,” Castiel started with a sigh, “I disappeared without saying anything earlier. I’m sure Charlie, at the very least, is worried about me.”

Charlie was indeed worried about him, but so was Meg and Gabriel, in their own way. After he and Dean cleaned up, including making themselves semi presentable, they entered the ballroom only looking slightly rumpled, and no less for wear than they had already. The trio bounded up to him right away, once they found him, but Charlie couldn’t admonish him for long without acknowledging the man beside him—rather excitedly, might he add.

She jumped up and gave him a hug, which Dean happily returned, only wincing slightly as his sore muscles tugged and flexed to compensate for the weight and movement. He put her back down not too long after, and the second her feet touched the ground, the three of them were on them like a pack of hellhounds.

“You two came in together?” Gabriel asked, smirking.

“Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell us?” Charlie punched both of their arms lightly, and pouted.

“You two came in together?” Gabriel said again, looking even more smug, if possible.

“We looked everywhere for you and couldn’t find you! We thought you might have left, but then you didn’t say anything, or tell anybody if you got back to the dorm safe or not!” Charlie continued, shaking her head in blatant disapproval.

“You two came-ow!” Gabriel rubbed the back of his head, and pouted at a smirking Meg.

Castiel, who was scowling at his brother, felt his face smooth out, and Meg rolled her eyes rather dramatically.

“We get it, Gabe, they came in together. Did you fuck?”

Dean laughed, and shook his head. “No, we definitely didn’t. Cas is too good for a quick fuck like that, anyway.”

Meg nodded her approval, and Castiel groaned, hiding his face in his hands. Gabriel and Charlie both grinned.

“He just went out for air, when I happened to pass by on my way back from the auto-shop. I wasn’t sure I wanted to come to the dance, but then I saw Cas standing there looking like that, well.”

Charlie squealed excitedly, waving her hands in the air. “This is so awesome! I told you the dance would be fun, did I not say the dance would be fun?”

Castiel and Dean shared a look, a brief moment of silent conversation only they would understand, and Castiel let out a sigh.

“You did.” He confirmed, though ‘fun’ was a vast understatement, and certainly not how he would describe the dance—not that he’d experienced much of it, fighting a malevolent Gaelic fae spirit, and all.

“Aw man,” Charlie said with pout, as if she had a sudden revelation, “Cas is way ahead of us you guys! He wasn’t even here and managed to bring a date. Wait, you guys are here as a date right?”

“Yes, Char, we’re here together, as a date.”

Charlie squealed again, muttering how she “totally shipped it” whatever that meant, and turned back to their group with more fervor than ever that they “needed to catch up”. This time, however, when they separated, it didn’t bring the sense of dread it did when Castiel first encountered the banshee, and thought for certain he was about to die, without ever having said goodbye.

“I never did thank you, Dean. For saving me earlier. I truly thought I was…well. I didn’t think I would still be here, and I probably wouldn’t have been, if it wasn’t for you.”

“Dude, don’t thank me. You held your own against the banshee too. It was pretty hot.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but smiled. He caught Charlie’s eye across the dance floor, and she gave him a thumbs up. Gabriel caught his eye next, but made a rather lewd gesture that would have appalled him, had Dean not also caught it and snickered, finding it amusing. Meg shoved him, and Castiel smirked as Gabriel flailed about, silently thanking her for once again reprimanding his brother on his behalf. She winked at them before turning away, and Castiel tilted his head to the side, thoughtfully.

“It’s strange to think that not too long ago we were fighting a supernatural creature, and now we’re back at the dance, spending time with our friends like it didn’t happen. There’s literally a body down the hall.”

“Eh, Sam’s got that taken care of. And nobody will know you were there, or what we did at all. They’re safe, and that’s what matters. That’s the job.”

Castiel hummed, and turned to Dean with an appreciative look. Dean looked back, blushing slightly at the attention, but smiled softly regardless.

“What?” He asked, and Castiel shook his head.

He kissed Dean in lieu of answering, and Dean eagerly kissed back.

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db-gochifan · 2 years ago

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GoChi Valentine’s Event 2023 - Day 6: Memories

Days [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Title: The Wedding Dress Pairing: Goku/Chi-Chi; Bulma/Yamcha Characters: Goku, Chi-Chi, Bulma, Yamcha, Gohan, Ox King Summary: Chi-Chi finds her wedding dress during an annual cleaning. Warning: (Slightly) Alternate Universe Cross-posted on AO3 and FFN

Chi-Chi seized the opportunity that Goku and Gohan were outside training or playing baseball and to so some cleaning. She decided to start with her bedroom, so she grabbed everything she needed and headed there. She walked in and decided to start off by getting rid of old clothes, something she does in the beginning of every year. She opened the top doors and came across a large white box. A smile appeared on her lips and tears formed in the corner of her eyes as she took it out and sat on her bed. She carefully opened the box and the memories of that day came rushing into her mind. It was a warm spring day. Chi-Chi woke up that morning and took a few seconds to realize she was actually at the Capsule Corp. Goku didn’t care about superstitions, but she didn’t want to take her chances and have him see her by accident before the ceremony. And Bulma invited her to spend the night at her house, being a superstitious woman as well. “You’re finally awake.” Bulma’s voice echoed and Chi-Chi immediately looked at her. “I thought I’d be up before you, to be honest.” “Nah, I couldn’t sleep from anxiety. Today is your big day.” “I think it’s the first time I see a bridesmaid more anxious than a bride.” “There’s a first time for everything, right?” “That’s right.” “So how are you feeling today?” “I just woke up. I haven’t had time to feel anything yet.” “Today is your big day! We have so much to do, so let’s get up and have a big breakfast.” “Are you sure you’re not the one getting married?” Chi-Chi laughed as she pushed the sheet away. “Hell no. The word marriage scares the hell out of me.” “You don’t want to get married to Yamcha at some point? I can tell for a fact he wants to.” “It’s a big step I’m not ready to take yet. I know he wants to, but I just can’t yet. We’re way too young.” Her eyes went wide when she listened to what she had just said. “Oh my God! I didn’t mean to…” “It’s okay.” Chi-Chi cut her off with a smile. “I do think me and Goku are too young to get married, but then again I think we’re pretty sure about how we feel about each other and this. He even asked for my father’s blessing, did I ever tell you that?” “He asked for your father’s blessing?” “That’s right. He did when we were going out to celebrate our first anniversary. I couldn’t believe it.” “Goku is an old-fashioned man when it comes to these things.” “I know, and I love it. Sometimes I find it hard to believe how lucky I’ve been for having him as a boyfriend and soon-to-be husband.” “Seeing you talking like this is so sweet. I’m sure he considers himself just as lucky.” “You don’t feel even a bit of desire to get married after hearing all of this.” “Let’s just get ready for your day, alright?” Bulma rolled her eyes and stood up. “How was it like to sleep here, by the way?” “It was amazing. The bed is so comfortable! But I wouldn’t have minded sleeping in one of the guest rooms.” “Don’t be silly. I could never let you sleep there. It can get pretty lonely sometimes. Besides, I love having you as a roommate. It doesn’t happen that often, and it’s most likely the last time.” “Still, we’ve had quite a lot of fun here. But hey.” Chi-Chi looked at her. “You’re always welcome to go to our house whenever you want. We’d be more than happy to have you there.” “Thank you. Likewise, by the way. I’m gonna miss having you near. I admire you for having the courage to live in the woods.” “It’s not as bad as you think.” “I know, but I love technology too much to live away from it.” “I want my kids to have as much contact with nature as they can. When they grow up, they can decide what they want to do.” “Are you pregnant, Chi-Chi?” “What?! No! Where did you take that from? Goku and I have been careful, there’s no way it could happen right now.” “That’s good to know. That you’ve been wearing protection, I mean.” “This conversation is getting a little weird.” Chi-Chi stood up. “I’m hungry. Shall we have breakfast?” “Of course. Let’s go.” **** Chi-Chi felt like she was going to pass out from nervousness when the car parked in front of the church. There was no one else outside anymore, just like she had asked. She wanted to surprise everyone with her wedding dress, so her father was the only person who had seen it before, and only because he was walking her down the aisle. “So this is it.” The Ox King grabbed her hand softly and squeezed it. “Within minutes, you will come out of that church as Mrs. Son.” “I’m scared, dad.” She confessed. “Scare of what, Chi-Chi?” “Of not being a good wife to Goku.” “You know that’s not gonna happen. You’re gonna be an amazing one, I just know it.” “I hope you’re right.” “I am.” He squeezed her hand a little tighter. “It’s time. Are you ready to go?” “Yes.” She nodded with a smile. Goku couldn’t put into words how beautiful Chi-Chi was when the doors at the end of the church opened and the nuptial march started playing. His heart started beating fast as she walked down the aisle alongside her father. He was mesmerized about her that he didn’t move at all when they approached him. “Goku?” Yamcha gently nudged him and whispered. “You’re supposed to get her and approach the priest behind you.” “Oh right.” He shook his head and gave an awkward laugh, walking towards them. “I’m sorry. You look stunning, Chi-Chi.” “Thank you.” She blushed and pretended to fix the skirt of her wedding dress. “Take care of my daughter, Goku. She’s a very special young woman.” “I will.” He assured him firmly. “I promise I will make Chi-Chi the happiest woman in the world.” “I think this will be impossible. I already am the happiest woman in the world.” She smiled and grabbed his hand. “Are you ready?” “I am.” He squeezed hers. “Let’s go.” “Chi-Chi?” Chi-Chi didn’t even had time to react and get changed before Goku and Gohan arrived from their training. Before she knew it, their son was embracing her legs from behind and didn’t pay attention to what she was wearing. “Mommy!” “What’s going on here?” Goku was visibly surprised with her wearing her wedding dress. “I was going to do some cleaning and came across it when I was looking for old clothes to give away. Next thing I knew, I had it on.” “What is this fancy dress for, mommy?” Gohan paid attention to it for the first time, after he pulled away from her. “Are we going out?” “No, sweetheart.” She looked down at him and ruffled the top of his hair. “This dress isn’t meant for going out. This is my wedding dress.” “A wedding dress?” “Brides wear it when they are going to get married. This one has been in my family for years. My mom wore it on her wedding day and wanted me to wear on mine too. Too bad she never got to see me.” “I’m sure she saw you whenever she is.” Goku said in a reassuring tone and placed his hand on her shoulder. “And I have no doubt she was proud of you.” “Thank you.” Chi-Chi smiled kindly at him. “Mommy, you look like a princess.” “You think so?” “Yeah, you’re so pretty.” “I completely agree with him.” “You two… I don’t what I’d do without you.” She couldn’t help but smile. “How was training?” “It was great!” Goku replied excitedly. “Gohan will be such an amazing athlete when he grows up, I can tell it already.” “That’s great, but studying is also important. I don’t want to neglect it because of sports.” “Don’t worry, he won’t. I’ll make sure of that.” “Great. Are you hungry?” “Yes!” Both boys replied at the same time, with large grins on their faces. “I’ll be right down, I just need to change first. I don’t want to get my dress dirty.” When Chi-Chi walked into the kitchen, Goku and Gohan were sitting on the floor in the living room playing with the boy’s building blocks to pass the time. She stared at them with a warm smile and her hand over her heart. “No, daddy.” Gohan took one of the blocks his father had put in a pile away and put in another one. “This one is supposed to go here.” “I’m sorry, son.” “All this time playing with him and you still don’t know how these blocks work?” “They are too confusing for me.” Goku looked at his wife over his shoulder. “I can never understand why they have a specific place and can’t be put anywhere.” “That’s just how these new ones work. Honestly, I gave up trying to understand it and just played along.” “I don’t get why they must complicate things so much.” “I guess it became too easy for children now.” Chi-Chi shrugged. “So what do you want to eat?” “Do we get to choose it?” “Only for today, so don’t get used to it.” “What do you want, son?” “Fish! A big one like this.” Gohan spread his arms as wide as he could to show the size of the fish he wanted. “This big, huh? I guess you and daddy will have go fishing then, because we don’t have one of this anymore.” “Let’s go, daddy!” The boy stood up and grabbed his father’s hand, forcing him to stand up and follow him outside. **** Goku carefully closed the door from Gohan’s bedroom and then headed to his bedroom with Chi-Chi. The boy had eaten so much he fell asleep on the couch not too long after they finished their meal. Chi-Chi was putting the box with her wedding dress away when he walked in. “Now that we’re alone, can you tell me what exactly happened here?” “I said it earlier.” She looked at him as she finished pushing the box inside the wardrobe. “I found my wedding dress.” “I get that, but why were you wearing it?” “Because it made me miss those times.” She sat on the bed and placed her hands on her thighs, sighing deeply. “I feel like time flew by since then.” “It really did.” Goku nodded. “But I wouldn’t change a thing. I love how far we’ve come and Gohan is such an amazing child.” “He is.” She bit her lower lip. “What’s wrong?” He lied his head on his pillow and looked at her while he put his hands behind his head. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” “Come here.” He grabbed her hand and pulled him towards her. “What are you thinking?” “Do you still remember our wedding day?” Chi-Chi rested her chin on his chest. “Of course I do.” He looked right into her black eyes. “It was a special day for me.” “What do you remember the most of it?” “You really want to know?” “Absolutely.” She was genuinely curious and intrigued about his response. “Well, it was…” Both Chi-Chi and Goku were in awe with the view from the hotel. Actually, they were in awe with everything. Their honeymoon had been a wedding gift from her father, heir friends and Goku’s baseball’s and martial arts’ teams mates. Chi-Chi couldn’t even imagine how much it must have costed them, but she felt incredibly grateful for them. Both of them did. “Wow.” Goku whistled as soon as he walked back into the room. “They really chose a hell of a place.” “They did.” Chi-Chi sat on the edge of the bed, visibly bothered and worried. “And don’t this worry you?” “Why would it?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Well, to start, they shouldn’t have done this for us. I feel bad for it. It should be on us, you know?” “I know.” He leaned forward to grab her hand and brought her close to him, and she stood between his legs. “I understand you’re worried and wish we ‘d pay for this on our own, but let’s not think about it tonight, okay? It’s our honeymoon, we shouldn’t be worrying about these things. Besides, it’s a love gesture.” “Yeah, you’re right.” She stroked his hair softly before he sat her down on his legs. “We’re finally married.” “Wanna know a secret?” “Sure.” “I couldn’t wait to hear how your name would sound with my last name.” “Did you like it?” “I loved it. Son Chi-Chi… it sounds perfect, doesn’t it?” “It does.” She whispered in a low tone before leaning towards him and kissing him passionately. Chi-Chi had her back to Goku and took her veil off, placing it on the chest of drawers right beside her. Then she moved her hair out of the way and let it fall over the front part of her dress; her hands then reached the zipper on her back. He had been watching the whole thing with amusement and was amazed by how effortlessly sexy his now wife was when she wanted to. And before he knew it, he was standing behind her with his hands on her hips. A satisfied smile escaped her lips. “Took you long enough.” “I was admiring you from afar.” “Well, you can’t do it near as well. In fact, you can do much more than just admire tonight. Can you help me take this off?” “Gladly.” He pulled the zipper down and watched Chi-Chi slid the short sleeves off her arms. She rolled the upper part down and then the dress fell to the floor itself. She turned around to look at him and Goku’s eyes widened for a split second, and a smile appeared on his lips. He couldn’t believe one of the moments he had been anticipating the most was finally there. “So this is it.” “Yeah.” He wrapped an arm around her back and lifted her chin with his hand, kissing her deeply and passionately. Then he picked her up bride style and placed her on the bed. “Yeah, it was a special night.” Chi-Chi’s voice was full of nostalgia and she looked at the white ceiling above. “I’m surprised you still remember that.” “You said it yourself, it was a special night. It was perfect, I wouldn’t want it any other way.” “Daddy!” Gohan came in running and threw himself over his father, who playfully yelled. “Except maybe this.” “Goku!” Chi-Chi lightly hit him in the arm. “I’m kidding, I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.” “Huh?” The child looked at him puzzled. “What are you talking about, daddy?” “Nothing, son.” He shook it off with a smile and started tickling him, who burst into laughter immediately and fell on the bed between his parents.

#GoChi #Son Goku #Goku #Chi-Chi #ChiChi #Son Gohan #Gohan #Bulma #Bulma Briefs #Yamcha #Bulma x Yamcha #Ox King #Dragon Ball #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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anewdirection · 2 years ago

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randomizing the character list to write drabble prompts

prompt number one from this list: [ SPEED ]: as part of a speed dating event, sender and receiver interact and decide to stick together rather than continue the event.

Character(s): Tia & Sophie, mentions Mia & Heather

Length: 258 words

Note: finally one that can take place in the actual course of the story! just a silly little scene abt tia finding cold comfort with sophie lmao. enjoy!

For Valentine's Day, the McKinley High student council thought it would be a fun idea to set up a speed dating event during free period. While she initially was not going to go, Tia was growing exhausted of seeing Mia and Heather happy and in love, so she figured even if she didn't find love here, she might find someone who hated the idea of it as much as she did. It did not take her long, though, to figure out she knew very few people at her school, and those she did made her stomach crawl. Just as she was about to give up, she seemed to get match with a familiar face.

"Sophie?" Tia asked, "Weird seeing you here,"

"Hey, what can I say? I feel God called me to be here," Sophie shrugged happily, "But boy am I happy to see you! God kept calling me to a bunch of weirdos,"

"Yeah," Tia let out a small laugh of relief at Sophie seemingly having the same experience she was, "You'd think there'd be at least one normal person at this school,"

"Well, here I am!" Sophie grinned.

"Uh, yeah," Tia decided to not break the news that being, what she considered to be an annoying Jesus worshipper the same thing as a normal person, "So, while we're here do you want to just... stick together? I'm tired of this speed dating bullshit."

"Works for me!" Sophie smiled widely, oblivious to only being asked to stay to avoid any further awkwardness, "Anything to help a friend!"

#drabble #random drabble #tia #sophie #date prompts #queue

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bossbutch · 2 months ago

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umineko- between ch7 & 8

tw for sexual assault in this one again. long post. let's get Political! i wasn't aware umineko is 55 dollars on steam. i know its a lot of words and they've got music and voice acting and two sets of art but, thats a lot of fucking money for a fiction book. the steam release doesn't even include the side stories.

umineko has a lot of dubiously canon side content released at conventions and promos and such, and of course bundled in japanese Special Edition rereleases. the LP im reading puts all the side stories at the end (all the question arc ones together and all the answer arc ones together) even when they're set and released between episodes. i think they're all fan translated? in the question arcs, the side stories were pretty superfluous but still fun. there was a little interview with gohda, and a silly story about valentines day and white day so i read some of them now and. man.

there's one, "game master battler", set when he's preparing episode 6. the characters react to an out of universe character popularity poll and they're all asking battler to give them a good part in ep 6 so they become more popular. which is a fine premise, its very muppet show, and the same silly tone the valentines day story had. you can guess the conclusion of course, battler asks everyone for ridiculous favors but then he cant possibly make a story that highlights everyone at once. but like. when he asks for favors, he asks All of his aunts for sex acts. (as payment for both them And Their Families getting better parts.) and the seven sisters have to massage him or they wont be included at all. and six of them hold lucifer down while he assaults her. he doesn't explicitly rape her but the metaphor is clear. and like. what the hell!

when he perved on jessica it was one thing. he wasn't God Of The Setting at the time for starters. and yeah the seven sisters murdered him repeatedly in eroticized ways, but they're evil demons that were acting as extensions of beato. the idea that battler Would be a rapist or coerce people into sex if given the power is. not funny obviously, not matching the lighthearted tone they're going for, and most unfortunately, in character??? he's a rich boy who comes from a family where abuse and punching down are the rule, who grabs women's breasts so much it's a move in the fighting game. they make a lot of parallels between kinzo and battler and i guess Rapist is one of them. which is a Real Bummer! he's the protagonist! i think. they might decide in ep 8 that ange is the protagonist. i Want To Like Him and the titty grabbing previously had his Weird Maladjusted Logic that was so ridiculous it kinda softened the blow, and the erotic violence performed On him has the caveat of, in a non fantasy perspective all that happened in his imagination, and in a fantasy perspective its being done by Bad People

you could say "oh its just a side story its not canon" but like. everyone acts roughly in character, in an exaggerated comical way not unlike the valentine's day story. sure this event can be understood to "not really have happened" but it still says something About battler's character. the very next side story expands on ange's motives, it says that bernie made ange promise not to love or trust eva, and their Beef was entirely because of that. that's tragic and realistic (in an understanding where bernie isnt Real, she can represent a part of ange that blames eva using mystery-logic) and goes together with the ep 7 ending in a really nice way. i haven't had a place to talk about the Politics of umineko. kinzo and bici's connections to fascism aren't really remarked on by anyone else, but kinzo isn't really portrayed sympathetically. like he talks about how the main family didn't really believe in him and he went to war to die, but this is shown after six long chapters of him being pathetic and abusing Every Other Character. and he was already married with kids when he met bici... and the adults follow from him, right. like him abusing his kids is echoed throughout the family, yknow cycles of abuse. and someone like rosa is not /excused/ for abusing her kid, but we are still shown the circumstances that allow her to do it. so umineko is "anti family" if you want to be extremely reductive and that's so rare in Popular Media. umineko isn't really anti capitalist, but you could make an anticapitalist reading of it. like kinzo is a shithead and his treatment of workers is presented as Bad but this isn't shown as a systemic thing. well kyrie's family is also kinda awful. but like worlds where kinzo Isn't a shithead are happy healthy places. theres a lot of show of Ranks and Bureaucracy in Magic Land but its mostly like, flavor, nothing really comes of it. at least from my reading. another one of the side stories shows one of diana's minions being a hardass about The Law when she joins the magic cops. and trying to get the other cops to practice Law And Order by not drinking or smoking or going to the halloween party, and never using vernacular, which all goes poorly for her and its funny. its not deep social commentary or anything its kinda dilbert level. all that said... umineko Is, more than anything else, unambiguously pro autism!

#:crying_while_seagull:

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wedreamedlove · 2 years ago

Photo

Happy 1st Anniversary Light & Night! The announcement of a wedding series comes with a lot of touching callbacks of everything we experienced with the men and so I thought it would be nice to point them out.

OSBORN 【Unswerving Vow】

Fun Fact: The 海誓 in the card title likely comes from 海誓山盟 which is pledging everlasting love in oaths as high as mountains and vows as deep as the sea.

Everyone has poems assigned to them and their cards and Osborn has “Put Out My Eyes” by Rainer Maria Rilke.

There are pearls sewn into the heroine’s wedding dress and she has a pearl anklet too, which is probably a nod to his summer event. One of his nicknames now for the heroine is “Little Pearl”.

EVAN 【Meaningful Contract】

His poem is “In My Sky At Twilight” by Pablo Neruda. But did you know that he also quotes Pablo Neruda in his museum date? There he reads out “Every Day You Play...” by Pablo Neruda, which some may find familiar since it has the iconic line “You are like nobody since I love you”.

In the first version, you can see him putting on the heroine’s shoes, which should remind you of Cinderella. In his birthday date and Valentine’s date, there are branches where they joke about the heroine being Cinderella.

SARIEL 【Sealed With A Kiss】

His poem is “Unending Love” by Rabindranath Tagore. Unexpectedly, this is also consistent like Evan because in Chapter 12 of the main story, Sariel quotes a line from “Stray Birds” by Rabindranath Tagore, specifically the first line since Stray Birds is a collection of untitled poems. (By the way, I really recommend this poet, his poems are so good).

In the second version, there are three birds and - including the heroine - that makes four birds in total. In Chapter 12, the heroine draws a fox on a flower pot and then Sariel draws a bird beside the fox to represent her. But then the heroine adds three more birds: one bird who feels sad when the fox is sad, one bird who gets angry when it sees people bullying the fox, and one bird who makes silly faces to cheer the fox up. All four birds are her.

Additionally, Sariel has a trend of having birds in his cards like how his winter card has two birds perched beside each other. All of these are a nod to how the heroine is his “Clumsy/Foolish Bird”.

CHARLIE 【Heart of Diamond】

Fun Fact: You cannot convince me that they are not playing with the Engish phrase, “heart of gold”.

His poem is “A Red, Red Rose” by Robert Burns.

The caption that goes with his card (not the PV) says “I’ve won this round of Russian roulette” and it’s a callback to the first time Charlie and the heroine met in Chapter 7 and he invites her to play Russian roulette with two pills in his hand to test how far she’ll actually go for her freedom (naturally, both of them were safe).

Charlie always mentions their marriage so it’s not a callback, but his PV line of “The entire universe heard my confession, this time you can't run away” is just adorable.

Fun Fact2: If you have eagle eyes, you can spot Sherry and her boyfriend on the cake topper beside the mini Charlie and heroine!

JESSE 【Cupid Express】

His poem is “Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art” by John Keats.

He’s brought up Cupid before in his Spain date, even calling the heroine “Miss Cupid”, and talking about being shot by her arrow of love. In addition, Cupid is the Roman god of love and his counterpart in Greek is Eros and well... Jesse has tons of Greek mythology references, so this one can pretty much count as one because the Romans copied the Greek gods.

The caption that goes with his card (not the PV) says “We are perched on the golden arrow of Cupid, chasing the early summer wind” and not only is this another nod to Cupid but also a nod to the “summer” in his Chinese name, Xia Mingxing. Summer is one of his symbols!

#光与夜之恋 #light and night #LN Osborn #LN Charlie #LN Evan #LN sariel #LN Jesse #LN Xiao Yi #ln zha lisu #LN Lu Chen #LN qi sili #LN Xia Mingxing

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theroomofreq · 3 years ago

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can you give me muggle jily recs pleaaseeee <3 :D

HOW MANY HIGH-QUALITY MUGGLE JILY FICS ARE THERE?? TOO MANY TO COUNT. *cracks knuckles* BUT I am here for the challenge. Jily AUs are my JAM.

Again, shoutout to our amazing @jilyarchive friends who tag every wonderful muggle jily au they come across. here is the link that will take you to their tags page. You'll find links to specific tropes and AUs :')

I've searched through my own AO3 bookmarks and history tabs, and I present to you 28 jily muggle fics that I LOVE. I am THRILLED thinking about all the good things in store for those that read these wonderful stories. This list took me ages to make because I went through and reread most of these brilliant fics. Happy reading !! xx

properly improper by @lizardcookie

“Marry me,” Mr. Potter repeats, closing the distance between them by striding back up towards the sofa, only to stop and crouch to one knee right there at her feet, looking up at her. Burning. “Pick me,” he elaborates. “Pick me, choose me, love me instead.”

- this fic is the reason why I comment the way that I do (spoiler it's because it's amazing)

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl

What is undeniably worse than attending your sister's wedding looking as desolate and forgotten as a wilted houseplant? Drunkenly ringing your ex-boyfriend and asking him to be your date.

- SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY AT THE PERFECTION

Oh my god, they were ROOMMATES by @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world

Silly one-shot, Muggle AU with Fem!Jily as pining roommates and Marlene as their matchmaker.

- the fic that brought me back to jily and inspired my deep obsession of fem!jily

Swipe Right, Swing Left by @downn-in-flames

The unspoken rule of using dating apps in D.C. is that you always start with where you work.

James Potter, it seems, never picked up on that one.

- giddy just thinking about this gem

'Tis the Damn Season by @petalstofish

It doesn't feel like Christmas for Lily Evans, not after losing her parents to COVID before the Holiday season. She anticipates spending Christmas all alone until a boy from her past shows up and offers her a mutually benefiting deal that has her calling him 'babe' just for the weekend. 'Tis the damn season, after all.

- cries in respect for lyrical writing

Watch Me Unwind by @maraudersftw

Lily Evans hates her job, hates the bigoted customers she has to serve as a bartender at the richest club in the city. But the one person who makes bearing all of it worth it has someone else in his arms tonight. (Rated: M)

- obsessed with the way the plot jumps around the time line in this

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

- YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW FAB THIS IS

a matchmaking mission by @downn-in-flames

James Potter has a mission: get Sirius Black and Remus Lupin to finally admit that they both fancy the pants off each other by Valentine's Day.

His partner in crime? Lily Evans, Remus' flatmate, who he also happens to be slightly in love with

- DOUBLE the amount of pining idiots in love :")

about time by @jilyss

'sure, yeah, I can accompany you to that black tie event for your work tonight. wait. why are we on a red carpet?'

- this is my emotional comfort fic, your honor

whiskey business by @elanev91

Sirius Black has a (bad?) habit of picking up hobbies that take over his and James' flat -- this most recent one? Homemade vodka that James now has to try and peddle to everyone in the building.

- hysterical! must read!

Fashion Disaster by @maraudersftw

James Potter is roped into an awful dare by his best-mate, which involves him wearing atrocious pieces of clothing for all days until Christmas as dictated by Sirius. If this wasn't terrible enough, he now has to contend with his maddening crush on the beautiful saleswoman at the clothing store.

- classic hijinks that I live for

it wasn't a pity invite by @elanev91

Part of the December "Winter Tropes" Jily challenge. Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and omG i’m so sorry

- awkward Christmas date that owns my heart

spice and honey by @clare-with-no-i

tagging along with her food reporter sister to profile James Potter, London's hottest young chef, is not how Lily Evans pictured her Monday going - especially if he's anything like Petunia’s described.

needless to say, she's in for a whirlwind at Chez Maraudeur.

- I'm one re-read away from printing this out and putting it on my bookshelf.

Waffle Wars by @elanev91

There's only one waffle maker in the dining hall and it literally always breaks. So, naturally, the only reasonable course of action is to meticulously map out when it's working and, ultimately, do a heist.

- the witty narration in this fic can not be matched

You Can Hear It In The Silence by @alrightginger

Lily is non-verbal and deaf in a world where the things your soulmate says about you end up written on your skin. She has known about her soulmate since she was seven, but knows they don't have a clue she exists and possibly never will.

- exquisite, cue me sobbing forever

out the window by @displayheartcode

A new family moves to Ottery St Catchpole.

- everything I could ever want in a fic, forever in my mind rent free

The Christmas Guest by @thegodmachine

An Evans Family Christmas: Petunia is bringing her fiancé and Lily is bringing her…Friend…

- petunia pov that gives me WINGS

Football, Calculus, and Cappuccinos by @moonawrites

At eighteen years old, James Potter has a lot going on. He's a rising star navigating the politics of professional football, the pitfalls of sudden fame, the fallout from choosing his dream over his father's company... and a serious crush on the red headed new barista at his favourite coffee shop.

- I'm still working my way through this fic, but trust me when I say its a GEM

if u like pina coladas by @zephyrcove

Lily is desperate for a date to Petunia's wedding, James has been pining, and their friends meddle ;)

- explain to me how characters can be so perfect via texting fics?

Shelf Awareness by @ghostofbambifanfiction

It's too far out of her way and she's wasting so much money, but Lily can't help but return to the bookstore every weekend, where her passion for good literature has, perhaps, been unexpectedly reignited by the messy-haired, pun-making, rather handsome bloke who works there.

- you absolutely must know that I binge read this and then immediately REREAD it

How to win a witch in 10 days by @adenei

“She’s going to find some unsuspecting wizard, get him to fall for her, and then do all the things that turn men away to get him to break things off! Won’t it be the best way to see what witches do that drives men crazy?” But what happens when the man in question is a blast from Lily Evans's past? A Jily Magical AU based on the romantic comedy "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

- fic based off of a rom com? YES PLZ :’)

The Fight Before Christmas by @ghostofbambifanfiction

The heartwarming Christmas tale of Lily Evans and James Potter - two plucky kids who hated one other, until the day they really, really didn't.

- complete sucker for this one

All This Time by @thejilyship

James and Lily grew up next door to one another. Their bedroom windows giving them glimpses into the others life, and also offering prime opportunities to argue with each other over every little thing. They never figured out how to be friends when they were kids, but now that they've graduated from college and are home for the summer, they have a second chance to get things right.

- one of my favvvv tropes

Let Me Love You by @thejilyship

With only a month until she's set to take the throne of Gryffindor, Lily is informed that she'll have to get married or choose to give up her throne. She never thought she'd have to even entertain the idea of an arranged marriage. Enter, James Potter.

- cries in princess diares AU

The Fabulous Baker Brothers by @frustratedpoetwrites

Lily walks a different route home from work and stumbles upon a cute little Bakery with an even cuter baker in the window.

- yes yes yes to embarrassed pining.

Marigold Mornings by @mppmaraudergirl

This is a fun game she thinks, as she removes her hand from his side and reaches up to run it down his chest. He catches her hand in his own, takes a step forward so that her nose nearly brushes against his shirt. She can feel the heat radiating off of him—or maybe it’s from her. He licks his lips and her eyes are drawn to the motion. She knows it is a bad idea, absolutely knows it.

- incredible storytelling featuring dynamic characters :') a favvv

Welcome to Pettyville by@women-inthe-sequel @alrightginger

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

- LOVE SQUARE ANYONE

The Kiss a Stranger Project by @alrightginger

“What’s your name, then?” she asks, realizing they haven’t even properly introduced themselves yet. She nervously crosses her arms.

You shouldn’t kiss a guy without knowing his name first.

Right?

- THIS ONE WILL LIVE IN MY MIND FOREVER

#ror reqs #jily fic #mugge fic recs #jily fic rec list

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captainsimagines · 4 years ago

Text

“I Could Fall in Love”

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I hope you enjoy this little drabble as much as I enjoyed writing it. Cutting it close to midnight on Valentine’s Day but hey, it still counts. xx Moni

BUCKY BARNES X READER DRABBLE

Warnings: none, simply fluff!

Word Count: 3000+

Song Fanfic: Listen and enjoy!

It wasn’t that you hated Valentine’s Day, you just didn’t see it as purely romantic. In your opinion, it was supposed to represent so much more than just romantic love. Friendships, beginnings and endings, the actual historical event, elementary school card giving, baked goods, and a nice dinner for either yourself or in the presence of others. So, no - you didn’t hate it. In fact, you actually quite enjoyed the giddy feeling of seeing other couples go all out for a single day, the sweets that were always available, and the awesome discounts.

“Come with us!” Natasha whined, filling up her glass with some oat milk and passing Steve some utensils at the same time. She wasn’t whining excessively, as that wasn’t in her nature, but she did raise her voice as her tone shifted from playful to annoyance. You rolled your eyes and chewed on your bagel, shaking your head dramatically. You plastered on your best grin, but it was overpowered by the massive chunk of bagel in your mouth. So you sat there, stupid bagel-filled grin covering your face, and tiny giggles threatening to escape as Natasha’s face also dropped into a silly one.

The rest of the crew was planning on attending a private Valentine’s Day party hosted by a close business partner of Tony’s. It sounded like a lot of fun and a perfect excuse to dress-up, but you had a tiny mission to go on before it. It was not a ‘mission-mission’ so to say- more like a ‘get in, get out, this will literally take two seconds and I could do this any other day’ type of mission. Natasha had given you such a disapproving look when you told her what your actual plans were for tonight, but she expected nothing less. You always had something else up your sleeve.

And that you did.

Since your mission was a quickie, you would be able to return to the compound before everyone else and bake your special pink cupcakes they all knew and loved. A sweet mixture of vanilla and strawberry, no flavor overpowering the other. You had recently perfected the recipe, only having Natasha and Bucky taste the final product, and because of their genuine surprise and praise, you were ready to bake dozens for everyone proudly.

She finished her glass and went to wash it. “Still, I think you’re missing out! I hear the food is gonna be great!”

You shrugged, “Eh, we have food here.”

You heard Natasha release a tiny scoff, “Please tell me your actual reason before I laugh too loudly and wake everyone up.”

“I swear, I’ve been putting off this mission for so long that tonight just seemed like the perfect time. Everyone’s occupied- I don’t know. I mean, criminals gotta get laid too, right?”

Natasha snorted, “That’s very true.” She eyed you suspiciously while drying her glass.

“You know, you and Barnes are the only one’s not attending. Obviously, his excuse is that he’s literally on a mission right now but you see my point.”

“No, I don’t see your point.”

Natasha smiled, as if secretly knowing your other very valid reason for not attending the party. “We all have dates. You know that if he were here you would be going with him, even as friends. But since you would literally be the only one of us without a date, it seems reasonable you wouldn’t want to attend.”

Okay, she hit that spot-on.

You groaned and lay your arms across the counter dramatically, “Stop, it’s scary how right you are all the time.”

Natasha laughed and rounded the counter, going over to pat your shoulders. “I’m not making you go. Don’t worry. Just give yourself some self-care and I’ll see you tonight to let you know I got home safe.”

You nodded and waved goodbye to her, ready to finish the everything bagel you had abandoned.

Bucky wasn’t one to dress-up for a night out anymore. He just didn’t have the motivation to do anything unless it involved stake-outs, knitting, painting, and binge-watching some stupid series you were watching. It always happened the same way, too. You would be casually chilling in the main common room of the compound, barely starting the first episode of a new series with stacks of junk food ready for your eager taste buds, when Bucky would randomly come in and ask what you were watching. And the next thing Bucky knew, you two were discussing the hidden elements of The Crown and debating whether a scene actually happened the way it was portrayed. By God, how much Bucky absolutely detested Prince Charles.

And you were so determined to knit that sweater for Natasha by her birthday that you came to Bucky’s room five times a day now rather than your usual three. But Bucky was extremely patient, helping you hook the remaining yarn that kept falling off your needles. Each time you pouted over the ‘horrible knot you made’ or when the yarn would tangle, Bucky would grin and tease you about, his stomach twisting pleasurably.

And each time he would reach over to help you fix it, your heart fluttered ever so slightly.

Bucky had actually planned on taking you to that Valentine’s Day party but his mission carried on longer than it was supposed to. Rather than returning a day before the party, he would now be returning towards the middle of it. He wondered if you were still going to go, but he highly doubted it. Not because you had told him explicitly, but because you had joked that if he wasn’t able to go, then ‘why would you bother?’.

To see you in that red dress you had jokingly placed over your already clothed body and modeled for him - Yeah, he absolutely hated he was missing this party tonight.

His mission had just ended and he was currently on the flight home, resting in his tactical gear but with the headphones you let him borrow in each ear. He chuckled lowly, realizing that most things he had in his possession, whether that be the headphones, hair bands, lotion, and Spotify account, all belonged to you. It brought him some comfort as he fixed himself in his seat, settling on your ‘Love me please?’ playlist to match the special holiday.

Lovebug by the Jonas Brothers. Tonight by FM Static. Oh, dozens by Taylor Swift. You’ll Be In My Heart by Phil Collins. And a whole lot of Selena songs.

There was one song that caught his attention, as if the title spoke to him. It just made sense. He clicked it, surprised by the upbeat beginning and rhythm of the drums, finally closing his eyes as he heard the melody from the acoustic guitar.

He lost count of how many times he replayed that one song as his plane touched land. He quickly woke himself up and gathered his things, ready to jump into a warm shower and watch an episode of The Crown behind your back. The drive to the compound was short and he entered the living quarters somewhat alert. There were no sounds his super soldier ears could hear besides the clicks of keyboards by overtime workers and computers humming. Kind of sad and joyful at once, Bucky realized he was alone for the first time in a long time. Maybe he would try that face mask you had urged him to buy tonight. And those very comfortable pajamas.

Ever the procrastinator, you never did go on that mission.

You were humming along to your Valentine’s playlist as you cracked the eggs into your bowl. You stirred quickly, bowl in your arms and a strike of flour along your unknowing cheek. You had your earphones in, enjoying the solace of such a peaceful night. The mix was coming together nicely and as you waited for the oven to preheat, you took out all of your cupcake supplies to set on the kitchen counter.

You could have sworn you heard some noises a few doors down so you took one earphone out to listen closely. At first you heard nothing, but you could have sworn you heard the likes of a toothbrush tapping against a bathroom counter. But as you stood there comically, bowl in your arms and whisk held up like a weapon, you settled on no disturbance.

You set the bowl down quietly and ran over to the door, looking down the hallway. Once you saw it was completely empty, you couldn’t contain the grin that spread across your face. You raced back to the kitchen and called for Friday.

“Friday? Could you please connect my phone to the living room speakers, please?”

“Done.”

You scrolled through your playlist and settled on a song that would for sure damage your vocal cords but delight you nonetheless.

“I could lose my heart tonight

If you don’t turn and walk away

You swayed around the kitchen as you traveled to grab each new ingredient, singing at the appropriate level the song called for.

Because the way I feel I might

Lose control and let you stay

Bucky had just finished brushing his teeth and putting a warm pair of socks on when he heard Friday play the exact song he had been listening to for the past two hours. At first he wondered if Friday had mistakenly connected his phone to the speakers but realized his phone didn’t even have the Spotify app open. He quickly walked down the cold floors of the hallway, his warm socks somewhat doing their job. He stopped at the living room entrance and leaned his shoulder on the doorway, beaming with a huge grin.

Because I could, take you in my arms

And never let go

You twirled around and used the whisk as a microphone, and to both your and Bucky’s surprise, hit every note perfectly. Bucky knew you were a great singer and although he would never admit it, he had heard you singing in the shower quite a few times. It was impossible not to at the level of volume you sang, but each time he would come into your room to grab something random or to ask you a question, he would sit outside the shower door and listen to your angelic voice as it sailed through the steamy air and into Bucky’s ears. But here you were, belting out the exact song Bucky had just learned all the lyrics for on his way home.

I could fall, in love, with you

It was in that moment that Bucky realized he was in his ‘comfortable pajamas’, which consisted of a loose long sleeve and bottoms set, with a nice dark blue color and white stitching along the pockets and buttons. But the sleeves, incredibly so, were far too long for his arms so he would crunch them up in his palms. And his socks had stripes on them. But he remained still on the door frame, watching you sway to the music and enjoying the scent of your first batch of cupcakes already in the oven.

I could only wonder how touching you

Would make me feel

You halted immediately when you saw his tall form resting on the door frame, a giant grin plastered on his newly shaven face. You yelped in surprise, putting down the whisk and patting your hands on your little green apron.

“Bucky, oh my god! Say something if you’re going to enter a room!”

Bucky just shrugged, walking over to the kitchen counter, eyes never leaving yours. He leaned over and placed his chin in both his palms, smiling as the music continued playing in the background. “I like this song.”

You squinted at him, “You know this song?”

Bucky nodded, holding his hand out now for you to take. “Like I said, I like this song.”

But if I take that chance right now

Tomorrow will you want me still?

You reached over hesitantly and let Bucky lead you over to the carpet. He wrapped one arm around your waist and rested the other higher up on your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing for his large frame to sway you both to the rhythm of the song.

“Nice pajamas.”

“Shut up.”

The room was dimly lit, cupcake aroma circling you two, and his snuggly pajamas seemed to also provide you the warmth you were previously getting from the oven. You smiled up at him, low giggles emitting from your lips. He did the same, enjoying the feel of your body pressed up against his.

So I should, keep this to myself

And never let you know

“When did you get back?” you asked, reaching up to touch his shaven cheek. You were undoubtedly curious about the feeling.

Bucky let you roam your hand all over, “About an hour ago. I didn’t think anyone was here.”

You chuckled, “I am! I told you I wasn’t going to bother going to that party if my plus one wasn’t coming!”

Bucky lifted his arm and twirled you slowly, happy that you followed his lead. “So, I’m your plus one now?”

You rolled your eyes, “Always.”

I could fall, in love, with you

“How did you even hear about this song?” you asked, hands now resting comfortably on Bucky’s chest. He had his arms wrapped around you, hugging you to his chest as you two swayed.

“We share a Spotify account, doll.”

“Yeah, but it’s a love playlist. Were you just in the mood for some ballads and stumbled across this one?”

“Exactly. It’s quite the tearjerker.”

And I know it’s not right

And I guess I should try

To do what I should do

He looked so relaxed at this moment, fresh and calm, enjoying the dance he pulled you into. He was resting his chin on the top of your head so you felt his little puffs of air escape his nostrils. And as he breathed in, you could feel his chest rise and lower below your palms. You were tempted to reach up and grab his face, pull him into yourself and share a sweet kiss, but you decided against it. For some reason you knew that this was different. You had snuggled before during naps or binge watching, but they never had a romantic undertone. And if you acted upon your desires, you were frightened it just might ruin your friendship. It took you two years to build up such a rapport with this man, and dare you say you were extremely proud to harbor some of his deepest secrets, and him yours. But his breathing calmed you immensely, as if the gentle rhythm was enough to put you to sleep, and you wondered if he was thinking about the same thing.

But I fall in love, with you

So I should, keep this to myself

And never let you know

Bucky seemed to hug you tighter as the lyrics encircled the room. Over the last few weeks he had felt a shift in your relationship, where sharing food was no longer as innocent as it seemed, barging into each other’s room was not seen as drastic, and partaking in each other’s hobbies was never a bore. Steve had commented on it before, asking Bucky if there was something between you two. And Bucky confided in both Steve and Sam, hands pulling at his hair as he paced in a safe room and his friends sitting patiently on the lone couch. They let him act out his worries in peace, and once Bucky tired himself out they both explained how he should ask you out or how to bring up the topic with you. Bucky listened intently and pushed down the tiny voice in his head that joked about Steve being the one to give him romantic advice. But if he ended up with you on his arm after this little pep talk, it would all be worth it.

But now the song was coming closer to its end, and he knew that if he didn’t act now then he probably wouldn’t have the courage to bring it up ever again. He leaned down to your left ear, and whispered the lyrics to you. In Spanish.

Siempre estoy soñando en ti

Besando mis labios, acariciando mi piel

Abrazándome con ansias locas

Imaginando que me amas

Como yo podía amar a ti

[I am always dreaming of you

Kissing my lips and touching my skin

Anxiously hugging me

Imagining that you love me

Like how I love you]

You knew Bucky knew several languages. You knew. But it made you incredibly excited and hot that he specifically knew Spanish. He spoke in such a gentle manner, breath hitting your skin and voice practically drowning your mind. It was all foggy for a moment, but you quickly refocused your attention on his face.

“Oh, wow.”

Bucky smiled, “What?”

You scoffed and swatted his chest lightly, “Don’t ‘what’ me! You just confessed you like me!”

Bucky pushed you away for another twirl under his arm, but kept you at arms length once you turned around. “No, I confessed I love you.”

You stumbled slightly, staring at him with wide eyes. You thought about how absurd that confession was, but as quickly as that thought entered your mind, it left - because let’s face it, you did know each other for over two years and were best friends. This was right. This felt right.

“You love me?”

Bucky breathed in deeply but your reaction didn’t change his mind. It was now or never. “Yeah, I do. Seemed like the moment to tell you.”

You grinned, pushing your body forward to be engulfed by his strong arms once more. “And to think you could have just told me at this damn party when I was looking all hot without freaking flour on my face.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh that originated from the pit of his stomach and reached his hands up to your face. He pulled you in and kissed you sweetly, the taste of your lip gloss driving him wild. He tasted like toothpaste and chapstick, a perfect combination for your superhero.

“I love you, too.” Bucky let his eyes close in complete bliss.

You could have stayed like that forever, but as you left his lips and looked up at him, you suddenly remembered you never set a timer.

You pushed Bucky away, your sudden strength sending him backwards onto the couch. “My cupcakes!”

And as you rushed to pull the burnt tops from the oven, you could hear Bucky slide off the couch and hit the floor, his laugh louder than the speakers.

I could fall, in love

With you.”

Happy Valentine’s Day. All the love. xxMoni

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jisungsmochi · 4 years ago

Text

valentine’s day with the dreamies ❤️

hella belated valentine’s day scenarios / dates with ot7 dream hehe <3

mark lee:

took a while for him to decide on a plan for the day

didn’t want to disappoint you )):

settled with a nice trip to the beach, waiting to watch the sunset as you both had a nice dinner together

he wanted to take you away from the chaos of both your busy lives and just have time to relax with each other

he knows how tired you’ve been lately and just wants to give you some healing time

and he also wanted to profess his love for you on the beach

listening to the waves crash on the sand, the calling of seagulls, the laughter of other couples and families around you

as the sun started setting, you were leaning into mark’s side, his arm draped around your shoulders

he wrapped the both of you in a blanket as you reminisced about your relationship

“remember how you were scared shitless to ask me out? i thought you were going to faint”

“i was not scared! i just ate a bad sandwich that day” mark grumbled, hiding his face in your shoulder

you gently stroked his hair as you continued the trip down memory lane

the sky was now a mix of purple and pink hues

you immediately jumped up, pulling out your phone, to snap a picture of the gorgeous scenery

mark slowly met you, pulling your phone down, holding his hands in yours

he leant down to place a soft kiss on your lips, causing you to smile in between the pecks

“i love you” he mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear

“i love you too”

he ended up pulling out his own fancy camera, taking quick snaps of you being silly infront of the sunset

he eventually asked a nice lady to take some photos for the both of you in which she couldn’t help but coo

“you two make a beautiful couple”

heat rose to both your cheeks, too flustered by the compliment of a stranger

you spent to the rest of night chatting, too caught up endless conversations

huang renjun:

“hey, if your cute ass isn’t here in 10 minutes i’m packing up all the paints and sulking in my room for the rest of the day”

renjun texted you the morning of valentine’s day

you were already on your way to surprise him with your own small gift, having him rush you was adding to your nerves

this would be be first official valentine’s day you’d be spending together so you wanted everything to be perfect

you enthusiastically knock on his door, in which he opened instantly

he pulled you inside, dragging you to the backyard where he set up a nice picnic blanket with paints and canvases on a small table

you couldn’t help but admire all the effort he put in

you gave him a quick hug, your hold lingering on him for longer than he thought

you handed him your gift bag, filled with snacks he loved and a panda plushie with a heart attached to it

he pouted at how adorable your gift was, pulling you down to sit with him

“thank you for the gifts, babe! i hope you also like out little painting date!”

he queued up a tutorial video as you both started recreating the beautiful landscape shown

although you weren’t the best artist he had ever met

renjun couldn’t stop giggling at how concentrated you were with every stroke

“something funny?”

“nah you’re just the cutest”

subtle compliments like that was his specialty

you continued to paint as you snacked on various fruits and biscuits as well as caught up on current events in your lives

it was now time for the big reveal of your artworks...

renjun obviously outshone you but he still insisted you hang both paintings in his room for the memories

he’d take lots of polaroids to put into his photo album of your memories

huang renjun didn’t see the big deal in grand gestures for valentine’s day, as he saw every day, as a day to treat you well

lee jeno:

this boy would wake you up at the crack of dawn, practically jumping on you to go biking with him

you had flashbacks to the previous night where you agreed to go with him but immediately regretted staying up to watch new episodes of your favourite drama

jeno dragged you around your shared apartment like a rag doll, helping you change and stay awake

you knew how excited he was to take you biking for the first time, you didn’t want to crush his spirit

so you started slapping your cheeks and jumping up and down to remain awake, which jeno found amusing

you followed closely behind him as he led you through the trail

his initial idea was to get to the top before sunrise so you both could watch it together

but once he reached half way, jeno had an inkling that you were way behind

he was right

he stopped completely to wait for you, more concerned about how you were holding up rather than getting to the top

you were huffing and puffing

“why’d you stop? we have to get to the top!”

“have a sip first, babe” he pats your back as he hands you his water bottle

you felt bad for holding him back, but his concerned expression eased your mind

“we don’t have to get to the top, the sun will rise either way! who says we can’t just watch it from here?” he smiles widely at you

what did you do to deserve him?

you both stood with each other, his arm draped around your waist

the sun slowly started rising, your tired eyes glimmering in admiration

jeno’s eyes were fixed on you tho,, so proud that you attempted to bike with him

he was usually the one who always wanted to do things you liked

but when you agreed to go on this date with him, it just about made him pass out

he felt on top of the world with you by his side

this was a date he will never forget

lee donghyuck:

“really? a couple’s cooking class?” your boyfriend whined (he really loved doing that)

“yes! renjun suggested it to me, it will be fun, i promise!” you plead

as much as he loved to bicker with you, he saw how excited you were to participate in this class for valentine’s day

“do you know what we’re cooking at least?”

“i think we’re baking a cake, actually”

shouldn’t be too bad...he thought to himself

but boy was he WRONG

you both came to realise that you were not the best cooking duo in your friend group

but it didn’t mean you were gonna give up, after all, having donghyuck as your boyfriend made you as competitive as him (if that’s even possible)

he read the instructions as you grabbed the ingredients and threw them in a bowl

he would hype you up from the side like

“that’s my baby, you beat those eggs!” “our cake is gonna look so freaking good”

you would get flustered, earning a smile from the chef teaching the class

once the decoration stage came along, donghyuck insisted he do it on his own

he refused to let you watch him as he did the finishing touches

the chef revealed each cake one by one, when he got to yours, he gave you both a soft smile

“you two make such a sweet couple”

you looked down at the cake, the words

“i love you always and forever” were written on the surface

you were about to burst into tears at how sweet your boyfriend was

when you got home, after taking hundreds of photos with the beautifully decorated cake

you both devoured it like animals while watching tv together

a simple, yet memorable valentine’s day date — you couldn’t wait to tell your friends all about it

na jaemin:

as some of y’all know, jaemin used to be a short speed track racer

so naturally he was down for your idea of going ice skating for valentine’s day

you weren’t aware of how skilled he was at skating — as you yourself were merely a beginner

so when you saw how knowledgeable jaemin was when you entered the ice skating rink, you started feeling nervous

jaemin helped strap your skates on, carefully guiding you to the rink

you were still under the impression he was just as bad as you, but once you both stepped on the ice, he was immediately stable

god, he could even skate backwards

this must be so embarrassing for him to see

you started pouting,

“what’s wrong, baby?”

“i didn’t know you could skate so well! i’m so embarrassed, i can barely skate two metres!”

“i can teach you, don’t worry so much” he smiled softly at you, hands gripping yourself tightly

you couldn’t stay mad at him, immediately following his instructions

thirty minutes later, one really bruised butt cheek and some elbow bruises from falling down so much, you started getting the hang of it

jaemin let go of your hands and let you skate towards him, once you reached him, he wrapped you in his arms tightly, still gliding on the ice

your faces were so close, you could feel his breath fan your cheeks

you gave him a quick peck, mumbling a quiet ‘i love you’

jaemin couldn’t contain how adorable you were, giving you another quick kiss before telling you he loved you more than life itself

you both skated for a while, listening to throwback love songs playing over the speakers

he rarely let go of your hand, even when you insisted you were getting the hang of skating alone

he treated you to some french fries and ice cream after you finished skating

you laughed and chatted the day away, without a care in the world

being inlove with jaemin was something you would never trade for anything else in the world

zhong chenle:

a homemade dinner was always something you raved about to chenle

so once valentine’s day approached,, he made sure to give you the best dinner you could have ever imagined

he was on a call with his mum, following her instructions for the most perfect creamy pasta

you on the other hand, decided to make chocolate covered strawberries to have after dinner

you asked jaemin for help but then he just screamed he hates strawberries and left

you were placing the finishing touches on the desserts when your phone dings that chenle was ready for you to come over

you dropped everything, rushing to find the outfit you had picked earlier that day

you carefully wrapped the box of strawberries before making your way to his place

he practically swung the door open for you, pulling you to the dining table

he was hella dramatic and had those fancy covers for the food,, so he could surprise you

you just chuckled at his antics, placing a soft kiss to his cheek which made him heat up

he slowly revealed the meal he worked hard on the entire afternoon

your eyes glimmered at the sight, your mouth beginning to water

“how’d you know i love creamy pasta?”

“i listen to you when you talk, ya know”

you both enjoyed a pleasant dinner, chatting all about recent events in your life

the meal was delicious,, but it was now time for dessert

chenle practically ripped open the box, devouring one strawberry before you could even show off your creations

“you animal” you softly shove him, taking one for yourself

the rest of the night was filled with commentating cheesy romance movies and snacking on the desserts

once you finished eating, chenle handed you a small box

you opened it slowly, your jaw dropping at the gorgeous ring he had bought for you

he bought you both promise rings oop

you squealed before tackling him in a warm embrace

nothing felt better than being wrapped in his arms

park jisung:

sungie: meet me on the rooftop at 8:30

you: uhhh you’re not gonna fight me, are you?

sungie: shut up and get ready

you giggled at his response, giddy about seeing your boyfriend on valentine’s day

you weren’t sure what he had planned, but you were sure he put a lot of thought into it

even tho jisung doesn’t voice his thoughts, something is always going on with that boy

you made your way to the said rooftop he referred to, cautiously walking over to him

he set up two beach chairs with a small table filled with both of your favourite snacks

you also noticed two telescopes placed in front of the chairs, smiling widely to yourself

“is this what i think it is?”

“yes! we’re stargazing tonight! i know how much you’ve been wanting to do so”

you sat down next to him, taking your own telescope in your hands

you couldn’t believe he organised this date, from the fairy lights around the railing of the rooftop to the soft r&b playlist playing in the background

it was perfect

jisung couldn’t take his eyes off you, too eager to determine if you truly liked the idea

when your eyes met, you couldn’t help but lean closer to him

jisung didn’t pull away, smirking to himself before suddenly pecking your lips

jisung also wasn’t usually the one to initiate affection, so this was just another surprise you could never get over

you both giggled, pointing out the different constellations you could make out

you chatted about random things, from video games to school, to when jaemin yelled at chenle’s s/o for making chocolate covered strawberries

everything felt at ease when you were with jisung

he knew you didn’t want such a big fuss for valentine’s day, but you could have never suspected he’d do this all for you

“thankyou for all of this”

“anything for my baby”

and in that moment, you knew, you were falling inlove with park jisung.

#nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct imagines #nct writing #nct fic #nct dream reactions #jisungsmochiimagines #jisungsmochi masterlist

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years ago

Note

Hey there! Would you consider doing a companions react to SS giving them something for Valentine’s Day and of course they have no idea what Valentine’s Day even is? (If you’ve already done this then please disregard). Thank you! Love your reacts! They’re always spot on! XO!

Cait:

"Sheesh, I think you've actually managed to make me soft. You're such a little shite..."

Cait usually isn't big on huge celebrations or being too overly affectionate- but having you give her that sweet doe eyed look and give her a gift straight from your heart rendered her absolutely speechless.

Curie:

"Oh, Curie just adores these decorations! This is all so lovely, Mon Amour."

You kidding? Anything exciting is going to be popular with Curie. Now something that is completely just for the two of you to have and experience? Sign her tf up.

Danse:

"My love, you don't know how much I appreciate this...I'm sorry I wasn't aware of the occasion. Would you be willing to let me make it up to you?"

Things like this is what Danse treasure most. Giving him a thoughtful gift is a sure fire way to make him teary eyed- even if he tries to hide it. Regardless, depending upon where the two of you are- Danse would opt for the two of you to go somewhere more private and properly celebrate the occasion. Don't worry, that doesn't just mean sex either- more like cuddles and kisses...and sex too.

Deacon:

"....You're unbelievable..I love you."

Wait...what?

Gage:

"Oh..i..shit babe, where'd you get the idea for all this? Damn.."

Gage would be utterly speechless. Believe it or not, he is a sucker for being spoiled. The second you come at him with candies and heartfelt words, it's all he can do not to melt. He may try to play it off and be a "tough guy", but you know damn well that he is trying not to cry. The ensuing festivities will range from him showering you in gifts to screwing you silly.

Valentine's Day may just be his favourite holiday now.

Hancock:

"A holiday just to express love? Sunshine, why didn't you tell me something earlier?"

Parties, Celebration, and debauchery are all things Hancock revels in. Throwing in Valentine's Day is only bound to have a very fun outcome. Once you give him all the details on what a pre-war Valentine's would look like, he'll make sure to treat you to the closest wasteland alternative. And yes..you can expect a very long night..

Macready:

"Don't worry..I'll be back in just a second."

Whenever you first brought it up to him you may be a little disheartened as he turns on his heels and goes to leave- but never fear. Come sunset, Mac brings you what a pocketful of caps and some threats could buy- setting up a small..maybe kind of ridiculous, Valentine's Day dinner.

Maxson:

"I don't know how I ever got so lucky. Thank you (y/n), thank you for making me feel normal.."

Of course, Maxson would be very interested with finding out the origin of this holiday but he'd keep that in. Instead of hounding you for information of this pre-war tradition, he'd gaze at you with pure wonder. Something was just so strangely..not superficial about this little gesture- Arthur was hardly used to it. Mark my words, he makes it his top priority to remember the date for years to come and make the biggest deal of the day possible.

As for now, he'd call an "emergency" leave and take you down to Nordhagen Beach- walking hand in hand with you as the sun sets. Whatever you gave him goes straight to his memento shelf.

Nick:

"Sure is nice to have someone to share this with. Happy Valentine's Day, dear."

Nick knows what Valentine's Day is- and oh my god does he do it big? I'm talking about a bouquet of hubflowers, a shiny little trinket, and maybe even some sweets if he can scrounge it up. The later events wouldn't look any different than your average Valentine's Day..but isn't that nice? Some rare normalcy is just what someone could hope for.

Old Longfellow:

"Shucks, you didn't have to do all this cap.."

He's a very simple man, usually not one to enjoy being a made fuss over..at least he didn't think he was. Then comes you with your "Valentine's" day festivities. Be it the gifts or the special little dinner you fixed up, you made that old man the happiest he had been in years. He still doesn't quite get it per se, but he loves it anyways.

Piper:

"Wow blue, you never do cease to amaze me. Is this some type of pre war holiday? That's pretty cool."

Piper is all about new experiences and new opportunities- especially when it's something she is able to share with those she loves. Though the holiday is nothing more than just..well, a holiday, she takes it as something so much deeper than that. On top of this, she appreciates you being able to share pieces of your past with her even though she had no idea what the traditions even were.

Preston:

"Aw babe, I can't believe this."

Preston would easily be overcome with a wave of pure happiness. Not so much because of the gifts or your sweetness, but more because he now knows that there is a designated day he can devote in future to you. Preston already is a very affectionate, "touchy feely" kind of man, so introducing Valentine's Day to him is reminiscent of giving Hancock a storage container filled with jet.

Sturges:

"Hey darlin', you know you didn't really have to do all this for me. Youre too sweet."

Sturges is shell shocked. Do you have any idea how long it's been since he's received a mere gift? Anyways- having you in his life was a gift enough itself..but you going above and beyond and introducing this Valentine's Day thing? Oh he was in heaven. You bet your sweet ass that he's going to celebrate to fullest extent possible.

X6-88:

"I- I really appreciate this, thank you."

Believe it or not- he actually knows what Valentine's Day is. The still celebrate it in the Institute, but he never really got to partake seeing as synths weren't treated like sentient beings. You giving him something meant the world to him, only further reassuring him that yes, he can feel, and yes, he deserves to be loved. He'll do whatever it takes to make sure you feel the same way.

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tenspontaneite · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond the Moon Gardens - Extracts (1)

For lack of anything else to post today, I’m releasing some extracts from one of my non-public fanfictions – Beyond the Moon Gardens – as my participation in the @raayllum valentine’s event.

Information on and context of the story itself is below the cut. The 10k of snippets are also below the cut.

(General overview of the content of the snippets: established rayllum, fluff, domesticity, horn care, silliness, cuddling.)

Story information:

‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is a successor to ‘In the Moon Gardens’. The former was written in a month in late 2020, and has been worked on sporadically since. The latter was written in approximately three weeks between December 2019 and January 2020. Both are currently incomplete. I do not intend to publish either to the public in full, but may well post further extracts in time.

‘In the Moon Gardens’ is a story about Callum and Rayla getting married; however, the circumstances are deeply unpleasant and the experience is traumatic. ‘Beyond the Moon Gardens’ is considerably longer, and is focused on trauma recovery, hurt/comfort, relationship development, and fluff. The story is structured around a plotline involving rescue and disaster relief efforts in a Sunfire elf city called Lux Marea.

All snippets presented below take place on day 7 of the story’s timeline. They have been carefully curated for fluffiness for the purposes of Valentine’s day, and do not contain any of the hurt/comfort or post-traumatic scenes prevalent in the story at large. Some extracts have been edited to slot together and minimise empty space.

I may potentially post further snippets throughout the week if people are interested.

The extracts:

(Snippet 1: domesticity, fluff, city descriptions. Context: Callum and Rayla are staying in fancy diplomatic quarters in the city, where they arrived somewhat earlier in the day.)

Rayla turned away from her reflection and went for the door.

She glanced around, and found Callum in his own robe sat at the sofa in front of the window. Surprisingly, he wasn’t drawing. He was just staring out across the city, looking pensive.

“Not drawing?” She asked, and he startled, looking up at her in surprise.

He blinked. “Oh. I didn’t hear you.” He said sheepishly as she approached.

She snorted, and moved around the sofa’s edge to plant herself down beside him. “So I noticed.”

Callum smiled at her, looking for all the world like the best thing that had happened to him today was her sitting down next to him, eyes settling on her like he’d be perfectly happy to do nothing but look at her forever. She withstood that expression for only a single second before she had to lean in and kiss him. He made a pleased sound, reaching out to rest a hand on her back, fingers stroking reflexively over the thick wool of the robe. “You smell nice.” He said happily, turning his face sideways to tuck his nose behind her ear. He was undoubtedly getting a face full of wet hair that way, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Fruity, sort of.”

“They’ve got a lot of soaps in there.” She said, and her voice came out more soft than amused. Stars, but she loved him. “It’s nice. There’s all these soaps, and towels, and I think bath oils too.”

“You think?” He inquired, curious, still with his face in her neck. He pressed a kiss to her damp skin.

“Didn’t check them out properly or anything, but there was a drawer full of some fancy stuff. Bottles and the like. Looked like it might be bath oils.”

With a final kiss to the edge of her jaw, he pulled back to resume staring at her contentedly. “We’ll have to have a look later.” He said, and paused to give her an appreciative once-over. “That dressing gown looks nice on you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You say that about literally everything I wear.”

“That’s because you look good in everything.” He claimed staunchly, and honestly, he wasn’t looking half-bad in his dressing-gown either. The colour was familiar on him, but the casual comfortableness of it was weirdly pleasing to look at. Made him look cosy and cuddlable.

Rayla shook her head, then leaned in to kiss briefly along his jaw. It prickled a little. “You might want to see if they’ve got razors in there.” She said dryly. “You’re starting to prickle.”

He blinked, startled, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling along it. Mercifully, he grew facial hair extremely slowly, making it less of an issue on the move, but it did still grow. He’d last made an attempt at shaving some two weeks ago, and that had sufficed up to now. “Elves don’t grow beards, though.” He said, after a moment. “I’d probably better just stick with mine.”

Once or twice, they’d made an attempt at shaving his bristles with Rayla’s swords, which had been kind of nerve-wracking, and plenty memorable. For lack of proper razors to be found in Xadia, they’d eventually ended up getting him a small knife that he claimed was alike enough to a ‘straight razor’ to work, though it periodically needed to be sharpened to an absurd degree. It was all very strange to her, even after a good half year of living with him. “Maybe.” She agreed at last, and gave him a sniff. Fresh from bathing, his state of uncleanliness was far more obvious to her nose than it had been before. “You should be getting washed up first though. You’ll make your dressing gown stink.”

He snickered. “Bet I reek to you now that you’re clean.”

“Just a tad.” She prodded him in the side until he started moving. “Off with you. Wash up.”

Evading her hands, he leaned in and planted a final kiss on her forehead before leaving, disappearing into the bathroom while she shook her head at him. She heard the water start up quite soon after, and eventually ended up staring out of the window like he had.

The city was still bright, both with sunlight and with the ongoing glory of the temple’s radiance. Settling into a sort of quiet lassitude, she watched it with eyes half-lidded, following the patterns of steaming light as though the smoke from a fire.

It was a striking city. Unlike Lux Aurea, which was so much gold it hurt to look at, Lux Marea was a thing of contrasts. The buildings were all built from the same dark stone as the bathroom had been done in, a grey that cast deep black shadows behind the gaze of the sun. And yet – every building was lined with gold. Accents on the corners, or moulding between the bricks, or running in thick channels up the walls…it gleamed, rich and distinct against the stone. Some of the largest, richest buildings had elaborate golden murals on their sides, luridly metallic and shining in the sun. All of that gold was glowing with magic now.

Rayla wasn’t much for aesthetics. But even she could appreciate the beauty in that view. She watched it for a while longer, lulled a little by the twisting patterns of glowing haze rising from the buildings, then stood and went to find something to do.

(Snippet 2: Calum and Rayla investigate the supplies their fancy bathroom is stocked with, discover bath bombs and are confused, Rayla points out various horn-care items, and Callum makes her very flustered by offering to use said items)

After that, they went through and classified each of the mysterious drawer goodies a little faster. They found more varieties of lotion, some weird nearly liquid soaps, and a pot of some mysterious mini chalky spheres whose purpose neither of them managed to guess until Callum’s hair dripped on one and it sizzled. “Is it supposed to go in water?” Rayla wondered, befuddled.

“No idea. Try it.” He suggested, and they took the rinsing pot, filled it with water, and dropped the thing in. It fizzed and foamed magnificently, releasing pleasant odours and bits of dried flower as it dissolved, and both of them stared at it with fascinated consternation.

“Is that for baths?” She asked him, befuddled. “What’s the point?”

“…Fun, maybe?” He offered, reaching out to swirl a finger in the foam. “It looked pretty cool, after all. Maybe you’re supposed to throw them in the bath for the fun of it?”

“Fun foam and nice smells?” With a huff, she put that pot aside as something to maybe experiment with if she felt like it. “Well, maybe.” She snorted, and in the last unexplored corner, found something highly important. “Oh thank god.” She said, in that way she’d absolutely picked up from Callum, and he looked over with interest.

“What did you find?”

She brandished it triumphantly. “Toothbrushes.”

“Oh thank god.” He echoed instantly, peering over. “My teeth feel disgusting.”

“You’re not the only one.” She withdrew both toothbrushes from the drawer and set them aside. “Well, at least we know what everything in there is now. Mystery solved.” She went to close it, but was stopped with a hand on her wrist.

“Wait, but what about those?” he asked, indicating the small collection of things she’d already set to one side of the drawer with the horn-scrub.

“Oh.” She’d forgotten he wouldn’t know those on sight. “Right. Well, this thing here-“ She plucked up a narrow, vaguely curved implement with a soft-smooth coating. “-is a horn buffer. For making horns smoother once you’ve already scrubbed all the rough bits out with a proper scrub.” She planted it in his hands, since he seemed fascinated by it, and withdrew a sort of soft spongey thing with a texture like felt. “Horn polisher. Same thing, kind of.” He took that as well, and she pulled out a pot of thick paste that turned out to be exactly what she thought it was when she uncapped it. This one had obviously attempted to smell as pleasant as possible, but it still had a very strong and distinctive edge to it. She wrinkled her nose. “Horn polish.” She said, closing it up again. “To be applied and used with the polisher. And lastly-“ She picked up one of the remaining bottles, “horn oil.”

He looked weirdly interested. “What’s the oil for?” He asked, leaning in. “I mean, I guess the rest of it’s to make your horns smooth and shiny, right? So what about this?”

“It’s kind of fancy and unnecessary, and expensive, so not everyone uses it, but usually you put it on after scrubbing or polishing.” She explained, withdrawing the bottles one at a time. “They smell nice, which is good after the polish, and letting it sink into the horns is supposed to make them healthier and glossier-looking. You can technically put it on multiple times a day if you’re really into your horn presentation, but pretty much no one bothers.”

“Because it’s expensive?” Callum guessed, and she made a so-so noise.

“Well, there’s that.” She said dryly. “But it’s just kind of a lot of hassle, you know? If you’re already washing and doing your hair and keeping your horns not-gross, it’s just extra fuss you don’t really need.” She shook her head. “It’s less effort than full on polishing, I suppose, but I’ve never been bothered about polishing my horns except on special occasions anyway. It’s a lot of work.”

“Huh.” He said, in a sort of weird tone of voice. Rayla turned to him, and found his expression similarly strange. Thoughtful, interested, and a little bit furtive.

She eyed him suspiciously, picked up an armful of the supplies they’d set aside, and stood up with them. “What’s that look for?” She asked archly, setting things onto the broad side of the bath. He followed her lead, picking up the rest of it and standing, looking a little shifty.

“What’s what look for?” he asked innocently, putting it all out in neat rows.

“I know that face.” She told him, unimpressed. “I’ve told you so many times I know that face. That’s your dumb idea face. So out with it.”

For a moment, Callum looked sheepish. Then he cleared his throat, and looked at her, and she reflexively fell silent. “I…was wondering if you’d let me do your horns.” He said at last, and she made a strangled noise in the back of her throat.

“What?”

(Snippet 3: tail end of the horn-care discussion, domesticity, Rayla bemused by the concept of room service, Callum pestering Rayla for details on how horn care works, and discussion of one of Rayla’s newer hobbies)

“That’ll be nice, then.” He said, sounding very at peace with the idea. “I can wash and comb out your hair, maybe. Give you some hornrubs.”

Her cheeks heated. “Callum.” She complained. “That’s so sappy.”

He pressed his face close alongside hers, and she could feel his smile against her cheek. “Treat you real good.” He said, very contentedly. “I’m gonna spoil you rotten.”

Rayla managed a strangled, deeply embarrassed sound in the back of her throat. A little indignant, she protested “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I can, and I did.” Callum grinned against her skin, and leaned in further to kiss her near the corner of her lips. “Love you.” He lifted a hand from around her waist, fingers settling at her jaw with a gentle suggestion of movement. Feeling near to bursting with mortification and adoration, she grumbled wordlessly but followed his hand, allowing him to lead her face around so he could kiss her on the mouth.

“You,” she muttered, into his lips, “need to get dressed.”

He paused, then huffed a surprised breath over her skin. “That’s right, I’m still just wearing a towel.” He remembered, ruefully. “At least I’m drier now.”

“It’s been ages, of course you’re drier.” Rayla shook her head at him, then nudged at his arms until he let her go, extricating herself from his embrace. She had difficulty looking him in the eye when she turned, after all of that. “…Get dressed.” She repeated, softer, and shoved the dressing gown he’d hung nearby into his arms. She leaned in, kissed him once on the lips, and then turned away to leave the bathroom.

She settled on the sofa, ensconcing herself beneath the soft blanket she’d found, and stared out at the city while her heart recovered. Sometimes, she loved Callum enough that it was a little hard to cope with, like she was afraid that the emotion in her would rupture if it built too far. He was used to her retreating a little at times like that, just long enough to breathe and feel slightly less overwhelmed.

He took long enough in the bathroom that, eventually, she guessed that he was shaving. That disappointed her, a little. She liked to watch him when he shaved. It was always so strange to her, something quintessentially human; a bizarre banal grooming ritual that reminded her again and again that he wasn’t an elf, he really was a whole different kind of being to her, and his humanity was made of so many little things. He never failed to chuckle at her for how she watched him shaving, but had grown very used to her keeping him company for it.

She sighed, and looked out on the city under the sun, and regained her emotional footing. By the time he emerged, clad once again in the dark red dressing gown, she had her equilibrium back and looked up gladly at his return.

“Where’d this blanket come from?” He asked, bemused, coming over to join her. She held one end up so he could sit down under it with her.

“One of the drawers. There’s a bunch of stuff in here.” She informed, and once he was seated she didn’t waste any time in reaching out to run her fingers along his still-damp jaw. It was so smooth. She murmured, pleased, cupping his face between both hands.

He coloured a little, looking across at her with soft eyes. “You’re so weird.” He told her, sounding utterly besotted, and she leaned in to kiss him lightly along that jawline.

“Love you.” Rayla said contentedly, and drew back just enough to nestle firmly against his side. He wove an arm around her back and turned his head to kiss her at the brow.

“Love you too.”

After a good bit of cuddling and watching the city together, Callum admitted to wanting a drink and Rayla to not knowing whether their waterskins were still filled. They were, as it happened, but-

“You know, if you wanted fresher water, or moonberry juice, we could just ask for it.” He pointed out. “All we’d have to do is open the door and ring a bell and someone would come up, and we’d ask for a drink, and they’d have it up for us just like that.”

She shook her head, utterly exasperated at the idea. “That’s so weird.” She said, and then actually considered it. “…Let’s do it.”

He laughed, and obligingly got up and went to the receiving room to fetch the bell. He mostly-closed the intervening door for her sake, so that when a servant responded to the ring she didn’t feel particularly on edge about it. They couldn’t see her. It was fine.

After a short conversation with the servant, they were off, and Callum shut the outer door before returning. “Five minutes.” He said, and true to his words, there was a knock at the door not too much later. He went to answer it and brought back an actual platter, balancing an entire jug of moonberry juice, an entire jug of water, and two glasses.

“Did you ask for a whole jug?” She asked, disbelievingly, as he set it down on the low table ahead of the sofa. “Or the water?”

“Nope. Actually, they passed along their apologies for not leaving a jug of water in here in the first place. Apparently that’s their usual thing to do, but since they were hurrying for us it got forgot.” He poured her a glass of juice, and then some for himself, and sat back.

She snorted. “What a terrible standard of service.” She said, mockingly. “I mean really, forgetting to leave us wee little glasses and chilled water, what is this place coming to?”

He snickered at an inopportune moment, very nearly making a mess with the glass he’d been in the process of drinking from. “Don’t say that around Vervain, I think she’d actually explode.”

“Right there on the spot.” Rayla agreed. “It’d make a terrible mess.”

They traded a few light-hearted quips on the subject of the accommodations while they had a drink, then they set it all aside for later. Callum, who was clearly angling for it, managed to get her onto the topic of how exactly a proper horn care-and-polish was supposed to go, and she spent pretty much the entirety of that torn between being increasingly embarrassed and increasingly amused. He was so interested, like she was sharing arcane magical knowledge instead of stupid basic grooming tips.

“I mean, I’ve seen you using your horn-scrub on the road sometimes, to file away rough or flaky bits, right?” He was saying, while she leaned over to lay against his chest. He reflexively put an arm around her even while gesturing with the other one. “You kind of go…with the sort of curvy lines in your horns? Like one at a time?”

“They’re called ridges, Callum.” She informed him, incredibly amused. “And yes. You need to file along them all one by one, and be careful to keep the shape too. If you do it badly you’ll flatten out the tops of the ridges and it looks really stupid.”

He stared down at her horns with fascination, and lowered his gesturing hand to trace the shape of – she presumed – one of her horn-ridges in detail. She made a flustered sort of murmur at him, but he seemed too busy to notice. “Right, so, hm.” He almost seemed to be speaking to himself. “Yeah, if you just file it from the top it’d all flatten out. So you have to sort of work around each one? Following the curve?”

“That’s why Moonshadow horn-scrubs are so much more complicated.” She informed him. “We need the wee fiddly parts to get between all the ridges and file it right without losing the shapes. Takes forever. Our horns are more of a pain than almost any other kind of elf’s.” She grinned up at him. “Unlucky for you.”

“Are you kidding?” He asked, incredulously. “This is great. Means I get so much longer to spend on you. You never let me spoil you enough.”

She processed that, and groaned, burrowing her face into the wool gown over his chest. “You’ll change your tune soon enough.” She muttered, but wasn’t entirely convinced. Callum really was an incredible sap when it came to doing things for her. “It takes so stupidly long.”

“I’m counting on it.” He declared happily, and she huffed.

“You’re ridiculous.” She informed him, and after nearly ten more minutes of him trying to wrangle intricately detailed horn-polishing knowledge out of her, just rolled her eyes and said with exasperation “It’s like polishing armour, Callum. Or boots. You just buff it up, then go at it with polish on the polisher for ages. There’s not much of a trick to it.” She paused, but did add “Gets kind of messy though. The filing stage puts horn dust and bits everywhere, and once you start polishing you get like…murky polish liquid all over your hands. Better put a towel down.”

Eventually, after enough sitting around that the cuddling alone wasn’t engrossing enough anymore, Callum did go and get his sketchbook and immediately sat down to begin producing what Rayla was certain would be the first of many, many drawings of the city. He drew it as seen from above first, and Rayla settled in to watch with half-lidded eyes.

She’d grown very used to spending time watching Callum draw. In large part, this was because he tended to spend a lot of his free time doing it, and she was often around when that happened. It was quite satisfying, to sit there and observe as the shapes on the page took form. But even so…

There was only so much of watching him draw that she could do before she started getting bored. Throughout their journeying, it had rarely got to that point. What with the time constraints of camp-craft and travelling, there’d been little enough spare time that Rayla hadn’t felt compelled to find anything else to do. Now, though, she found with surprise that her fingers were itching for her knives.

“Huh.” She said to herself, with interest, and Callum turned his head to peer at her.

“Hm?”

“My knives.” She said, and then realised this wasn’t especially helpful. “My carving knives. Just realised I’m hankering for them a bit. That’s never really happened before.”

“Oh.” He thought, then looked pleased. “Looks like you’re starting to make a habit of it after all. That’s really nice.”

“Less nice when I don’t actually have the knives.” She snorted, and considered her empty hands.

Rayla, on the whole, tended towards active ways of passing the time. She liked to train, and she liked to exercise, and if Callum was free she always liked to go flying with him. But inevitably, after half a year spent together, there had been plenty of afternoons and evenings in their off-time when she was too tired to go out for training, or Callum was spending time drawing and she wanted to be around him, and she ended up with nothing to do.

He’d been the one to gently pester her into taking up some sort of hobby. At first she’d just grumpily sharpened her weapons over and over again, but with enough work he’d got her to try other things. He’d suggested either knitting or whittling, on the basis that both involved the use of stabby implements, and she was a fan of those. Knitting she hadn’t taken to. But whittling…

At first, she’d just done it because he’d prodded her into it, and she didn’t hate it, and there was nothing better to do, so she might as well. But now, considering her empty hands with consternation, Rayla realised for the first time that she actually kind of wanted to be doing it. When had that happened?

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Pick up some things in the city tomorrow, maybe.” He suggested, and turned back to his drawing.

“Bit of a waste, when I’ve got a plenty good enough set of knives at home.”

“You don’t need to get a full set. But it could be nice to have a couple of the main ones around, for travelling with.” He shrugged. “You can practice on any random bits of wood, right? So it’s mainly the knives you need.”

She snorted. She’d learned enough to know that the type of wood one chose was, in fact, very important. But…yeah, for messing around like she did, random wood was usually fine. If splintery. “Maybe.” She said in the end, already thinking of the knife she used most. “It’s not a bad idea. Clothes and supplies are the priority, though. So maybe if there’s anything left after that.”

“We’ll need cold-weather gear, if we’re going through the Shiverthorns in winter.” He remarked, and huddled into the blanket like the mere thought was making him cold. “Thick cloaks and stuff.”

“Which are expensive.” She reminded. “And also heavy. It’ll slow you down.”

He shrugged. “I figure that’s okay. We won’t be in a huge hurry to get back, after all.”

(Snippet 4: Callum and Rayla discuss dinner options, watch the sunset, and investigate the light fixtures. Context: in this story, I worldbuild Sunfire elves as some weird blend of French and Roman.)

He hummed by way of agreement, and pulled her tighter in to his side. “For now, let’s try not to worry about that.” He said, determinedly. “Today our job is to relax and rest up, and that’s it.”

Rayla sighed, and shifted around to lay part-way across his front, face half into the red wool at his chest. “I can probably do that.”

They cuddled for what actually didn’t end up being that long, because there was a knock at the door. It echoed sharply through the polished wood, even with the intervening door closed. Rayla, who’d heard no footsteps of any kind due to the ostensible soundproofing, stiffened immediately.

Callum blinked, then carefully extricated himself from her. “I’ll go get it.” He said, and she didn’t object. She didn’t relish the thought of being seen by strangers when she was in her bathrobe. That was private.

He unlocked and opened the receiving room door, closed it behind him, and then unlocked and opened the outer door. There was actually a decent degree of sound loss between there and Rayla’s current spot, so she couldn’t hear what was being said beyond stray words. After a while, Callum said something in a distinctly goodbye-ish sort of voice and the encounter ended. He considerately locked both doors for her on his way in.

Over his arm, he was holding a neat stack of clothing and armour. “Already?” She asked, startled, and watched as he set it all down on the bed.

“Already.” He agreed, seemingly pleased. “I guess their drying spells really are useful. Look, they’ve cleaned your armour. And our boots.”

Rayla lifted herself from beneath the blanket to go over and look. All of their things looked fresh and new, bereft of the dull beige hues imbued by travel and sleeping in dust and dirt. It half looked like they’d re-dyed some of it, honestly, to get the clean colours back. She lifted Callum’s scarf from the pile, sniffed it, and hummed at it.

“Laundry smell?” He asked, amused, and she shrugged.

“Unsurprisingly.” She considered putting it on him, but in the end decided she was enjoying the look of him in the bathrobe, all cosy and comfy-looking. “What else were you talking about?”

“Hm?”

“With the servant.”

“Oh.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “Dinner stuff. He wanted to tell me the options they’ve got, so we can order ahead of time.”

Rayla made a thoughtful noise, and drew him by the wrist back over to the sofa again. “And?”

“You want me to list it all off?” She nodded, and obligingly he went off listing the various items on the menu, many of which were evidently examples of bizarre Sunfire ideas about cooking. Snails, really? Frog legs? Her nose wrinkled at that one, and Callum’s lips quirked. “They serve glow toad too.” He admitted ruefully. “I mean, I guess I heard they were delicious, but it’s one thing to hear it and another thing to have it on the menu, you know?”

She made a face. “Ez would never forgive us.”

“Bait would never forgive us.” He agreed, snickering.

“And besides – ew.” Rayla shook her head, and waved her hand. “What else?”

He went through all of the selections, drinks and desserts included, and then finished up by saying “He left a sort of booklet thing behind with it all written down, if you want to look over it.”

She stared at him with exasperation. “Callum. You really just stood there and said it all when you could have just handed me the bloody menu?”

“Well, you did ask.” He said, like this was reasonable, and she sighed fondly at him.

“You dumb prince.” She told him, affectionate, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before going to look for the menu.

By this point, it was around four in the afternoon, and the sun seemed to be making a very definite bid for descent. She retrieved the Booklet of Food Options and retreated to the sofa with it, where Callum had already planted himself to watch the city. There was a hint of yellow-green in the bright clear sky, and the angle of light from the sinking sun was casting some particularly dramatic shadows. The temple was still gleaming with light off to the side, and the golden circuitry through the city still exhaling. She stared at it for a moment, certain that tonight’s sunset really was going to be spectacular, and then opened the menu to start looking.

It had been long enough since lunch that the sight of so many food options was plenty enough to make her start considering the idea of an early dinner. In an hour or two, maybe. Some of it was too weird or too exotic to consider, but there was a lot that wasn’t.

She passed the booklet over when she was done making selections, but Callum seemed too occupied with the burgeoning sunset to want to look at it. She snorted, leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and then leaned comfortably into his side to watch the city.

The sun fell over a period of around half an hour, sinking lower and lower, until the sky filled with such intense yellows and deep reds that it seemed almost to have caught fire. The grey slate of the city turned bloody red in the light, every golden trace lit up and shining in the growing dark. The few wispy clouds left in the sky were shining too, until the sun began to pass beneath the lip of the sea on the horizon, and the blue-green edges of the dusk glittered with stars.

“That,” He said, very softly, when dusk was ebbing into twilight, “was a really incredible view.”

Rayla had little artistry in her heart, but she’d appreciated that sunset. She knew that by contrast it must have touched Callum deeply. She looked at him, taking in his expression, finding it every bit as amazed and awed and happy as she could have hoped for. Her heart fluttered, happy for that he was happy, and in the warmth of that contentment she reached over to cup his cheek with her hand.

He looked at her, leaning into the hand, and offered her a small and very soft smile. Her thumb smoothed over his cheek as he lifted his hand to settle atop hers. Wordless, she leaned in to kiss him, warm and brief, and lingered there close by his face for a long while after their lips parted. He sighed very quietly, entirely happy and entirely at ease. It was peaceful in a way she’d dearly missed.

Feeling utterly suffused with warmth, Rayla nestled in beside him, fingers hooking lightly in the soft red wool of his robe. His arm came around her, and both of them sighed, and both of them settled, and it was quiet.

Neither of them felt the inclination to move or speak for quite a while. The sky was dark and full of stars by the time she shifted, and the city’s golden circuitry shining boldly through the shadow. The Moon, ascendant in the sky, was very nearly full.

“Might not be so bad after all, staying here a while.” She said, finally, and pressed her lips to his neck. “Comfy, nice bathroom, nice views…and the food options look kind of incredible, honestly.”

He chuckled, soft and fond. “Bit of a weird honeymoon.” He murmured into her hair. “But I’ll take it.”

She huffed. “Honeymoon.” She repeated, shaking her head.

Well. She supposed if they’d had to go through that whole forced marriage ordeal, they did at least deserve to get a nice holiday out of it. Even if most of that holiday was going to be spent working, the not-working parts of the day looked to be a lot fancier and more luxurious than they were back home.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Was her conclusion, in the end. “Did you decide what you’ll be eating?”

“Pretty much.” He kissed her brow. “You ready to order? It’s still kind of early.”

“Eh. It’ll do.” She shrugged, and listed off her selections. He kissed her again, then gently untangled himself from her limbs to go off and summon a servant.

The room had gone darker while the sun set, and the soft yellow glow of the fireless light fixtures along the walls had grown more prominent. Now a little curious, Rayla took the opportunity to investigate one, and on closer inspection found it to be some sort of…weird bioluminescent plant. Or maybe animal? It had long rigid tube-like structures that had plainly been cultivated into ornamental shapes, that looked almost like some sort of stone, though it had obviously been painted or dyed the usual deep red. It exuded a number of softly glowing yellow-orange tendrils from the openings at the end of the tubes, short and blunt but weirdly pretty.

She reached out cautiously to touch one, and at once the tendrils retracted inside the tube, the light dimming. Startled, she drew back to watch it, but the tendrils didn’t start to tentatively reappear again for another minute, during which she heard the light murmurs of Callum conversing with whatever servant he’d summoned.

When Moonshadow elves wanted light after dark, they just used enchantments, or glowstone, like normal people. Fancy Sunfire elves, however, apparently favoured plants. Or animals. She honestly wasn’t sure which this one was. Some sort of land-coral?

“I ordered the food.” Callum said, when he returned. “They said it’ll be about half an hour. And they’ll bring it all up at the same time so we don’t get disturbed twice.”

“Perfect.” She pronounced, with satisfaction, and then dragged him over to meet the light fixtures. Predictably, he spent a good ten fascinated minutes investigating the weird glowing polyps, and then a while longer sketching one out, and was half-way through that when the food arrived.

(Snippet 5: after dinner, Callum and Rayla engage in some silliness, then cuddle. Domesticity.)

“I’m so full I’m not going to move for a week.” Rayla announced, after staggering her way back through to their sofa, followed by an amused Callum. “It’s going to take at least that long to digest all of that.”

“That might make it tricky to get supplies.” He said, pretend-thoughtful. “But I’m sure we can work something out.”

She snorted, patted him on the shoulder, and then promptly pulled him into her side when he started looking at her in the imminent-cuddles sort of way. He hummed contentedly, turning his face into her shoulder, breath warming the wool over her collarbone.

“This bathrobe is so comfy.” He said happily, words muffled by wool. “It’s so nice.”

Having had very similar sentiments about his bathrobe earlier, she quite agreed. “Shame they didn’t include wool pyjamas, really.”

He didn’t offer any response for that, just snuggled, putting an arm around her waist. It was almost a little uncomfortable, really, what with how full she was, but she didn’t protest. She just held him close, smoothed her free hand over his hair, and looked out over the city. In the dark, watching the vaporous light rise felt very much like watching fire. It was very entrancing.

Some time later, Callum started to show signs of beginning to fall asleep on her. She looked down at him, snorted, and then nudged him until he stirred. “If you fall asleep now you’ll be up too late.” She informed him as he made plaintive noises at her. “I’m not having you exhausted and useless for your magic channelling nonsense tomorrow.”

“But you’re too comfy.” He complained, and she smirked.

“That sounds like an invitation to be less comfy.”

He opened an eye to peer at her suspiciously. “What do you mean, ‘that sounds’ – hrk!” His words cut off as, unceremoniously, she swept him up with an arm under his back and another under his knees, on her feet with a quick shift of her weight and his. She grinned down at him, finding him instantly and distinctly awake. “….Honestly this is still pretty comfy.” He said, weakly, when he’d spent enough time staring wide-eyed at her to recover his words.

Rayla pretended at thoughtfulness. “That sounds like a challenge.” She said, and he looked alarmed.

“It wasn’t! It wasn’t!” He protested, to no avail; she stepped around the sofa, judged her angle, and tossed Callum at the bed.

He wasn’t particularly aerodynamic, but her aim had been good enough anyway; he sailed neatly between the posts at the corners and impacted decadent Sunfire quilting with a muffled oof. She was laughing at him outright when he turned, staring at her with a sort of red-faced stupefaction that told her exactly what he thought of the whole experience. “Your face right now,” she managed, doubling over to snicker in his direction. Hilarious.

“You know, there’s a saying,” he began, a little dazed. “About trusting someone as far as you could throw them.” He pushed himself up on his elbows. “You could probably trust someone a lot, is what I’m getting at.”

“…I actually do sort of know how far I could throw you, now that I think about it.” Rayla said, thinking back. “It comes up in assassin training sometimes. Throwing teammates at walls and the like, to give them a leg up. I lobbed someone about your size around six, seven metres once.” She paused, and added “Lengthways, I mean. Throwing someone upwards is a lot harder.”

This did not make him any less wide-eyed. “That’s like, over twenty feet,” he marvelled, looking at her with plain admiration. “You’re amazing.”

She huffed, reflexively bashful at the praise, and shook her head. “Amazing at throwing people, at least.” She said dryly, and went over to stare down at him from the foot of the bed. “How’s the bed?”

“…Very nice, actually.” He said, after a pause for consideration. “You’re pretty bad at making things less comfy.”

“You’re definitely awake now though.” She pointed out smugly. “So my work here is done.”

He snorted, sitting up fully to beckon to her. Obligingly, she bent forwards to meet him with a brief kiss. “Hard not to wake up when someone throws you half-way across the room.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was not that far.” She said, and after a moment made the executive decision to fall forwards onto the bed, face impacting the plush duvet and sinking in. Her feet hung from the edge, and Callum giggled.

“Hehehe toes.” He said, and reached out to poke one. He found her four-toed feet amusingly charming every time he was reminded of them, which would have been funnier, except her feet were pretty ticklish and she twitched every time he prodded like this.

“I will kick you.” She warned, and he subsided with another snicker. Instead of messing with her any further, he shuffled over and started playing with her hair. “Mm. Better.” With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tipped her head forwards, face smooshing deeper into the bed. His fingers carded through her hair, nails trailing lightly at her scalp.

“You didn’t brush it.” He noted, carefully working out a couple of tangles, and she shrugged.

“Couldn’t be bothered. ‘Sides, it only tangles again when we cuddle, anyway.”

He hummed, and went through it again more purposefully, parting it carefully around her horns as he looked for and eliminated a few knots. He brushed around her hornbeds and she shivered. Apparently noticing the reaction, he did it again, more deliberately, chuckling at the way she murmured and pushed her head into his hand. “You look like a shadowpaw when you do that.” He said, affectionately, scritching gently around her horns. “Headbutting people’s hands when they pet you.”

“Anyone else and I’d be cutting off their hands, trust me.” She mumbled at him, already a little indistinct and fuzzy around the edges of her thoughts. Hornbed-scritches did that. “…Suppose the shadowpaw’d do that too. Except they’d bite the hand off instead, if they didn’t like you.”

“What I’m hearing is that if you were an animal you’d probably be a shadowpaw.” He sounded very fond.

“Mm. Guess so.” What would he be? Something doggish, probably. Friendly and playful and loyal, and then all teeth and fierceness when threatened. That sounded about right…

She drifted, a little. It was hard not to, when collapsed onto a comfy surface with one’s hornbeds being rubbed. He stopped after a while though, evidently noticing her drowsiness, and stroked a hand over her head between the horns as he chuckled. “Now who’s falling asleep?” He teased, and she made a half-hearted rude noise at him.

“’s your fault.” She muttered at him, indistinct around the duvet in her face.

“Uhuh.” He sounded amused, and stroked the back of her head again.

(Snippet 6: very detailed depiction of horn care, which in-setting is considered intimate)

She was suddenly very glad he’d interrogated her so persistently on the procedure earlier, because she wasn’t at all certain she’d have been able to tell him anything more sophisticated than ‘um’ when he was literally about to do her horns for her.

“You’re so cute.” He told her affectionately, obviously very aware of her current emotional state, and then finally set soapy hands onto her horns.

“Oh my god.” She muttered, cheeks flaming, feeling the weight of his hands, the subtle pull at the rest of her skull. She had never been quite so aware of her horns as when he started soaping them up and washing them, and it didn’t take long at all for the warmth of his skin to soak far enough through the keratin so that she could feel it in the living horn. A little while later, he applied the coarse-bristled-brush-side of the horn-scrub to her left horn, and she made a tiny embarrassed sound at the ceiling. “You should scrub them harder than that.” She managed after a moment, since he really was being too gentle about it. “Horns are tough, you know.”

He hummed with interest, and obliged, scrubbing hard enough that it pulled at her head a little. The towel-pillow had been a very good idea of his, really. “How much horn care do you normally do?” He asked, curious, getting the washcloth to rinse her horn before scrubbing again. “I’ve seen you file them, but…”

“…Usually just this. A good scrub to make sure they’re clean, and then filing down the rough bits.” Rayla offered a mortified noise. “But it’s been weeks and I’ve not even done that. They’re probably so dirty…”

“Shush, they’re fine.” He huffed at her, and kept on at her left horn until he was satisfied with it, moving over to the other one. Rayla regarded the ceiling with a persistently red face the whole while, cheeks feeling nearly as warm as the half of her body that was still in bathwater. “I wonder if your face is going to be this red the whole time.” He remarked, when he’d apparently finished with the washing.

“Probably.” She muttered, self-consciously, and felt her gut squirm when she felt the first experimental scrape of the fine filing parts on her horn.

Callum laughed softly, and started setting to work with the file. “If you say so.”

For all that he’d never done this before, the muted sensory feedback Rayla gleaned from her inner-horns and her ears suggested that he seemed to be doing fine with it. He readjusted the file enough that she could be relatively sure he was respecting the curve of the ridges, and worked slowly along the shape of each one, from the hornbed to the pointed tip, over and over again.

As she’d told him, it was a long process. It took a long time. Long enough that, contrary to her words, her embarrassment did start to burn out a bit, the red of her cheeks easing until she only felt a little flushed, a little flustered.

“I see why you thought the cloak would be a good idea.” Callum said ruefully, a while in. She could only imagine how much horn-dust and flaky bits of keratin must be littering it. “This does get kind of messy.”

“Told you.”

“For now this is just making your horns go sort of…pale, and scratched-looking.” He commented, working the file around one of the ridges on the underside. “I guess it goes dark again once you start buffing it?”

She made a small despairing noise, but agreed “Yeah, basically. Honestly all you really need to do is wipe it over with a wet cloth and it’ll stop looking like that. But…”

“But I’m not stopping there.” He said, with evident satisfaction, and a little more heat rose in her cheeks.

He was slow and meticulous about the filing, but got through it a lot more quickly than she could have if she’d done it herself. It was hard to work on your own horns – the angle was bad, you couldn’t see what you were doing, and adjusting to get the undersides was a huge pain in the arms. By contrast, doing it for someone else was just…a lot easier.

Finally, he set the scrub down and went for the washcloth again, soaping up and rubbing her horns clear of dust, poring over them for any spots he’d missed. When he was finally satisfied, he said “and now I buff them?”

“Mmhm.” She confirmed, bringing her hands up to hide her face for a moment. So, at her confirmation, he started on that part next. He evidently hadn’t expected how vigorous the buffing and polishing stages of horns were, because she kept telling him to press the buffer harder, and he kept making worried noises about it, and she had to keep assuring him that no that’s how it’s supposed to be, and eventually she start started laughing helplessly at him.

“I feel like I’m going to hurt your neck,” he complained at her, when the strength of the requisite motions pulled at her head. “Or like, hurt your hornbeds, or something.”

“I’ll be fine, Callum.” She assured him, still laughing, mirth and embarrassment squirming in her chest. “This is just how it goes, you know.”

“At least I brought you a pillow.” He sighed, and obligingly kept on. A fair while later, when he was done with the buffing and had washed her horns again, he leaned back a bit to admire his work. “That really is looking a lot smoother and shinier.”

“And you’ve not even done the polishing yet.” Rayla felt very weird then, laying back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She’d been through embarrassment, and then amusement, and now…now, there was something else. She felt almost calm. Almost settled, like she’d finally started to grow used to this. Like the novelty of his hands on her horns had worn through.

Now, she felt kind of comfortable. At ease, in a way. Her mind was drifting in the way it did when Ethari or Runaan had helped her with her horns before, like this was just a normal thing. A normal thing that took ages, and that one had to daydream through to pass the time.

“I’m actually really looking forward to seeing what they look like when I’m done.” He was saying, as he put the buffing things down and went to get the bottle of polish and the polishing tool. “I’ve never seen your horns all done up before.”

“Maybe now you’ll finally understand what I mean when I say my horns have gone gross.” She pondered, and he laughed. “Finally you’ll know what well-kept horns are supposed to look like.”

“I have seen other Moonshadow elves’ horns, you know.” He informed her, obviously amused, and she heard the cap of the polish opening. A moment later, she smelled it, because there was really no mistaking that smell. “Yours still look nice no matter how long it’s been since you scrubbed them.”

Rayla made a disagreeable noise at him, and he snickered back, and then finally set about the polishing.

She’d told him, earlier, that horn-polish was pretty potent stuff, and that’s why you applied it to a sort of spongy cloth attached to a handle, rather than scrubbing with it by hand. At full strength, it actually melted the outer surface of the horn – just a little, just enough to meld it all down into a smooth, gleaming, perfect surface. Diluted polish was fine if you did it regularly, but with how long it had been for her…she’d told him to keep it undiluted. And it stank.

Her nose wrinkled, even with all the pleasant soap smells competing, and held her neck lax as Callum worked on her horns vigorously enough to pull her head back with every other movement. That was just how it went, so she wasn’t bothered. The towel was enough padding that it didn’t hurt, so she just laid there and let him work.

“Think I might actually nearly be done.” He pronounced at last, sounding genuinely a little out of breath. She’d told him it was hard work, and evidently he’d found that out for himself. He sounded very pleased, though. Like he’d done a good job and knew it, and was plenty proud about it. “Just got to wash all this polish muck off, right? Soap your horns up again.”

“That is the last stage.” She agreed, trying to glance up at him, but all she could really see was the top of his head. “Aside from oiling, I suppose.”

(Snippet 7: aftermath of horn care, domesticity)

It was then, by the sink, that Rayla finally removed the towel from her head, and Callum made a loud noise of pure joy at her. She stared at him, alarmed, and then noticed where he was actually looking. Oh.

“Shiny!” He exclaimed, gleeful, and reached out to stroke her horns. “Oh my god.”

“Callum!” She complained, but she was already laughing, because honestly she should have predicted this reaction. He practically groped at her horns, bright-faced and beaming, and she flushed all the while she stood still and let him. “Are you going to let me see them any time soon?” She asked him, dry. “Or are you just going to stand there groping them?” He subsided at that with a very high-pitched giggle.

“Hehehe,” he offered, and then “yes, go look! You need to tell me how well I did.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her to the mirror, his face lingering by her shoulder in her reflection with the enormous grin still very much in residence there. He was such a dork, honestly.

Finally, Rayla tipped her head forwards and inspected her horns. They were…shiny. Very shiny. Every ridge had been filed and buffed and polished to a gleam, and when she turned her head, the light glimmered off of them like they’d been waxed. Her eyebrows went up, and she lifted her own hand to feel along one. It was smooth. Entirely dry, but as she ran her finger along one ridge, it felt so smooth. Their dark colour was actually glossy. “…Wow.” She said, a little admiringly, and tilted her head to watch the light move. “That is shiny.”

He looked absolutely delighted by that response, as if he’d needed her go-ahead to be certain that, yes, that was definitely impressively shiny. She smiled, helpless to stop it, and turned her head to kiss him on the cheek; her reflection mirrored her.

“You did a great job, Callum.” She told him fondly, her cheeks pink at having seen exactly how great a job he’d done. Stars, but the second anyone saw her they’d know exactly who was responsible for those horns. “My horns haven’t been this shiny in years.”

Callum looked at her like she’d hung the Moon, like this praise was enough to render him utterly overjoyed. He tugged her around enough to kiss her, deep and excited and full of energy, so much so that she made a muffled noise of surprise into his lips. It caught her off-guard, and she was feeling a little breathless and a little dazed when he drew away a few moments later. “You have to let me do this again.” He told her, beaming. “I’m going to keep your horns this shiny, just you wait.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she ducked her head, suddenly flustered. “You can’t just say things like that.” She complained at him, and of course he looked utterly unrepentant. He leaned in and kissed her, then moved and kissed her on one cheek, and then on the other cheek, and his hands were already up and stroking along the wide bases of her horns again.

“Smooth,” he commented, gleefully, fingers warm around her horns. His face was very, very close to hers. “They’re so nice.”

The heat in her face decidedly didn’t abate. “Oh my god, Callum.” She mumbled, shaking her head, and he just kissed her again. Feeling increasingly dazed, she said into his lips “you know, it’s a lot faster if you’re doing it regularly. You can skip the filing and just buff and polish instead.”

He considered this excellent news, if the way he kissed her was any indication.

Finally, she summoned the force of will to reach up and peel his hands from her horns, stepping away. It was not easy, because – because when he looked like that, so elated and alive and full of delight, when he kissed her so enthusiastically, it was hard to think of pretty much anything. She looked across at him, incredibly flustered, and couldn’t see anything except how beautiful he was. “You, calm down.” She ordered him, gruffly, and led him by the shoulder to the basin. “We came in here to brush our teeth, you numpty. Not fondle Rayla’s horns.”

“But Rayla’s horns are really really pretty.” Callum pointed out cheerfully, and she made an involuntary noise half-way between embarrassment and pleasure.

“Be that as it may, Rayla and her horns want you to brush your teeth now so we can go to bed.” She said, and she shuffled over to the basin to make good on her words.

(Snippet 8: Callum and Rayla go to bed finally. Cuddling, fluff.)

It proved as magnificently soft and comfy as she might have expected, when she peeled back the covers and climbed in. Callum meanwhile was perusing the canopy with consideration.

“Curtains or no curtains?” He asked her, and she considered it.

“Curtains.” She decided, and watched with satisfaction as he reached out and unhooked the bed’s attendant drapery. She reached to the one closest to her, and he got the rest; it all fell into place, a rich dark red that blocked out the light from the room around them and cast their bed into soothing shadow. Something settled in her then, that hadn’t quite been at ease in the unfamiliar surroundings, or the openness of the room. She sighed, and burrowed down under the duvet, laying her head back on the pillows.

He joined her, lifting the covers and slipping in, closing his eyes for a second in obvious profound enjoyment. “This is so much better than hard cold floor.” He murmured happily, and she smiled, tugging him to her with a hand at his shoulder. He went gladly, and within moments they were pressed close, legs tangling, the warmth of his skin comforting against her own.

“Been a long few weeks.” She sighed, resting her forehead against his, and he lifted a hand to stroke her cheek.

“Kind of an understatement.” He murmured back. “I’m glad we’ve got a chance to rest now.” A pause. “Sort of, anyway. Aside from the work.”

She understood his meaning, though. There was something strangely safe about the idea of the time they’d spend here, whether it would be a week or longer than that. This wasn’t home, where there’d be people to explain things to, or where they’d have to adapt their old life to fit around what had happened. This was a new place – unfamiliar, but easier to cope with for that unfamiliarity, in its own way.

Here, she thought, they’d be able to find their footing a little. Settle a little more into their new normal, before the vagaries of travel and normal life needed intrude again.

“Me too.” She agreed, at last, and reached a hand across to press lightly around the back of his neck. He made a soft, pleased sound, then shuffled to give her better access, face smooshed into the pillow. She kissed him on the cheek, and he peered at her with one green eye, a smile fluttering on his lips.

“…Thanks for letting me do your horns.” He mumbled back, eventually. “I liked it.”

Her heart fluttered. “I’ll repay you sometime.” She promised, and moved her hand to smooth down along his upper back, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “Tomorrow, maybe. Give you a nice backrub or something.”

“Sounds great.” He shifted closer, tucking his face against her shoulder with a sigh. She kissed him at the top of his forehead, stroking him gently from the nape of his neck to his shoulders and back. He made quiet contented noises at her, drowsier and drowsier, and steadily began to drift off.

She lingered there, holding him, trailing fingertips over his neck as he settled into sleep. It really had been a long day for him, for all that they’d spent the latter half of it indoors and resting. Now, finally, he’d be able to sleep properly, in a bed comfortable enough to ease the ache of his overworn muscles. Now, finally, without the city’s doom hanging over them, they could rest a little.

Rayla smiled into his hair, nestled against him, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but it took her anyway; almost between one moment and the next, she was gone.

#rayllum #rayllumvalentines #moon gardens #these snippets will probably not get posted to ao3 #i'd like to reiterate that I have no intention of posting the entire story either #but i hope you can enjoy these extracts regardless #i adore this fic tbh #it's a delight to write #which is probably how i managed to write 120k of it in one month #still proud of that #one heck of a personal record really

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todaydreambelieversfic · 3 years ago

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Author Spotlight: Gleefuldarrencrissfan Day 2

Author: @gleefuldarrencrissfan

Share one of your strengths.

I've been told that I do a great job writing in each character's voice, especially Blaine, Kurt, Santana, Brittany, and Finn. It's very important to me that my characters remain true to who they are. I work very hard to make sure that each one sounds like they would in the show.

I've also been told that I'm great at cliffhangers. Honestly, I end on cliffhangers a lot as I try to figure out which route I plan to take for the story. I map out stories, but sometimes, the story takes me in a different direction. I also like to take suggestions from my readers. Many times, I have multiple scenarios on the direction in which the story can go. I love keeping my readers on their toes.

Share one of your weaknesses.

Well, because I have so many scenarios running through my head, I sometimes get stuck, and so, I don't update regularly. I used to try to publish weekly or more, but as a mom of two, a full time assistant in a high-needs classroom, an avid crafter, and a member of a band, my plate stays pretty full. I hope that my readers will subscribe and drop a comment from time to time to remind me to keep writing.

Which fic has been the hardest to write?

I'm going to bring up two, Dueling Duets and Love, Blaine. Dueling Duets is a complex fic with many characters and a very intricate plot. On top of that, Blaine has PTSD, as do I. It became too painful to finish this, so it is the only fic of mine that is abandoned. I would like to finish it, but I just don't see that happening any time soon.

Love, Blaine was so difficult for me because I wrote it all before publishing, and I thrive on feedback. I kept going back and rewriting scenes over and over because I just couldn't make up my mind about certain things. I also get anxious with a timeline hanging over my head, and so I went past the deadline. Unfortunately, my appendix decided to burst the week I was supposed to publish, so I was trying to write through the pain. I did finish it, and I'm proud of it, but I probably won't put myself through that again.

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Private Messages, by far. Honestly, it was so easy because Kurt was me in a sense, a fanfic author, desperate for feedback on his writing. I also outlined this fic thoroughly, and so it just seemed to flow when I got to a certain point. It is by far, my most popular fic, and honestly, it is my favorite of all of the ones that I've written. Don't get me wrong. It was very complex, bouncing back and forth from Blaine's and Kurt's perspectives, with plotlines from the show, Kurt's story, and the actual story all coming together and interweaving at times making it difficult to write, but I always knew where it was going, and so it was the easiest to finish.

Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

It's one of my passions, along with music and crafting. I'm an artist at heart, and so I'd never be happy or fulfilled in life if I wasn't creating in one shape or form. I honestly love the way art makes you feel, both as the artist and as the person affected by other people's art. My favorite thing is one someone tells me how my writing or work made them feel.

I'm also writing educational children's books, and I hope to inspire kids in the future to love to learn, and so it is a major passion of mine to be a published author and get my books out there for kids to read.

Is there an episode or character or arc above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Blaine Anderson. He was by far the character that inspires me the most, probably because I see myself in him, the confident, happy performer who is really quite insecure and maybe even depressed. I wish that the show would have let us see more of his personal life. At felt like, at times, he was just Kurt's boyfriend, but he was so much more than that. It would have been nice to actually see his home, his parents, and his brother to get greater insight on why he is the way he is. Thank god for fanfiction.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Just write. The first draft does not have to be perfect. That's what editing is for. Get yourself a beta, dig in, and just get the words on the page. No one can read your work if the pages are all in your head.

What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Stick to what you know. That's what research is for. Branch out. Explore. Interview and talk to others. Although, if you are researching something embarrassing, for example, Brazilian waxing, use incognito mode. lol.

If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Private Messages. I just love this story, and I think it would best translate into a movie. Besides, Blaine is an actor in this one, so it works.

What’s your process? Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines? What are the perfect writing conditions for you?

Ha ha. I find it funny that I have a process because it depends on the fic I'm writing at the time. for my more complex stories, I do best when I map them out first. I don't do a complex map, just a basic synopsis of the first 10 chapters or so, and then a rough outline afterward. Of course, I keep it a soft outline, and I also plan a few other scenarios in case the story goes in a different direction. Even Chris Colfer says that his characters surprise him in his stories, and so I'm in good company, I suppose.

However, on my shorter stories like Rim Job, and idea just comes to me, and I just write what comes to me, and then I even take suggestions from my readers about further chapters. I guess it just depends on the tone of the fic. If it's serious, I'm much more structured, but on my less serious pieces, I just have fun and write.

The perfect conditions are when I'm alone (be it when others are sleeping or out of the house) and I can just allow my muse to work. I put on some background noise (Glee music or episodes) for inspiration and just sit down in front of my laptop with my notebooks. Many times, I have scenes written in my notebooks before I type them out (I write when I'm waiting at the dr.'s office or at work during a break, ect) so all I have to do is type and polish the scene. Unfortunately, I have several scenes in my notebooks that haven't made it into a word document yet just because of lack of time. Hopefully, I will catch up this summer.

***

Check out Gleefuldarrencrissfan’s Fics

Somewhere Only We Know - Blaine has three little words on his mind when he says good bye to Kurt in the court yard at McKinley. Can he make himself declare them out loud? An alternate ending to "Born This Way"

Silly Love Songs - It's Valentine's Day, and Blaine had plans to serenade Jeremiah. But what if Blaine discovered the doodle Kurt made in Silly Love Songs before he serenaded Jeremiah? The scene at the Lima Bean is canon and everything to the point of Kurt sketching the doodle, but the ending, of course will be how I had hoped it would've happened.

Courage - Do you believe that one moment can change the course of your life? That one event change the way you saw everything, or do you think it's a series of moments that build from one experience to the next. A year ago, I would've said that was crazy. But I'm not the same guy that I was a year ago.

#author spotlight: gleefuldarrencrissfan

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hotchley · 4 years ago

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do they even know?

Hi, so it’s still Valentine’s Day somewhere. This is... an exceptionally long fic. All I’m going to say is, I’m exhausted, I haven’t proofread it and I’m living up to my name with this one. I’ll probably come back and update this note in the morning, but right now, I just really want to sleep, so enjoy!

I’m actually quite proud of this one... do with that what you will

Word Count: 19302

Trigger Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, stalking, suicide, religious trauma, homophobia, internalized homophobia, slight/implied references to drug addiction, non-consensual photography (hotch is shirtless in the images), past suicidal thoughts

read on ao3!

The first note came to Derek Morgan.

It was Monday morning. Everyone- excluding Penelope and Dave- were hanging around the bullpen, discussing their weekend and wondering what treats Hotch was going to bring for them. Richard had texted the group chat that he wasn't in saying he'd be late that morning because they were going out for breakfast.

Nobody minded. It was about time Hotch let someone love him again. And the team was happy for him. Really, they were. But there was something about the new man in Aaron's life that just felt off. Nobody had said a word to him. They couldn't.

Not when Richard made Aaron laugh and smile the way only Haley and Jack ever had. Or when Aaron never shied away from his touch the way he had with others. So they kept their opinions to themselves and hoped that it was just them being overprotective and pessimistic. That they were just looking out for their leader because he deserved nothing but happiness.

Derek was keeping one eye on the elevator doors, just in case Hotch appeared the next time they opened. He wouldn't tell them off for wasting time and avoiding paperwork- he'd probably be too busy smiling and blushing as a result of whatever had been sent to his phone- but they weren't bad people. They would start their paperwork when he came in to prevent him from becoming more stressed than he already was.

He opened his desk drawer, intending to pull out the soft ball he kept in there for days like these, where there were no cases and a chance to relax and have fun. The look on Reid's face when it hit him in the back of the head would be worth the lecture from Rossi.

Instead, his fingers brushed paper. He frowned and looked down, because this was his desk and nobody on the team ever went through it. He knew how things were organised and he knew that his hand should not be touching paper, it should be touching a soft ball that wouldn't cause any harm if it hit someone.

Heartbeat picking up slightly, he picked it up. There was an envelope. With no name, return address or stamp. Nothing. Just a plain white envelope that, as he held it up to the light, contained a handwritten note. He prayed it was just one of the rookies playing a silly Valentine's joke, but the BAU had never been that lucky.

"What's that?" Emily asked, nodding towards the envelope.

"I'm not sure yet," he said, tearing it open before Reid could launch into a lecture about the various weapons that could have been contained in it.

There was a note. He pulled it out, now fairly certain it was just a joke being played by another agent. He could deal with that. Whoever played it would get bonus points if they left a note for Hotch because that would be funny for him to watch.

He cleared his throat. The writing looked stunning. Perfectly joined together and completely legible. It would make for a good dramatic reading. Before he started, he scanned the words and the paper fell from his hands as quickly as the smile faded from his face.

It was not a love letter.

"Morgan?" JJ prompted.

He picked it up. "It's not good. I think someone may be in danger."

"Danger? Where? Why?" Rossi asked, having chosen that moment to step into the bullpen and pass by their desks. Morgan looked over to the elevators, wondering how things could change so quickly. Moments ago he'd been willing Hotch to not enter because he didn't want to have to start his paperwork. Now he was willing him to not enter because he didn't want to ruin his day with the news of a case.

"Do they even know about how you will run the water as cold as possible to numb yourself in the shower with tears streaming down your face, still dressed in the suits you use as armour just to feel human?" he read out.

"What?" Spencer sounded hurt. Like he couldn't quite believe it.

"I don't- I can't remember the last time I had a cold shower. Or the last time I cried in one. If I need to cry, it's not, I don't do it in the shower," he said. All he wanted to know was who the note was really about, and why it had ended up with him.

"Was there anything else in there?" Emily asked, voice as calm as ever. She was biting her nails though. And she had shifted her body away from the envelope, as though she wanted nothing to do with it.

Derek sighed, then picked up the envelope again. He peered in and saw a photo. The final words written haunted his memory. Because he knew that bathroom. He had stood there and profiled it and he had helped clean the blood when Hotch reopened his stitches accidentally.

"Derek?" Rossi prompted, voice bringing him back to the moment.

He pulled the photograph out and laid it on his desk, closing his eyes for a moment. He searched for that feeling of neutrality and detachment he found every time he felt himself getting too emotional on a case and clung to it. When his heart calmed, he opened his eyes and focused on it.

It was Aaron. Not Hotch. Because Hotch was strong and invulnerable and he did not blink. He was not the man in the photo. The man in the photo was fully dressed, his tie still knotted perfectly and his shirt buttoned to the top. There was a hand pressed to his mouth, probably to stifle the noises escaping and he was soaked to the bone.

"Oh my god," Emily breathed. "Who did this?"

Derek shook his head. He could not tell them what his first thought had been. He could not tell them who the prime suspect in his head was because they would never forgive him. He was struggling to forgive himself for even thinking it. Just because it was the most common event, it did not mean that it was happening this time.

"I hope you're doing your paperwork," Hotch said teasingly, walking through the bullpen with his phone in his hand.

Everyone turned to face him, faces frozen with identical looks of horror and sorrow.

He looked up. "What is it?"

"Hotch," JJ whispered.

"What is it?" he repeated.

"Aaron, we love you. So much," Emily said, voice cracking slightly.

He walked over to their desks. When he looked at Spencer, his eyes were pleading. Spencer sighed and passed the note over, keeping the photo underneath it. Derek had flung it at him to see if he could get any additional information that the rest of them couldn't.

Hotch read it over twice, eyes widening with every word. His hands were trembling as he placed it face-down so nobody could see it, and when he saw the photo, his face hardened. He slammed it down on the table and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Where did that come from?" he asked. The lack of emotion in his voice made Morgan scared. The last time he had been that toneless, George Foyet had stabbed him nine times and torn the former love of his life from him.

Spencer's eyes flicked to his.

"It was in my drawer when I got here," he confessed.

Hotch met his eyes, and for a moment, Derek stupidly feared that he was about to be punched. But then Hotch did something worse. He turned on his heel, having swiped the note and the photo from the desk and shut himself in his office like nothing had happened. Derek remained frozen. His friend had not thrown the things in the bin, so there was still some hope to be had.

Rossi started to walk towards the office.

"Wait," Derek commanded. Everyone stared at him and his mouth opened and closed of its own accord. He wasn't Aaron's best friend. Dave was the one that made those decisions. Not him. He stood to the side and he watched, ready to stop Hotch from going too far, but he did not comfort him.

"You know what he's like. If you go in there now, he will be confrontational. He'll probably rip up the note and shred the photo and then we won't have anything. Let him come down and get a coffee. Then one of us can go."

Dave did not verbally acknowledge him and Derek thought that he was just going to be ignored. But he wasn't. Dave headed straight past Aaron's office and entered his own, closing the door with the same amount of force he always used. Through the blinds, Derek saw Aaron look up slightly. Like he couldn't quite believe nobody had said anything.

JJ and Emily went out for lunch. Spencer went down to Penelope's lair. Dave went to the bathroom and Derek took a chance. He wasn't going to let the man he had always viewed as a friend shy away from this. Nor was he going to let him shut down and pull away.

He didn't knock. He never did. Hotch didn't even look up.

"You need to tell us when you're going home," he said.

Hotch looked up. There was a fury in his eyes that would've had any other member of the BAU backing down. But what Hotch forgot was that Morgan was not any other member. It was him, not Dave and certainly not Emily, that had pulled him off George Foyet's dead body and seen both the fear and the anger. He wasn't scared.

"Why would I need to do that?" Hotch asked, completely nonchalant.

"Because somebody out there has a photo of you crying in the shower. That's not normal. That means they were in your house and you didn't realise. And they've been watching you for long enough to understand that what's happening there- it's a common occurrence. You're not safe."

"Was I ever safe?" Hotch said, smiling without any humour.

Morgan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Look man. We don't need to talk about that if you don't want to. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. But we do need to talk about you staying safe. Because if you go home without someone, who knows what's going to happen. And what if something happens to Jack? Or Richard?"

Mentioning his son and partner was a risky move, but it needed to be done. Because he needed Hotch to understand how reckless he was being. Morgan was not Rossi. He would not push Aaron to discuss his emotions or his feelings, but he would push him to see sense.

"Do not make this about them," Hotch snapped.

"I'm not. I'm being responsible. You cannot be going home alone because it is far too risky, and that photo on your desk means it's someone that has been watching you for a while. How many cases involving stalkers have we worked? It is always, always the moment where they think they're safe that something goes wrong," Morgan pleaded.

"I'm not a victim."

"No. You're not. You never have been. But that is not just the standard threat. That is intimate and that is serious and that is dangerous. Let someone take you home. Let me get officers deployed to your apartment. If not for your sake, then do it so Jack-"

"Finish that sentence and I will write you up for insubordination," Hotch said.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"Fine. Have it your way. But do not try and blame anybody else if something happens to you. Or Richard. Or Jack. Because I tried. You were the one that wasn't willing to cooperate. Remember that."

Morgan slammed the door with unnecessary force, then rested his head against it for a few moments, wondering what Hotch's problem was. He wasn't being himself. When it became clear that Foyet must have been watching him for months, he just took it. He let everyone do whatever they needed because at the end of the day, it wasn't for him. He already had the scars. It was for everyone else, so they could feel less guilty.

But this was to protect him. To save him. And that was the problem. Hotch did not want the team to see him become Aaron. He did not want to show vulnerability because he had already been exposed. Morgan had not allowed himself to think about the actual content of the envelope because it would distract him too much.

He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Aaron cry, and with the exception of Dave, he'd been working with him for the longest. For a complete stranger to have that photo, it was no wonder he was being so defensive.

Morgan felt terrible. He really did. But he also knew there was nothing he could say or do to make Hotch feel better. So as much as it pained him to do so, he let go of the door handle and went and sat back down. Worked through his paperwork like everything was fine.

And when Aaron left at five exactly, his unfinished paperwork neatly organised for the next morning because Richard was making dinner for the three of them and he was learning balance, Derek bit his tongue and didn't say anything.

Aaron Hotchner went home, kissed his son on the forehead and his partner on the mouth. He smiled at them, told them the abridged version of his day- obviously removing the part about the photos- and picked at his dinner. Richard noticed and got Jack ready for bed himself. Jack seemed to realise something was up and was unusually compliant.

Richard told Aaron to take a shower when he entered the dining room and saw Aaron still hadn't finished his dinner, even though he had given Jack a bath and put him to bed. Aaron just nodded, taking a moment to appreciate how the light created a halo over his blonde hair.

When he exited in his pajamas, Richard was lying on the bed, reading from Aaron's copy of Pride and Prejudice.

"So is everything okay?" he asked as Aaron climbed in, dog-earing the page.

"Mhm," Aaron said. His gaze was fixed on his blazer, where it felt like the note and photo he'd taken from Morgan were burning a hole in the pocket.

"Aar. Look at me," Richard coaxed.

Brown eyes met blue and Aaron felt tears forming in his eyes. Morgan had been right. He had been stupid to reject the help. Richard loved him, even with all of his rough edges and broken pieces.

Richard patted his chest, encouraging Aaron to rest his head there and listen to the steady thump of his heart. When Aaron started to relax, he picked up the book again, and started to read, even though his accents were terrible.

They fell asleep like that. Richard's last thought was of how much he loved Aaron. Aaron's last thought was that there were several people with handwriting like his. He hadn't been home that afternoon when the photo had been taken. It was a coincidence.

It was all a coincidence.

The second note came to Jennifer Jareau.

It was Tuesday afternoon. She had gone to the local coffee shop to get herself some lunch and a coffee because Hotch was in a meeting and hadn't made a fresh pot, and in her rush to get Henry to school on time, she'd left her own lunch at home.

The man in front of her- she hadn't caught his appearance- had taken an awfully long time doing something, so she had rushed back to Quantico, coffee in one hand, bag containing her bagel in the other. They were all going to try and work out where the note and photo had come from by making a list of people that may have known.

So far, there was only one name. Richard. Nobody had wanted to admit it, but they had all suspected Richard first. How many times had it been the partner that nobody had trusted but had refused to say anything about?

She raced to the bullpen, not caring when part of her coffee splashed onto her shirt. It wasn't one she particularly cared about and she kept a cardigan in her office for that precise reason. Besides, there was only so long Strauss could keep Hotch. He didn't believe they had a case. He didn't know they were going behind his back like this.

It felt wrong. It felt like the days of George Foyet, when they had created a second group chat- one without him- to discuss whether or not he had lied on psychological evaluation, when he had last eaten, if he was going to make it. What they were meant to do if he didn't. She didn't ever want to experience anything like that again.

Which was why they needed to find the unsub and stop them.

"Hey," she greeted as she sat down. A quick look up told her that Hotch was still in his meeting. A quick look down told her that they hadn't come up with any other suspects. She was contemplating saying Jessica- just so they could feel like they had accomplished something but she also knew that was stupid.

And so the list remained a death sentence for whoever got caught with it.

"Everything okay? You seemed to take longer than usual," Emily said.

She swivelled around to see the clock and realised that she had. "Oh yeah, it was fine. Just the person in front was doing something that was all. I think it was to do with gift cards, I saw him take one off the thing."

Spencer smiled at that. "You know, gift cards are actually good presents. It saves both of you the trouble of having to make a proper choice."

She raised her eyebrows, then opened the bag with her food in it. There was an envelope inside. Slightly confused, she pulled it out of the bag. And then it hit her. It was the same one the gift cards came in. She smiled, holding it up for everyone else to see.

"No way," Penelope gasped. "The man in front of you just got you a gift card? Without even knowing who you were?"

JJ shrugged. "I guess so. That's quite sweet of them. I just assumed it was going to be a Valentine's gift. Which reminds me, I do actually need to get a move on and find something for Will. We've only got until Sunday."

Morgan laughed slightly. "Open it then. Maybe he's actually an admirer."

JJ whacked him lightly, but tore the envelope open. "It came with a note! Maybe they're doing this for random people. I hope they are, because that'll be so good. And if there's contact information, I could say thank you."

She pulled out the note, and put the envelope down, completely missing the second thing that had always been folded to fit in.

"Do they even know-" she began, then froze. Derek's mouth formed a thin line. Spencer's jaw dropped slightly. Penelope and Dave, who had not been there when the first note was opened looked at each other. Emily closed her eyes.

JJ cleared her throat. She needed to do this. "Do they even know about how most nights, you wake up screaming and crying and kicking about and that one day, the school phoned because Jack fell asleep in his lesson and they needed to know whether or not he was okay?"

She couldn't do this. She wasn't meant to look at her friend and see him that broken. But this note had been delivered to her. It was meant to hurt her the most. Because she was the mother of the team. What their unsub did not realise was that a child did not need to be biologically related to you for you to love them enough to die for them.

Still, she would not ask them to look at the photo for her. She would not let their unsub beat. Not this time.

She took it out, hating that she had to unfold it to see what it was. It just made it so much worse.

Aaron. Sat up in bed, hair a mess and falling onto his forehead in messy bangs that could only be tamed come morning and with an obscene amount of hair gel. If she focused on that and only that, she could pretend it was a candid photo taken by Richard because he loved Aaron just as much as they did.

But it was impossible to only focus on that. His face was deathly pale, mouth parted in shock. When she looked closer, she could see the drying tear tracks on his face. Whatever he'd been dreaming out had been bad. He was wearing Richard's college shirt, but it was damp and sticking to his body.

Richard was noticeably absent.

"JJ?" Emily coaxed.

She laid it down the same way Morgan had. "Look at the angle. And look at what's missing," she said.

"What?" Rossi asked. He didn't understand what she was on about.

"It's been taken from the doorway. Meaning whoever took it would've been in the apartment. We've already ruled out Jessica. It can't have been Jack. Which means, it must have been Richard," she said.

Derek groaned. "We can't even do anything. All he's done is send us some photos and a couple of Hotch's secrets."

"I don't get why though," Penelope said suddenly.

Everyone turned to face her and she shifted uncomfortably.

"Sweet thing?" Derek encouraged.

"We all know Hotch struggles with emotions. The fact that he's crying is technically a good thing. It's a healthy coping mechanism. It's not healthy the way he does it or how much he bottles the rest of them up, but I don't care about that. And we all know he's a good father who is doing his best. One phone call… we aren't going to judge him."

"But it's not about us. It's about him. This is an invasion of his privacy. This makes him human and weak and vulnerable. And he hates it. Whoever it is, they know him. They know him very well. And I hate to be that person, but more and more signs are pointing to Richard," Emily said.

They lapsed into silence after that. JJ knew she was going to have to tell him, but she had no idea how to word it. Derek had texted him in the evening, explaining what had happened when the suggestion of an escort had been made.

"Wait. You got this stuff from the coffee shop, right?" Penelope asked.

JJ nodded, still staring at the note. She really did not want to tell Hotch. He already thought he was failing Jack by taking his mother from him and by not being there for every milestone. If he found out that they knew about this, it would break him. She had no idea how he would have explained that. Probably by lying. Claiming that there had just been difficulties sleeping that particular night, but it wouldn't happen again.

He probably didn't listen when they told him it was okay and he was doing fine. Hell, he probably got in the shower and cried because of how bad he thought he was. Knowing that they knew would break him. And she wasn't sure she was strong enough to piece him back together.

"I'm going to check every security camera within the radius to see whether or not I can find something on this bastard. Even if it's the colour of his hoodie," Penelope said with conviction, before shuffling off to her lair.

"It'd be more than we've got now. Reid, Prentiss, go down there and see if any of the baristas or other customers can remember any other details," Rossi said.

The two of them nodded, then vanished.

"I have a meeting with Strauss as soon as her and Aaron are done. Are the two of you going to be okay on your own?"

JJ nodded. Morgan verbalised his faith in the two of them, and Rossi gave them both a slight smile before heading up to his own office. JJ started fiddling with her ring. It was better than biting her nails. Until they got an update from the rest of the team, there was nothing they could do but wait.

Her bagel remained uneaten and she pushed it away. In a morbid way, the photo of Hotch mesmerised her. If she looked at it like a piece of artwork, she would find beauty in the way somebody could look so young and vulnerable, but have such large demons hiding behind the softness of their eyes. But it was not a piece of art. It was her friend.

"You'll be okay," Derek said.

"No inter-team profiling," she joked, but it fell flat. All they had done that day was profile Hotch.

Derek managed to smile at her. "Not profiling you. Just reminding you. He's defensive at the moment, but it'll be okay. Just be honest."

She nodded.

Reid and Prentiss couldn't get any information from the barista. She said the man had been completely average, but because of the lunchtime rush, the only thing she remembered about him was a grey hoodie. The cameras inside the shop did not work.

Garcia hadn't been able to find anything or anyone that could have potentially been their unsub, but she was determined to find something, so she widened her search. She also started digging into Hotch's past, but she wasn't about to tell anyone that. They'd try and stop her, but it was all going to be very low-level stuff.

Hotch was not a victim.

He finished his meeting and returned to his office moments after Prentiss and Reid returned to the bullpen. JJ gave him all of thirty seconds before she scooped the items on her desk up and knocked twice before entering.

She knew she didn't need to, but it had always felt wrong, just barging in.

"Hi JJ," he said, the soft smile he reserved for her creeping onto his face. It broke her heart, but she couldn't entertain the small talk or simple conversation.

"This was in the bag I got from the cafe today. Came nicely folded in a gift card envelope. Prentiss and Reid have already spoken to the baristas, Garcia's widening her search as we speak," she said.

Hotch frowned, but took the items. When he read the note, he cringed, the memory still uncomfortable, even a year later. The photo made him swallow, and if he hadn't already been sitting down, his knees would've buckled. He'd never seen himself look so weak or pathetic. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he realised that everyone on the team would've found out about his failures as a parent. As a father. And as a person.

“This doesn’t change anything. Do you hear me? It doesn’t change my opinion of you, or how much I trust you. You’re doing your best. That’s good enough for all of us. You’re a good parent,” she blurted out, needing him to know.

"JJ," he started, when he realised there was a third page under the photo. With a slight frown, he switched to it. The side he saw was blank.

Which meant JJ could see Richard's name, clearly written in her own handwriting. She clenched her fists, trying to come up with a reason to yank it from him. Below, she heard a mug drop and saw that Emily had dropped her coffee as she watched them. When Hotch followed her gaze, Emily was on her knees, sweeping it up. It would have been the perfect moment to grab it, but she hesitated for too long and he turned it over.

He turned it over and he saw his boyfriend's name written in Jennifer's handwriting. It could only mean one thing.

"I can't believe you," he whispered.

"Hotch," she began. But was what she meant to say? She wouldn't lie to him. Not about this.

"Tell me this isn't what I think it is," he pleaded.

She looked down.

"Tell me your list of suspects, that you have made behind my back because I told you to not look into this because it's nothing, is not my partner and only my partner. Tell me this is something like your list of people that you're meant to protect."

"Hotch, I can't do that without lying. You know that," she said, meeting his eyes. He deserved that much.

He scoffed. "I'm- I'm taking an early day. Unless we get a case- a real case, with real victims- or Strauss needs something urgently, please don't try and text me. I can't look at you, any of you, right now."

"Aaron," she tried. Because he needed to understand. Writing Richard's name hadn't been easy. But it had to be done. He was the only option. Nothing else made sense.

"I remember that day. Richard was on a business trip. When I phoned him, god only knows how early, because I needed to hear him, I didn't even hesitate. He was on the next flight out. Do you want to know why? Because he loves me. And he is good. Far too good to ever been associated with anyone else," Hotch said, words blurring together as he got more and more defensive.

JJ stepped back. "But Hotch-"

"Jennifer, not now. I need to go before I say something I can't take back and we both get hurt," he said.

He never called her Jennifer. Not even when, in her own moment of anger, she had blamed him for every tragedy that had ever befallen the team. And that was what made her stand to the side as he took his briefcase and fled.

Aaron picked Jack up from school. He needed to know something. They were a few blocks from the apartment when finally had the courage to ask. It was stupid of him, to be so hesitant. What kind of answer was he expecting? But if his childhood had taught him one thing, it was that the scariest monsters were the ones that looked like family.

"Jack?" he asked.

"Yeah," came the reply from the back-seat. Aaron looked in the mirror to see his facial expressions properly.

"How does Richard make you feel?" he asked. His intention had been to ask it in a much simpler way. Jack was still just a kid. Just because he knew how to say no and what to do if someone made him uncomfortable- and Hotch still needed to hear from Jessica that he'd made the right decision doing that- didn't mean that he could explain his feelings with the same complexity as an adult.

"Daddy?"

"Sorry, sorry. You know how you feel around me and Aunt Jessie?"

"Yeah! Like everything is good and I can do anything I want!"

Hotch smiled. "See, that feeling is safe. It means you're comfortable. And do you remember how you felt that day with Mommy? When the bad man was in the house?"

Jack's smile faded. "That wasn't good. I felt strange. And not nice."

"I know buddy, I know. That's why I'm asking you about Richard. Does he make you feel like that day with Mommy, when you're with me and Aunt Jessie or somewhere in between? You can think about it for a bit."

"I feel like I did with Mommy. But not when the bad man was there. All the other times. And with you. And Aunt Jess. Does this mean he's going to carry on staying with us? Because I like his mac and cheese," Jack said.

Having arrived at the apartment, Hotch put the car in park and wiped away a tear, making sure Jack didn't see. He didn't have the energy to teach him about different emotions.

"Yeah bud. It does. But I need you to promise me something okay?" he said as he undid the seatbelt and took Jack's school bag for him.

"Okay Daddy," Jack said.

"I need you to promise me that if Richard ever makes you feel weird, or not safe, that you tell me. I don't care what he says, you tell me. I won't be angry. I will be so proud of you for telling me. Okay?" he didn't know if that was the right thing to do, but he didn't know what else to do.

"Okay."

Hotch sighed, wondering when the world made him so distrustful of everyone. He told himself the team were just being paranoid. It didn't stop him from noticing how silent the key was, or from realising that if someone was stood at a specific angle, they could photograph the bedroom without being spotted.

He put Richard's college shirt into the wash, even though it had hardly been worn, and slipped into his own Harvard one. And then he let the man hold him, breathing in and out as evenly as he could when yet another nightmare tore him from his sleep.

The third note came to Penelope Garcia.

It was Wednesday.

From what she understood, Hotch hadn't spoken to a single team member beyond basic politeness when absolutely necessary. She hated it. She wanted him to forgive them all, and she wanted everything to stop, and she wanted him to just be happy and loved.

Even though she hadn't said anything at the time, she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that Richard was a valid suspect. Just because the photos and information suggested that he was guilty didn't mean anything. They'd seen people be framed all the time. And it didn't make logical sense: he'd been on a business trip on the date of the second photo.

The emotional part of her brain didn't want it to be Richard because she needed to believe that there were still good people. She did not want to lose her goodness or her grace or her faith in love and kindness because without it, she would become bitter and angry. She would not allow that to happen.

So she had put a pause on the digging. None of the security cameras had given her the footage she needed, and digging through Hotch's personal life, trying to work out if there had been any other relationships before Richard that they just hadn't known about, suddenly felt too invasive after JJ knocked and told her Hotch had left.

JJ had cried in her office. Garcia had comforted her, wondering whether finding out the source of the photos was worth the destruction. Hotch clearly didn't want them digging, and no amount of voicemails or texts assuring him that it didn't matter, that they didn't judge him and it was all okay, were helping him accept the situation.

She stopped calling after her fifth voicemail. She had left one in the morning, apologising yet again for what JJ had said and also to inform him that she would respect his wishes and stop digging. She promised him. And she would not break that promise unless it was a matter of life and death.

Which was how she found herself printing approval forms. The transcripts for the interrogations conducted over the past few cases had all been done, and most of the files that needed updating had been. It was a change of pace, spending the day doing admin and mind-numbing tasks, but she found herself enjoying it. At least she didn't have to keep looking at how horrible people were.

A sudden silence jerked her from her thoughts and caused her to put down the hat she was crocheting for Hotch. She knew the weather was going to start picking up soon, but it wouldn't hurt for him to have a spare one. Maybe it would stop the ear infections he always seemed to have.

She leant forward in her chair. The printer was jammed. She sighed and stood up, deciding that the next thing she would ask for would be a new printer that actually worked. Honestly, she had turned it off when she went to get her lunch and now it was broken. If her forms had been ruined, or creased, she was going to be very annoyed because she had formatted them perfectly and all her hard work would be ruined because she would have to do it again.

When she checked the paper, nothing seemed to be jammed. She frowned. The ink cartridge wasn't jammed either. For a moment, she considered just turning the printer off and on again and hoping for the best. But something stopped her from doing that and she opened the paper tray again. Something seemed wrong.

She lifted the top sheet.

An envelope laid underneath it, far back enough to cause a jam. She hadn't picked up on it the first time because it was the same shade as the paper so it completely blended in. Even though she knew what it must have been, she hesitated. Maybe it was best to leave it there and have someone else come and get it. Maybe she should give it directly to Hotch and let him make that judgment call.

No. The notes they had been left were all designed to attack the thing that would hurt the most. Morgan's note came after Hotch's emotions, something he had always wanted to help with but never been able to say. JJ's note spoke about Hotch's ability as a father, and she was someone that constantly worried she couldn't be a good mother if she carried on working with the team. She needed to look at the note first. And there was no way she would give it to Hotch before she did that. They would never know what it said or who was in danger if she did.

Morgan and JJ had been hesitant with the way they opened theirs. But she was used to opening things and being greeted with horror. She held her breath, sliced it open using a pair of scissors and immediately shook out the contents.

And suddenly, she just wanted Derek to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to work out and they would win again. Because with Derek, she did not need to be strong. With Derek, she could break down and say that her faith in humanity was fading so she needed him to be right there with her.

He was an elevator ride away. But she didn't want everyone knowing. Not when she was so close to falling apart.

It only took one ring for him to pick up.

"Well hello my gorgeous goddess," he said.

"I need you to come down to my lair right now. Don't bring anyone. I got my note," she said.

His tone changed immediately. "I'll be right there. And Penny?"

She sniffled. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too," she said, and hung up. The note seemed to be taunting her, but she resisted the urge to read it. She had to wait for Derek or she would do something she would regret.

Only moments later, he knocked on her door. She knew it was him. Each member of the team had a specific knock pattern, and Derek was the only one that only ever knocked once. She took a deep breath and let him in.

"Have you read it?" he asked, taking the seat next to hers.

She shook her head. "I was waiting for you. I just couldn't do it alone and I didn't want to know, but I need to, and all I wanted was for someone to be here, even though I know how time sensitive these things can be," she rambled.

"Garcia. You don't ever have to justify yourself to me. Okay?"

Garcia exhaled, then nodded. "Okay."

"Are you sure you're good to read it? I don't mind, if you don't want to."

"I'm sure." She picked both the note and the photo up because she didn't want to accidentally see the photo before the note. "Do they even know how weak your knees get when darling Richard presses a kiss to the side of your neck?"

It was morbid, but a slight spark of hope ignited in her heart. Maybe they would be able to prove that it wasn't Richard. She passed the note to Derek, who seemed disgusted that somebody would make that comment, and stared at the photo.

Richard and Hotch seemed to stare up at her, with matching smiles. There was a slight blush dusting Hotch's cheeks, and Richard's head was buried in Aaron's shoulder, likely pressing a kiss to his neck, weakening his knees and unknowingly giving their unsub more fuel. They were on a date, so blissfully unaware how downhill things could and would go.

"Baby girl?" Derek asked.

"Richard's in the photo. Look," she said.

Morgan frowned but took the photo. It made his heart clench. He missed seeing Hotch smile so freely. He missed the Hotch that had existed before Gideon left and placed the weight of the team on his shoulders. Richard had returned a little bit of that man to them, and now it seemed like he too was at risk. But something still felt off.

"This wasn't taken by either of them, was it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Does this mean we can stop suspecting Richard? If he's in this photo, that means he can't have taken it. Not from the angle it's at. And if he didn't do this one, then he can't have done the others. It just wouldn't make sense."

Derek hesitated. "Penny, I wish I could give you a solid answer. But there's still a chance it's him. I know what this makes it seem impossible, but until we're sure, we need to proceed with caution. Okay?"

"Okay. Derek, I just want him to be happy."

Derek sighed. "I know princess. So do I. He needs to know about this one. Do you want me to take it up to him? Now that it's clear whoever is doing this knows about Richard he's probably going to be even more tense."

"It's okay. I'll do it. I might ask him to come down here though. Maybe it'll be easier to get through to him if he doesn't feel like everyone is profiling him through the blinds," she said, voice quieter and more hopeless than he'd ever heard.

"Maybe," he said. He wished he could say more.

"Derek?"

"Yeah sweetness?"

"Does Hotch really think we're going to stop trusting him and look at him differently or like he's a bad person just because one unsub is revealing information about him? Because I've been trying to work out why he seems so tense and angry. It's because of that, isn't it?"

"Partially. I guess the other part is the forced vulnerability. Hotch clings to control in his job because outside of it, everything is unpredictable. For the information that's come to just be used against him like this is terrifying. And those first two photos came from his apartment. Where Jack is. He already had that home taken from him once, I'm not sure he can do it again."

Penelope looked down at the photo again. "I am."

"And that is why I love you," Derek said, kissing her forehead before taking his leave. When he returned to the bullpen, he told Emily and Spencer about the note. They were planning ways to subtly inform JJ and Rossi without Hotch realising what they were doing when Hotch walked down the stairs and into the elevator. He didn't look at any of them.

All of their phones pinged. Garcia had texted the group chat saying she was about to tell him about the note, and that she'd update when he left, so long as they did the same throughout the day. Everyone immediately agreed. Derek didn't want to think about how, if he scrolled up the smallest amount, messages from the weeks and months following Haley's death would be the only thing there.

Garcia hadn't told Hotch there was a note. It wasn't the kind of thing she could word in a text. She just messaged him saying that there was something she needed him for. The last message he'd sent her had technically been from Richard, saying thank you because she had driven Hotch home when he hurt his wrist.

Hotch's knocking pattern was two successive knocks, a short pause and then a single knock. When Garcia heard it, she sighed, then called out for him to come in. Hotch entered, looking mildly terrified and extremely out of place amongst all the colour and brightness.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

Penelope shook her head, directing him to sit down. He did, and she handed him the envelope. He looked at her, the pain he had tried to hide from JJ and Morgan written all over his face.

"I'm so sorry. I have no idea who it was. All I know is that I left to eat my lunch with the others and when I came back, I was trying to print some forms, because I listened to what you said about this and I wanted to respect that. And then the paper jammed, and that's when I found it."

Hotch put the envelope to one side, and he took Garcia's hands, absent-mindedly playing with the bracelets and rings. Her hands were calloused, but not in the way his were. Her hands were calloused from the keyboard she used like magic, his because of the gun that still sometimes trembled.

"I want your honest opinion Penelope. Can you promise me that no matter how much you may not want to, you'll be honest with me?" he asked.

It was such a strange question for the moment that she had to take a moment to process exactly what it was that was being asked of her. When it finally made sense, she nodded. Hotch rarely asked things of her outside of the standard information they needed on cases. To ask for anything would've been difficult. The least she could do was give it to him.

"Of course I will," she said.

"Do you really think Richard is a suspect?"

"No. I didn't think that yesterday and I can't think that now," she said.

"You can't?"

"Oh sir. I think you need to see the note."

Hotch looked slightly suspicious as he opened it. The colour rose to his cheeks as he read what had been said and then his face completely drained of it all when he saw the photo.

"Sir?"

"This is now an active case. JJ's note is on my desk, Morgan's is in my drawer. You can dig into whatever you need to, whether it's my file, Richard's social media and bank statements, all of it. He can't know, not yet, but I need you to start digging. I'll tell the rest of the team as well," he said.

"Hotch," Garcia started. She would be the first to admit that she ruled with her heart not her head, but Hotch didn't. For him to go from a complete lack of interest in the notes to making it into a case over the space of a day was jarring.

"This person knows about Richard. They know. And the last time an unsub knew about my family…" he trailed off. He didn't need to tell her. She had heard the phone call. In fact, she had been sitting where he was when the shots rang out.

"I know. But that's not going to happen. Not this time. So let's go bring this bastard down," she said, picking up her laptop and moving towards the door. When she opened it, she turned back around, to see that he hadn't even moved from his chair. "Sir?"

"How are you that confident it isn't Richard? You said that even yesterday, you weren't convinced. Why not?"

"Because sir, I choose to believe that anyone that makes you as happy as he does is too good to ever be like the people we hunt down."

Hotch smiled, despite everything, and followed her back up.

By the time they all needed to go home for one reason or another, they were no closer to finding out anything. Hotch was tired and emotionally drained. As he unlocked the door, he could hear Jack laughing and Richard pretending to be whatever creature was required of him.

Hotch gave him a hug. Richard seemed to realise it had been another difficult day and didn't push for details. When they went to bed, Aaron tackled him onto the bed and buried his head in Richard's neck, muffling his words and hiding his face from view.

"Do you promise that you still love me?" he asked. He wasn't about to admit they'd been digging into his past, not when there was nothing to show for it, but he still needed the confirmation that when he got home in the evening, Richard and Jack would still be there.

"I promise Aar," Richard said, running his hands through Aaron's hair, causing it to become even messier. Aaron relaxed against him, completely unaware that Richard was smirking at him.

The fourth note came to Spencer Reid.

It was Thursday, the weird time between sunset and proper nightfall. Even though they had been working without pausing since the day before, they were no closer to finding who exactly was their targeting their unit chief.

They hadn't even finished their list of suspects, or worked out who would know everything that had been mentioned in the notes. Apart from Richard. But everyone was refraining from mentioning his name, unless they were talking about ways to protect him, even though it was clear Derek and Emily still weren't convinced.

Neither were JJ and Reid, but they were doing a better job of covering it up.

Hotch was on edge. He didn't seem to care about the first two notes, even though both of the photos linked to them had been taken inside his apartment. He only cared about the third one, and was doing everything he could to gain any sort of information that would help them with it.

Because he was refusing to phone Richard and tell him what was going on, the information they could find was very limited. His refusal had irritated Dave and even Morgan was getting fed up with playing peacekeeper for everyone.

The only good thing that had happened was Strauss redistributing their cases and paperwork to the other teams, so they could work on Hotch's case unhindered. But Reid almost wished she hadn't, because then at least they could have worked on consults or had some kind of paperwork that allowed them to feel like they were doing something useful.

Even though his memory meant he could quote all three notes word for word without hesitation- something he was sure the other members of the team were going to be able to do if they kept reading the notes they were- he found himself staring at the first one again.

It must have been somebody with access to the building, because that was where Derek and Penelope had found theirs. But then whoever it was would have also been able to get to the cafe without JJ realising it was someone in their building. And Garcia had checked the sign-out records. There wasn't anybody.

Which meant everything was pointing to Richard having snuck in with a generic visitor's pass, but he was present in the third picture, and Hotch had provided him with alibis for the first two incidents. So somebody was targeting both of them, but they couldn't find any bad history with Richard's exes, and Haley was dead.

He hated dead ends. He liked working on cases because it was like putting a puzzle together, but nothing about their current situation made any sense, and none of the pieces they had would fit together nicely and the way they were supposed to.

"We should take a five minute break," Rossi said.

Everybody else threw their files down, relieved that it had been him that had suggested the break because they all needed one but they weren't about to call one. Hotch kept flicking through the timeline they'd created with a frown as he tried to match up where various people had been at various times.

"Aaron," Dave said, tone turning slightly harsher.

"I'll be two minutes," Aaron said.

Dave sighed. "Well I'm going to stretch my legs. Would anybody like to join me?"

JJ and Emily immediately leapt out of their seats and started to go with him. Hotch watched them leave with a slight shake of his head, well aware that they were just going to talk about him. Morgan and Garcia also decided to take a walk, just around the building.

Which left Reid with Hotch. He didn't mind. The two of them had always worked well together because Hotch usually just let Reid do things the way he liked and thought was best, even if it wasn't always the norm, and Reid wasn't like Rossi or Morgan so his offers of food or suggestion of a break were rooted in the science, rather than the belief that he was falling apart.

"Reid, you should take a break," Hotch said, without even looking up.

"I'll take one if you take one," Reid fired back and Hotch made a mental note to never let him and Prentiss go to a crime scene together ever again. She was a bad influence on him. But he also knew that Reid usually always meant what he said. And because he really couldn't have agents passing out on him, he set the file down and sat with his head resting on his palms.

"I'm taking one so come on," Hotch said.

Reid put his pen down and pulled his book out of his bag. When he turned it to the page he'd left off at, something fell out. Him and Hotch both looked down, and Reid realised why it had seemed familiar. It was the same envelope that the letters he wrote to his mother were sent in.

Hotch picked it up and placed it in Reid's hands. "Open it. Whoever sent it meant for it to go to you. And if we assume that they're still watching us now, then you not opening it will cause something bad."

Was it wrong to play on Reid's goodness because he didn't want to open the envelope? Probably. But fear, much like anger and love, did strange things to people.

Reid swallowed, and for a moment, when Hotch looked at him, he was the same boy who had been terrified of doing an interrogation alone. But he'd stopped being that boy years ago, and he had grown into the man that was still good and kind but who had also realised that he deserved so much more than he had been given.

"Do you want me to wait for everyone else to come back?" he asked.

Hotch shook his head. "In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't."

Reid opened the envelope using the opener he kept in his desk drawer. The action made Hotch smile. Even with something like this, he was careful. Reid didn't need any form of prompting. He just read the note out, without any sort of tone change or emotion. For that, Hotch was grateful. Reid knew what he needed: distance, even if it was only in his head.

"Do they even know that sometimes you stand in the mirror staring at the scars left by your demons because you need to understand why they let you live and all the other good people, like Eliza and Haley die?"

Reid passed the note to Hotch, who stared at it like it held the key to everything he had ever wanted. It had been so long since he'd heard or even read the name Eliza. The fact that somebody out there knew about that made him sick to his stomach. But it also gave him an idea.

"Who is Eliza?" Reid asked.

"My mother. She died my first year of law school. It's why I graduated later. I know you've all always wondered about that," he explained.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago. What is the photo?"

Reid pulled it out of the envelope, holding his breath, even though he could already form an image of what it was going to be. Whoever their unsub was, they weren't creative. His suspicions were mostly right. Because the photo did indeed show Hotch stood in front of a mirror with only a towel wrapped around his hips.

But it was not the nine precise scars on his torso that Reid found himself staring at. It was the mess on his back. Most of them had faded to silver lines that could only be seen as a result of the closeness and quality of the image, but some of them hadn't. They were still as red and angry as the marks left by Foyet.

Reid felt his vision begin to blur as tears filled his eyes. He turned to Hotch, who was looking at the photo with a neutrality that could only be gained through years and years of repression and compartmentalisation. And once again, Reid was struck by just how unjust the world was.

"My father abused my mother," Hotch said, voice completely flat. "And then me. But he never touched Sean. Not once. To this day, I have no idea why. My only guess would be that Sean looked like our mother. I looked like him."

"Hotch, I am so sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

"It still wasn't right," Reid argued. Hotch didn't reply, and he swallowed. There was something that he needed to say because it was something Hotch needed to hear. "Hotch. I know you hate this. And I know you think it means everything is going to change. But it isn't. Because this-" he gestured to the photos- "only makes you a better person. It means that you have something that our unsubs don't: humanity."

The only acknowledgement he got that Hotch had heard him was the clench of his jaw, so he carried on. He would only stop when Hotch told him to. "This team is a family. And if it has taught me one thing that no textbook would ever be able to, it is that the love of a family does not carry a condition of any kind. You don't need to be perfect. Not for us. Certainly not for me."

Hotch nodded slightly. "I know."

"Good. Because you survived. Both of them. You can survive this too."

Their eyes met, and there was a mutual understanding there. One that could only be shared between two people that had, at some point in their lives, just wanted the pain to end because there was no shining light at the end of the tunnel in view.

"You survived too Spencer. You did so much more than survive. You became the person you are today and I need you to know just how proud I am."

Reid smiled. "I know you are. The team will be back at any moment. I think you should hold onto the photo. It's the only one we've received where you aren't fully clothed. Besides, we aren't going to get any information from this that we haven't already gotten."

Hotch nodded and put it with the rest of his sheets. It would have to go in the case file as evidence, but until then, the only people to see it would be him and Reid.

When the team got back, they didn't ask questions about what was happening with the photo, but they did seem much less tense. Hotch started to draw up a list of people from his childhood town, claiming that they would have been the only people aware of what was really happening behind closed doors.

Whilst it did give them suspects, most of them weren't viable and by the team Hotch was leaving to drop Jack at a dentist's appointment, they were in the same place they'd started the day at.

"We should just phone Richard and ask him," Emily said.

"We can't do that. He would never forgive us if we did that," Penelope argued.

Dave was fixated on the spot where Aaron had previously been sat. "We're all too invested to make that call. But we gained some additional information today. We use that. And whoever gets the next note, they have to decide. Okay?"

Which meant it would either be Emily or him. A fact not lost on anyone.

Whilst Aaron dressed in the bathroom with a fogged up mirror and fell asleep with his head on Richard's chest, the gentle tone of his narration soothing him and making him feel safe, Emily and Dave laid awake, praying that the other would get the next note.

The fifth note came to David Rossi.

It was Friday, late morning, and he'd been in a meeting with Erin and Aaron, discussing exactly what was going on with his stalker. Aaron had spent the entire meeting shifting around in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the focus all being on him.

They hadn't been able to get in contact with any of the names that Aaron had added to the list after Spencer's note, which had infuriated everyone and led to the suspicion sounding Richard only increasing. Even Strauss thought there was something going on with him, but she hadn't been as successful at hiding it as she thought she had.

Which was why Dave was letting Aaron walk in front of him, instead of forcing him to slow down so they could talk. Not only did it allow Aaron to burn some of his anger off, it gave Dave a chance to watch him, uninterrupted. He was rubbing his fingers together, the gesture more aggressive than usual.

Dave eventually caught up to him, but Aaron wouldn't even look at him. His jaw was clenched, and Dave knew better than to argue the technicality of him not actually being the one to suggest that Richard was guilty to Strauss. Instead, he allowed them to walk in silence, which caused a small amount of tension to leave Aaron's shoulders.

They entered their respective offices, and Dave's heart stopped. There, taped to his desk, was an envelope. The exact same design that the invitations to his third wedding had gone out in. His third wedding, which was the only one Aaron had been around to attend. And he knew that the other man still had the envelope.

He left the door open, and grabbed the envelope off the screen, not caring when the tape remained stuck to it. His hands did not tremble as he opened it because he was filled with rage at whoever had decided to try and ruin one of his favourite memories. He scanned the note. He looked at the photo.

And then he walked into Aaron's office. "Phone your boyfriend right now and tell him that you need him to come down here. I don't care what your reason is. Just get him here. Now."

Aaron looked up from the various files covering his desk. "What?"

"The team made an agreement yesterday. Whoever got the next note would make the call nobody else wanted to. I am putting my foot down. Phone him."

When Hotch hesitated, Rossi sighed.

"Agent Hotchner, you are not the lead on this case because of your own personal involvement. I am the lead, and I am giving you a command which you have to follow, or I will do it myself and I don't think either of you would like that. But you are not seeing the note before you do this."

Hotch's face twisted with fear, but then he unlocked his personal phone and dialled Richard's cell. The ringing seemed to go on for an unusually long time, and some of Dave's anger faded, only to be replaced with a white-hot shame.

"Aar? Is everything okay?" Richard asked.

Hotch relaxed at the sound of his voice. "No. I need-"

"Breathe baby. Just breathe. You can ask for this." Richard's tone was soothing. It gave Aaron the strength to voice his next statement.

"I need you to come down here now. It's urgent. I can't tell you what it's about, but I really need you here," he said, words all slowly becoming one as tears pricked his eyes when he realised just what was going to happen.

"Okay. That's okay. I'll be there in fifteen minutes okay? Just keep breathing. Go and find Dave. Can you promise me that when you hang up, you'll find Dave and let him help you?"

Aaron hesitated. "Yeah Richard. I can do that."

"Good boy. I'll see you soon. I love you."

Aaron's voice was choked when he replied with: "I love you too." He ended the call, slammed his phone on the table and yanked at his hair. Whilst Dave wanted to pry his hands away and give him one of the stress balls that were kept in the ball, he didn't. Instead, he sat opposite Aaron.

"Do they even know how sometimes you fall to your knees as though you're going to pray because your father taught you that you were a sinner that needed to beg for forgiveness?" he read out.

Aaron cringed. "Dave."

"Don't. Whatever you are about to say, don't. Because I haven't finished. That is what the note said. That's why you're always so uncomfortable in the churches, isn't it? Why you were able to tell Jason about your sexuality and not me?"

Aaron cringed at the word, but did not otherwise react. So Dave kept pushing. "It's why you shut down and became cold when I first asked you whether or not you believed in a God when you first joined the unit. Why your knowledge of the Bible is so intimate yet detached?"

"Fine! Yes! It is! Is that what you wanted to hear? Is it?" Hotch shouted, finally, finally losing his temper.

Dave didn't even blink. "No. Because I learnt all of that from this note and this photo." He threw the photo down, and Aaron stared everywhere but at his desk and at Dave's face.

He was on his knees in the photo, facing the bed. His hands were clasped in front of him, the hickeys on his chest fresh and unconcealed amongst the marks Foyet had left with his knife.

"But Richard would have already known all of that. And he's not in this photo either. Aaron Hotchner. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that if Richard had taken this photo from the doorway, with the flash off, that you would have realised?"

Aaron hesitated, and that was answer enough. But just as Dave was about to leave, Aaron spoke.

"I can't say that. But what I will tell you is that he is kind and good and has no motive here because he is not the unsub. And I will ask you a question too. He's going to be here in five minutes. What exactly are you going to do?"

"We are going to settle this," was Dave's response. Aaron swallowed. He knew what his role in all of this was going to be. He knew there was a chance Richard would never forgive him. But every moment they spent chasing after him was a moment they spent going in the wrong direction, which only increased Richard's chance of getting hurt. So he would play his role and beg for forgiveness later.

When Richard burst into the bullpen, eyes full of fear and panting because he had run the whole way up- he'd even taken the stairs because he knew it would be faster than waiting for the elevator- Aaron was the only one standing.

He had his arms wrapped around himself in a pathetic attempt to bring comfort and he was biting his lip. Everyone else was sat around, trying to make the situation seem as natural as possible. But when Richard immediately ran over to Hotch, nobody really knew why. He hadn't even noticed, all his focus on Aaron.

"Baby, what happened?" Richard asked, cupping Aaron's face.

Despite everything, Aaron leant into the touch.

"I'm so sorry," Aaron whispered, his eyes closed. The tears he'd been holding back for so long had started to fall, and Richard wiped them away gently. JJ bit her lip, clearly terrified that they had made a terrible mistake, but Dave wasn't going to budge.

"Aaron?" Richard pressed.

Dave took Richard's hands and Aaron stepped back, staring at the ground.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated.

"Aar, what is he doing?" Richard asked, struggling against Dave's hold.

"We're just going to ask you a few questions, that's all," Dave said, voice far too sweet as he led Richard down to the interrogation rooms. Richard stared at him, mildly terrified and absolutely defiant, but then turned to see Aaron, still shaking and not letting anyone comfort him. He swallowed, wondering what on earth his boyfriend had got involved with this time.

After a bit of deliberation- both because they weren't entirely sure and because they wanted to make Richard squirm- they agreed that Dave would lead the interrogation, but they would switch to Derek if necessary. Aaron had remained silent throughout the discussion, only sitting down because JJ had forced him into a seat.

He wasn't speaking to any of them, but he did glare when Emily asked if he would want to sit in his office whilst they carried out the interrogation, which led to him following them down. He wouldn't go near the window.

Richard was dressed casually, as he always was, but aside from that, he was not the man that they were used to seeing. His eyes were darting all over the room and he was tapping his foot against the chair leg. Under the table, he was rubbing his thumb over the rest of his fingers. Dave, who'd been compartmentalising the entire time, suddenly felt nauseous.

He went in. Best to just get things over and done with.

"What's going on?" Richard asked.

Dave kept the file out of his reach. "That's what we were hoping you could help us with."

Richard laughed, slightly hysterical. "Of course I want to help, but I can't help if I don't have any sort of information! Is Aaron in trouble? Did something happen to him? He's not, he's been completely normal these past few days, if I had noticed something I would have asked."

"We're not entirely sure whether or not Aaron is in trouble, but something did happen. Well actually, it was a few somethings. See for yourself." He slid the file across the desk, and Richard stared at it like it was a trick. Dave nodded and he hesitantly opened it.

"Oh my god... " Richard whispered, all colour leaving his face as he pressed a hand to his mouth and swallowed down bile.

"Five notes. Five photos. Five envelopes that have all been delivered to various members of my team over the past five days. Go on, read them. You probably already know what the information on them is, unlike us."

Richard mouthed the words to himself. Outside, Aaron was pacing, wringing his hands and ignoring everybody's attempts to soothe him, or take him back up. When Richard finished reading the notes, Dave showed him the photos.

"They've been in his apartment? Jack lives in that apartment. How do you know that it's safe anymore? Why hasn't he said anything? Why is he still staying there? He should be staying with me, right?" Richard asked.

Dave hated to admit it, but his concern was genuine. He didn't even seem to realise that he was their prime suspect, or that if it wasn't him, he would be in danger because all he seemed to care about was Aaron.

"With no apparent break-in, yes they've been in his apartment. Aaron didn't want protection, and why he didn't tell you is beyond me. He seems to trust you enough with other things." Dave changed the atmosphere, which Richard immediately picked up on.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You knew all the information that could be found in those notes. You could gain access to the apartment very easily. You know where Aaron's team are based, and the smaller details like where my office is and that Spencer likes to read. It all seems oddly convenient."

"You think I did this?" Richard said, tone coloured with disbelief.

Dave shrugged. "Maybe. We've been trying to find other suspects. They don't really exist."

"I wouldn't- I love Aaron. With everything I am. What would I have to gain from using things he told me about his life that he's never trusted anyone else to say and exposing them to the team? Why would I hurt him that much, when all it would take is a few clicks from Penny and my life would be ruined?"

"Revenge. Anger. Maybe you feel inadequate because Jack is the spitting image of Haley and you will never replace her," he said, remaining completely calm, even though his heart was hammering.

Aaron's jaw dropped and he went to the door, but Morgan stopped him with a hand to the heart and a glare that rivalled his own.

"I'm not trying to replace Haley. I would never even dream of that. Aaron still loves Haley. I know that. It doesn't mean he can't love me too. Haley was brutally murdered by a serial killer. She was the mother of his son and the love of his childhood. She helped save him. If he didn't love her, I would be more concerned."

"So you don't resent either of them?"

"Haley helped make Aaron into the man he is today. How could I resent her? And Aaron is so good. He does his best. He tries. Not a single part of me resents him for anything he's done. To suggest otherwise is an insult to both of us." His tone was final.

"If I asked you for a suspect-"

"I wouldn't be able to think of one right now because I am way too mad at you and everyone else listening to think straight. But if you want my help, I will give it. You can dig through my life to try and find who would dare do this because it is not me."

Richard did not break eye contact, and Dave realised that he could and would be the difference between their unsub destroying Aaron and saving both of them.

"Fine. Come on up, read through the file and help us. But I swear on all that you and I hold sacred, if you dare lie or hurt him to protect yourself, I will kill you and nobody will ever find your body or trace it back to me," Dave said.

Richard seemed even more distressed after that, so Dave put him out of his misery.

"I'm joking. It's just that we have all been waiting to give the shovel talk for so long."

When Richard stood, it was on shaky legs. Dave held the door open for him, and the moment he stepped through, Aaron leapt into his arms, knocking him back slightly. Almost immediately, Richard's left hand went to cradle the back of Aaron's head, which was buried in his shoulder as his body shook with the force of his sobs.

"I'm so sorry," Aaron whispered.

Everyone else had left. Privacy was the least they could give them.

"Baby it's okay. It's all okay."

Aaron didn't seem to be listening. "I- Please don't leave me. Please don't go away. I am so, so sorry."

Richard pulled away and forced eye contact. Aaron swallowed.

"Baby. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to come up with you, I am going to help you find this person and I am going to forgive you. Do you hear me? I'm staying, and all is forgiven. I just wish you had told me. I would never have let you go to your apartment if I'd known."

"I'm sorry," Aaron said again.

"It's okay. Just, I'm driving us back to mine tonight, okay?"

Aaron sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Richard was so good. Too good and too forgiving for someone like him, but he was learning to accept the love he was given. So instead of fighting, he just nodded, letting Richard take the lead once more.

The sixth note came to Emily Prentiss.

It was Saturday.

The only reason they were in the office was because the case was personal. She felt terrible. Hotch had just started to finally achieve a real work-life balance and now it was being torn from him by some maniac.

Richard was helping them, but whilst him and Jack were sat in the bullpen with everyone else, Hotch was sat in his office because there had been some unavoidable paperwork that needed to be done and he needed to concentrate. Strauss had the decency to look apologetic when she dropped it off for him.

Emily personally thought the higher-ups could have been a little more subtle in the way they went about delivering their message. Paperwork that apparently only he could complete was the most obvious way to say he was Unit Chief and therefore had to participate in bureau politics because to them, nothing, not even the life and safety of a federal agent that had already given everything to their job came above their wishes.

She'd offered to take some of the things under it to give him a hand and because she knew that, whilst none of it was pressing, it would all build up and end with him getting completely overwhelmed. She'd spent enough time with her mother to know how to fill it all out, and she was also exceptionally good at forging his handwriting.

It wasn't like they were getting any closer to finding their unsub. Everyone was doing what they could, but until they either got another message or came up with more suspects, they were stuck. Everyone still had their suspicions regarding Richard, but nobody was going to say anything. Not after everything that had happened.

Aaron had interpreted their departure the previous day as the apology it was, and they had seen the coffee and slight smile he gave them all when he got in as the forgiveness he was trying to give. Richard cooperating and answering all their questions with a smile and grace made it easier.

Emily picked up the last file and frowned. She must have picked it up by accident because it wasn't the same sort of files as the previous five had been. Those had all been budget and funding related. The one she found herself holding that moment was the manila folders that contained details of their cases. For a moment, she considered just giving it to him, but when she looked through the blinds, he was rubbing his forehead, a migraine clearly forming.

"Any new leads?" she asked.

Everybody shook their heads. Richard leant back in his chair, smiling when Jack held him his latest drawing. It didn't quite reach his eyes and Emily wondered how he had managed to remain so calm and collected when both his and Aaron's lives were potentially at risk.

She was happy that Hotch had found love and accepted his own sexuality, but she just wished it hadn't been with someone with a name like Richard. It just screamed dodgy. It was not a valid reason to suspect him of anything, but ever since they'd gotten together, she had been on edge.There wasn't anything she could say though. And she was getting sidetracked.

She would do the consult, and it would be fine, and when she told Aaron she'd done it, he would smile at her like he had always done before weird envelopes revealed his secrets and created a divide nobody was going to discuss because if they got into it, they wouldn't be able to stop thinking about just how little he really trusted them.

With a deep sigh- she was going to need to apply some actual energy if it was a consult- she opened the folder. What she was greeted with was not crime scene photos or information on the victims of heinous crimes. It was not graphic images of dead bodies or a preliminary profile that just needed some form of refinement.

It was so much worse.

It was an envelope. And the logical, rational part of her brain had been expecting one ever since the day had started. But emotions were not logical or rational and there was a pit in her stomach as she realised that this time, she would not be able to hide or let someone else carry the responsibility of handling the contents.

She would have to be the one to open the envelope, read the letter, see the photo. She would have to tell Aaron there had been another one. She would have to watch as the ghosts and demons of his past were dredged up and flaunted for everyone to see, and then as his eyes hardened once more and he pretended that person was someone else.

The worst part was, there wouldn't be anything she could do for him.

"Well, my one just got delivered," she announced.

Everyone looked over at her. Richard tapped Jack on the shoulder, and held up his hand in a wait gesture. Jack nodded, then turned back to his book.

"I'm just going to ask Anderson to watch him for a few minutes. Because I need to be here, but Jack doesn't need to see what happens once you tell Aaron. Is that okay?" he asked.

Emily nodded. It was selfish, but she was glad that she had been granted a few extra minutes to gain control over herself. When Richard did return, there was a slight hesitance to his actions, as though he also felt like he could live without knowing what was in the envelope, even though he probably already knew.

The envelope was one that her mother had used for sending gala details out during the period of time where Aaron worked for her. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how their unsub knew that about them.

Her voice was monotonous as she read the note because unlike the others, she did not read it in her head before reading it aloud. When she finished, she wished she had.

"Do they even know how your father responded when he caught you at the grand age of fourteen with your hand being held by the pastor's son and a wide grin on your face because it was in that moment that you first understood what having a crush meant?" she read out.

Richard's eyes widened. "This bastard knows what happened then? It must be- it has to be somebody he grew up with. It just has to be, and when I get my fucking hands on them-"

"You're going to leave it to us because we have powers of arrest and you are a civilian that does not," Rossi finished.

Emily felt a surge of anger within her, both at Aaron's father for ever laying a hand on his child and for not accepting him, and at Aaron. Because Aaron had lied to her. He had looked her in the eye and lied. She hadn't even realised.

"What's the photo?" Derek asked.

Feeling slightly sick, she peered in the envelope and saw that no, she had not been lucky enough to not receive one. She took it out and stared at it, needing that moment to process and understand exactly what had happened all those years ago. She needed to be the first one to see it because the letter had come to her and she needed to know exactly what was going to hurt her so much.

It did more than just hurt her. It broke her into a million pieces.

The Aaron that she chose to remember was the one that smiled at everyone, that laughed at Derek and Penelope's flirting and who always, always danced with her when she asked. The one that had barely reacted when she came out and then, when he realised she was still stood there, looked up and said that he was not the person to ask for advice when it came to pretty girls.

The Aaron that had been near tears when she told him that she would always love him, no matter what because she knew what it was that he needed to tell her but she wasn't going to take that from him, she just needed him to know.

The Aaron that haunted her nightmares was the one that had woken up in the hospital after Foyet, barely able to speak because he was so weak. The one that had walked into a hostage situation and stopped caring about his own life because he didn't think it meant anything.

The Aaron that made her wonder what the point in any of what they did was, that made her angry and terrified of herself, that made her want to kill everyone that had dared to harm a child, was the one in the photo.

It had come from a medical file. Knowing that only made it worse. He was just a boy. Young. Too young to have such haunted eyes. There were dark circles under them. His arm was in a cast, cradled close to his body. His face was a mess of bruises and there was a not quite healed gash on his forehead.

He had lied. And the worst part was, she could almost understand why. It didn't get rid of her anger, but she could almost understand it.

"It wasn't my place to say anything," Richard whispered.

"If you had, I would have killed you," Emily said. "Reid have you read the note?"

Reid nodded, passing it back to her. He didn't bother to offer to tell Hotch. Nobody did. It would be an insult to both of them to even suggest that Emily shouldn't go. Hotch trusted her in a way he didn't trust anyone else and she knew him in a way everyone else couldn't.

The team would see the photo after Hotch. Emily stood, clasping both close to her chest just in case anybody else saw them and briskly walked up to his office because anything more than that would make other people suspicious.

"You lied to me," she said as she entered. She was still angry, but it didn't bleed into her tone like she had wanted. Instead, she just sounded betrayed and hurt.

He looked at her. Not out the window like he wanted to because that would be unfair. It would make him understand the situation like he wanted to, but he needed to focus on her and for that, she was grateful.

"What?"

"You lied to me. You told me your dad didn't know you were bi. That he died before you were ready to tell anyone, and you had always regretted it. And I told you it was okay because you weren't ready and it wasn't safe," she said.

He swallowed, but carried on looking at her. "I know."

She put the note on his table and then slammed the photo down. He glanced at it, and she saw his fists clench in the fabric of his trousers. When he met her eyes again, still not looking out the window, there was a defiance in them. Like he didn't care.

"Aaron, I'm not angry. I just want to know. You could have told me the truth. I wouldn't have thought any lesser of you. You know I wouldn't have. You weren't sick or disgusting and I am sorry for everything that happened."

She didn't want him to apologise because it was his trauma. She had no right to it. She just wanted to know why he had lied instead of just saying he didn't feel comfortable talking about it. She wouldn't have pushed him.

"I couldn't have told you," he said, finally breaking eye contact and looking out the window. The team were pouring over the note. Richard was talking to Jack and Emily noticed him relax slightly.

"Aaron," she said, trying to not let it sting. "Why not?"

He turned back to face her. "I couldn't."

It wasn't about her, but she needed him to know. "You don't have to tell me why, and I am not trying to say I was entitled to that information. I just want you to know that if it was something I said or did, then I am so sorry and-"

"You wouldn't have understood, okay? That's why I didn't tell you. Because you wouldn't have got it and I didn't want your fucking sympathy."

She stared. "I wouldn't have understood?"

"No, you wouldn't have because you never gave a damn about what your mother thought of you and for all her flaws, she did her best and she accepted you. When the church rejected you, you had Matthew. When Gideon left, the team decided to love you unconditionally and you never once had to consider that everything would change when you came out."

He knew he was being unfair and that coming out couldn't have been easy for her, but he was too emotional to think straight. Later he would apologise and do whatever it took for her to look at him like he meant something, and she would just ask him to forgive himself.

But that would be later.

"Aaron, I'm sorry."

"Everyone always is. Apart from the one person that needed to be. Do you know what he did, after that photo was taken? He told them I was lying about it being him and everyone was too afraid to suggest otherwise. And then he shipped me off to boarding school like I meant nothing. I could only come back when he was dying, and even then, the pastor wouldn't let me in the church because he was scared I would taint his precious church, almost like the man being buried wasn't an abuser."

There were no words, comfort or otherwise that she could provide him with. "Aaron, I'm-"

"Sorry? All anyone seems to be is sorry. And I am sick of it. I am so, so sick of it and I just want everybody to do their fucking jobs and find this bastard so everything can go back to normal and I can breathe again," he snapped.

She didn't move. She just raised an eyebrow, silently asking if there was anything else he wanted to get off his chest.

He bolted from his office, not acknowledging a single member of the team, or Richard, or even Jack. Emily sighed, took the note and photo and brought it back to the bullpen. They didn't have a board. Hotch wasn't dead or missing and they weren't about to let anyone else see.

Richard sighed, then pulled out his phone. "He's gone to my apartment. Look, I know the new note means a lot and that there's now more that we can use but is it okay if I-"

"Go. He needs you," JJ said, not even looking up. Emily begrudgingly nodded.

Richard smiled at them all gratefully. "Thank you." He turned to Jack. "Hey bud, how do you feel about spending the evening with your Auntie Jessie? Hmm? She told me yesterday that she's just been waiting to see you!"

Richard left. Emily and Dave watched him go, their thoughts the same. As much as they detested Richard, they would give anything for him to not be the unsub.

When Richard let himself into his apartment, all the lights were off. He sighed, and thought about how one day in the near future, his key would be turning in the lock of the door to a home. Because as soon as this whole thing was over, him and Aaron were signing the deed of a house. It was going to be beautiful.

"Baby? I'm home," he called out.

There was no response. He checked the living room, then the kitchen, then the bathroom and finally the bedroom. Aaron was under the duvet, but even from the doorway Richard could tell he wasn't sleeping.

He kicked his own shoes off and got in beside Aaron. "You don't need to speak to me. But I need you to know that you've not done anything wrong and they all still love you. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. We're going to have a nice day at the beach and then I'm taking you out for dinner and we will have an extremely romantic night that will hopefully lead to you limping slightly come Monday morning," he said.

Aaron rolled over, eyes slightly red but a small smile still on his face. "You promise?"

"I promise," he replied in a sing-song voice before pulling Aaron closer.

"I'm scared," Aaron confessed, after a long silence.

"I know baby. But I'm right here. And it's going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay."

Aaron wanted to believe him. He closed his eyes and listened to Richard singing, trying not to think about the feather-light kisses that were being pressed to the side of his neck and trying to forget the note that had known exactly what they did to him. Because Richard had been the one to discover that information. As far as Aaron was aware, nobody else knew.

The seventh note came to Aaron Hotchner.

It was Sunday morning. When he woke up, Richard was still there. He smiled at his partner, wishing they could spend every day in bed. Richard was stunning when he slept. They'd both forgotten to close the blinds, and the early morning sunshine made it his hair glow.

Aaron usually had to run to work and get Jack to school, so he never really got to appreciate how warm Richard was. But there was no imminent paperwork, the team had agreed to only contact him if there was a real emergency and Jack was staying with Jessica.

He didn't need to be anywhere apart from right there. It was a nice feeling. So instead of worrying about the time, he shifted closer to Richard and let himself drift off again.

"Baby, I love you. I really do. And I'm so glad you're sleeping, but I need to piss," Richard complained an indefinite amount of time later.

Aaron's eyes opened when he felt himself get pushed to the other side of the bed. "Wha-"

"Thank you. And hello darling. Happy Valentine's Day."

He still wasn't used to Richard being stronger than him, and he blushed. "Hi. Happy Valentine's Day."

"Are you okay?"

"Mhm."

Richard looked at his face, then smirked as he realised why Aaron was blushing. When Aaron saw the glint in his eyes, he buried his head in the pillow. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!" Richard laughed. "But seriously. Are you okay?"

"Yes. Really, I am. I don't want to think about any of that today. Just go pee and brush your teeth, I'll get out of bed when you're done."

"Demanding. Okay, I'm going. See you in a few minutes."

When Richard closed the door, Aaron turned his phone on. He would turn it off when they were actually spending time together, but he just needed to make sure Jack had been okay and that there was nothing urgent from the team.

Jessica had sent the standard message, saying Jack was fine and she'd drop him off with them in the evening. The team had texted the non-work chat talking about their plans. He smiled to himself, glad they were following his orders for once and was about to set his phone back on the nightstand when he saw he had a voicemail.

From an unknown number.

He frowned, guard immediately up. An unknown number to his work number would make sense because it would probably just be a work thing, but his personal phone was different. It was more intimate.

Heart pounding so loud it was the only thing he could hear, he dialled his voicemail, immediately pressing one when the options began.

The world had never been kind to him. The message was robotic, no way of tracing it back to anyone.

"If you want to keep them safe, you won't stop just for a few hours with your boyfriend. Unless of course, you think he's more important than your unarmed sister-in-law and son. Her father would never forgive you if you caused the death of both his babies, would he? Has he even forgiven you for the first?"

The message ended, and the neutral tone of the operator, asking him if he wanted to listen to it again fell on deaf ears.

Without a moment of thought, he tumbled out of the bed, hurriedly dressing in the first things he could find in the wardrobe, not even bothering to check he'd buttoned his shirt correctly. He was unlocking the safe and holstering his guns when Richard entered the room, having heard the commotion on his way to the kitchen.

"What happened?" he asked.

Hotch just gestured to his phone as an answer, rushing out of the room to go and brush his own teeth so he would be able to eat something without feeling weird. When he came back, Richard was sat on the bed, fiddling with his phone. He turned at Aaron's footsteps and smiled slightly.

"There's no way you're letting me come with you, is there?" he asked.

Aaron shook his head. "It's far too risky. We've established they're one person, so if they were focusing on Jess and Jack then they can't be here too. I'm going into the office to see what's going on, but I'll have people stationed for you and them whilst I'm driving."

"Okay. Come here."

Aaron obeyed, inhaling the familiar scent of Richard's lemon and orange shower gel. "I love you," he whispered, proud of himself for not stumbling over the words.

"Love you too. Now go out there, get this son of a bitch and promise to come home to me safely."

It was an impossible promise, but he made it anyways. He always did. "I promise."

Hotch didn't tell the team about the voicemail. Garcia wouldn't have been able to gain anything from it, so there was no point in dragging them all out and ruining whatever their plans were just because somebody was obsessed with him. Besides, they had all received notes. There was nothing for them to do.

And part of him just needed to do it alone, without them watching him, waiting for him to snap the same way he had with Foyet.

But when he parked, he noticed the car park seemed oddly full for both a Sunday and a celebration. Whilst the BAU didn't have the best track record when it came to relationships because most ended with divorce or death, that wasn't the case with everyone.

The elevator went straight to the sixth floor. His heart started hammering again as the doors opened and he stepped off. His fears had been confirmed when he saw the bullpen: the team were there. It hurt more than he thought it would, because there was only one one way they would know.

Richard had told them, even though he knew Aaron would've said something if he wanted them to be aware.

"You don't have to be here," he said as soon as he was within earshot.

They all looked up, and he saw all six of the previous photos and notes scattered over the table. Their list of suspects, which had been getting shorter and shorter with every new lead they found, was in the centre.

"But we want to. Richard told us about the voicemail. Can we hear it?" Penelope asked.

He nodded, unlocking his phone and setting it down as it played.

"Is there a chance the unsub just happens to know about Jessica and Jack's existence?" JJ suggested.

"No. Because Jack has been spending most nights with me lately. Well, me or Richard. Him staying overnight with Jessica is not a weekly occurrence anymore. For the unsub to know, they must have been watching. They must have."

"Okay, I'm going to try and get any information from this," Penelope said, opening her laptop as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

Aaron nodded. The original notes and photos were in his desk drawer, which was locked, so after they spent a few minutes just talking and organising their thoughts, he went up to get them. It was then that he saw the note, everyone having missed it initially because they'd gone straight to the bullpen and not even looked up.

The envelope was the same type used for death certificates in the state of Virginia. He only knew that because his first thought when Haley's had been delivered was that the envelopes that contained something so destroying had no right being so beautiful.

"Hotch?" Emily called out. She didn't know where they stood anymore, but she couldn't help herself.

"They've sent me mine," he said, his voice surprisingly steady.

"What?" Derek said.

He tore the envelope off the door and held it up. As much as he did not want to be vulnerable in front of everyone, he could not open it alone, so he descended the stairs on shaky legs and sat back down, in between Derek and JJ and took a deep breath.

"It's okay sir. We have time. Just do it when you're ready," Penelope encouraged.

"We might have time, but Jess and Jack may not," he said, and opened it neatly, using the letter opener Spencer held up for him.

Hotch took the note and photo out at the same time, but he, like the others, wanted to brace himself for the contents of the photo by reading the note first. Their unsub wasn't particularly creative so it would be easy enough to guess what it would be.

He frowned, then pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to not cry in frustration. He had no idea what the note was meant to mean.

"Aaron?" Dave asked.

"Do you even know how easy it would be for you to find me if you would just stop being such a baby about everything?" he read out. "I don't understand. Why- we don't even know who it is. How would we know where to find them?"

"Look at the photo," JJ coaxed.

He wanted to kick himself. Here he was, falling apart when the answer was right in front of him.

With a tremble he hated, he took the photo out. He immediately knew what and where it was. But he couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. It had to be a trick of the light. Or a mistake. Or a sick, twisted joke. It couldn't be real. He wasn't sure he could survive if it was.

"What is it?" Emily asked.

He put the photo down so everyone could see it. "That's the house Richard and I are moving into. Once all this is over, we're signing the deed. It's empty at the moment because the couple had already moved in with their children." His voice was completely monotone. Any emotion would lead to him sobbing.

Only one other person knew that the purchase was being made. But somewhere inside him was a tiny flicker of hope, telling him it was all a horrible consequence and it was actually someone else.

"Derek, Emily, Aaron, we're in one car. JJ, drive Spencer and Penelope. Em, whilst we're going, you phone Jessica. Make sure she can see the officers assigned to her and Jack. Aaron, phone Richard. Make sure he doesn't leave his apartment. Let's go," Dave commanded.

Everyone piled into the cars. Dave did not his profile to be correct. He did not want to be right, but it was starting to seem like the only option. The fact that it would be the three people that had seen Aaron at his most vulnerable in the car together was not something he'd done by accident. He knew Aaron. He loved fiercely, with everything he was, until the very last moment.

Before the day was over, he would need someone to patch him back together. It was going to be one of them.

"Okay, that's great. Just hang tight, everything will be okay," Emily said into her phone. She ended the call. "Jess can see them. Her and Jack are just eating breakfast. He's calm."

"That's good. Aaron, call Richard."

"I already did," Aaron said, emotion finally bleeding into his voice. Dave almost ran a red light, the admission shook him so badly.

"You what?" Derek shouted.

"I already tried once. He didn't pick up. If he doesn't call me back in the next minute, I'm trying again. He was probably just in the bathroom." The excuse sounded pathetic, even to him. But he was desperately clinging to some semblance of hope, and he would carry on until it could no longer be denied.

"Aaron," Emily started.

"Don't. Just don't. I'm trying the landline, and then his mobile. Okay?"

The ringing became uncomfortable after a few moments, and Dave wasn't sure Aaron could be trusted with a gun with the way his hands were shaking. The house was approaching, and there had still been no response from Richard.

"You have to go in first. We'll follow behind you. And no matter what happens in there, no matter who is in there, we love you. Do you understand?" Dave said, tilting Aaron's chin up so they had to make eye contact.

Aaron nodded minutely, then shrugged him off, jumping out the car. JJ, Reid and Garcia arrived only moments later. They waited as Hotch opened the door, cautiously entering with his gun pointing downwards and then they all ran in, listening for Hotch's footsteps so they knew where to go.

"FBI! Put your hands up! Now" he shouted, entering the living room.

Richard turned around, an easy smirk on his face. "Well hello Aaron. It took you long enough."

The gun fell from Aaron's hands. "No," he breathed.

"Yes," Richard said. "I mean, come on, was it ever going to be anyone else? Who else could have known all of those details about you? I mean, observing you try to protect my honour was adorable but really quite pathetic."

The team were waiting out in the hallway for some sort of signal to go in, but they could all recognise the voice. Not a single person was happy that their gut instincts had been right, or that they had actually found their unsub.

"I don't get it," Aaron whispered. He hadn't picked his gun up.

"If this is about that third photo, I had a friend take it for me. Aaron, this plan has been in motion for longer than you could even wrap your little head around. And tell your team to just come in. It's rude to eavesdrop."

Accepting their covers as blown, the team all walked in, one after another, with their weapons pointed at Richard. Their faces were grim, filled with more than the usual anger. Because how dare he go after their friend. After everything that had happened, everything he had been trusted to know, this was the way he used it.

"There's no need to point those things at me, you can see that I am clearly unarmed," he said, adding jazz hands to empathise his point. But because there was no way of telling whether or not there was a hidden weapon- or god forbid a bomb- they couldn't relax.

"Why did you do this? To us? To me?" Aaron asked, shame and humiliation coursing through him. Everybody had warned him. He had always known the team didn't like Richard. They had told him there was nobody else that made sense. But his naivety (or was it his ego) had stopped him from listening, and now nothing would be the same.

"Isn't it obvious? Maybe you're not as smart as everyone likes to think you are. Maybe you really are as pathetic as your father always claimed you were. Maybe you're worse," Richard taunted.

"Richard please," he begged. "Just tell me the truth."

Nothing was ever going to be the same. Richard would be arrested and Aaron would be left to piece his heart back together, but he would be damned if he failed to get the truth from another person in his life.

Richard's lip curled in a smirk that made everyone squirm. "You have always been such a pretty beggar. Do it one more time for me, and I will give you all the answers you wanted."

His endgame had to involve death. There was no way he would reveal all the answers Aaron wanted without someone dying. But nobody could see a single weapon on him. And there was no way of knowing exactly who it was that was going to die.

Aaron took a step back. He wanted to vomit. He couldn't do it. "Richard."

"That doesn't sound like begging."

He swallowed. "Richard please. Please, just tell me. I will do whatever it is you want, I swear, but just tell me why you did it. I need to know. I am begging you to tell me, please."

"I suppose that's adequate. You want to know? Fine. Haley."

That threw him. "Haley?"

"Yes. Haley. Haley Hotchner Brooks, your ex-wife. Remember that phone call, all those years ago? Right before she left and took your son with her because you were a failure? That was me. I phoned her. Because she was cheating on you. I know you still wonder about that. Well now you don't need to. We were supposed to end up together. We were supposed to be happy. But because of you and your failure, she's dead. You took her from me! You killed her and Foyet. They're both dead because of you. And yet you're still here! It doesn't make sense!"

"Richard." He couldn't form any other words.

"Don't! Haley- who was charming and sweet and caring- is dead because of you. It doesn't make sense that she died whilst you lived. It's not fair, and it's not right. You never had to pay for her death. Until now. I've made you pay. How does it feel? To be betrayed so badly by someone you love? This is how she must have felt when you got her put in Witness Protection."

"Richard. Haley's death was not Aaron's fault. You know that. Deep down, you know that. And you also know that there is no way out of this without cooperating. Cooperate, and we can be lenient," Emily said, the first to recover from… everything as she started negotiating.

"Do they even know?" Richard snarled and Aaron flinched. Every time a member of the team had read their note to him, they had been gentle. Hesitant. Kind. Richard was neither of those. He was cruel and horrid.

"Do they even know how choked and broken your voice gets when you say I love you because you’re damaged and incapable? Do they even know pretty you look with tears streaming down your face because you can't say what you need to, even though it is not difficult and your son can do it without hesitation?"

Hotch had always loved it when Richard called him pretty. It made him feel loved. Now, it just felt dirty. He didn't even realise Richard was reaching for something behind him. Something that was blocked by his body.

"Richard, whatever your plan is, it won't work. You won't and can't get away with this now seven federal agents are aware of it. Just put your hands in front of you again, and we'll get you a more lenient sentence," Derek said, voice calm.

"I don't want a lenient sentence, I want retribution!" he shouted, brandishing a gun.

Not just a gun. The gun that was meant to be holstered on Hotch's left leg. He glanced down in horror. It was empty.

Richard smirked. "In all your panic this morning, you forgot it. I've seen you unlock that safe enough times to know the code. Remember what happened right before you started carrying two? Adrian Bale took the one on your hip and you were completely defenceless. Haley found out she was pregnant then."

Hotch couldn't say anything. He was too focused on not vomiting.

"Richard just put the gun down," JJ said.

"Why?"

"Because even if there are seven bullets in there, you will not be able to kill all of us in the time it would take for any of us to shoot you somewhere non-fatal and make your sentence the harshest it can be," Spencer said.

"I don't want to kill you six. I don't want to kill Aaron either. I want to destroy him. I want to destroy him the way he destroys everything good that touches him. Baby. Look at me."

Aaron flinched at the nickname but lifted his eyes enough to look at Richard. "What?" he asked, voice small.

"Do they even know your biggest fear? Do you? Because it's this. Aaron Hotchner is terrifed that one day, you guys are going to wake up and realise he’s not good enough and you’re going to leave. Just like his mother and his father. And Sean. And Elle. And Jason and Haley and everybody else in his life.”

And Aaron realised what Richard was about to do.

"Stop!" he shouted.

But it was too late.

Richard was on the ground, pooling from the wound and all around him. Aaron fell to his knees beside him, still, in spite of everything, helplessly in love with him and clinging to the idea that it was all just a horrible dream.

"Richard," he whispered, when he felt the slightest pulse.

"I… I win," Richard rasped.

And then his eyes closed.

And Aaron broke.

Derek pulled him away from the body and wiped the blood from his hands. But Aaron was cataconic, hardly responding, and even then, only using the bare minimum. They'd forced him back into the car as soon as the other services got there, saying they would conduct his interview a few days later.

Derek was going to leave, to give Aaron his space, when he heard his name being called, so quietly he almost didn't even realise.

"Yeah?" he said, coming back over.

"Do you think I'm too broken to be loved?" Aaron asked, staring at him with tears in his eyes.

"Of course you aren't," Derek said, hating everyone that had ever made Aaron feel like that.

"Then why can't anyone do it?"

He sounded so broken. Derek didn't know what to do. So he told the truth.

"They can though. The team loves you. I love you."

"Do you promise?"

He nodded. "Yes."

And he would just keep saying it till it was enough.

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