#it may not last. but right now I’m still in disbelief at how different I feel

[dimsilver]

ladies. this week for the first time in 6 years I have consistently woken up feeling rested and wanting to stay awake. I think the fog of chronic mono may be beginning to clear at last. I literally cannot believe how different I feel. God is being so kind right now

[ssa-dado]

18 - I'm Always Running To You

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: slow burn, fluff, whump (?) Summary: Back at the BAU, nostalgia and familiar faces reignited memories and emotions you thought you’d left behind. As you navigated the team’s playful camaraderie and handled a skeptical detective, you couldn't ignore the weight of Hotch's absence and the unique bond you shared. Though you left for Peter and a life of stability, two weeks back may reveal whether you truly want the life you’ve chosen - or the one you left. Warnings: CM case, P***r gets mentioned... also... I did a thing. Word Count: 11.6k Dado's Corner: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

masterlist

“... I could tell you about my very first day, the momentous occasion of ‘Teach’s debut’.”

“Oh, please do,” he replied, clearly amused. “And tell me, is my office still intact? Or have you scattered it with sticky notes and red string?”

“Don’t tempt me, but no, I’ve preserved your precious workspace.” you replied with a chuckle, picturing his face as he visualized the mess you could create. “It all started when…”

---

It felt strange, almost surreal, to be sitting in Hotch’s office - your office, at least temporarily. The air was still thick with his presence, his signature cologne lingering like an old friend. Most of his things were still exactly where he’d left them; you had no doubt he’d done it intentionally, a silent stand against Strauss. It was his way of asserting that this space was his, and it always would be.

The most noticeable difference was the absence of his personal photos. The frames that had once held Haley’s warm smile and Jack’s bright eyes were missing, and that small detail made the room feel emptier. Still, he had gone out of his way to replace the pens on the desk with the ones you preferred.

-

“Although, for the record, I’ve switched to the 0.7mm tip now. Same brand, just… a thicker line. So, you know, if we’re going for accuracy here,” you teased, stretching out on the hotel bed with a grin.

There was a pause on the other end before Aaron replied, his tone more serious than you’d expected. “I noticed, actually. In the files you handed me last time - you used the 0.7mm. I wasn’t sure if it was a permanent change or just a one-off. But, in case you didn’t see them, they’re in the top right drawer.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by how closely he’d paid attention. “Wait, are you serious? You noticed that?”

“Of course,” he replied, as though keeping track of something so small was the most natural thing in the world. You could almost hear the shrug in his voice. “Figured you’d want them there.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Aaron, I swear, sometimes this nerdy side of you is a little unnerving. Also - you could’ve told me about the drawer thing before I dug around like an idiot.”

“I’m the nerd?” he chuckled, and you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “You’re the one who’s willing to switch back to the 0.5mm just to keep the ‘continuity’ in your files consistent.”

“Of course I am,” you retorted, grinning at the sheer ridiculousness of it. “I can’t just start with one pen and finish with another. You know as well as I do that consistency is key. I mean, you’re the one who keeps a back-up tie in his desk in case your tie gets stained. And besides,” you added, leaning into the playful banter, “this is all your fault for messing with my routine in the first place.”

“You could say thank you, you know,” he said, his tone warm and teasing. “Here I am, making sure you have exactly what you need, and all I get is passive-aggressive commentary, not quite the gratitude I was hoping for...”

“Oh, of course!” you replied with over-the-top sweetness. “Thank you, my most esteemed noble prosecutor against the crimes of chaos,” you cooed, letting each word drip with playful charm. You could practically feel his discomfort rising on the other end of the line - perfect, just as planned. “And thank you ever so much for keeping such an impeccable archive of my pen preferences.”

He let out a dry sigh. “…Always happy to help,” he replied, his tone barely masking his exasperation. You grinned, knowing you’d hit the mark.

-

And then there was the nameplate, covered with sticky notes. He’d written your name over his in his distinct, bold handwriting. It made you smile, remembering the early days when you’d shared a desk, continuously passing notes scribbled on Post-its.

But that little personal touch from Hotch had been balanced out by the formidable stack of case files placed dead center on the desk - a welcome gift from Strauss, no doubt. The pile seemed impossibly tall, a silent reminder of the bureaucratic weight she could wield when it suited her. You’d kept your composure on the phone with her, but it felt like she was testing you, making sure you knew this wouldn’t be easy.

Time slipped away as you sifted through the stacks of case files, the silence in the office thick and unnerving. It wasn’t just the absence of sound or movement, it was as if something essential had been stripped from the room, a heartbeat that once pulsed quietly in the background now stilled.

You’d always been one to come in early, even back when you first started at the BAU. But back then, you’d never been the first to arrive. You’d grown used to Hotch’s subtle routines: the way he’d already have a fresh pot of coffee going by the time you arrived, the sight of him hunched over files, deep in thought, yet somehow always aware of your presence, a reassuring constant.

That morning felt like a quiet reminder of all the things that had changed, and all the things you wished, just for a moment, could stay the same.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see JJ standing there, smiling softly. “You’ve probably been here for hours already, haven’t you?”

You stretched your arms, letting out a small laugh. “Me? Never. But what are you doing here so early? You’re not due for another half-hour.

JJ stepped further into the office, a knowing look on her face as she held up a file. “Actually, I came in a little early to show you the ropes, but from the looks of all these files you’ve already gone through, it seems like you’ve got everything under control.”

You glanced at the neat pile of case files in front of you, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Guess I couldn’t resist the urge to keep up with Hotch’s reputation. I’ve got to maintain the early bird standard around here, right?”

JJ chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re definitely living up to it. At this rate, you’ll have his entire routine down before the end of the week.”

You leaned back with a grin. “Just promise me that if I start communicating in cryptic stares and monosyllabic responses, you’ll stage an intervention.”

-

“Excuse me?!” he said, feigning offense on the other end of the line.

You couldn’t help but laugh, recognizing that his mock outrage was, in fact, a perfect example of the very thing you had just finished saying. “Right, because that wasn’t a textbook example of a monosyllabic response - alright, maybe three syllables, but I’d still count it.”

-

JJ laughed, giving you a playful nudge. “Noted.” She took a breath, the humor fading slightly as her tone softened. “Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know - Gideon called in sick, didn’t give much detail. This is today’s case.”

A frown tugged at your lips as JJ passed you the file. Hotch had warned you to keep an eye on Gideon, especially after what happened in Arizona. The weight of Sarah’s death still seemed to carve deeper lines into his face with every case, his once-steady demeanor unraveling.

Gideon had been a cornerstone of your time at the BAU, a bridge to those early days. Now, without him, the weight of responsibility pressed harder on your shoulders, the pressure to hold everything together more overwhelming than ever.

“Thanks for letting me know,” you said, taking the file from her hands, feeling the weight of it. “I guess it’s going to be one of those days.”

She gave you a sympathetic smile, her eyes warm with understanding. “Hey, we’re in good hands. I know stepping in isn’t easy, but you’ve got this.” Then she added, “Oh, and I went ahead and set everything up on the screen in the conference room. No need for pinning photos or scribbling on the board like back in the day.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair with a look of disappointment. “So, just one sentence, and I’m already labeled a dinosaur? For the record, JJ, I’m only three years older than you, and just a few months ago, I was still in my twenties. I think I’ve got a ways to go before ‘ancient relic’ status.”

JJ chuckled, shaking her head. “Relic or not, don’t worry. You’ll settle in just fine.”

You laughed, standing up and gathering the files. “If you say so...” As you followed her to the door, you asked, “I’m heading to the coffee machine. Need me to grab you anything?”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful spark in her eyes. “I thought that’s supposed to go the other way around, Chief?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Oh, come on, no need for all that formality. I’m still getting used to it myself. Just stick to my name… at least until Morgan decides on something else for everyone, I know his reputation precedes him.”

JJ laughed as the two of you headed down the hallway, your footsteps echoing softly. “Well, you know him. Whatever it is, I have a feeling it’ll stick.”

You shook your head with a smile, following her towards the coffee machine. "I’m sure I’ll survive - though if his nickname is too creative, I might have to pull rank on him." You teased, knowing full well that wasn’t your style.

---

By the time you finally stepped into the conference room, the familiar rhythm of the BAU began to settle around you, but that’s when the weight of your nerves - the ones you had tried so hard to push down -suddenly hit you like a punch to the chest. You hadn’t even realized it had been building until it was too late.

Coming in early had given you the luxury of solitude, a quiet space where you could pretend this wasn’t real yet, where you could almost convince yourself that everything would be just like the old days. But now, with the hum of conversation filling the room, the reality crashed down on you all at once.

The team was here.

The case was here.

And you were standing in Hotch’s place.

The familiar energy buzzed around the room, the usual anticipation that always lingered before a new case, but none of it felt normal to you. There was a sense of expectation that weighed down every breath you took.

Each step toward the center of the room felt heavier, and with every pair of eyes that turned in your direction, the weight became unbearable. You knew that even if they didn’t realize they weren’t just looking at you - they were looking for answers.

They were waiting for the guidance and steady leadership they had come to trust in Hotch.

But you weren’t Hotch.

Morgan was the first to spot you, and as usual, he was impossible to ignore. His eyes lit up as he crossed the room with his signature swagger, that confident, wide grin already plastered on his face. His easy demeanor was infectious, a kind of effortless confidence that seemed unshakable, and as he made his way toward you, you wished you could channel even a fraction of it.

“Teacher!” he called out, wrapping you in a strong hug before you had a chance to say anything.

You laughed, returning the hug and rolling your eyes at the nickname, but the moment you released him, you felt the tremor of anxiety creeping back. “Good to see you too, Morgan. For a moment there, I was almost surprised you didn’t have the nickname ready and waiting the second I walked in the door.”

He chuckled, his smile widening as he winked. “Oh, trust me, I’ve got a whole list lined up. I’m just pacing myself, you will fear me.”

You tried to match his lighthearted tone, but your mind kept wandering back to the task ahead.

Your first briefing as Unit Chief. Don’t mess this up.

Just then, Prentiss strolled in, catching the tail end of your conversation. She crossed her arms, a playful smirk already forming on her lips. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said with a gleam in her eyes, looking between you and Morgan. “I think Morgan is the one who’s secretly terrified of you.”

Morgan scoffed, his usual bravado showing, but there was a spark of amusement - and maybe a bit of truth - in his eyes. “Terrified? Of the teacher? Come on, Prentiss, you’ve gotta do better than that.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow, clearly relishing the banter. “Oh really? Because, if I remember correctly, you couldn’t stop talking about that guest lecture she gave at Quantico. You’ve been on edge about it ever since.”

You chuckled, leaning slightly into Emily’s side, grateful for the camaraderie. “Is that so? I knew there was something you weren’t telling me, Morgan.”

Emily’s arm draped around your shoulders, and she gave you a reassuring squeeze. The warmth of her support should’ve been comforting, but instead, it only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

What if I disappoint them?

“You know I’m all about team morale” Prentiss said ironically ”especially if it involves messing with Morgan. It’s nice to have you back, and I’m excited to watch you put him in his place for the next two weeks.” You grinned, but the weight of her words added to your anxiety.

Two weeks. Don’t screw it up.

“Oh, I’ll keep it low-key,” you said with mock innocence, glancing at Morgan. “Wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers on my first day.”

Prentiss shook her head, laughing. “No way. Go all out! Quiz him, put him on the spot he deserves it. Trust me, it’s been a long time coming.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, amused but clearly unfazed. “Careful, Prentiss. You’re tempting fate.”

Before you could respond, Reid approached quietly, lingering on the edge of the conversation as he often did, waiting for the right time to join in. Finally, he stepped forward, offering a small wave and a hint of a smile – his familiar shyness was a welcome distraction from your mounting nerves.

“So, Morgan settled on ‘Teacher,’” he said with his usual calm precision. “For the record, there were 11 other options on the list, but ‘Teacher’ seemed the most fitting in my opinion.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” You hadn’t spent much time with the team before that day - just a couple of occasions, really - but from the few moments you’d shared with Reid, you knew how much he valued the chance to break down his thought processes. You gave him the space to elaborate, genuinely curious to hear his reasoning.

A spark of excitement danced in Spencer’s eyes, and he straightened a little, clearly appreciating the chance to share his insight. “Well, it’s actually pretty poetic,” he began, his voice tinged with enthusiasm. “Your first academic publication was on Plato, right? And Plato wasn’t just a philosopher - he was a teacher at his own school, the Academy. And now, here you are, teaching at the Academy. Even though you’re taking a break from it for the next couple of weeks, the nickname ‘Teacher’ seems… poetically appropriate.”

You smiled, touched by the thoughtfulness of his connection, but a shadow of doubt still lingered.

They all see you as capable. But what if you’re not?

“That’s a beautiful interpretation, Spencer. Plato’s one of my favorites, so I really appreciate that you found those links.” You tried to sound confident, but the tension in your chest remained.

Spencer’s face brightened, clearly pleased by your response. “Thanks! I try,” he replied, a bit shyly. You could tell he was happy to have made the connection for you, and that warmed your heart.

You leaned in slightly, knowing he’d appreciate a chance to continue the intellectual thread. “By the way, since we’re on the topic, do you know why it’s called the Academy?”

Spencer looked momentarily taken aback, shaking his head. “No, actually, I don’t.”

“It’s because of the land it was built on,” you explained, enjoying his anticipation. “Plato’s Academy was set up in a grove just outside Athens, named after a local hero, Akademos… or Hecademus, depending on the source. The fact that the land was sacred wasn’t incidental; it created a space that felt set apart, a place where learning and reflection became almost a spiritual process for Plato and his students.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, captivated by the backstory. “That’s… incredible. I had no idea,” he admitted, visibly impressed. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Though, I have to say, it’s a good thing the local hero had a dignified name. The School of Bob might not have carried the same historical weight.”

Before either of you could dive deeper into Philosophy 101, Garcia swooped in with her usual whirlwind of energy, wrapping her arms around you in a hug so tight you could barely breathe. “Welcome, naughty Teacher!” she exclaimed, her grin stretching from ear to ear.

You laughed, trying to shake off the creeping anxiety. “Nice to see you too, Penelope. But I’m afraid we’ll have to drop the ‘Naughty’ part unless you want HR knocking on both our doors. Anything more PG, I’ll gladly accept.”

Penelope gasped dramatically, clutching her chest with exaggerated flair. “Alright, alright, just ‘Teacher’ then,” she conceded, but her eyes twinkled with mischief. “But know that I’ll still think ‘naughty’ in spirit.”

You shook your head, chuckling as you nudged her playfully. “Noted. And I’ll make sure to blush and feel flattered by it - purely in spirit, of course.”

She pouted playfully, then cocked her head, adding in a teasing, faux-flirty tone, “Teach, just checking… you still taken? Engaged and all that?”

You grinned, crossing your arms as you replied, “Affirmative, Penelope. The position is still filled.”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Ah, tragic! Well, it’s truly the world’s loss then,” she said, winking. “But you know, if the situation ever changes…”

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “I’ll be sure to update you on any status changes in a timely manner.”

She winked, giving you a playful shove. “See, now that’s why I always keep my options opened.”

Despite the playful banter, the clock was ticking, and the weight of what was about to happen settled in more heavily than ever.

It’s time. Don’t mess this up.

A few moments later, you clapped your hands, bringing the room to order. The friendly chatter died down, and all eyes turned to you. This was the moment you had been dreading - the first time you’d lead a case briefing as Unit Chief. Your heart raced, but you forced yourself to project confidence as you stepped forward with the remote in hand.

With a click, the screen flickered to life, displaying the crime scene photos in stark, unsettling detail. You could feel the weight of their gazes, their expectations.

They trust you. Don’t let them down.

“Alright, team,” you began, forcing your voice to steady even as the nerves rattled within you. “I’d love nothing more than to catch up, but we’ve got a triple homicide on our hands, and time isn’t on our side.”

You took a breath, signaling for JJ to start, and she took over, filling the team in on the case basics. “We’re looking at three victims in Newport,” she explained. “Different ages, different backgrounds. The first two were killed a week apart, but the last one was just three days ago. The timeline’s escalating.”

You nodded, moving closer to the screen as you clicked through the crime scene photos. Gesturing at the images, you continued, “There’s a pattern here. The unsub leaves a white mask over each victim’s face, with holes cut around the nose and mouth. There’s no sign of a struggle, no defensive wounds - this is clean, methodical work.”

You paused, letting the silence settle as they took it in, but the stillness only made the knot in your stomach twist tighter. Am I explaining this right? What if they’re questioning my judgment?

“Whoever this unsub is,” you went on, pushing down the doubts, “they’re confident, careful, and they’re taking their time. We need to figure out why.”

Are you really enough for this team?

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at it, feeling a sudden jolt of surprise and relief as you saw the name: Lawyer – it was Aaron.

Lawyer: 

Don’t second guess yourself. You’ve got this. I trust you, I hope you know that. 

Lawyer:

P.S. If you could avoid winning everyone over in the next two weeks, that’d be great. Try to be a little unlikable, so they’re actually glad when I come back. ;)

And just like that, the voices of doubt went silent.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, feeling steadier now. You turned back to the team, ready to continue.

Don’t second guess yourself.

You’ve got this.

I trust you.

---

Once at the Newport precinct, you could feel eyes on you as soon as you stepped inside. The local detectives seemed disoriented by your presence, their confusion was evident as they exchanged glances. You’d prepared for this reaction, but it still stung.

You introduced the team with a smile, doing your best to mask the flicker of irritation that flared up when one of the older detectives barely glanced your way. He muttered something to his colleague, just low enough that you couldn’t catch it, but you could feel the dismissiveness in his tone.

The insinuation was clear: Too young, too inexperienced, too… female.

Shaking it off, you divided the team into two groups. “Morgan, Prentiss, you two head to the medical center to review the autopsies. Look for anything that might indicate how the unsub maintains such precise control over the victims. Drugs, maybe something else.” They nodded, Morgan already heading toward the door with his usual confidence, Prentiss following closely behind.

You turned to JJ and Reid. “We’ll stay here. JJ, let’s start with victimology. You and I will talk to the families. Reid, you’ll work on a geographical profile. See if you can figure out a pattern in the locations.”

You and JJ arrived at the small, quiet home of the third victim’s parents, Filipino immigrants whose grief seemed to fill every corner of the room. Stepping inside, you felt as if the air itself mourned with them. Family photos lined the walls, capturing a life now painfully incomplete. The parents sat close together, their hands intertwined, clutching at each other as though any moment they might shatter.

“Kamusta po. Ako po si Y/N, kasama ko si JJ. Galing po kami sa Behavioral Analysis Unit ng FBI. Alam kong napakahirap ng pinagdadaanan ninyo, at hindi ko po madadala ang sakit, pero nandito kami para makinig, para tulungan kayong mahanap ang hustisya para sa inyong anak na babae. Kapag handa na po kayo, gusto sana naming magtanong ng ilang bagay.” 

“Hello. I’m Y/N, and this is JJ. We’re from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I know the pain you’re going through is unimaginable, and while I can’t take that pain away, we’re here to listen, to help bring justice for your daughter. When you’re ready, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

The mother’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, her posture softening as she realized you spoke her language, a small but meaningful gesture that bridged the gap between their grief and your willingness to understand. Her grief was still raw, but she opened up, telling you about her daughter, sharing the little details that made her life beautiful.

As you finished with the first family, you and JJ stepped outside, the weight of the interview hanging heavy in the air. You turned to her, noticing the sadness etched in her eyes, the pain she tried to conceal. You could see how she always felt deeply, letting herself absorb the grief around her, and it showed.

“You good here?” you asked softly, searching her face. She hesitated, eyes distant for a moment before she nodded.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. “I’ll handle it. You head back and see what Reid’s found.”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hey, listen to me. You’ll get through this. I know these cases hit hard, but even when you’re at your worst, JJ, it’s still better than anyone else’s best. You’re compassionate, and that makes you the best person to speak with these families. But if it’s too much, let me know, and we’ll switch.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, and she took a steadying breath, nodding slightly as she met your gaze. “Thanks,” she said, a glimmer of strength returning to her eyes. “I needed that. But I’ll be fine. Go on, you can head back to Reid. I’ve got this.”

You gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning back toward the station. Inside, Reid was hunched over a map, his fingers tracing the outline of the city as he studied the locations of the murders. He barely looked up when you approached, his mind clearly absorbed in the puzzle before him.

“So, Doc, what do you have for me?” you asked, leaning over the desk.

Reid straightened pointing to the map. “I’ve been analyzing the locations of the murders, but I think the most significant detail isn’t where they happened, it’s the masks the unsub uses.”

Your brow furrowed. “The masks?”

Reid nodded, his voice gaining momentum as he explained. “The masks only have holes for the nose and mouth, not the eyes. That suggests a couple of things. First, they’re not something you can just buy - these masks are probably handmade, which means the unsub has a certain level of craftsmanship or access to materials. And second…” He paused, waiting for you to catch on.

“They’re covering the eyes deliberately,” you said, the realization sinking in. “They don’t want their victims to see - or be seen. By obscuring them, the unsub is denying the victims any self-recognition.”

“Exactly,” Reid confirmed. “The eyes are the windows to the soul, right? It’s a symbolic way of stripping them of their identity”

You felt a rush of clarity, your mind connecting the dots. “That’s a really good observation, Reid. It fits with the unsub’s need for control. They’re not just killing, they’re staging a performance.”

Before you could delve further into the theory, the air in the room shifted. One of the local detectives, the same one who had dismissed you earlier, sauntered over, his expression smug as he cast a glance at Reid. “You guys find anything useful? Kid here looks like he’s barely out of high school.”

Reid blinked, momentarily taken aback, but before he could respond, the detective turned to you, his tone dripping with condescension. “And you’re telling me the FBI put someone like you in charge? Not even thirty yet, and you’re calling the shots? Must be some kind of joke.”

Your muscles tensed, breath hitching as you caught a glimpse of Reid, his face paling slightly, visibly shaken as he struggled to find the courage to respond. Before he could get a word out, though, the doors swung open, and Morgan and Prentiss strode into the station.

They caught the tail end of the exchange, their gazes snapping to you, their expressions quickly shifting to a mix of concern and simmering irritation.

Morgan, always quick to defend, took a step toward the detective, his jaw set and eyes flashing. But before he could say a word, you lifted a hand, a subtle gesture that stopped him in his tracks. You forced a smile, one that was warm on the surface but laced with an unmistakable edge of disappointment.

“Detective,” you began, your tone even, almost gentle, but carrying a weight that silenced the room, “I understand how frustrating cases like this can be. But if we spend our time underestimating each other, we’re only helping the unsub stay one step ahead. None of us can afford that.”

The detective’s expression shifted, slightly thrown off by your calmness. He gave a gruff chuckle, shaking his head. “I just hope the FBI’s got the expertise to handle this one. It’s not your usual serial killer, that’s for sure, a fancy degree won’t do the job.”

“We appreciate your concern, Detective.” you said, your voice steady and calm as you stepped closer, fixing him with a focused gaze, your eyes narrowed slightly. “If you have specific doubts about our methods, I’m more than happy to walk you through them. The problem I’ve noticed, however, is that you’ve been approaching this case from a narrow perspective.”

You continued, gaze unwavering as you explained “This unsub isn’t one-dimensional, and neither is their motive. Without considering the complexity - the layers of behavior and psychology involved - we risk making shallow assessments, which lead to mistakes. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve overlooked critical elements of the unsub’s psychology.”

As you spoke, Morgan leaned in toward Prentiss, shaking his head. “She’s got that Hotch stare down, doesn’t she?” he murmured, his voice low with awe.

Prentiss smirked, nodding. “Oh, absolutely. But there’s something different about it… his stare is all intimidation, but hers? It’s almost worse - like you’ve disappointed her on some fundamental level. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that.”

The detective blinked, visibly disoriented. “What do you mean, missing?” he sputtered.

You could hear their whispered comments, but you stayed focused on the detective, who was just starting to fidget under your stare. “The unsub we’re dealing with isn’t a sadist, despite what you’ve assumed. They’re not motivated by the need to inflict pain for pleasure. What we’re looking at is something much more complex - control, power, recognition. The masks, the staging? They’re not random. If we keep treating this like a sadist’s work, we’ll continue wasting valuable resources on a dead-end.”

You stepped forward slightly, your tone sharpening, though you remained composed. “And it’s not just this case. You’ve been missing the bigger picture all along, dismissing the insights we’ve been trying to offer. It shows not only in your handling of this investigation but also in your approach. You jump to conclusions, failing to consider the complexities.”

“See, when we try to prove a point, the evidence has to be accurate, or everything crumbles.” You paused, letting the silence hang for a moment. “Earlier, you mentioned I’m ‘not even thirty yet’ as part of your argument that I’m unqualified to lead an FBI team. If you had done your research, you’d know I’m actually thirty - I have been for months. Using incorrect facts, you made your entire demonstration falter.”

You leaned in, your eyes never leaving his. “This behavior of yours also affects your overall approach to this case. You rushed to label this unsub as a sadist, forcing everything into a narrative that fits your narrow perspective. And who benefits from that? The unsub.”

Morgan leaned toward Prentiss, nodding with a mix of admiration and amusement. “Man, she’s Hotch’s protégé. It’s like watching him all over again - tearing him apart on the technicalities, using the guy’s own words to back him into a corner.” He grinned, voice dropping slightly. “You can tell they spent years together.”

Prentiss smiled, her expression softening. “Yeah, but she’s got her own way of doing it. She’s not just channeling him, she’s making it her own.” She glanced at you, a note of pride in her voice. “That’s what makes her… her.”

Your voice remained steady, the edge of disappointment clear. “To be precise, that wasn’t the only demonstration of your failure to grasp the complexity here. Earlier you said I have ‘a fancy degree’ - once again - you didn’t bother to check your facts. The reality is that it’s not one degree - singular. I have multiple degrees - plural. And my colleague here?”

You gestured to Reid, who was observing silently, his sharp eyes taking everything in. “He’s the one you’ve underestimated the most. Not only does he have advanced degrees, he holds multiple PhDs – once again, plural . So, Detective, you haven’t just made the mistake of questioning my expertise, but you’ve managed to make an even bigger error by dismissing the experience of my entire team. More than just one individual. Understanding and managing the concept of plurality is essential, and it’s something you’ve consistently overlooked since the beginning.”

The room fell silent, your tone never rising but carrying the weight of undeniable authority. The detective’s face shifted, his bravado visibly crumbling, as he struggled to respond. His earlier confidence now replaced by a stunned, flustered silence.

Morgan leaned toward Prentiss again, barely able to hide the grin. “She just tore him apart. Without even raising her voice.”

Prentiss chuckled softly. “God, it’s like watching an artist at work.”

JJ crossed her arms, smiling faintly as she whispered, “Hotch is probably proud.”

The detective blinked, clearly struggling to keep pace with your explanation. You held your ground, your gaze steady, tone firm but calm. “We’re here to collaborate, not waste time. But if we’re not open to different perspectives, we won’t get anywhere. The unsub isn’t just killing; they’re constructing a narrative that reflects a need for dominance and recognition. Hegel’s master-slave dialectic is relevant here - recognition is essential to self-awareness, and the unsub is asserting themselves as the ‘master,’ with their victims as ‘slaves.’”

Reid nodded along, understanding where you were going. “The use of custom masks that only leave holes on the mouth and nose, are particularly telling. Hegel explains that the relationship between the master and the slave is based on mutual acknowledgment - each needs the other to confirm their own identity. Although the Unsub twists this dynamic at its core. By covering the eyes – the primary sense we use to recognize someone - the unsub symbolically denies the victims to engage in this shared recognition. So the unsub strips the victims of individuality, reducing them to faceless, passive entities. Objects.”

You continued, unfazed by the detective’s discomfort, speaking with the calm assurance born from your mastery in uncovering the intricate links between human behavior and philosophy. "The unsub doesn’t want recognition from the singular victims but demands it from society, a plurality. Which means that the unsub seeks godlike power over life and death, forcing us to acknowledge their existence through fear. It’s not about chaos; it’s a twisted form of self-affirmation. If we ignore these psychological details, we’re missing the core of their intent.”

Morgan raised his eyebrows at Prentiss, a smile spreading across his face. “Man, I love it when she goes philosophical. She’s got that deep dive style down to an art.”

The detective opened his mouth as if to argue, but your steady gaze cut him off before he could form a coherent sentence. Finally, he managed a weak, “Right… well, I suppose that makes sense… what do you need from us?”

“Full cooperation from your team,” you said simply, “and no more jumping to conclusions.”

As the detective shuffled away, visibly shaken, you turned back to the team, feeling a sense of relief settle in. Reid met your gaze, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, a silent thank you for handling the situation on his behalf. JJ gave you a warm, knowing smile, a touch of admiration in her expression, as though she’d seen a new side of you.

On the other side, Morgan and Prentiss exchanged glances, smirks tugging at their lips as they struggled to contain their laughter. Their eyes sparkled with barely concealed amusement, relishing the scene that had just played out.

They weren’t fooling anyone - especially not you. You knew that look all too well, it was the unmistakable glint of an inside joke, the kind of unspoken conspiracy that you could sense from a mile away.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia. You’d been in their shoes before, that playful bond where just one look could spark an entire unspoken conversation. It was the same look you and Hotch used to share whenever Gideon and Rossi did anything remotely friendly toward each other.

Just the slightest hint of camaraderie between those two was enough for you and Hotch to start your own silent plotting, exchanging glances and letting your imaginations run wild about their “secret romance.”

And if there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that Morgan and Prentiss were definitely up to something. “You okay?” you asked raising your eyebrows, catching the spark running through the group.

That was all it took, Morgan and Prentiss chuckled, their expressions carrying a mix of respect and pure enjoyment. You could tell they saw something of Hotch in you, but with your own twist, and that silent bond between you all deepened, shared in the moment.

“Oh, we’re good,” Morgan said, barely containing a chuckle. “Just… processing the show you just put on. Not bad, Teacher.”

Prentiss nodded, her eyes gleaming. “You definitely have that stare down.”

“What stare?” you asked, genuinely confused. “I didn’t realize I had a ‘stare.’”

JJ stifled a laugh. “Oh, you do... remember about the intervention? It’s a bit different than Hotch’s, though. His can be terrifying, but yours? Yours just screams disappointment. It’s brutal. I almost felt sorry for the guy.”

The team burst into quiet laughter as you gave them an unintentional demonstration of the stare, feeling the same subtle disappointment creep into your expression as you processed their remarks. “What’s going on?” you asked, the exact same tone Hotch used to use when he was catching on to their inside jokes, only fueling the laughter.

They laughed even harder, exchanging looks as if sharing an inside joke they hadn’t expected you to be in on. A bit intimidated but still chuckling, JJ finally spoke up. “It’s just… the way you said that, it was just like Hotch. Even the tone, the phrasing, it was all there.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “So, you all really think I’m like Hotch?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Prentiss replied, smirking. “You two have been partners since, what, the dawn of time? I’d bet good money you’ve picked up more than a few of his quirks over the years.”

You shook your head in mock offense, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, please! Have you ever considered that maybe he picked up my mannerisms? But even if that were true, I have no idea why you’re all so obsessed with comparing us. I’m my own person. And Hotch and I? We’re not similar. At all.”

Prentiss let out a laugh, eyes gleaming. “Uh-huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that. But from where I’m standing, you two are basically the FBI version of an old mar-”

“Watch it, Prentiss,” you cut her off, the warning playful but sharp. The moment the words left your mouth, you froze for a beat. Even you could hear it - Hotch’s voice, not yours. You’d definitely heard him say it just like that before.

They laughed again, their amusement only growing at your reaction. Morgan wiped his eyes, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s there. You two are practically the same person when you’re in the field.”

JJ added with a smirk, “You spent so many years together, it’s bound to rub off… you two were like the dynamic duo. I just wish we could see more of it now. The stories I’ve heard about how well you worked together are legendary.”  It was funny how you could practically visualise what Morgan and Reid were picturing in their minds at that exact moment. The best part was that no matter how many times the two of them tried to imagine you and Hotch dancing, it would never even come close to what it was like in reality. “You two were close, weren’t you?”

You two were close, weren’t you?

And just like that, your heart dropped, a pang of melancholy seeping in at her words.

They were right – no, actually – Aaron was right.

You’d missed working in the field, and coming back here reminded you how much you missed working alongside him, as a team, the way you once did every day.

But things were different now.

There was Peter who’d made it clear that he expected you to stay with the Academy.

A life at the BAU wasn’t compatible with settling down, and you knew if you came back, the job would consume you again, and any hope of a family life with him would fade

Seeing your expression shift, Morgan stepped a little closer, his tone softer but with that familiar edge. “You know, when I came across your file over a year ago, there was this old photo in there - had to be from Rossi’s first book party, back in ’99. The whole OG team was there - Rossi, Gideon, you, Hotch. But what really hit me? The way you and Hotch looked in that picture. He was actually smiling, like genuinely smiling. You were both laughing, heads tilted towards each other, practically leaning in. It’s the kind of picture that says, ‘yeah, those two have seen it all, side by side’.”

A soft ache tugged at your chest as the memory surfaced, sharper and more vivid than you expected. You hadn’t thought about that night in years, yet now it rushed back with startling clarity, as if it had happened only yesterday. No - more than that - it was as though it was unfolding right in front of you, playing out in real time, every detail suddenly alive again. You knew the reason Hotch was smiling in that picture.

---

The evening had only just begun at Rossi’s book release party, but the warmth of the room, the glow of dim lights, and the gentle hum of laughter and clinking glasses gave it a sense of timelessness. Rossi was in his element, charm radiating as he moved through the crowd with an easy confidence, his smile as wide as you’d ever seen it. He reveled in the attention, basking in the congratulations and admiration, the proud look of a man who’d earned every word of praise.

But you and Hotch had slipped away from the main throng, as you often did, drifting to a quieter corner where you could watch the scene unfold, cocooned in a world of your own making. The two of you had perfected this dance over the years, a private escape in plain sight. A shared glance, a quick smile, a whispered comment, and suddenly, the rest of the room faded into the background.

You watched Rossi work the room, the flicker of candlelight catching the satisfaction in his eyes, and you could feel Hotch’s presence beside you, steady and familiar. It was comforting, the warmth he brought just by standing close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed. His quiet presence was an anchor, grounding you as the world around you spun with laughter and champagne.

“Look at him,” you murmured softly, leaning in just a little, letting your voice carry between the two of you. “It’s like he was born for this moment.”

Hotch’s gaze followed yours, a faint smile touching his lips. “It’s the Rossi special,” he replied, his voice just a whisper. “A room full of people, and somehow, they’re all drawn to him.”

You chuckled, your smile widening. “He’s practically glowing.” Your eyes drifted over the scene, and then you spotted Gideon, standing just a few feet away from Rossi, sharing an easy laugh. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand gently resting on Hotch’s upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. The touch surprised him, and he turned toward you, his expression momentarily caught off guard. You tilted your head in the direction of your two “lovebirds,” and as soon as he followed your gaze, a smirk appeared on his face, as if he already knew exactly where your thoughts had gone.

Leaning in just enough for him to catch the soft, lingering notes of your rose perfume, he struggled not to lose himself in the scent he had quietly come to cherish. Your voice, low and teasing, slipped out in a warm, intimate whisper. “Tell me this doesn’t feel like the renewal of vows for our happy couple,” you murmured, your lips barely inches from his ear. You felt his breath hitch, a brief falter in his composure, as though the closeness had woven a delicate tension between you, one that hummed softly in the quiet space you shared.

“All that’s missing is a cake and matching rings,” you continued, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “They’re practically glowing over there, and I’m just waiting for someone to stand up and toast their ‘eternal bond.’”

Hotch’s gaze followed yours to where Rossi and Gideon stood, posing together in matching dark suits, looking more like a coordinated pair than the veteran profilers you knew. He leaned in even closer than you did moments before, so close that you felt the warmth of his breath as he spoke, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Oh, it’s definitely an anniversary,” he murmured, his tone playful. “Think about it - what are the odds Rossi’s book launch just happens to fall on the exact same date? Feels a little too coincidental, don’t you think?”

You felt a shiver run through you as he tilted his head, his lips almost brushing your ear. “I’d bet anything he planned this whole thing just to make sure Gideon couldn’t pull another stunt like last year. No way Rossi was letting him show up empty-handed this time.”

You laughed, quickly covering your mouth to stifle the sound. He slid his arm over your shoulder, holding you close to keep your laughter contained, as if he wanted this moment to stay just between the two of you, hidden from the rest of the room. “Oh, I remember that,” you whispered, still smiling. “What do you think he got Rossi this time? It’s bound to be something… serious, but just impersonal enough.”

Up close, you could see his eyes light up with a glint of mischief as he slipped effortlessly into profiling mode, his voice dipping lower in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Gideon’s practical to a fault. My money’s on something generic yet expensive, probably a leather-bound notebook set. Engraved, maybe. ‘For Loyalty Beyond Words’. Subtle but just close enough to the mark, a reminder that unlike Rossi, Gideon has probably never cheated on him.”

You stifled a snicker, nudging him playfully. “Oh, you’re definitely right. But seriously, look at them - matching suits? They practically look like they just walked out of a wedding chapel." You rolled your eyes dramatically, biting back another laugh as Rossi and Gideon posed together, their shoulders squared, yet there was something almost too intimate about the way they stood, like a pair of grooms posing after years of knowing each other’s every move.

“They’re definitely setting up for a solo photoshoot,” Hotch murmured, his smirk deepening, the soft light catching his dimples in a way that made them seem even more striking, like something out of a Caravaggio painting. “Look at the way Rossi’s arm is resting, just barely behind Gideon’s back, like he can’t help but pull him closer. And those cufflinks? They’re identical. There’s no way that’s an accident.”

Before you could reply, Rossi and Gideon turned in unison, spotting you both. Rossi waved you over with a grin, calling out, “Early birds!” while Gideon, at the same time, called, “Night owls!” The unplanned dissonance was so perfectly them that you barely suppressed a laugh, and Hotch was already looking away, shaking his head in amusement.

As you set your drinks down, you leaned in toward Hotch, your voice low and teasing. “Well, they’ll be arguing about that later.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch leaned in even closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he started to whisper, but before he could finish, the words spilled out from both of you, perfectly in sync. “Rossi’s already canceled the hotel suite for tonight.”

The unison caught you both by surprise, and you couldn’t hold back your laughter. It bubbled up, blending together, as you both tried - and miserably failed - to stifle it, the shared moment drawing you closer. You instinctively reached for Hotch’s shoulder, your fingers curling around the fabric of his suit as your body shook with laughter. He mirrored you, his other hand covering his mouth as he tried - and failed - to contain himself, his shoulders shaking against yours.

Hotch straightened, casting you a sidelong glance with that infamous, piercing stare of his, his voice mock-serious as he said, “Okay, composure. We’re professionals, remember?”

“Professionals, yes, and incredibly mature,” you replied, grinning. “But admit it, Hotch - if anyone’s going to storm out tonight, it’ll be Rossi, and he’ll be dramatic about it as usual just to keep up with their tradition. Gideon will be left speechless, staring at the door in disbelief.”

Hotch’s grin spread wider, the mischievous spark in his eyes almost gleaming now. “Oh, definitely. You know Rossi won’t go quietly,” he said, his voice rich with amusement. He leaned in slightly as he mimicked Rossi’s cadence and dramatic flair, “‘I simply cannot believe I’ve tolerated this for so long!’”

Hotch paused for effect, just like Rossi would, his expression mock-serious before continuing. “And then, he’ll make sure everyone’s watching - dramatic pause, hand on his heart - and just when the tension’s thick enough, he’ll storm out, tie flying dramatically in the breeze, leaving everyone in awe of his theatrics.”

Your laughter spilled out again as you nudged him in the shoulder, trying desperately to maintain your composure while he kept up his increasingly exaggerated impressions, practically daring you to crack. You could barely catch your breath, finally managing to say through fits of laughter, “Aaron!”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt a rush of warmth rise to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and surprise fluttering through you. You’d never called him by his first name before. It had always been “Hotch,” or, more often, “partner”, a term that had taken on its own intimate meaning between the two of you, a word that only belonged to you both.

He stilled, and a small, surprised smile softened his features. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, steady and warm. “Hey, it’s fine,” he murmured, a spark of amusement in his eyes. And then, with a rare, mischievous glint, he added, “You’re more than welcome to call me by my name. After all, we’ve already shared some… pretty intimate terms, haven’t we?”

Your eyes widened, feeling a fresh wave of heat flood your cheeks as you realized exactly what he was referring to. Of course, he was talking about that night you’d both sworn to never mention again. You nudged him again, this time a bit harder, your voice dropping as you whispered, “Oh, my God, Aaron”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “I think you said exactly that that night,” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “Followed by -”

“Oh, so we’re doing this?” you shot back, trying to ignore the blush creeping up your neck. “Want me to start listing off a few of the things you said that night? I’m pretty sure we’re close enough to Rossi and Gideon for them to hear us.”

His chuckle was warm, but you didn’t miss the faint flush rising on his own cheeks. He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Backing down already? That doesn’t sound like you.”

You grinned, narrowing your eyes playfully. “If I remember correctly, we both agreed to act like it never happened. But if you’re pushing, I can bring it up anytime, anywhere. Just say the word.”

He held your gaze, his smile lingering as he tilted his head. “I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending a thrill through you that you tried to hide. “I seem to recall you saying something similar… right before you practically dragged me to my bedroom.”

You bit your lip, fighting a smirk. “Well, you didn’t exactly resist, Aaron.”

He raised an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and challenge flickering in his eyes. “Didn’t exactly hear any complaints from you either.”

With a smirk of your own, you took a step back, looking at him with a mixture of playful defiance and barely concealed warmth. “Keep pushing, and I might just bring up the part you said you’d never admit.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he tried to recover. “Alright, truce - for now. I think we both know we’d have plenty to say about that night if we really wanted to.”

You gave him a sly smile, lowering your voice. “Fair enough. But remember, I’m keeping this card to play at just the right moment. Watch yourself, Hotchner.”

He chuckled, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze as he replied, “Guess that makes two of us.”

You both stepped toward Rossi and Gideon, who greeted you with smiles… little did they know.

Rossi leaned in first, his arm outstretched to give you the customary two kisses on each cheek. Then he moved to Hotch, who did his best to hide his discomfort, his jaw tightening slightly as Rossi followed suit. The sight was too much, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“Oh, don’t look so horrified, Aaron,” Rossi teased, stepping back with a smirk. “This is a celebration, after all.  And as much as the crowd loves me, I needed to be sure the two of you made it into some of these shots. You know, you clean up nicely for a couple of crime fighters.”

Gideon chimed in with a smile. “Especially you,” he said, looking over at Hotch, whose face remained perfectly composed despite the teasing. “You look more relaxed tonight than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

Hotch nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just trying to keep up with my partner here,” he replied, his gaze flicking back to you with a playful glint, subtly teasing at the so-called truce he’d declared between you moments ago. “It’s not every day we get a chance to unwind like this.”

Without missing a beat, you crossed your arms, refusing to let him see you crack. He was expecting it, so you turned toward Rossi instead, playing it cool. “What’s the deal, Rossi? Miss us already? Need a little inspiration for that next bestseller?” Your voice carried just enough teasing to shift the attention, and you caught the faintest smirk from Hotch out of the corner of your eye, knowing you’d managed to keep the upper hand - at least for now.

Rossi shot you a sly look. “Not at all, especially not Aaron. I still remember the night he woke me up in the middle of the night, convinced he’d cracked the case.”

Hotch shrugged, his lips curving into a small smile. “Someone had to keep you on your toes, Dave.”

You shook your head, laughing. “You say that now, Rossi, but I know you’d be secretly disappointed if we weren’t here. Why else would you be pulling us in for pictures?”

Gideon, smiling, looked over at you and Hotch, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I have to say, you two look sharp tonight. It’s nice to see you out of your usual work clothes. Especially you, Y/N—it’s good to see you in an actual color for once. That dark blue really suits you... both of you.”

You glanced down, suddenly noticing that the deep, rich blue of your dress matched Hotch’s shirt perfectly, right down to the exact shade. Hotch caught your eye, a faint smile playing on his lips as he feigned innocence, clearly enjoying your surprise. “Pure coincidence,” he murmured, his tone dripping with quiet amusement. “Great minds think alike, I suppose.”

Rossi rolled his eyes, giving you both a look of mock exasperation. “Sure, keep up the act. We all know you two are practically telepathic by now. Matching outfits, finishing each other’s sentences - what’s next, a joint desk at Quantico?”

You laughed, playing along, the banter slipping effortlessly between you. “Oh, that’s never happening. You don’t know how particular he is about his desk. But we might just take over your old office for ourselves, it’s starting to collect dust.”

Gideon chuckled, nudging Rossi with a grin. “Watch out, Dave. Give it a few more years, and they’ll be running this whole place.”

Hotch chuckled beside you, his laugh low and warm, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the gentle weight of his hand on your lower back. It was subtle, but not meaningless - not for him, that was certain. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep through the fabric of your dress, almost as if his hand were resting on your bare skin.

Your eyes met his for a brief second, a quick, almost tentative smile passing between you, and in that heartbeat, his hand was already gone, faster than the speed of light, leaving you bare of that ephemeral touch.

As you gathered for the photo, the opening notes of “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” began to play softly in the background, filling the room with its familiar, haunting melody. Gideon chuckled, shooting you a knowing look. “Perfect timing. They’re even playing your song.”

You shot him a playful glare, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you, and as the photographer raised his camera, Hotch’s arm slipped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. His hand was warm and steady, grounding you even as your heart raced but not as fast as his. You felt his fingers press lightly against your waist, sending a shiver up your spine.

The moment felt suspended in time, the music swelling softly around you as you reached up, slipping your arm around his neck, your elbow resting lightly on his shoulder. Your other hand - on his chest, fingers gently splayed. You leaned in, your bodies naturally angling toward each other, close enough that you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and catch the faintest hint of his cologne. The warmth of his presence, the closeness - it felt far too natural, a quiet intimacy that left you almost breathless.

As you looked up at him, you caught a flicker in his eyes, something that wasn’t wrapped in the usual teasing or the shared jokes that had become your comfort zone. Instead, it was something raw, something unguarded and completely sincere, a depth that made your heart stumble.

As Rossi and Gideon drifted away, already pulled into conversation by a colleague, Hotch’s hand rested lightly on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding you. You turned to look up at him, and he met your gaze with a quiet smile, his expression carrying a hint of something more.

“So,” he started, his voice teasing. “Seems like Rossi and Gideon’s anniversary isn’t the only remarkable event happening today.”

You tilted your head, completely oblivious to what he meant. “Oh?” you replied, eyebrows raised. “What else could possibly compete with the vow renewals of our favorite BAU lovebirds?”

Hotch chuckled, shaking his head. “Today also marks your first anniversary with the BAU,” he said, his tone softening. “It’s been exactly one year since you walked into the bullpen and, by some twist of fate, ended up as my deskmate.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a flutter of warmth and something deeper spreading through you. Between the long hours, the grueling cases, and the late nights, you hadn’t even realized what day it was. But Hotch had remembered, and that simple fact made your heart skip a beat.

Before you could say anything, he picked up the glasses of whiskey you’d left on a nearby table, raising one in a silent toast. “Here’s to you, and to one hell of a year,” he said, clinking his glass against yours.

You laughed, lifting your glass, still a bit dazed. “I didn’t even realize it. I guess I owe you a toast then, for putting up with me for an entire year.”

He smirked, setting his glass down and meeting your eyes with an intensity that softened as he spoke. “Actually, I have a gift for you,” he began, a playful glint in his eyes. “It’s a little different from my usual attempts - no pens this time. I noticed you haven’t even used the last one I gave you.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of his words, and his gaze remained steady, almost vulnerable as he continued. “This gift is… well, something I think you’ll appreciate more. You’re always the one diving into these philosophical speeches, so I figured it’s about time I gave it a try. Lawyers aren’t usually the introspective types,” he added with a smirk, “but I’ve learned a few things from you.”

He took a steadying breath, as if collecting his thoughts, before he began. “You once gave me “Hegel for Dummies”, and in all my time bearing you rant about philosophy, there’s this one concept that’s stuck with me – please correct me if I’m wrong: In order to fully understand itself, a self-conscious being needs to be seen and acknowledged by another. This process of seeking recognition is central to how we grow. We aren’t just… self-contained. We become who we are through the recognition of others.”

You blinked, surprised and deeply touched as he paused, his voice softening. “That recognition - of seeing and being seen - I felt it from the first day we worked together. I knew, right then, that you were meant to be my partner.” He smiled, the words flowing with a quiet sincerity that left you breathless. “In just one year, you’ve managed to become one of the most important people in my life, even with our ongoing rivalry - who’s at the office first, who’s cracked the case, and who’s snooped into the other’s files,” he added, his grin widening. “I’ll remind you, by the way, that I’m still unbeaten in arriving first.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling your heart swell as he continued. “But you’re more than just a colleague. You’re my partner, my best friend, and tonight, I wanted you to know that you have all the recognition you’ll ever need from me.”

He held your gaze, a softness in his eyes that he rarely allowed to show. “I don’t usually talk about these things out loud, but I know how much words matter to you. So, I’ll say it once, just to make sure you don’t let it go to your head.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you, philosopher.”

The words, though lighthearted, hit you deeply, his sentiment so sincere that it brought a sudden welling of tears to your eyes. You blinked quickly, smiling as you took a shaky breath, overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude. “I love you too, lawyer,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, his hand finding your shoulder again, giving it a gentle squeeze. For a moment, neither of you spoke, simply holding each other’s gaze, the weight of the moment settling between you like a promise.

You smiled at him, but a twinge of guilt twisted in your chest. “I feel terrible, you know,” you admitted softly, lowering your gaze before looking back up into his eyes. “You remembered our anniversary, and I didn’t even think to get you anything. I mean, this day is just as much about you as it is about me. It’s our anniversary as partners, after all. I’m no better than Gideon, forgetting about Rossi a year ago,” you added, with a small, self-deprecating smile.

You paused, letting the weight of the moment settle between you. “Even if we weren’t officially partners at first, I’ve always felt this day mattered for both of us.”

Hotch’s expression softened, his gaze steady and reassuring as he took a small step closer, his hand resting on your arm. "You don’t need to give me anything," he said quietly, his voice low but filled with sincerity. "You being here, by my side, is more than enough. I couldn’t imagine what any of this would be like without you, what a day without you sitting across from me would even look like."

His words sank into you, the depth of his sentiment catching you off guard. For a man who rarely spoke about his emotions, this was as honest and open as you’d ever heard him, and it struck you deeply.

"Maybe there is one thing," he added, a small smirk lifting the corner of his mouth, breaking the seriousness just enough to ease the moment. "It’s a stupid deal, really."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity tugging at your smile. "A stupid deal?"

He nodded, his voice warm and playful, yet beneath it, you could feel the gravity of his words. "Promise me that you’ll only leave me if you get tired of me. Otherwise," he paused, eyes locking with yours in that way that made you feel like the rest of the world had faded away, "I’ll always fight to have you back - and you have to let me. Deal?"

Your heart clenched at the sincerity behind the teasing tone. It was such a simple promise, but in that moment, it felt like everything. You blinked quickly, trying to push back the emotion threatening to spill over, and you smiled, a little shakily.

"You don’t need to worry about that," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you get tired of me first."

Hotch shook his head, a small, affectionate smile pulling at his lips as he looked down for a moment before meeting your gaze again, his eyes filled with a rare, raw emotion. "I could never get tired of you," he said, his voice so quiet it felt like it was meant just for you, a secret he was letting you in on.

"Deal," you whispered, a small smile curving your lips. "But just so you know, I’m going to hold you to that."

---

JJ looked at you carefully, reading the emotion that flickered across your face. “Why did you leave the BAU? I mean, we know you left to teach, but... you and Hotch? You had something here. Don’t you miss it?”

Your heart clenched again. You missed it more than you could ever admit, even to yourself.

You don’t need to worry about that.

I’m not going anywhere.

Not unless you get tired of me first.

The fieldwork, the adrenaline, the puzzles you’d solved together.

And Hotch.

God, you missed him.

But life now felt more complicated than it did in ’99.  there was also Peter waiting for you back home. He wanted stability, a life where you could start a family and youl couldn’t just deny him that. You knew that staying at the BAU, returning to those long, chaotic hours, would mean giving that up. And Peter? He wouldn’t forgive you for it.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “I do miss it. I miss the field, the cases, all of it. But... Peter and I, we want different things. He wants to settle down. I thought teaching would give me that balance.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow. “But does it? Give you balance?”

You paused, the answer hanging in the air between you.

No, it didn’t.

Not really.

Not at all.

Teaching filled part of that void, but the truth was, your heart had never really left the BAU.

Morgan sighed, stepping closer. “I know we’ve only heard the stories, but it’s obvious you and Hotch were more than just partners in the field. You two had something special. And from what I can tell, he’s not the same without you. He doesn’t laugh like that anymore. Hell, he barely smiles.”

You being here, by my side, is more than enough.

I couldn’t imagine what any of this would be like without you,

what a day without you sitting across from me would even look like.

JJ smiled softly, “You could tell he really trusted you. And seeing the way you worked in just one day? Yeah... you’re definitely missed here.”

You glanced away, the melancholy creeping in.

You did miss the BAU.

You missed the work.

You missed him.

But could you really walk away from the life Peter wanted for you?

Could you sacrifice the chance to start a family for the pull of the field?

The silence in the room felt heavier now. The team could sense the conflict in you, the tug-of-war between your head and your heart. And as much as you tried to focus on the case, you knew that the real question was whether or not you could truly walk away from the one person who had always understood you completely.

Morgan broke the silence. “You’ve got two weeks with us, Teach. Maybe that’s enough time to figure out what you really want.” His tone was light, but the underlying message was clear.

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Maybe,” you whispered.

But deep down, a part of you had already made the decision.

All that was left was for you to recognize it.

But you couldn’t do this alone.

---

Phi's Corner: I hope the binomial unsub/victim captures how the unsub denies the victim participation in the intimate act of recognition, yet demands society’s acknowledgment instead. In contrast, the philosopher/lawyer dynamic allows both to engage fully in the process of mutual recognition. This reflects her realization: to understand she belongs back at the BAU, she needs Aaron too. Recognition falters when it’s one-sided; together, it’s complete. I hope that conveys the theme with a touch of badly written philosophy.

Repeat after me AS A FRIEND, AS A FRIEND, AS A FRIEND. It's honestly hilarious the English language doesn't have a term that differentiates platonic love with actual love. All the betterrrrrrr

P.S. Yes, a part of me wants to believe the smile Aaron had in the pic was similar to the one I've chosen for the thumbnail. Yes, I edited the color of the shirt myself. Yes, it looks horrible.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @todorokishoe24

[am-i-interrupting]

Hi! I love your Hazbin Hotel stuff and I wanted to make a request. If you haven’t done something like this, could you write the Hazbin characters, specifically Vox, Lucifer, Husk, and maybe Lute with an S/O (would prefer fem but G/N is fine) who has bad body dysmorphia? Like, they can never take compliments about their body, always thinking they’re overweight, not eating, etc. If this is too difficult/uncomfortable, totally understand! Would hate to trigger anything. Hope you have a great day/night!

If you like what I’m doing consider tipping me for priority requests & access to characters I don’t usually write for such as Charlie, Valentino, Carmilla, and more.

Husk

Husk will never compliment you in public after figuring out that you hate to be complimented.

That does not mean that he’ll never compliment you.

He will because he truly thinks you’re beautiful.

He simply elects to do it in private so he will be able to explain to you in length why he disagrees.

He wants you to understand why he loves every single thing about you.

Maybe you don’t agree but he will let you know why he thinks it’s all so beautiful.

He doesn’t try to make you love it all like he does but he will at least try to make you accept that he loves it.

Lucifer

Lucifer can’t understand why you don’t see your own beauty.

At least at first.

Then he realizes how close self loathing is close to depression and how they can often intertwine and how hypocritical it is to be so befuddled by your lack of understanding of his love of you & your body when he can’t understand how giving people free will is a good thing in any capacity and wow— he was too hard on you and himself.

Hello, something new to unpack with a therapist.

He definitely starts being more understanding after that revelation.

Not that he was ever cruel but he was a lot more insistent on how amazing you are not understanding that his insistence may not help but could make it worse.

It could make you think he was lying, covering up some hidden disdain with an over abundance of praise like he does with sinners who thank him for free will.

He’s not.

Make no mistake. He truly does love and adore you and every single part of you is amazing in his eyes but he understands.

He lets up on his pouring compliments and his combativeness over whether or not he means it.

He still compliments you but he no longer fights with you.

He just says what he thinks and then goes on, ignoring any expression of disbelief with a small, “A difference of opinion.”

Lute

You cannot dislike her partner.

Not allowed. No one can dislike her amazing partner.

Will spare with you when you disregard her compliments.

She means what she says.

Why would she waste her breath with words that weren’t true when she doesn’t have to?

Everything she says is said because she means it.

You best learn that.

Vox

No, no, no, no.

You don’t love your body? Unacceptable.

“Velvette! A photo shoot is in order right now!” “I’m busy!” “Well, clear you schedule!”

Velvette actually has a way of making you feel a bit more confident without seeming like she’s trying.

The photo shoot actually goes well even if you refuse to look at the pictures.

Of course, that doesn’t last long because Vox puts them up in his office, just too large and gigantic to ignore.

He has pictures of you everywhere because he loves looking at you.

Will kiss every part of you in front of a mirror while saying why he loves every part and forcing you to look at yourself otherwise he’ll stop. He records the entire thing to watch back later.

If you like what I’m doing consider commissioning me for canon/canon stories AND personalized canon/reader stories.

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

[lume-nosity]

celestial callings

[when celestia has managed to reconnect with you once more after all of these years, you have no other choice but to concede and return from whence you came. even if it means leaving the one you love behind and for them to grovel in despair.]

style: angst

inspo: @scarafrisbee for lending me this prompt of theirs to write out <3

ft: scaramouche, albedo

notes: not proofread, kinda half-assed and weird because i’m lazy and suffering from writer’s block, gn!reader, sucrose mention, albedo’s part is a little long

reblogs are appreciated!

scaramouche

for the first time in a long while, he thought he had something. something that can help him feel warm, at home, and most of all.. loved.

he trusted that concept to a great extent; you were someone who he holds dear and knew that you would never leave him.

but he was wrong, again. you were no different than the rest of them.

this was all because of your background in regards to your past. “i’m not surprised.” is the only thing that slips out of his mouth. he should’ve expected this sooner.

how many abandonments must he go through to understand that nobody is truly there for him?

after you’ve left and said your final goodbyes to him, all he did was stand there. devoid of all emotion as if he had any in the first place. he’s a puppet, puppets don’t have feelings right?

well, this one has feelings. and they’re genuine.

but all he could do was hang his head low with a deadpan expression, before scoffing to himself and turned to walk the opposite direction.

although it looked as if he didn’t care on the outside, deep down, there was a tinge of sadness deep within his chest that’s eating at him with every step he takes.

albedo

he received word of your departure from sucrose and at first he told her: ‘it’s not good to joke about something as important as that’ but sucrose went into more detail to further deepen his denial.

it appears he was incorrect about you.

in his head, your presence held something much more stronger that he wasn’t able to pinpoint what it was. he knew something was off about you, but he didn’t push further on the matter and thought he was over analyzing it.

which was his first and last mistake.

it led him down into a deeper rabbit hole of more questions: ‘why would this happen?’ ‘why them?’ ‘why now?’ ‘what should i do?’

more questions would grow as more answers would wilt.

he knew relationships were troublesome and they take a lot of time and energy out of him to even make one, but this one in particular he had with you was much different.

and special.

so for you to just leave him to go back to celestia completely shuts him down.

he doesn’t know how to feel about the news his assistant has told him judging from how he was standing there like a stone, cold statue. but the only hint of emotion you’re able to see from him is his eyes.

his eyes speak more than words ever could.

they may be cold on the outside, but they speak of anguish, disbelief, denial, sadness, the list could go on. and yet this is the first time he felt such emotions rush inside him all at once.

it truly hurted him.

hurted him to the point he had to excuse himself from sucrose to give him time to think about what happened.

it will take way too long for him to get over such a revelation, as it will most likely stick into the back of his mind for as long as he exists.

and he didn’t even get the chance to meet you one last time before you left.

an: hi everyone i’m kinda back with writing??? but the writer’s block is still quite heavy here because i didn’t get to write for all the characters..(sorry riri ☹️) but i wanted to write as much as i can here, so i hope this is acceptable. and i know i said i was going to make a fluff post but it looks like i didn’t, as i came back with yet another angst post. so i might pay back that debt sooner or later once something clicks in my head i promise 🙏

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 09 - Ghost]

Warnings: lots of emotional stuff, just emotions man emotions

Wordcount: 14.9k

a/n: hehe (with intent)

“Jimin? Holy shit, how? I saw you die.”

“Yeah, uhm…about that.”

You reach out and touch his chest. Hard and firm and most definitely real.

“What? How? What?" you stutter, “how? I literally saw the pile of ash.”

Jimin takes a step back, forcing your hand to slip from his chest.

“Resurrection spell. Good stuff, only works once and when done right. Fucking the brains out of a witch in secret has its advantages.”

“I think I’m gonna black out. You’re alive? All this bloody time you’ve been alive?”

Jimin scrunches his nose up in slight distaste.

“Geez, I see that you’re still dramatic.”

“No. Ohohoh no, you dickhead are not pulling that now”, you say, pointing an accusing finger at him, “you’re such a little shit, do you know that? Taehyung cried himself to sleep for months because of you and you are not going to appear here with accusations of me being dramatic.”

Jimin falters before sadness washes over his face.

“Taehyung cried because of me?”

“Yeah?” you laugh in disbelief, “maybe he shouldn’t have, given how you decided to act dead.”

“Now wait a minute”, Jimin hisses, “I was barely alive for months. You think being reborn from ash is something fun? Hell no, I’m back to ground zero.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I lost six centuries of strength.”

You snort.

“Don’t laugh”, he spits.

“I’m sorry, but this serves you so right.”

“You bitch”, Jimin gasps, blinking his eyes in disbelief, “where’s your compassion? I thought you were oh so nice.”

“Yeah, to people who didn’t try to kill me multiple times and on top of that abandoned their best friend.”

“I didn’t abandon-”, he stops himself, breathing in loudly. He raises his finger, pointing it at you vigorously, “you hah”, he laughs with fiery eyes, “you”, he steps closer, pointing his finger right at your face.

“What?”

He flicks your forehead.

“Ah. What the hell? That hurt”, you gasp, rubbing the aching spot.

“Serves you right”, he grumbles, taking a step back.

You huff out air, sending him an angry look.

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Where’s your bodyguard?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Min Yoongi. Where is he?”

“Yeah, about that”, you begin, “I may have lost him. As a matter of fact, I’m kind of lost in general.”

Jimin scoffs.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry, but this serves you so right.”

“Shut up.”

He gives you a shiteating grin, then gives you a nod of his head.

“Come with me”, he says and turns to leave.

“Excuse me? Why should I come with you? I have to find the others.”

Jimin looks over his shoulder.

“Because it’s getting dark and vampires here are different. They see an unfamiliar face wandering the streets at night and next thing you know, you’re dinner.”

“What the hell? Wait. Is this neighbourhood owned by vampires?”

“Yeah. It’s the norm here to eat humans”, he shrugs his shoulders, “now follow me, I’m hungry.”

“Well, I’m not going to follow you now.”

He groans, “fine then die here, what do I care.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Jimin turns his back to you and leaves. You watch him leave. You must be hallucinating. Jimin can’t be alive. You saw his body turn to ash. You literally watched it happening. This must be a trick of your lost, panicky brain. You are imagining stuff as your last resolve before officially losing your mind. Jimin is dead. He died a year ago. He isn’t alive. This right here never happened.

“Bonsoir.”

You turn upon hearing the unfamiliar voice to your right.

“Uuh..hello”, you greet the woman by your side. Her demeanour seemed friendly, yet her eyes as cold as ice.

She looks at your face, giving you a friendly smile.

“Oh? You speak English, thank god. I thought I needed to flex my very terrible French skills with you. Are you lost too? My name’s Stacey and I can’t find my way back to my hotel”, she says in a heavy French accent (almost as if her name wasn’t even Stacey and she was, in fact, French) and laughs shyly, “I saw you standing here that’s why I approached you. Girls helping out girls, am I right?”

“Yeah totally”, you say, eyeing her suspiciously.

“So are you lost?” she asks, still wearing her smile.

“I uhm…”

“Are you lost?” she repeats as her smile grows. She inches closer.

It makes you take a step back.

“Actually I am-”

“You are lost”, she says and her smile drops, “yes, you are lost.”

“I’m actually waiting for someone. He should be here any second.”

“Mhm okay”, her smile returns, “I’ll wait with you until he’s here.”

Then she stares, not blinking once. She stares and stares and stares and while she stares, the streets around you get darker and darker. You have figured her out by now. You know exactly what she is. The knowledge doesn’t make it easier. You are so scared. Your boys are nowhere to be found, your phone is dead so you can’t call for help, a vampire is just waiting for the sun to set behind the buildings so she can eat you and to top it all of Jimin, someone who may have helped you, is gone too. You fucked up. You fucked up big times.

“It’s getting darker”, she says and smiles again, “when is he coming?”

“He, he must be here soon.”

“Okay. Let’s wait.”

“I, I actually have to go somewhere else.”

“I will come with you.”

“I want to go alone.”

“No, you don’t. I will come with you.”

“No, it’s seriously not necessary he’ll be here any second now.”

“Yeah? I’ll just wait till he is.”

“He is Min Yoongi.”

“Yeah? I bet he is”, sarcasm drips from her voice, “I’ll just try my luck then.”

“What?”

She inches closer. You can watch the sun set behind her. Just a few more seconds and the street would be dark. You take a step back. She chases you.

“Scurry off Millicent.”

She turns her head, locking eyes with someone behind you. Awesome. Another bloodsucker just joined. You feel fearful shivers run down your spine. 

“Oh? She’s yours? I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was.”

“Well she is”, the person says and drapes his arm around your shoulders.

You turn your head, feeling a million pounds lift from your chest.

“Now leave her alone”, Jimin says and flashes his fangs.

“Of course, truly I apologize”, she says and then locks eyes with you, “I’m sorry for scaring you”, she laughs, “I didn’t know you were Jimin’s girl. Please don’t tell Yoongi about it, I promise I was just joking.”

“It’s uhm….okay?" you mumble.

The woman turns and then disappears into the night.

You sneak a glance at Jimin, who seems displeased.

“Believe me now?”

“Yeah”, you give up, huffing out air.

He scoffs, then makes you walk with a gentle push.

“Come on, my place’s not far from here.”

You follow him, clutching his waist as if your life depended on it. In a way it does. Yes, you are embarrassed about it, hoping that Jimin won’t call you out on it.

He does, sneaking a glance at you, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you hugging me?”

“I’m not”, you break away, huffing out air, “idiot.”

“Scaredy cat”, he teases, earning himself a nudge to his side.

“I wasn’t scared, okay? I was just…making sure you’re real.”

“Mh-hm sure”, Jimin scoffs and chuckles, “seriously though, why are you here?”

“I told you, I’m lost. I wanted to meet up with the others at this bar, but my phone died before I found it.”

“What bar?”

“Peony. It’s somewhere in Belleville.”

“You are so far off then. This is Quartier Latin, you’re not even on the right side of the Seine.”

“What? But I took the right bus. Or did I? What number did I get on?”

“You probably took the wrong one.”

You look around yourself, “I guess I did. Crap. I’m such a fucking mess.”

“So why didn’t you call one of them? I’m sure they’ll help you.”

“Because I don’t know how to call people”, you say sarcastically, “obviously my phone’s fucking dead, dipshit. I told you.”

Jimin lets out a lazy laugh.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not”, he says, lifting his hands in defeat.

“You don’t possess over a charger for my phone, do you?"

“What model?”

You show it to him.

“No. I actually don’t own a phone anymore.”

“Crap. This is such a mess.”

Jimin leads you into a narrow alleyway. The lights aren’t working, except for one flickering weakly above your heads. You shiver, drawing closer to him as fear fills your veins.

“Where the hell are you taking me?”

“A safe zone”, Jimin says.

“Can’t you take me to Peony?”

“No, the city’s different at night. It’s best that we stay somewhere safe until it’s daylight again.”

Just as he said the sentence, you can hear a blood curling scream behind you. You flinch, looking at Jimin with widened eyes.

“What was that?”

“I told you. The city’s different at night. Stay close, the hunt’s begun.”

“The hunt?” you gasp.

“Yeah. The vampires made a treaty with the locals here. They won’t touch humans during the day, but every human out after sundown is free food.”

“What the hell.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders.

“And the, the safe zone is really safe?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know that it is?”

“Because I live there”, Jimin says.

“Okay?”

“It’s owned by witches. Vampires can’t enter without an invitation”, he explains.

“I see. So why are you-”, another scream echoes through the streets, making you flinch, “why are you living there? Are you hiding too?”

“Maybe. The vampires here don’t know that I died.”

“Aah, I get it. If they found that you lost- eek.”

Jimin has you pressed against the wall with his hand on your mouth instantly.

“Shut up”, he hisses, “don’t say that out loud. Understood?”

You nod your head vigorously, staring into his eyes. They are glowing ruby in the darkness.

“Good”, Jimin slips his hand from your mouth, “come on, it’s past that corner”, he says in his normal voice.

A small plaza reveals itself to you once you crossed said corner. Small booths are scattered around the open place and the darkness of the night seems to disappear magically. It was still dark, but it didn’t feel dangerous anymore. A few fires in barrels were keeping the air warm, slowly dying out now that nobody was around to feed them. 

Jimin leads you over the small marketplace, walking with less tension in his shoulders.

“It feels different here”, you say.

“Yeah, we’re in the safe zone. The witches’ magic protects us now.”

“I see. Where is everyone?”

“Some are sleeping, most are hunting down vampires and healing their prey.”

“That sounds like a lot of work”, you say, “I wonder why the wolves aren’t intervening.”

Jimin sneaks a glance at you, “you met wolves?”

“Yes. The Seville pack with Yoongi today.”

“Well damn, you actually met Maël”, Jimin murmurs, clicking his tongue, “that’s actually really impressive.”

“I know, it was really cool”, you say nonchalantly, “I wonder why Maël isn’t doing anything against it.”

“Because he knows better than to fight vampires in their own territory. If he attacked us here, the peace treaty would be over and war would break out again. Trust me, nobody wants that. As long as the vampires don’t hunt in other neighbourhoods, he can’t do anything against them.”

“I see. So it’s actually as bad as Yoongi told me.”

“Yes, it is. I was present when the actual fighting happened, you know?”

“You were?” you gasp.

“Yes. Tae and I. It was in the 1820s and Maël’s grandfather was still in charge. Yoongi was present too. He was the only one who could talk to all four factories without them wanting to kill him. I think he did a lot to keep the war from spreading to other cities.”

“Who were the four factories?”

“Vampires, wolves, witches and humans. Although the humans soon gave up in trying and concentrated on fleeing instead. The witches helped them and soon only vampires and the wolves continued the war.”

“Well that’s…were you and Tae involved in the fighting?”

“For a little while until Namjoon grew bored of it and fled to Mexico with his little bitches”, Jimin says and scoffs, “that was us, by the way.”

“Well damn. I’m sorry this happened to you guys. It’s fucking awful that he had you hostage for so many decades.”

Jimin glances at you, “thanks”, he murmurs, scratching the side of his neck. He points up a metal staircase then, “my room’s up there.”

You lead the way while Jimin follows with his eyes glued to the back of your head.

“Why are you guys in Paris?” he asks you.

“We’re hunting Namjoon.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Fredrick’s men told us that he was seen in Paris, so we’re trying to find him. Yoongi and Maël are going to eradicate a big group of his followers the day after tomorrow.”

“You’re very chatty with those details, aren’t you?”

You stop and turn. Jimin stops too. Like this, you are towering over him just enough that your lips could brush against his forehead if you allowed them to. Jimin tilts his head up, facing you with confidence in his look.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask him.

“I’m just saying, I could be one of Namjoon’s spies and you are just telling me all of your plans. Aren’t you scared that I’ll rat you out?” he challenges.

You study him. His cheeks have fallen in, dark circles are under his eyes. He looks so tired and weakened by life.

“I don’t want to step on your toes, but I doubt that Namjoon would let someone with the strength of a Year One do his spy work. Especially not a Year One who went up against him. If you were still under Namjoon’s influence, you’d be his torture toy, not his spy.”

Jimin takes a sharp intake of air, releasing it in a painful shudder. He lowers his eyes.

“I hate that you’re right”, he whispers, trying to hide the tremble coursing through his body by rolling his shoulders.

“But you’re safe from him. You know that, don’t you?”

Jimin pulls a grimace of flustered distaste.

“Don’t act like you care”, he hisses, bumping his shoulder with you as he flees upstairs.

You let out a defeated sigh. You figured that he wouldn’t accept your kindness. You turn and follow him, taking two steps at a time.

He is waiting by the door, turning the keys once you are close enough.

“Come in, I guess”, he murmurs, getting inside.

You follow him. 

He closes the door behind you. Seconds later, the lights flicker on. A small room reveals itself to you. Just big enough for a double bed, a tiny kitchen and a small desk with one chair. It smells like wet walls and dust in here. Dark water spots on the greyish walls let you know why it does.

“Well damn”, you say, “I didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah, bask in my ruin all you want”, he murmurs, pressing himself past you to get to his fridge. He opens it to get a blood bag out. He bites it roughly, drinking the blood rather greedily.

You watch him as he does, finding the scene most peculiar. You can still remember how he walked into the kitchen covered in the blood of his prey or how he ripped your neck out without a care in the world. And yet here he is. Drinking cold blood in a small, dirty room.

Jimin drops the empty bag into the sink.

“What are you looking at?” he hisses.

“Nothing”, you say, breaking your eyes away to stare out the small window. The glass was fogged up from dirt, dust has collected on its wooden frame and cog webs are spanning along the corners.

“I know what you are thinking”, he hisses, “I know you think that it’s so fucking funny that someone like me ended up living in such a shithole, but save it, at least I’m alive and that’s all that matters.”

“I really wasn’t thinking that”, you say and somehow in this moment you feel bad for him.

He carries the slightest sign of embarrassment on his face, maybe even shame.

He kicks the kitchen counter quietly. Just a little nudge. The gesture reminds you of a small boy getting caught doing something he shouldn’t have done.  

“I’m taking a shower, don’t touch anything”, he says coldly and seconds later, the door slams closed.

So this is actually real. Jimin is still alive. Living in this shithole of a home and drinking blood from a blood bag. There was a time – many, many months ago – where you would have basked in his ruin. After all, he did terrible things to you. But you can’t anymore these days. You know a person broken by the world when you see one. Taehyung carries the same aura around him as Jimin does. They must miss each other so much. You have to convince Jimin to come with you. You want Taehyung to know that he is still alive. He deserves to know after the awful year he had been through.

You have just sat down on his bed when Jimin comes outside.

“Geez”, you gasp, covering your eyes quickly.

“Chill, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before”, he says, strutting past you in nothing but his towel and his hair wet.

He drops said towel a second later as he puts on his pants. You don’t notice that he does, too busy with covering your eyes. Jimin fastens the strings tightly, studying you from head to toe.

“Here.”

You gasp as a piece of fabric lands over your head. You tug it away to inspect it. A grey t-shirt. You look at Jimin, who is staring at you with his torso still bared and his arms crossed in front of it. He is leaning against the kitchen counter.

“It’s freshly washed. Use it or not, I don’t really care.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “whatever, then sleep in your clothes. Want some tea?”

“Uuuuh…sure?”

“Fine, take a shower, I’ll prepare it.”

“Uh sure?”

“Fresh towels are on the rack above the toilet.”

“Yes. Okay.”

You take a shower solely because being with Jimin in the same room feels so wrong. The water is freezing. The bathroom is tiny, offering just enough space that you don’t have to stand on top of the toilet to get clean. It is not far off however, that much can be said.

You end up wearing Jimin’s shirt because your other option would be walking outside in a towel and you are not for that life. Not with Jimin. Never.

Jimin sits on his bed, having his back turned to you so he can look out of the dirty window. Somehow a dark halo of loneliness surrounds him. Loneliness and maybe sadness as well. He is so different. Not only because his hair has turned from silver to ebony or not only because he seems to hunch these days rather than sit up straight. But in general. He doesn’t show off, he doesn’t act as if he was better than you, he doesn’t even try to look well put together. There was also this big silver mark on his back. Its edges remind you of the edges of a hole in a wall when someone punched their hand through it. The mark is on his left upper back, right where his heart would be. It makes you wonder if this has something to do with how he died.

“Are you going to stare at me any longer?” he says.

“I uh”, you break your eyes away, “I wiped down your shower with my towel.”

“Yeah”, he acknowledges you, “your tea’s on the desk.”

You eye it. It’s not in a cup, but in an empty marmalade jar. It is still steaming, carrying golden liquid.

“Thanks.”

You sit down next to Jimin. Your eyes meet. You and him break eye contact instantly, looking to the side awkwardly. You try the hot beverage. It tastes like lemon and ginger.

“The tea’s good. What brand is it?”

“I don’t know?” he scoffs, “Thea bought it, told me that it’ll do me good. I’ve been trying to use it up.”

“Well, it’s good. It has a slight lemony taste to it, don’t you think?”

“Don’t try to small talk with me. I hate nothing more than small talk.”

“What else do you want me to do? Sit here in silence?”

“It’s better than pretending that we care for each other.”

“Seriously though, how the fuck are you still alive?”

Jimin sneaks a glance at you.

“I told you, resurrection spell. Thea did it.”

“Who is Thea?”

“The leader of this coven. A witch. She did the spell”, Jimin says and points at a picture above his bed, “that’s her.”

You study the woman on the photography. Her curly hair is grey and her skin carries the marks of a well-lived, happy life.

You scoff.

“What?”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been fucking the brains out of this woman in secrecy?”

“Okay first of all, save that weird tone in your voice and second of all yes I did, what about it?”

“Nothing, you just don’t strike me as someone who-”

“-who’s into older women?” he interrupts you, “well I don’t care, I’m six hundred years old. Age becomes miniscule once you’ve seen too many people around you age and die. I’ve known her since her twenties.”

“I actually wanted to say that you don’t strike me as someone who is into witches.”

Jimin scoffs, turning his head away from you. He takes a sip of his tea, pulling a grimace as if the taste doesn’t please him.

“Did it hurt?” you ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“Coming back to life.”

“Imagine finally feeling nothing until all of a sudden, it feels as if you are being burned alive but it’s in reverse. So it starts off so unbearable that you want to scream but you can’t because your voice’s been burned too and then suddenly you wake up and you feel and it’s fucking awful because you’re alive again.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds awful.”

“Save it, I know you don’t mean it.”

“No, I do.”

Jimin scoffs.

“Is the silver mark on your back connected to the spell?” you ask him, sneaking a glance at his chest. The mark is there as well, spanning over the spot where his heart was supposed to be.

Jimin touches it, jaw tightening in emotion, “I guess”, he whispers.

“It’s where he…you know, isn’t it?”

He nods his head.

“Does it still hurt?”

He shakes his head and sneaks a glance at you.

“What?” he hisses, “just touch it if you keep fucking staring at it and stop being so nosy.”

You reach out. Hesitation. A fleeting look into his eyes.

“Touch it”, he insists.

You place your fingertips against the mark. His skin is cold like that of a vampire consuming cold blood, but the silver mark is icy. Merely tracing it for a few seconds makes your skin sting as if you got frostbite. You gasp, moving your hand away.

“It’s ice cold.”

“Yeah. You’re happy now?”

You reach out again, tracing the mark along its edge. Just enough not to hurt yourself, but still enough to feel it. His skin feels calloused and rough in contrast to his otherwise soft skin. As if someone placed silver leaves on his skin, the marks span against the ivory background. In a twisted way it looks beautiful, if it wasn’t the reminder of his death.

You pull your hand away, brushing your fingertips over his skin involuntarily as you do. Your eyes flit up. Jimin is looking at you, fingers clutching the jar and eyes racing between yours in suspicious nervousness.

“I think the mark is beautiful.”

“Beautiful? Why is it beautiful? It’s fucking hideous. Look at it. It’s the reminder that I fucking died.”

“I know and that’s why it’s awful that you have to carry it, but I think it’s beautiful in the sense that it shows that you were brave in your last moments.”

Jimin looks at you with widened eyes.

“You could have fled with Tae, but you chose to go up against your abuser and I think that’s really brave”, you say.

Jimin clenches his jaw.

“Thank you for keeping Taehyung safe”, you whisper.

“Shut up”, he hisses.

“I’m serious. I know you died protecting him and I just want to tell you that it means the world to Tae.”

Jimin lowers his head.

“And that he wishes you peace.”

“Fuck”, he presses out, covering his eyes quickly, “shut the fuck up”, he spits.

“I’m sorry, I know I should be quiet”, you whisper, considering whether or not you should reach out and comfort him. You decide against it, using your hands to lift the jar to your lips instead.

Jimin takes a deep breath, releasing it oh so shakily. Then he drops his hand from his eyes, looking at the moon outside. Dark clouds are covering it, keeping the light away from him. Perfect for his fucking life, he thinks. Darkness and no light. That’s just his life summed up.

“I’ll leave tomorrow”, you say.

“Good, I would have thrown you out either way.”

“Tzt”, you send him a look then look back outside, “you should come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because Taehyung misses you.”

“He’s better off that way.”

“No he’s not. I know you guys. You miss him too.”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s still better off without me.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes he is.”

“Holy fuck, you stubborn idiot. Taehyung has barely been functioning in grief ever since you died. He’s not better off without you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been taking care of him. He talks in his sleep you know?”

Jimin looks at you.

“He doesn’t know that I know, but I do because he wakes me up with it. He dreams about you, it’s always the same dream. About you coming back to life and it’s always the same thing he says. Jimin, you’re back. Jimin please don’t ever leave me again. It’s always the same thing.”

Jimin lowers his eyes sadly.

“And if it’s not that dream, he dreams about dying. It’s what he wants to do. To die. He tells me in his sleep.”

Jimin’s eyes fill with tears.

“And I know him. He says that I’m the person he can’t live without, but that’s a lie. I know that Tae also knows that that’s a lie. You’re the person he can’t live without, because I’ve been with him as he tried and it’s not working.”

Jimin spills his tears, lowering his head.

“Fuck”, he presses out, “fuck. What do you want me to say?” he hisses.

“Just that you’ll come with me.”

“Fuck”, he presses out, running his fingers through his own hair.

“Do it for Tae please. You’ll regret it if you don’t. We won’t be in town for long anymore. Just till Wednesday. Come with me please and show yourself to Tae.”

“What should I even say to him?”

“Nothing. Just give him a hug and promise him that you’re back.”

He grinds his teeth in contemplation.

“Fine”, he gives in, blinking the glassiness in his eyes away, “I’ll come with you.”

He stands up then.

“Where are you going?” you ask him.

“For a walk. I need to think.”

“You’re not running away, are you?”

“No?” he hisses, “that’s my place, why should I run away from it?”

You shrug your shoulders.

Jimin scoffs.

“Don’t wait for me”, he says, locking the door behind him afterwards.

You won’t see Jimin for the rest of the night. He comes back, but you have long fallen asleep when he does. So he stares. He stares at you sleeping in his bed with his shirt on and his blanket keeping you warm and for just a second he wonders what would happen if he did it now. If he broke your neck right this instant and then fled the scene, could he live a good life? He thinks of it and then thinks of how heartbroken Taehyung would be because now he not only lost his best friend but his lover too. That is the moment when Jimin turns away from the bed and decides to go for another walk. One which will take the entire night and keep his thoughts from suffocating him.

The smell of tea wakes you the next morning. You sniffle happily, expecting blue sheets and blues walls and the beautiful face of your boyfriend as he is waiting for you with breakfast in bed. You smile, peeling your eyes open. You are so ready to smooch him.

“Huh?”

There is no breakfast waiting for you. Nor are there blue sheets or blue walls. And especially not Yoongi’s handsome face.

“Finally.”

You turn upon hearing the unfamiliar voice. For just a second you startle until everything comes back to you. Jimin is sitting on the chair, having his legs crossed. Jeans adorns his legs and an oversized hoodie is keeping his torso covered. The clothes don’t go together and look as if he found them at places he would have never shopped at in the past. Even his shoes seem to be passed down to him by a stranger.

“You scared me.”

“Why? Forgot I’m alive?”

“Yeah”, you say, sitting up, “holy fuck, Jimin. You’re alive.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so dramatic”, he says coldly, “get dressed. I don’t want you here any longer, the sheets already stink of you.”

You roll out of bed, inching closer to the desk on which a single jar of black tea was waiting for you. Judging by the teabag in the sink, Jimin was the one making it for you.

“Thank you for the tea, I’m so cold.”

Jimin eyes your neck, “same”, he says dryly, making you hide your neck behind your hand.

“Don’t look at me that way.”

He rolls his eyes, sighing loudly.

“That woman really thinks so highly of herself”, he murmurs to himself, “relax girl, I don’t want to be anywhere near your neck”, he says and stands up, “let’s go downstairs. I’ll bring you back to the others.”

“Yes, uhm. Can I at least put on my clothes?”

He runs his eyes up and down your exposed legs.

“Sure”, he says and turns. He leaves you in the small room with the tea he made for you and so many confusing feelings in your chest. Jimin is really back, isn’t he? Well damn.

You get dressed quickly, taking the jar of tea with you.

Jimin is waiting for you in front of the door, studying you from head to toe again.

“Can we go?” he asks.

“Yes. We can.”

The plaza is bustling with life this morning. The fire in the barrels has been distinguished, except for one. A group of people is gathered by it, cooking what you assume to be food. The small booths are open, presenting the most beautiful of handmade treasures.

“Good morning, Jimin. Who is that lovely lady by your side?” an elderly lady greets him and a few other heads turn as well. You know that lady from the photograph. She must be Thea. She looks even happier than she did on the picture.

“___, old friend. She stayed here tonight.”

“I see, I see. Tell me ___, did you eat already?”

“She’s not hungry”, Jimin says, trying to tug you away by your elbow.

“Actually I am”, you say loudly, “I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

Jimin huffs out air, sending you an annoyed look.

“Oh dear”, the lady claps into her hands, “then come here and eat with us. We just finished preparing breakfast.”

“I would love to”, you wiggle out of Jimin’s grasp, “thank you so much.”

The lady, you assume to be Thea, welcomes you by placing her hands on your arms. She seems to space out for a moment before her eyes fill with great grievance.

“Oh dear, you have seen a lot of grief haven’t you?” she asks.

“I’m sorry?” you gasp.

“Dear child”, she caresses your arms, “don’t you worry, you won’t have to worry about vampires here. Well”, she looks at Jimin, “except for him, but he wouldn’t dare to act up”, she says and snickers.

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but who are you? How did you do that?” you ask.

“My name’s Theanna, but most people call me Thea. I’m the leader of this coven here.”

“A coven. So you are all witches?”

She laughs fondly, as do the people having gathered around you by now.

“Of course we are my dear and we’re the reason your friend here is still alive.”

You look at Jimin. He seems annoyed, sending Thea a dark look.

���You look as if you have seen your first witch”, a younger witch says, showing you a friendly smile.

“I have”, you say, “I only heard of you guys and I read many of your spellbooks in my freetime, but I never met someone who can actually use magic. This is so cool, I can’t believe you guys are real. I’m sorry if this sounded weird, but I’m really excited.”

They laugh fondly, gathering around as they lead you to their little dining area. You feel safe in their circle, welcomed and as if you had always been a member of their family.

“Can I ask you a really stupid question?”

“Of course my dear. Every question is allowed.”

“Do you use brooms to fly around?”

Laughter roars in the small alleyways, filling it up with light and honesty.

“Oh you are wonderful”, Thea snickers, “no, we don’t fly on brooms, but we can enchant them to do our chores for us.”

“Okay that’s so cool”, you mumble.

One of the witches hands you a wooden bowl filled with warm soup. It smells like mushrooms and potatoes.

“Here you go”, she says, handing you a piece of bread and a wooden soup spoon as well.

“Thank you so much. It smells amazing.”

“Hopefully it is”, the witch says with a warm smile. She begins handing out soup to everyone, sitting down next to Jimin once everyone was taken care of.

There were around twenty witches gathered around the barrel. Fifteen of them are women and young girls, while the rest are men. They all carried a certain trustworthy familiarity with them. You feel safe eating their food and you feel encouraged to engage in small talk.

“Jimin told me that you tried to help in the hunt last night. I know, you don’t know me, but I hope that nobody got hurt”, you say.

Thea’s eyes soften, “you are very nice, my dear. Thankfully nobody got hurt last night. Eric escaped with a scratch, however it is nothing our ointments can’t fix.”

You look at the man opposite of you. There was a deep cut on his dark skin, stretching all the way over his inner upper arm.

“That looks painful. I hope you’re okay”, you tell him.

“I am”, he says and sends you a sweet smile. He looks at Thea, they exchange a little chuckle.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be so nosy”, you apologise.

“Not at all”, Thea assures you.

You take a few bites of the soup. It tastes so good. Creamy and hearty and as if it was made with lots of love. The bread is tasty as well. The crust crunches as you bite into it and the inside is fluffy and full of flavour. It goes perfectly with the earthy taste of mushrooms and the soft chewiness of the potatoes.

“My grandma partook in witchcraft as well. So meeting actual witches feels very exciting to me”, you explain.

“What? Your grandma was a witch?” Jimin gasps, showing honest interest in the conversation. Before that, he merely stared at the ground in brooding.

The witches seems even more interested in you as well, studying you with curious eyes.

“I don’t think that she was an actual witch, but she knew how to heal people with herbs and always told me that she can speak with her animals”, you say, giggling shyly, “I know it must sound like the talk of a crazy lady to you guys.”

“Not at all. There are various practices of witchcraft in this world. Perhaps your grandmother practiced nature magic”, Thea says.

“Nature magic?”

She nods her head, “witches, who practice nature magic most often than not use their magic to heal nature and its creatures. They help plants grow, keep the environment healthy and in return the plants offer their healing powers to them. And many can speak with animals.”

“Wow. Wait”, you scoot closer to her, “so you are telling me, that my grandma could have actually been a witch?”

“Perhaps. And if not, there was a possibility that she knew of our practices just like you do. She must have taught you a lot.”

“Oh no, I learned all of this in books. I wasn’t really allowed to talk about witchcraft with my grandma. My mother always told me that she was crazy and forbid me from seeing her very often.”

“Oh? I’m sorry to hear that, my dear”, Thea says and touches your hand.

She zones out again before she begins to smile.

“Your grandmother loved you a lot”, she says.

“How are you always doing this?” you feel the need to whisper the question.

“Thea possesses the gift of sight”, Eric explains.

“The gift of sight? So you can see my past?”

“Past, future and present. I can see things which were and which could happen, just as I can see things which are currently happening”, she says.

“That’s remarkable. Can every witch do that?”

“No, only a few can see what happens. And even less can decipher the visions. One has to decide whether the pictures are of the past, present or future.”

“I see. That sounds like such a good gift to have once you know how to control it.”

Thea nods her head, “this is also how I knew that Jimin died. I had a vision of him turning into dust.”

You look at Jimin. He seems bored by the conversation.

“Woah.”

He lets out a loud sigh, “enough stories, Thea. ___ wants to go home”, he says.

“No, I actually like the stories”, you say.

Jimin lets out a little snarl.

The witches snicker in amusement.

“No, but Jimin is right my dear. You should go home before vampires find out that you are here. They don’t like strangers in their territory”, Thea says.

“I guess you are right. Let me just finish the soup, it tastes so good that I don’t want to miss out on one bite.”

You eat one more serving before finally getting up to leave. Thea told you more stories about their fight against the vampires of this city while you asked questions about how magic works. Jimin sat and listened if he wanted to or not. He finally lifts his head once you stand up and help Maria – the witch who handed out the food – clean up.

“Are you done?” he asks you

“Yes. Thank you, everyone. I had such a great time talking to you.”

“The pleasure was all ours. It isn’t everyday that we meet the granddaughter of a nature witch”, Eric says, making you smile.

“So you will be taking Jimin from us today”, Thea says.

You laugh shyly, “I guess”, sneaking a glance at Jimin to check for his reaction.

He rolls his eyes like he always does. You wonder if there will ever come a day where his eyes get stuck from all the rolling he is doing.

“I’ll be back soon, don’t worry”, Jimin says, touching your elbow, “you good to go? Don’t wanna waste any more time.”

“Yes, I’m good. Thank you everyone for hosting me, I seriously had so much fun here.”

“I hope that you’ll be back again one day”, Thea says, smiling brightly.

“Me too.”

You and Jimin leave afterwards, walking to the bus station side by side. He keeps his distance, hiding his hands in the pockets of his pants and kicking the occasional pebble.

“Are you taking me to the bar?” you ask him.

“Knowing Min Yoongi, it’s where he’ll look for you”, he says.

“Yes, that’s right. I really hope that he isn’t too worried”, you say and sigh sadly, "what am I talking about? Of course he’ll be worried. Poor Yoongi."

Jimin studies your face for just a second, wondering why your heart skipped a beat at the thought of the Creator. He dismisses it with a shake of his head. He doesn’t really care about it.

“The witches were so nice”, you say, “I really liked talking to them.”

“I noticed. Why did you ask so many questions?”

“Why not?”

“It’s nosy.”

“It’s not nosy. I rather ask many questions and educate myself than live in simplicity. Only through knowledge you can stop having mean and untrue prejudices about others.”

He clicks his tongue, “I hate that you’re right.”

You step on the right bus and choose an empty seat by the window. Jimin stands, looking outside whilst acting as if he doesn’t know you.

“Do you want to sit next to me?” you offer, “the seat’s still empty.”

“No, I’m good standing”, he answers you, sneaking a quick glance at you.

“Okay, suit yourself.”

Despite his efforts, he ends up sitting next to you after a group of guys entered the bus and looked at you weirdly.

“Changed your mind?”

“Those guys are vampires”, he tells you.

You eye them. They aren’t particularly looking at you, more than that they are looking at every human on this bus with hunger in their eyes.

“Well, then thank you for keeping me safe.”

“Whatever.”

The bus sways from left to right, the city passes you in streaks of different pictures and sceneries.

“I can’t believe that I took the wrong bus yesterday. It should have been so obvious to me”, you mumble.

“It happens. The city’s really big and if you don’t know it well, you can get lost”, Jimin says.

“Yes, you’re right. The city’s really nice”, you say, glancing at him, “Yoongi says that it’s a rancid city, but I think it’s nice.”

Jimin wonders again why your heart is speeding up at the mention of Yoongi. He doesn’t ask.

“I guess”, Jimin shrugs his shoulders, “it was nicer once.”

“I can imagine. Tae told me that you spend many years in Paris. Not just with Namjoon, but just the two of you as well. That must have been really nice.”

“Yes. It was”, Jimin whispers, touching the side of his neck.

“I’m really excited for you guys to meet again”, you give him a smile.

Jimin retorts it hesitantly.

You let out a content sigh, relaxing back against the seat and letting your eyes flit outside. It feels nice to know that Taehyung can finally get his happiness back. You never thought it possible, so knowing that it is makes you really happy. You are also very excited to see the others again. They must have been so worried for you. Gosh, you missed them all like crazy.

The bus comes to a slow stop.

“Let’s go”, Jimin says, leading the way outside and to the right bus.

“So that would have been the right one. I’m so dumb”, you mumble. You and Jimin sit down again and continue the journey you should have taken yesterday. “Do you know Peony?”

“Yes. It has good wine”, Jimin says.

“It has? Did you and Tae go there together?”

“Stop trying to talk to me”, Jimin hisses, “I’m just taking your dumb ass to Yoongi and that’s all.”

“And you are coming with me to meet Tae again”, you furrow your brows, “don’t forget that, understood?”

“Whatever”, Jimin dismisses you and turns his head away.

“I’m serious”, you say, nudging his arm.

“Yes. I understood you the first time”, he mumbles and for the rest of the drive you are both silent.

You were right about where the bar was located. Only a few hundred meters of walking and you can spot the purple peonies logo. And right underneath it with distraught on his face, Yoongi is standing. You begin smiling. He is here. Your Yoongi is here.

You feel like bursting with happiness.

“Yoongi!” you call out and start running.

He turns, eyes widening.

“Princess, holy fuck princess”, he is by your side within seconds, picking you up in his arms and twirling your bodies around quickly. He laughs loudly, beaming up at you with tears streaming down his face, “you’re back. My princess, you’re back”, he presses out and sobs.

“I’m back, my prince”, you choke out, “don’t cry, I’m okay.”

“I, I can’t help it. I was so worried for you”, he stutters in a whiney voice, pouting terribly sadly.

“I know, gosh my love, I’m here now”, you say, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“Oh, love”, Yoongi chokes out, lowering you closer to him so he can begin littering your face in a million kisses, “my princess, oh my princess. I was worried sick”, he chokes out between his excessive kisses, “I’ve been looking for you all night, oh my ___.”

“I missed you too, oh Yoongi”, you say, melting under his kisses. Now you are finally safe again. Yoongi nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and begins kissing you.

“Holy fuck, where were you?” he says, inhaling your scent deeply.

“Yoongi, I was so dumb”, you say, resting your cheek on his shoulder, “first my phone died and, and then I took the wrong bus and I ended up somewhere I was never before and, and then every cab ignored me and then it became dark and vampires wanted to eat me and I was so lost.”

“Wait a minute, slow down princess, slow down”, Yoongi sets you down, cupping your face, “vampires wanted to eat you? Who was it? Where are they?” he asks, furrowing his brows in anger, “did you see their faces? I’ll fucking kill them.”

“No it’s okay Yoongi, I’m alright”, you say, holding his cheeks and wiping his tears away, “I’m back again.”

Yoongi’s eyes soften.

“Oh princess”, he whispers, pulling you close to litter your face with kisses again.

You giggle, “that tickles, god Yoongi, that tickles.”

He hums, leaving even more kisses on your face whilst pulling you closer. You stumble, ending up with Yoongi tilting your body back and attacking you with big smooches.

“Yoongi, stop that tickles”, you squeal happily.

“Oh princess”, he presses out, straightening your bodies up so he can nuzzle his nose into your cheek, “I was going crazy in worry��, he confesses with a shaky voice, “don’t scare me like that ever again”, he says, resting his forehead against yours.

“I was really worried too, I just wanted to be with you again.”

“Fuck ___, my beloved princess”, he says, pulling you into a deep kiss.

You kiss him back happily, hooking your arms behind his head just to pull him closer. It feels so good to be with him again.

He sighs, having to press you oh so close to make sure that you won’t slip out of his grasp again. It is a kiss he would never show in public and yet right this moment it is all he wanted to do. Doesn’t matter who sees, he has you back with him again, unharmed and safe and he is bursting in relief.

He rests his cheek on your shoulder after the kiss, hugging you so tightly that you can feel how comfort engulfs you again. Now you are truly home again. Now you are back where it’s the warmest.

“I’m so happy to be back, Yoongi.”

“Me too, princess”, he gives your waist a soft squeeze, “you’re not going to leave again.”

You chuckle, “mhm honestly, I kind of don’t want to either way.”

“Good”, he lifts his head, gazing at you with lovedrunk eyes, “oh princess”, he whispers, reaching out to trace your features, “I’m so sorry for letting you go alone. I should have stayed by your side.”

“It’s okay, I don’t blame you. I was being a total scatterbrain”, you confess, “but Yoongi, I have to tell you something. When I was wandering the streets I met someone.”

“Who did you meet?” he seems wary.

“Yoongi, you won’t believe it but he’s not dead.”

“Who?”

“Ji-”, you stop talking now that you turned around and realised that Jimin was gone, “huh? What the hell? He is supposed to be here.”

Yoongi scans the empty streets, pulling you closer to him just in case.

“Who are you talking about, princess?”

You turn, looking into his eyes.

“Jimin. I ran into Jimin and, and he let me sleep at his place and he, uhm, he kept me safe from the vampires”, you say, “what the hell, he is supposed to be here. He promised me that he would stay and, and meet Tae.”

Yoongi furrows his brows in both confusion and distaste.

“Jimin can’t be alive. I saw his ashes.”

“Yes I know”, you exclaim, widening your eyes, “but he’s alive, Yoongi!” you laugh, “a witch resurrected him again and now he’s living together with the witches in their safe zone.”

Yoongi touches your forehead.

“Hey”, you move your head away, “don’t act like this.”

“Like how?”

“As if you think I’m crazy in a fever. I’m serious, Jimin’s still alive.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes”, you say, nodding your head vigorously, “I stayed the night with him and ate with him and his witch friends. I know what I saw.”

“But he died.”

“Smell me”, you say, offering your neck to him, “really smell me.”

Yoongi leans in and sniffles at your neck and shoulder.

“I smell like him, don’t I?”

He nods his head, looking at you with furrowed brows. He looks confused.

“See? I’m not lying.”

Yoongi inhales deeply, looking at the sky. His eyes race from left to right as he is thinking your words over. He exhales.

“Well fuck”, he says, scratching the side of his neck in contemplation, “let’s not tell Taehyung for now.”

“What? Why? He needs to know.”

“Yes he does, but not yet.”

“But this is so mean. All Tae wants is to be reunited with Jimin again. You know that as well as I do.”

“I do princess, but please listen to me.”

You close your mouth for now.

Yoongi is caressing your arms as he speaks, keeping his voice calm.

“Taehyung has just begun to smile again and we shouldn’t give him false hopes by telling him that Jimin is alive.”

“But why?”

“Because clearly Jimin doesn’t want him to find out or why did he run right now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he got scared that you’d rip his head off or something.”

“I mean, it’s not that I’m not considering”, Yoongi murmurs, earning himself a nudge to his chest.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. He deserves a good beating for what he did to you.”

“I know, but…my prince, can’t you come with me and find him? I want to tell Taehyung, but you are right, we should do it once we find out what Jimin’s intentions are.”

“No, we should leave”, he says and pushes you softly to get you to move.

“Please, Yoongi”, you stop him from leaving by placing your hands on his chest.

He studies your features.

“What are you even going to tell him?”

“I don’t know, just ask him why he doesn’t want to see Tae.”

Yoongi grinds his teeth, looking to the side in contemplation. So you step closer, hugging his middle and resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“Please, Yoongi Boongie?”

“You’re cheating”, he whines, “you can’t hug me like that.”

You giggle, squeezing him gently.

“You know that I’m down for every method.”

“Yeah, I know”, he whispers, leaning in just to give your cheek a little bite.

“Ah, hey”, you gasp, “don’t bite me.”

He grins boyishly, “it’s what you get for being a cheater.”

“So mean”, you mumble, giving him a pout as you rub the spot he bit.

Yoongi’s eyes soften, head tilting to the side as he gazes, “I’ll come with you, alright?” he whispers, caressing your waist.

“Yes, wow. Thank you, Yoongi Boongie”, you say, smooching his cheek even if that flusters him big times.

“Yeah, yeah just lead the way”, he mumbles, letting you drag him down the streets.

You board the bus together. Yoongi lets you take the seat by the window while he claims the spot by the aisle. He drapes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. The gesture is very untypical of him and so you sneak a glance at him. He notices, looking at you.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing, you’re just normally not that affectionate in public.”

“Tch”, he clicks his tongue, trying and failing to pull his arm away because before he can, you intertwine your fingers with him.

You grin, resting your head against him.

“I like that”, you tell him.

Yoongi hums, closing his arm around you to begin running his hand up and down your upper arm. He won’t tell you, but he is that affectionate because he almost lost you last night and now he never wants to let you go again. You won’t slip out of his hands again, Yoongi is making sure of that by holding you oh so close.

“Thank you for coming with me”, you say, lifting your head in order to look at him better.

“Yeah well, you left me no choice, didn’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask in a chuckle.

Yoongi sends you a glance, “you wouldn’t have accepted a no, would you?”

“Maybe yeah”, you grin when Yoongi gives you his signature frown. The kind that tells you that he thinks you’re being a little brat right now.

“See? That’s why I came with you, so you can’t run off again”, he murmurs dryly, earning himself a quick smooch on his cheek. He doesn’t let it show, but it flusters him.

“You won’t regret it. We’re almost there”, you tell him, “he’s living with a coven. Their leader’s name is Thea, do you know her?”

“Not well, but yes I do.”

“Does she like you?”

Yoongi shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know. I never hurt her.”

“Well, then she’ll like you. She’s really nice. She told me so much about magic. Did you know that there are different types of witches depending on how you gained your power?”

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s so fascinating, don’t you think?”

“Mhm sure”, Yoongi nods his head, making you grin.

“Oh!” you exclaim, “that’s our stop. Get up Boongie, we have to leave”, you tell him once you reached your true end stop, pushing at him gently to get him to move.

Yoongi does so with a little grumble, allowing you to drag him out of the bus and over the street.

“Did you even check for cars?” he asks you.

“Yeah”, you dismiss him, dodging a group of people and then turning on your heels to grin at him.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“It’s just that this feels almost as if we’re on a date”, you snicker, “should we make good on your promise and make out on the Eiffel Tower?”

“What promise?” Yoongi tries to sound annoyed but ends up smiling when you tug him closer and drape his arms around your waist.

“The thing you promised me on the meadow. You know? When you told me how romantic that would be and that you wouldn’t want anything else. Especially not making out in a hotel room.”

“You and me both know that this is not what I said”, Yoongi says, caressing the small of your back softly.

You giggle, scrunching your nose up, “but you wanted to say it, admit it.”

Yoongi merely grumbles a “whatever” then leans in to kiss your cheek, “just get moving, brat.”

He pushes you softly. You snicker, turning back around in order to walk next to him, holding his hand tightly.

“You know that I’m just teasing you, don’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re a brat.”

“Admit it, you love it.”

Yoongi answers you by giving you a look from the corner of his eyes and tugging you into him wordlessly to drape his arm over your shoulders. You snake your arm around his waist, holding him close that way. You really love this right now. This is what you needed after last night. Frolicking through the alleyways of a small Parisian neighbourhood with Yoongi by your side. You weren’t lying when you told him that this feels like being on a date, because it does. You and Yoongi rarely walk the streets together, especially not as close as you are right now. Maybe getting lost last night had its advantages. You know that come tomorrow, Yoongi won’t be as affectionate in public anymore. You ought to take advantage of it for as long as possible.

You pass by the little shop where the vampire almost ate you last night. It looks so welcoming now that the sun was shining. It is a clothing shop, the clothes seem handmade and of high quality.

“That’s where I bumped into Jimin last night”, you tell him, “I can’t believe how close to the right bus stop I already was. Goddamn, I would have just had to keep walking and then take the right bus again.” You look at Yoongi’s side profile. “That’s also where that vampire almost ate me.”

Yoongi’s eyes are on you instantly, dark in worry and anger.

“Don’t tell me that, it’s making me murderous”, he hisses.

“I’m sorry, gosh I just wanted to tell you”, you gasp, “don’t worry, Yoongi. I’m really fine. Jimin told me that there are different rules in this neighbourhood and that the vampires living here made a treaty with the locals that once it’s dark outside and a human is still out, they can eat them and in return, they leave the locals alone during the day. I think the vampire thought that I was a tourist.”

Yoongi sighs in annoyance, “I don’t know why our kind always has to make those stupid treaties. Can’t they simply control themselves?”

“Agreed, it’s a little weird.”

“It’s more than weird”, he grumbles, “just come and show me where that bastard lives, I don’t like you being here.”

“It’s just down that block. Follow me, it’s not far now”, you say and lead the way with Yoongi holding you oh so tightly, “did you know that this is one of the neighbourhoods still owned by vampires?”

“Yes”, Yoongi says, sending a random woman a murderous glance over the street.

She stops in her steps and gasps, turning on her heels to hurry away.

“Did she just flee?” you ask.

“Yes and if she has something in her brain, she’ll tell her friends to do the same”, he says and as if on command a few people in front of you flee after spotting Yoongi.

“You’re so cool”, you whisper, feeling oh so safe to walk on these streets.

“Mhm”, Yoongi acknowledges you, darkening his eyes as you pass two strangers. They push and pull at each other as they are trying to flee. In the end, they disappear in a narrow alleyway, never to be seen again.

“Do they all know who you are?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously, you’re so goddamn cool”, you whisper with a fluttering heart.

Yoongi smirks lazily, pulling you closer.

Just like this morning, the plaza is filled with witches. Tourists and locals have joined them now that it is bright outside, gathering in front of their booths of goods and chatting about all sorts of things. Maria notices you first, nudging Thea, who makes it her task of welcoming you.

“___” she calls out, hurrying to you with open arms, “you are back so soon. What happened?”

“Hello Thea, I’m back because Jimin bailed on me. Is he here?”

“Yes, upstairs in his room”, Thea answers you then studies Yoongi by your side, “it’s been decades, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, you haven’t changed much Thea”, Yoongi greets her.

She laughs, throwing her head back, “and I see that you became a liar”, she says, giving him a playful smile, “I changed too much. You however, still look the same, but then something seemed to have changed with you”, she steps closer, studying his features so intently that Yoongi feels the need to look to the side, “you’re in love”, she exclaims and smiles, looking at you, “of course, how could I not see this sooner? Oh look at me! I’m getting old, the visions are so clear now!”

Yoongi grumbles something inaudible, looking to the side with burning cheeks. You snicker, giving his waist a little pinch.

“Just lead us to Jimin, Thea”, he tries to sound angry, but the shyness is obvious in his voice.

“He’s upstairs. Come on in, Yoongi.”

Yoongi takes the step through the magical barrier.

“Follow ___ she knows her way. I’m at my booth if you need me”, Thea says and places her hand on Yoongi’s arm. She zones out for just a second then begins to smile, “you will make her very happy and in return find peace. I can see it clearly.”

Yoongi pulls his arm away, eyes widened in shock.

After granting you one sweet smile, Thea turns and hurries back to her booth, catching up Maria on the whole situation.

You glance at Yoongi, who seems to be frozen on the spot. His hand is pressed to his chest, right where his heart once beat. His eyes are big and his lips are parted. He looks beyond flabbergasted.

“Yoongi?”

He flinches, eyes flitting to you. He blinks rapidly.

“Yeah?”

“Are you coming?” you ask him, tugging at his arm gently.

“Yeah uh”, he stumbles after you, still staring at Thea as if he was trying to make sense of what she just told him.

“It’s really cool that she can see the future, isn’t it?”

Yoongi nods his head, looking at you shyly. You smile.

“I believe her, you know?”

He looks away, touching the side of his neck.

You giggle, hugging his arm, “now come on, let’s get Jimin and then get out of here.”

Just as you had thought, Jimin doesn’t open his door when you knock. Even when you tell him that you know that he is in there, the door stays locked.

“Let me”, Yoongi says, pushing you to the side gently to get to work. He wraps his fingers around the doorknob and with one easy twist the lock breaks. He pushes the door open, “after you.”

“You are so cool”, you mumble, entering Jimin’s room.

The latter is staring at you with widened eyes.

“What the hell? How did you do that?” he squeaks out.

“Why did you leave?” you ask him.

“Why are you breaking into my room?” he throws back, eyes flitting to Yoongi who just this moment takes the spot behind you. He stumbles back in shock, lifting his hands in defence, “please no. Don’t hurt me, please”, he gets out, looking scared.

“Well fuck”, Yoongi says, eyes racing over Jimin, “you were right.”

“I know I was”, you say.

Yoongi scoffs.

“Don’t hurt me”, Jimin says, “I’m serious, just leave me alone please. I, I promise not to cause trouble.”

“He’s not here to hurt you”, you say, placing your hand on Yoongi’s chest, “we’re here to get you. You promised me that you would see Tae again.

Jimin looks at your hand on Yoongi’s chest and Yoongi’s arm around your waist.

“No oh my god, seriously?” he groans and rolls his eyes, “now I get why your heart kept racing whenever you thought of Yoongi. You guys are a thing now!”

“We aren’t just a thing. She’s my girlfriend”, Yoongi hisses.

Jimin snorts, giving Yoongi an amused smirk.

“No need to get so feisty Min Yoongi, we won’t want you getting too emotional now”, he teases with a mischievous grin.

“Can I punch him?” Yoongi asks you, “just once I want to punch him.”

Jimin snickers.

“Later”, you say.

“Hey!” Jimin complains, “what the hell?”

You ignore him, “come back like you promised.”

“No, I changed my mind. He’s better off without me.”

“Jimin, come on.”

“No, I made up my mind. I’m staying here.”

You sag your shoulders in defeat.

“Okay good”, Yoongi says, trying to get you to move with a gentle nudge, “seems that he made up his mind, let’s leave princess.”

“Give me a minute, please”, you insist, wiggling yourself out of his soft hold, “Jimin, come on.”

Jimin sneaks a glance at you, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not scared. What are you on about?”

“Of course you’re scared, I can see that you are.”

Jimin shakes his head, scoffing loudly.

“Are you scared that Taehyung won’t want you back anymore?”

Jimin stays silent, tensing his jaw.

“Well, you won’t get your answer here, brooding in self-pity.”

“I’m not pitying myself.”

“No, of course not.”

“Can you leave me alone? Piss off and suck a cock, will you?”

“Jimin”, you speak patiently, “just come with us.”

“No!” he exclaims, whipping around to gawk at you with widened eyes, “I don’t want to come back, I don’t know what to say! I goddamn left him for months. I can’t face him. What if he’ll never forgive me? What if he says that I’ll always stay dead to him?”

“That won’t happen, I promise you. Tae misses you like crazy.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you’re his best friend, for fuck’s sake and he loves you.”

Jimin closes his mouth, lowering his eyes now that your words flustered him.

“Just come back with us. I promise you, everything will be fine.”

Jimin hesitates. He sneaks a glance at Yoongi.

“Do as she says. She knows what she’s talking about”, he says dryly.

Jimin looks away. He lets his eyes run over his depressive, lonely home. The spot where once his heart was stings. What does he have to lose? Grey walls, no person to talk to and an aching yearning for his best friend. The things he would lose seem miniscule in comparison to what he will gain. He exhales loudly.

“Fine”, he gives up, “fine, I’m coming with you.”

And so you leave the plaza together. You and Yoongi hand in hand while Jimin trots next to you. He doesn’t talk a lot, while you and Yoongi talk about Maël. Tomorrow’s plan is still going to happen. You tell Jimin about it, but he seemed too tense in nervousness to really listen. You can’t blame him. You are really nervous yourself. Taehyung is going to get his best friend back. You are so excited and nervous. You really, really hope that he will like the surprise.

Hoseok opens the door for you once you arrive at the apartment. His face lights up the second he sees you.

“___ holy shit, you’re back! I was so fucking worried for you”, he gasps, falling around your neck in a tight hug.

You stumble with a laugh, twisting his shirt for support, “I missed you too, Hobi.”

“Oh my god”, he mumbles into you, lifting you up just so he can squeeze you, “where were you? We tried calling you but you didn’t answer us.”

“I got on the wrong bus and my phone died, it was such a mess”, you say, laughing when Hoseok bounces you in his arms, making little sound effects as he does. 

“___!” Seokjin calls out, running to your side, “holy shit, you’re okay. I thought you died!” he says, hugging you and Hoseok.

You laugh, holding him close as best as the position allows you to.

“I’m so happy to be back, I had such a night.”

“Tell us all about it. Where were you? What happened? Are you okay?” Seokjin asks, breaking away in sync with Hoseok so they can look at you.

“I’m okay and you’ll get the full story later, I promise. Guys, I have to see Tae. Is he home?”

“He isn’t home yet. Why?”

Jimin steps closer.

Hoseok and Seokjin stumble back in shock.

“Uh, what the hell is happening?” Hoseok gasps.

“What’s going on?” Seokjin gets out, gawking with such widened eyes that you fear they might actually fall out of his head.

“I’m alive. Surprise”, Jimin says.

“How?!”

“Resurrection spell.”

“But I saw your ashes”, Seokjin tells Jimin as they follow you.

“I know. I’m back now.”

“How?”

“Resurrection spell, I told you.”

“Damn, seriously. Damn.”

“How is that even possible?” Hoseok asks.

“Right?” you agree, “I promise that you guys will get the whole story, but I really have to call Tae now. Let’s go to the living room guys, the hallway’s cold.”

“Yeah sure. Damn, this is actually happening”, Hoseok says, following you with the rest of the group.

Emma is in the living room. She was drawing before, but lifts her head.

“I’m so happy to see you, ___”, Emma says, “we were really worried for you”, her eyes shift to Jimin and widen, “Jimin?” she gasps.

“Emma?” Jimin gasps, “what are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here? I thought you died.”

“Resurrection spell. Good stuff.”

“Something like this is possible?”

Jimin nods his head, studying her face.

“You look good”, he says, “eternity suits you.”

She snorts and chuckles, “I can say the same about you. You’re really not dying easily, aren’t you?”

“I told you, I’ll always find a way to survive.”

“Clearly you do”, Emma says and then shifts her eyes to Seokjin. He is putting a protecting (almost jealous) arm around her shoulder, eyeing Jimin with suspicion.

“I’m back!” Taehyung calls from the hallway just moments later.

“Perfect timing”, you say and run out of the living room.

“Darling”, you call out.

Taehyung lifts his head and smiles, “darling! What a wonderful way to be greeted”, he says, closing the distance between you and him to kiss you.

“Tae”, you don’t let him kiss for long. You are too excited, “Tae, I met someone last night. I need to show you.”

Taehyung cocks his right brow up in question.

“Follow me. Come”, you say and tug him with you.

“Wait, not so fast”, Taehyung follows you with a fond chuckle.

You enter the living room. Taehyung joins you a moment later.

“Who did you meet, darling?” he asks.

“Look”, you say, pointing at Jimin.

Taehyung looks and stumbles back, almost collapsing on the ground if Hoseok hadn’t caught him under his pits before that could happen.

“Jimin?” the word barely wants to leave Taehyung’s throat.

“Hey.”

Taehyung storms to Jimin, who welcomes him with open arms and teary eyes. Just seconds later and he falls as Taehyung throws him to the ground and moments later begins punching his face.

“I hate you. You bastard! All this time you were alive! Why would you leave me?! I needed you! I fucking needed you!” Taehyung screams, crying the hottest tears as his face is contorted in heartbreaking betrayal.

You expected anything but this. As did Jimin, who does nothing to fight Taehyung off as shock keeps him paralysed.

“Taehyung stop!” you gasp, wanting to step in between, but getting stopped by Yoongi.

“Don’t. You’ll only get hurt.”

“I took your punishment! Hear me?!” Taehyung is crying miserably, punching his own knuckles bloody, “I was rotting away in prison while you were alive?! My heart has been broken for months! Why would you do this to me?!”, he wails loudly, “I hate you so much! You bastard traitor! I hate you!”

“I’m sorry Taetae, I’m so sorry.”

“I needed you!” Taehyung screams the word, picking Jimin up by his collar just to shake him, “why did you never come looking for me?!”

“I’m sorry, I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t?!”

Taehyung punches him. He punches him so hard that Jimin can’t move for a moment.

“I hate you!” he sobs and punches him, “I hate you so much!”

Jimin groans quietly, trying and failing to speak. Taehyung is blinded by his own emotions, taking out months of heartbreak on Jimin’s face.

“Stop that”, Yoongi stops him, dragging him away, “you’re going to kill him. “

“Let go of me!” Taehyung squirms in Yoongi’s hold.

“Seriously, I’m going to break your spine if you keep moving around”, Yoongi warns.

“Leave me alone!”

But Taehyung is angry, heartbroken, drowning in the feelings of being betrayed. Just this night, he is stronger than Yoongi. Just this night, he manages to rip himself free of his grasp and just this night, you have to watch as Yoongi flies through the room before colliding with the wall so harshly his entire rib cage shatters.

“What the fuck?” you squeak out.

That’s when Taehyung disappears, pushing aside a confused Jungkook, who just came downstairs to check what all this yelling is about. Jungkook falls to his knees, groaning softly.

“What the hell is happening?” he gasps, watching Jimin bleed all over the carpet while you are sobbing and cupping Yoongi’s pain-contorted face. This is the most confusing situation he ever walked in on.

“Yoongi my baby, oh god Yoongi”, you sob, grasping his face tightly.

“That’s….why…I…told you…to…stay….back”, he presses out before having to groan in agony.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry”, you fall around his neck, “this is all my fault. I’m so stupid. Why did I think this could work? I’m so fucking dumb.”

“Stop crying…I’m okay.”

“No, you’re hurt. It’s my fault.”

“Hush, it’s almost healed.”

You lift your head, dripping tears all over his face. He gives you a reassuring smile.

“It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, feeling your lower lip tremble.

He sits up with your help. He doesn’t need your help, but you want to help him either way. Once he is up, you keep your arms around him, making sure that he is supported.

“Don’t move too much, you’ll make it worse.”

“Hey, stop crying”, he says softly, wiping your tears away, “I’m seriously okay. I healed.”

“Oh”, you press out, hugging him tightly.

He hugs you back, caressing the back of your head lovingly.

“It’s okay princess, I’m okay.”

“Can someone please tell me what is going on here?” Jungkook joins the conversation, staring at Jimin with big eyes.

The latter is in the midst of sitting up with Hoseok’s help, sending Jungkook an icy glare before staring at the floor. His face was covered in his own blood, but seems to be in the middle of healing.

“I’m alive”, he says coldly, “you can see how Tae took that fact”, he lifts his gaze to you, “he’ll be so happy to see you. That’s what you told me. He was oh so happy, wasn’t he?”

“You’ll take on another tone if you speak to her”, Yoongi warns.

“I just got my face punched in repeatedly, so excuse me if I’m being pissy”, Jimin says and spits one of his teeth on the floor, “fuck”, he grunts, stumbling to his feet. With way too much pride in his eyes, he straightens his back, lifting his head as high as possible.

“You good?” you ask him.

“Do I look good?” Jimin says, pointing at his face. His bashed open left eye is still in the middle of healing, only slowly coming out from the inside of his skull. Truly it is horrid to look at.

“No. Sorry for asking.”

“Urgh”, Jimin groans and turns his back to you, “what?” he hisses at Jungkook.

“How the fuck are you here? I saw your ashes.”

“I rose from them again.”

“Tzt what? Like a phoenix?”

“Basically.”

“How?”

“Witches. All thanks to ___ bothering Yoongi with releasing Tae that day and distracting him. They did some witchy teleportation shit and gathered my ashes.”

“How the hell did they even know that you died?”

“Visions. They told them I bit the dust. Well, became the dust in a literal sense.”

“Hah yeah”, Jungkook studies him from head to toe, “I have to be honest with you, I can’t say that I’m happy to see you again.”

“Trust me, I feel the same.”

“Good”, Jungkook says dryly then turns to you. Life returns to his eyes, “I’m so happy that you are back, ___”, he says, hurrying to you so he can take your hands.

“Me too Kookie”, you tell him, squeezing his hands gently. 

“Do you think Tae is alright? He seemed really upset”, Emma asks.

“I don’t know”, you say, looking at Yoongi for help.

“I’ll check on him”, he says. 

“I’m coming with you”, you say, hurrying after him.

“What about me?” Jimin asks.

“Stay until we know more”, you say, “I’m not giving up, so please stay.”

Jimin nods his head and touches his face, “ah fuck, hurts”, he murmurs.

“I can look at it if you want to”, Emma offers and then you drown out their conversation.

Yoongi takes your hand, “come. He’s still here.”

“Is he upset?”

You get your answer by the loud sob cutting through the air. The sound of something shattering follows. 

It came from upstairs. 

“No Tae”, you gasp, running to get to him quicker. 

Yoongi follows you, taking two steps at a time. 

Sobbing. Loud and filled with pain. Shattering of something else. 

Taehyung appears in your vision. Hunched over and kneeling on the floor with his knuckles bleeding from punching in the mirror. Pieces of it were still stuck in him. 

“Stop please! Stop please!” he begs.

“Darling”, you gasp, “what happened? You’re hurt.”

“Stay away!” Taehyung screams. He doesn’t want to scream but he can’t stop it from happening. “I’m going to rip you apart if you come any closer.”

You stop. Yoongi steps in instantly.

“Hey there Tae, it’s okay. I’m here now”, he says.

“Stay away! I’ll hurt you!”

“It’s okay. I’m here, you can hurt me. It’s okay”, Yoongi assures him, coming closer in slow steps.

Taehyung growls and sobs. He tries to look scary by flashing his fangs, but he ends up looking like a scared, cornered animal, staring at Yoongi with a grimace of pain.

“Talk to me, Tae. Talk to me.”

“I’m going to kill him. How could he do this to me?” Taehyung is yelling, “I thought that he was dead. I grieved. Suffered. How could he leave me?!”

“I know, Tae. It hurts so much.” 

“I wanted to die each and every day and all this time he was alive? He let me suffer. He, he- oh god”, he chokes out and then he sobs, “why didn’t he come back to me?” he sobs so miserably that he can barely even breathe, fighting for his right to air, “why did he leave me alone for so long?”

He is shaking, wheezing whilst trying to sob, coughing out curses.

Yoongi kneels down in front of Taehyung. He cups his face and brushes his thumbs over his temples. 

“Don’t worry, Taehyungie. Hyung’s here now”, he soothes him.

You know that he is currently helping Taehyung calm down by touching his temples. And seeing how Taehyung actually calms down, he wanted it to happen. After all, this type of mind control only works if the receiving end consents to it. 

“Hyung’s here now, Taetae. I’m right here”, Yoongi whispers, shushing him softly. 

Taehyung’s breathing slows down gradually. With each caress of his temples, his once suffocating emotions become easier to bear. He felt like dying in pain, but Yoongi helped him, coming at the right time to prevent the worst from happening.

“The worst’s behind you, Tae. I’m here for you, right here”, Yoongi speaks gently, running his thumbs under Taehyung’s teary eyes. 

Taehyung whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Hyung”, he squeaks and sobs, “hyung, it hurts so much.”

“I know, but I’m here now. Yeah?” 

Taehyung nods his head, “why would he do this to me?” he presses out, voice trembling, “I want to die, it hurts so much.”

“I know Tae, I know. Lean on me, yeah? Trust me to make it better, yeah?” Yoongi whispers in the softest voice, caressing Taehyung’s temple with loving hands. 

You kneel down next to them, reaching for Taehyung’s trembling hands. He flinches, looking at you with fearful eyes. He calms down when he sees that it is you touching him.

“Can I remove the shards?” you ask him.

Taehyung looks at them. He seems confused and surprised by their presence. 

“Yes”, he gets out. He doesn’t react as you begin pulling out the shards, crying softly as Yoongi continues drying his tears. 

“We’re here, Tae. You’re not alone”, he continues whispering, holding Taehyung’s face safely. 

At some point, Taehyung stops sobbing to instead whimper. He looks into Yoongi’s eyes. 

“Why did he do this to me?” he croaks.

“He was scared of your reaction.”

“My reaction? I grieved him. Each passing day felt like hell.”

“I know, Tae hey”, Yoongi tilts his head up, “I know that and Jimin knows that too.”

“He grieved you too, my sweetest”, you say.

Taehyung looks at you with heartbreak in his sad eyes.

“So why did he abandon me?”

“I didn’t abandon you.”

You look at the door. Jimin is here, looking at Taehyung with nervous eyes and fumbling with his thumbs. His face is healed again, his blood wiped away.

“I spent two thirds of my new life having to recover. It’s actually difficult as fuck to return from the dead, so my body was fucked. I couldn’t even leave bed, let alone talk or eat.”

Taehyung sniffles, sobbing softly. 

“I, I really wanted to be with you again, but I was embarrassed, just…” Jimin falters, “just look at me. I’m a fucking joke. I lost all my strength and look like fucking shit.”

“You think I care?” Taehyung presses out, “all I needed was you.”

“I know, shit, I know.”

“I hate you so much. How could you do this to me?” Taehyung sobs.

“Do you…really hate me?” Jimin asks with a trembling lower lip.

“I don’t know! Why would you ask me that?! Why did you leave me?!” Taehyung yells, voice trembling and barely wanting to come out.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you, Taetae. I fucking-”, Jimin tears up, “-I fucking thought of you each day. I missed you so much. Please believe me.”

“Jimin”, Taehyung sobs loudly stumbling to his feet with your and Yoongi’s help. He leaves the two of you behind him as the only thing he can see is Jimin. 

Within a second he is by his side. Within a second he has him against his chest. Within another second Jimin hugs him back. Taehyung cries miserably, Jimin tries not to but soaks Taehyung’s shirt in silent tears. They are together again. Their dreams actually came true. They are finally reunited. 

“I missed you so much”, Taehyung wails, “oh god, you are real. You are real.”

“I am. I’m real. I love you Taetae, I love you so much”, Jimin laughs and sobs and hugs his best friend as if it was his last day on earth. 

But it wasn’t his last day. It was just the beginning. They are reunited and life can finally begin again. Taehyung tightens his arms around Jimin while the latter makes sure that he can never ever escape the hug again.

“I love you too. Oh Jimin.”

“You have to tell me everything that happened, Taetae. I want to know everything”, Jimin says and laughs and sobs and hugs his Taehyung.

“Oh Jimin, I have so much to tell you. Oh god, I can’t stop crying”, Taehyung sobs and overtaken by happiness, he lifts Jimin off the ground just to twirl around.

Jimin laughs loudly, clutching Taehyung in the tightest hug.

“Come”, you tell Yoongi and push him gently, “let’s give them their moment.”

“Wait. Are you crying?” Yoongi gasps, stumbling out of Taehyung’s room. 

He twirls once outside, cupping your face, “hey, princess. Why are you crying?”

“I’m just so happy. This is everything Tae wanted. Oh god, I’m so happy”, you say, crying the happiest tears for them.

Yoongi’s worried eyes soften. He brushes his thumb over your cheeks.

“I’m happy for him too. Losing your happiness is terrible, so I’m happy that he has Jimin again.”

“Me too. I still can’t believe that it is real. Jimin’s actually back”, you say and smile, “do you think that things will change for the better now?”

“Come. Let’s check on the others first”, Yoongi says, leading you downstairs where the others are currently gathered in the living room.

They look at you.

“What the hell is going on?” Jungkook asks, “why is Jimin back? I saw his ashes.”

“Resurrection spell. I never saw it work before, so I’m impressed that it did”, Yoongi says.

“Resurrection spell”, Hoseok repeats, “so you’re telling me that all this time I was scared of dying for nothing? We just need a witch to resurrect us again?”

“Calm down. Didn’t I just say that I never saw it work before?”

“It worked splendidly for Jimin”, Hoseok says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, because he had a good witch to take care of it. Ninety percent of the witches you meet will not be able to resurrect you again and you will stay dead”, Yoongi says, giving Hoseok a nod of his head, “so be careful and try not to die. Got it?”

“Of course, I’m always careful.”

You claim the empty spot next to Jungkook on the couch. Yoongi sits down next to you, placing his hand on your thigh. 

“So what does this mean for us? Is he part of our group now?” Seokjin asks.

“If he wants to join us. I doubt that Tae will let him leave again”, Yoongi says.

“I’m sure, he won’t”, Hoseok says and points upstairs, “I bet they have so much catching up to do.”

“I’m sure they do”, Yoongi says, “I still don’t trust him, I’m saying it how it is.”

“Me neither”, Jungkook mumbles with furrowed brows.

“Yeah, honestly? Me neither”, Hoseok confesses, “it’s a little weird that he suddenly showed up. Don’t you guys think?”

“I don’t think that he planned on showing up if I’m being honest”, you say, “we bumped into each other accidentally.”

“That’s still wild to me. Out of all the people you could have bumped into, it was Jimin.”

“Right? Trust me when I tell you that we were both as surprised as you guys. At first I thought that I was hallucinating from the panic of getting lost but nope it was really him. Then a vampire almost ate me.”

“What?!” the guys exclaim.

“My thoughts exactly”, Yoongi mumbles.

“But then Jimin saved me from her and I stayed at his place”, you finish your sentence, “so I’m positive that we have nothing to worry about. He could have very well killed me and continued with his life, but he decided to not only save me from a vampire but also to protect me for the night and he took me back to Yoongi and even protected me from a group of vampires on the bus.”

“Well damn, I didn’t expect that from him.”

“But see? Let’s not expect the worst already and give him a chance and if you can’t do it for Jimin, can we at least try for Tae? Please?”

The others exchange a look.

“Fine”, Hoseok gives in, “we’ll try for Tae.”

The others nod their heads.

“Thank you.”

“But if he puts you in any kind of danger, I can’t guarantee for anything”, Yoongi adds.

“Then let’s not expect the worst and support him on his journey of becoming better, yeah?”

Yoongi studies your face.

“Mhm?” you stress, caressing his knuckles, “can you do that, my prince?”

“Fine”, he gives in with a loud sigh, “I’ll give him a chance.”

“Thank you, that’s very nice of you.”

“Mhm”, he acknowledges you and nods his head, leaning back against the couch with a defeat sigh.

“I never thought that I’d meet Jimin again”, Emma says, “he is my sire.”

“Seokjin told us. It must be weird to meet him again”, you say.

“A little, but I’m also excited. I want to ask him how he is doing and thank him”, Emma says and looks at Seokjin, “because he turned me, I lived long enough to meet my Jinnie again”, she says and smiles. 

“Don’t say that, oh my god”, Seokjin whispers, covering his pink ears with his hands. 

Emma giggles and leans in to steal a kiss from him, only making his blush grow. 

“You are so adorable, my moon.”

“My tulip, come on, I’ll blush even more” Seokjin says in a whiney voice, giving her a cute pout.

Emma coos and squishes his cheeks, stealing another kiss from him.

“Wah, you two are so cute”, Hoseok gushes, “I support it. You guys are in my top three couples now.”

“Your top three couples?”

“Mhm. ___ and Yoongi are number one. I’m your biggest fan”, Hoseok says, sending you a thumbs up.

Yoongi chuckles, caressing your knee while his eyes flit to his lap shyly.

“And who’s number two?”

“Emma and Jin. Number two best couple.”

They chuckle.

“And who’s number three, hyung?” Jungkook asks.

“My parents. They were the best”, Hoseok smiles in melancholy, “yeah, they really were”, he lets out a loud sigh, only to begin smiling a second later, “seriously, everyone’s reunited again. That’s so funky.”

“Totally”, you agree, “now nothing can separate us again. Right? You guys are gonna stay with us.”

“Of course, hello? We’re a family”, Hoseok says to which Jungkook nods his head passionately. Seokjin and Emma agree with a fond smile while Yoongi leans in wordlessly to kiss your cheek.

“You’re so cute”, he whispers so only you can hear, stealing another kiss just to make sure that you know that he appreciates you with his entire heart.

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 4: The Lobster

Pairing: Mer Hardcase x Reader

Summary: A lobster starts talking to you.

Author’s Note: May The 4th Be With You! Have a wild Hardcase.

Warnings: A bit of cursing, but I think that’s it.

Word Count: 1543

Prompt: If a lobster talks, we throw it back, that’s the rule. Don’t ever strike a deal with one, no matter what it says is written in the stars.

Prompt 2711 by deepwaterwritingprompts

“If a lobster talks, we throw it back, that’s the rule. Don’t ever strike a deal with one, no matter what it says is written in the stars.” This piece of advice was one of the first things you were told upon starting work on this lobster boat. You had just shrugged it off as old wives tales until right now.

“Hello! I’m Hardcase!” Oh shit. That lobster is talking and waving a claw at you. You had been sorting through the lobsters in the trap to see which would be thrown back or taken to market. He was the last one in there and he just started talking. Somewhere in the back of your mind you remember what the captain had told you, but instead you stand there frozen in disbelief.

He tilts his had after a moment, seeming a bit worried.

“You okay?” The lobster scurries over to you and you realize this isn’t a dream when he gently pokes you.

“I…” You shake your head before slowly looking over your shoulders. Thankfully no one had noticed anything amiss yet. “I’m fine, but you need to go.”

“What? But!?” You gently scoop him up to toss him back into the water.

“Sorry, them’s the rules.”

“You can look the other way this one time! I just need some help getting home.”

“Isn’t the ocean your home?”

“Well… kinda. But that’s different. I’m actually a Mer clone.” He begins speaking a little too quick, but you keep up. “I think I died at the battle of Umbara. I don’t know how long it’s been, but I need to get back to my brothers.”

“What the…” You just blink; your mind trying to process that. “That battle happened…”

Your captain calls your name. You turn and put Hardcase behind your back, giving him a tired smile. He asks you if everything is alright and you quickly give the excuse of vertigo, but show him the empty lobster trap. You feel Hardcase cuddle into your hands, relaxing in your grip to not attract attention.

Thankfully the captain buys it, he yells over his shoulder to go drink some water or something before getting back to work. You quickly move out of everyone’s line of sight as you feel Hardcase climb up to your shoulder. You should throw him back in the water, but he hasn’t asked for anything unreasonable or even to make a deal with you. You sigh and wipe your hand down your face. You’re really going to help a lobster claiming he was a Mer huh?

“Can you find a place to stay hidden until we make it to shore?” The way the lobster began to hop around in excitement, even though you can’t read the emotions on his face, makes you smile.

“Six months!?” He leans over the side of the bucket of sea water you have him in. It turns out sneaking him off ship hadn’t been too hard, but figuring out how to help him next was. Sadly though, explaining how long he had been “gone” for had to come first. “I’ve been dead six months!?”

You nod, rubbing your temple. You had remembered hearing about the battle since it wasn’t too far from your home. How three Mer clones had snuck aboard a massive separatist battle ship and blown it up. Meeting one stuck in the body of a lobster is making your head hurt honestly.

“I’ll take it that you don’t remember being a lobster that long?” Hardcase shakes his head as you sigh.

“I got blown up. Then, I don’t know, I must have been in and out of consciousness for way longer than I thought. Next thing I knew I was crawling around on the ocean floor.” He hops back down into the water. You walk over to see him pacing around in the bucket, almost making you laugh.

“So what now?” Hardcase looks up at you, but continues to pace. “Do you still want to get back to your old battalion?”

“Yes.” He answers with so much determination and stops pacing, but then he seems to get a bit nervous. His legs begin quickly tapping continuously against the bucket floor. “But, we… we need to make a deal.”

“No.”

“Please!” Hardcase quickly responds. “While there is some truth to the legends, it’s just to turn me back. The other options would be going to Coruscant for Jedi help or Mandalore for Mer help. You don’t have the resources and I need to get back to my brothers.”

You groan, frowning down at the lobster as he looks up at you. Perhaps you should have just thrown him back in the water as your captain had told you, but you feel guilty as soon as you think about it.

“What would a deal entail?” The bucket tips over and the water spills all over your living room floor as he jumps with joy.

“Oops.” He looks up at you sheepishly, standing in the puddle. You should be mad, but laugher comes out instead. Soon you both are and you have a feeling he would be blushing if he could. He helps you clean as best he can as he explains what he knows about his current predicament.

It’s an old mer legend that he had heard a couple times from one of his trainers. Sometimes if a sacrifice of one’s life is truly selfless, the ocean allows an exchange of souls: a second chance. However the consciousness of the Mer is easily overpowered by the instincts of the creature they inhabit, plus a whole host of other things that can go wrong, making the process extremely dangerous.

“While I might be able to get help, the only way to really have a Mer body again is…”

“If you exchange something equivalent.” Your mind wanders back to the old myths. It’s a lot easier to understand with the lobsters being trapped Merpeople; desperation can bring out the worst in any being.

“Basically. How did he describe it…” Hardcase takes a moment to think, tapping his claw against his head. “Permanent transformation takes a lot of magic. From a normal human…”

He abruptly stops. It’s odd watching him go completely still as horror washes over him.

“Nevermind.”

“But-?!”

“I’m not going to ask that of you.”

The next plan is to help him get to Mandalore or Coruscant. However that becomes impossible as a battle begins to wage in the waters around your island. The canons shake your house, but your companion makes you laugh as he tries to catch as many glimpses of the fight as he can. The off and on squirmishes last for weeks and gives you time to get to know Hardcase.

Then finally, the separatists land on your island; the Mer clones and the republic had lost this area. People are fleeing from your village; either heading more inland to hide or risking being caught by a battleship while trying to flee in a boat. However, you have one other option left.

“Hardcase, either way I’m dead. I’d rather cut down my life span and have both of us survive this than both of us dead.” You hiss as you both hide in your house. Hardcase stares up at you before clinking his claws together.

“There is one other way.” He laughs what you have now come know as his nervous laugh. “But-but…”

“Case, please.” You can hear the eerie stop of the separatist golems in the distance.

“Ifwemarrytheoldmerway,oursharedenergyshouldletmehavemytrueformagain.” It takes you a moment to make out the rushed sentence and your face burns scarlet.

“Wh-what do we do?”

“We can still make a run for the ocean…” He fidgets again. “If you don’t want to. Cause this will be permanent.”

“Hardcase.” You say his name softly and full of affection. “It would be my honor. Now what do we do?”

The world goes silent a moment before he is giddy with excitement. You can’t help but smile as he urgently tells you that all you have to do is say four vows together in Mando’a. He says them first and then you say them together. The soft shimmer of ocean magic glows around both of you. You force your eyes shut; your stomach swirling with anxiety.

“Time to go, sweetheart.” The excitement in his tone makes you smile. A pair of arms swiftly picks you up bridal style. You clench your jaw to stop a sound from slipping out as he begins running for the beach. You finally open your eyes and look up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The white and blue armor glitters in the last rays of the drowning sun. He gives you a smile far brighter as his boots hit the water; time slows for a second as you drink up the bit of face you can see through the t-face of the helmet. Your eyes linger on the bit of blue tattoo you can see.

“Hey, get back here!” One of the golems yells at the two of you. You both only laugh as you feel him begin to shift into his Mer form; the familiar feeling of sea magic engulfs the both of you as he dives into deeper water.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Sticky Keys

It's @taznovembercelebration day 13 and today's card was "sticky"

Read below or on Ao3. Missed yesterday's? Find it here.

--

If he just jabs the space bar a few more times Kravitz is certain it’ll be fine. The first 78 times haven’t worked, but the next few prods will definitely do it.

“Is everything okay, my guy?” A tall man with long hair pokes his head around the door. “Taako heard keyboard warfare and came to join in if reinforcement was needed.” Something in his tone implies that he absolutely will go to war against the keyboard if Kravitz asks it. He’s tempted to if it means he gets to spend some more time with him.

“It’s the, er…” Kravitz pokes the space bar again. “You know.” He finishes lamely, gesturing at the still very depressed key.

Taako’s mouth quirks at the corner. “Ah yes. Welcome, we’re great at IT here, only the top of the line equipment for the institute’s teaching staff. What’s your handle, kemosabe? I’m assuming you’re new. Cha’boy would definitely remember you.” The last line is accompanied by a not-so-subtle once over.

Kravitz’s mouth dries up. It’s not that this doesn’t happen, he has a mirror, he knows he looks good, but this guy is handsome and engaging and this doesn’t happen to him. It’s strange guys in clubs approaching him in the toilets, not institute staff propositioning him with their eyes in the lecture theatre. Maybe this is his life now? Maybe higher education is precisely as horny as all the trashy horror novels he read in high school made out.

“Guh.” He says, intelligently. Making sure that Taako knew he was charming, witty, and engaging.

“An interesting name. Short, sweet. I'm intrigued.” Taako moves closer like he's stalking prey. He has to know the impact he's having on Kravitz's, has to be able to see the wave of heat clawing its way up his neck.

He can't give in. He can interact normally. “Kravitz.” Says Kravitz, and sticks his hand out to highlight that he actually managed to remember his own name this time.

“Taako.” Says Taako, as if he didn’t already say his, then proceeds to fist bump Kravitz’s palm.

It’s purely instinct, but Kravitz curls his palm around Taako’s fist and shakes it anyway. It’s a move that never ceases to make his nephew shriek. It looks like Taako wants to do the same and that helps honestly. He’s just people, it’s fine.

Kravitz smiles at him like what he’s just done is completely regular. “Pleased to meet you, Taako. I appreciate you coming to help in my time of need.”

“So, do you need cha’boy to do kung fu on the keyboard? They don’t call me flip wizard for nothing.” Taako chops convincingly at the air, then blows on his hand and tucks it back into his pocket.

“Why do they call you flip wizard?” Kravitz needs to know immediately.

“Because Taako has all the moves.” Taako says confident and incomprehensible.

“Every single move?” Kravitz asks, injecting disbelief into his tone.

Taako leans in, close, conspiratorial, “all of ‘em.”

“What about this one?” Kravitz spins in a circle and adds a little kick at the end.

“I can’t believe you stole that and didn't even do it right.” Taako performs the same move. “Ha cha! See, done properly.”

“I’m not convinced there was a difference.”

“Of course not, you’re just out here stealing moves you don’t even understand, that you don’t know the heart of. Where's the nuance, Kravitz? Do you even know what’s the soul of the wiggle circle flick? What the purpose of the kick is?...” Taako pauses to let Kravitz answer, then interrupts the silence. “Exactly, you don’t know.”

“Do you?”

“Of course!”

Kravitz raises an enquiring eyebrow.

“It’s all about synergistics.”

“Taako, if you make this work related I’m going to think about my damn powerpoint again.”

“Speaking of the powerpoint, how much do you love me?”

Kravitz pauses. The answer is more than nothing, which is probably what it should be. Also, he may hold the secrets to salvation.

“A lot?” Says Kravitz.

“Are you asking Taako, or telling him?”

“A whole lot!” Says Kravitz, now with confidence™

“Bit weird, you’ve only known me five minutes.” Taako’s smiling though, so Kravitz’s swoopy ill feeling doesn’t last long. It’s a joke, it’s going to be okay.

“Do you by any chance know how to fix the powerpoint? Or were you just looking for a declaration of love to spice up your Tuesday afternoon?”

“Could the answer be both?”

“I suppose I’ll allow it, this time.” Kravitz smiles, he doesn’t often get to play like this at work. Everyone’s too busy focusing on tenure and being dull.

“Stand back.” Taako orders.

Kravitz bows, elegantly he hopes, and gestures to the computer. “Your dodgy IT equipment, my lord.”

“Ooooh, Lord Taako, cha’boy could get used to it.” Taako muses as he passes. “It has a ring it.”

“Lord Taako: Flip Wizard.” Kravitz gives him his proper title.

Taako hunches over the computer, then reappears a second later looking pleased with himself. “Click it!” He says, holds out a tiny unicorn themed stick to Kravitz.

Kravitz stares at it, unsure of where to begin.

“The horns.” Says Taako, patiently, as if it was obvious, as if Kravitz was being ridiculous..

He presses a horn tentatively. His slide moves on. He clicks again, it moves again, and again, and again. Then back when he presses the other horn. Thank the lady! Kravitz could talk about music and folklore for hours, but the slides would definitely help the class actually stay awake. “Taako! You wonder, I could kiss you.” Fuck. It was a figure of speech, but he’d like to… it definitely wasn’t something you said to colleagues you just met though.

Taako considers him at length. Probably debating whether to report him to HR or super HR. Kravitz opens his mouth to apologise, but Taako replies before he gets the chance. “Go on then.”

-

I hope you enjoyed! Check out the next prompt here.

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Hiiiii I’m here to ask some questions!

Carter- if you could go back and fix one mistake, what would it be?

Julius- Do you fear death?

Both- how would you describe each other?

- @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

Carter looks at you in utter disbelief, after you ask her that. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, and stares daggers at you, until I tell her she has to answer.

She sighs, heavily and rolls her eyes.

"Knowing what I know now? I would have a better aim," she scoffs, "and if you assume I wouldn't kill the young one [referring to RJ], you're so fucking wrong. It's not my fault I ended up in this situation." She gestures around theatrically. "No matter how much he's trying to make me believe otherwise" she adds quietly.

Julius on the other hand answers immediately, intrigued by your question. He leans forward in his seat, and you can see the red of his eyes as the light hits them. He is an unsettling presence.

"What a wonderful question," he starts, his tone is light and conversational, in great contrast with how grim the question is, "I have to say no."

"It has not been one of my concerns for a long time." He wonders for a brief moment. "Of course, I am driven by my instincts to survive, that may very well be my most human quality. I have no reason to die, so I avoid it." You can see his fangs as he smiles, politely, still.

[They have to answer the last question separately as well, otherwise they would turn the interview into a bloodbath.]

"Describe can mean a lot of things. Insults, can be very descriptive, for example; he is a parasitic freak of nature. An abomination... a coldblooded murderer. No pun intended."

She is visibly uncomfortable with the question, but has the answer locked and loaded.

"Or you mean as a person? A cruel and calculated, self-righteous, vindictive asshole. I don't think he has anything better to do in his stupid pathetic life than to run around town murdering anyone, who he feels has wronged him."

You ask Julius, too.

"I would venture to say she is just a human. With red blood, just as all the others. She is a hunter. From what I gather, not a bad one; can you imagine the amount of weapons I had to remove from her house and the vicinity of it?" He looks offended just thinking about that. "Her personality? I never thought about it, I hate that bitch. But I guess," he rolls his eyes, "she seems bitter..."

"Courageous and strong too, a great leader, should have pursued a different profession."

This was so much fun, thank you thank you thank you!!! I adore these two oh my god, I finally got over myself and now I absolutely adore writing Carter, she's the coolest person ever, I love her so much, and she's so right about Julius, vindictive asshole is such a good descriptor. @aloafofbreadwithanxiety hopefully you'll get the notification either way, but I'll tag you to be safe <<3

[wutheringmights]

Has anyone asked for the commentary for the latest Ctb chapter yet? 👀👀👀

Originally, everything from Link’s conversation with Impa to Link finally leaving for Kakariko was going to be at the end of the last chapter; but as you may recall, I ended up punting it over to this one in a waterfall effect from having to deal with a different delayed scene in the last section.

Good news is that on all fronts, the pacing is finally back on schedule. Mostly. There’s a scene in the present day that I’ve kicked off to a later chapter, but we’ll get to that when we get to that. 

Something I wasn’t able to quite talk about last chapter was why exactly I wanted this incident to be Link’s wake-up call; I wanted Link’s turning point to evolve around him realizing that his way of being a hero is messed up, not only for failing to save Kat but by being told that, politically, he saved the wrong person

Which will then tie into HOW Link saved her. I wanted Link to undoubtedly do the right thing, but I wanted his solution to be so extreme that it’s horrifying. Yes, he saved Kat. But he also brutally murdered three men-- and wanted to make them suffer in the process. Link can’t solve anything without taking extremes. These men have nothing redeemable to them, but in the context of Link’s history, I just wanted readers to sit there and go “huh” for at least a minute. Maybe two. 

As previously posted, the men’s names were based off of things that have given me brain worms as of late. 

This chapter made me realize that I really haven’t done enough with Impa; I’ve been relying too heavily on just telling you how Warriors feels as opposed to having her do things. Incredible work on my part. I will rectify that however I can. 

Speaking of which, Impa’s speech about becoming your role was originally going to include some extra information about her history with Lincoln before she became Impa, but I ended up cutting it because it was just an awkward time to go over that info; I hope there will be a time I can include it later, but it’s not super pressing or relevant so don’t get your hopes up. 

As previously mentioned, Kat’s disability is Broca’s Aphasia 

I remember when I was finalizing Kat and Icarius’s characters, I wondered if anyone was going to think there’s a thematic meaning to so many characters losing the ability to communicate; whatever is there is unintentional on my part, but whatever meaning you derive is still valid 

Also, out of everyone, Kat is the character I feel the worst about hurting. 

And for everyone wondering: Kat was knocked out when she was first bludgeoned. She was not awake when the men were killed. I am both touched and somewhat caught in disbelief that so many of you were worried about this.

When writing the introductory imagery for Kakariko-- describing the streets, people, etc--I was really worried that I was just retreading information that I already gave you all; but it’s also been, like, two years since the first Kakariko chapter came out, so I figured it was worth revisiting.

Hello, Jakucho! It’s been so long since she was in the story that I forgot how fun she is to write. She really brings an incredible energy to the mix. 

I’m trying to remember where exactly I got the idea for Link having to build his own house, especially since this is probably among the first ideas I had for the story. I think I came up with the idea of the house first and my brain immediately said, “Fine, but he built it while going through withdrawals.” O.K. Sounds cool. 

When I was writing the chapter, I didn’t like how I introduced Ayane. I got really hung up on the idea that she deserved something grander. Looking back at it now, I think it’s perfect. I’m glad I didn’t change it. 

There’s this through line I’ve been trying to maintain this entire story about Link feeling stuck in his role as a soldier, how inadequate he feels for not knowing a tradeskill (or really any skill outside of war-waging), and how jealous he is that Spirit can build nearly anything-- and this is the chapter where I finally feel the payoff of all those ideas. 

I hadn’t watched Vinland Saga when I finalized this idea, but now that I have watched it, do you know what this chapter is giving? Thorfinn emotionally healing via a farm arc. Go read Vinland Saga. It’s better than anything I can do. 

However, I did mean for that ending to be a little bit more ominous than it turned out. Sure, Link is deciding to move on and be happier, but he is doing so by ignoring all the things he has done. Surely, this isn’t going to bite him in the butt. 

Now that all of the war stuff is over, the story is now shifting towards a Link homesteading plotline, which will hopefully be as interesting, if not more. It’s definitely going to be harder to write, if only because now I have to take Link and show how he becomes Warriors.

Speaking of which.... onto the present day--

That opening scene where they’re escaping from the Sheikah by running across the rope bridge? That was a certified Pain In The Neck to write. I wrote about three different versions before finding one I thought was half-way decent. Why? I kept getting too elaborate with it and the scene kept running away from me. 

A part of the reason why that scene was such a pain is that it originally wasn’t going to happen! The last chapter was supposed to have a little transition scene about having to sneak away from the Sheikah before ending with the scene where Spirit helps Warriors with his arm. 

But with the canoodling scene kicked over to this chapter, I figured it was about time I began paying off the whole We’re Being Hunted Down By the Sheikah thing.

The hard march stuff then effectively ruined my original concept for the chapter: a series of scene where Spirit interacts one on one with each member of the Chain, to varying degrees of success. That got tossed out the window and never returned. 

But I think it was worth it? I like the hard marching stuff, and it helps with the blend the deep dark atmospheric stuff with the reunited Chain being absolute bozos

And I have missed all of the shenanigans. The exchange at the beginning where Warriors gets sarcastic about being told not to let go is very silly, but I like it. It makes me laugh. 

Speaking of which, I have decided that I am a big fan of Spirit’s whip. That’s all. Just wanted to put that into the world. 

Okay, let’s hop back to the canoodling stuff.

So that scene was what was supposed to be at the end of the previous chapter, if only to give you all the two-punch Spirit What The Fuck moments. Pacing-wise, the scene also acts as set-up for the house drama. Putting it at the end of last chapter would have made it seem like that plot point was more established. 

Also, another shout-out to Legend for being the character who is constantly surprising me with how fun he is to write. I’m not a big fan of him normally, so I always end up forgetting this until I get to write him again. Then again, I am also convinced that Legend is at his best when he’s a member of the supporting cast. He’s not main character material. 

And you guys have finally bullied me enough to convince me to make DILF Hunter Hyrule canon. You can’t say I don’t do anything for you guys. 

Four and Spirit not having a good relationship just feels correct. Even if Spirit was capable of not fumbling a social interaction for more than 10 minutes, I still think these two would not like each other very much. We might be able to get them to coworkers status, but that’s if we’re lucky. 

I finally got to do this scene with Warriors and Lana! Thank god! I think Lana scenes are among the first to get cut any time I need to make space, and this one has been getting pushed back for a awhile now. It’s good to finally get them to talk, if only to wrap up that little subplot about Warriors’s shittiness towards her while scratching the surface of my Sad Girl Lana agenda. 

Actually, this chapter did so well with the Lana and Linkle content that I feel bad that Midna got barely anything to do. Granted, her big moment where Twilight is seeking comfort from her is one of my favorites. So actually, Midna stays winning.

The scene where Spirit equates dead monsters to dead people is the spiritual successor to that scene way back in the past when he and Link had their big fight. I mean, that’s obvious.

A lot of readers seemed really surprised when Spirit was ruthless on the battlefield during Twilight’s rescue, and I want this scene to help remind everyone that Spirit kills people as easily as he kills monsters because, to him, they aren’t different. That’s still shocking, but it’s not because Spirit is uniquely cruel. 

The song that Spirit plays is the Song of Birds from his game, which functionally just summons a flock of birds. You need it to solve, like, one puzzle. I have decided that it’s actually an essential part of Lokomo burial rites. 

I regret giving Hyrule the line about understanding Spirit better. On one hand, I do think this would be a reason Hyrule would soften towards him. On the other, Hyrule was not on the battlefield when Spirit was being a ruthless soldier. What is there for him to understand better?

Legend’s game is a silly scene I have been trying to include in this story for so long, if only to give Spirit a moment to explain in-story how his senses work (and to have an allergic reaction towards Legend). I am trying so hard to drive home that Spirit’s abilities are only the senses. This guy does not have any other weird magic about him. He just knows extra information about people. 

Also, Wind robbing Spirit is extra funny when you remember that Spirit probably sensed him nearby and still somehow did not realize he was being pickpocketed. 

I think the things Spirit senses off of the boys are fairly obvious, except for Wild-- that water stuck in the nose feeling refers to Wild being submerged in the Shrine of Resurrection

I feel bad that I keep giving Wind more problems to deal with, but unfortunately, head trauma causes so many lasting conditions. I haven’t even really milked his newfound half-deafness yet. 

Also, thank you once more for everyone who gave me additional information on how signing with one hand works! You’re all the bomb!

The most painful cut this chapter was a scene where Spirit met Kat again. It's still gonna happen somehow, but the logistics didn't quite work (they're supposed to be on the run... what are they doing with meemaw???) and I just needed to focus on other things. It's such a shame, though. We almost had a perfect cohesive past and present chapter combo.

Initially, I was going to leave Toto in the well until the end of the story. He would act as extra motivation for Warriors to basically fix Hyrule-- if he doesn’t, Toto doesn’t go free. Then at least one person asked that he be rescued, and I crumbled. 

Also, if I did my job right, this is the first time in the present day that Anders’s name is said out loud! 

So you can probably guess that if I was willing to take as much time as needed to write the rest of CTB, I would have given saving Toto and burning the house down its own chapter. I’m not great at pacing (see: the fact that I wrote a whole chapter about characters traveling instead of skimming over that shit), but I figured I would take the risk and see if I could get away with having both off screen.

Was it effective? In some ways, yes. I think the shock when Warriors finds out is effective. 

What really makes my cutting corners work is that Warriors got to do something else that was really important instead, which is talking with Icarius. 

(By the way, I know most of you are doing a bit about being hardcore Warriors/Icarius shippers. But the few of you who are genuine, I need you all to wait until I actually show what the relationship is like before committing, if only because this is something I of all people would be writing). 

What isn’t effective is how Cia’s drawing was meant to foreshadow the house burning. I always thought of it as a minor detail akin to Cia’s warnings while she was in the bush, but a lot of you clung to it like it was going to hold the key to final climax of the narrative. That’s probably my fault. Oops. 

But Warriors and Spirit fighting... perfect. Love that scene. Honestly, I missed their violence. 

But my god. Getting to elaborate on the house and how it's filled with his mother's things at the start of the chapter before having it ripped away? Priceless. Perfect. I am patting myself on the back for that one.

I kinda hate that Warriors and Wind moment. It’s good and everything I like until after Wind offers up his earring. I didn’t know where else to take the scene, but I didn’t want to end it there. What I ended up writing is just really cliche, and I really wish I gave myself more time to redo it. 

And finally, that ending scene. Oh boy. Your honor, something is going on. If you guys are this stressed by a little cuddling, I cannot wait to see how next chapter is going to mess you up (pending on whether I chicken out or not)

Once more, I have to point out how insane everyone’s takes are making me. No one, and I mean no one, is on the same page about whatever is going on between Warriors and Spirit. There is no consensus. It’s driving me to insanity. I am still pushing myself to embrace different interpretations and to not view personal takeaways as a failing of the story. 

But the more space I give everyone to draw their own conclusions, the more I get worried about alienating a reader, or writing a story with an ending that one person likes and everyone else hates. 

But, again, this is a practice in ambiguity. Part of this story’s draw is how so many people are reading the same scenes and characters, and walking away with different perspectives. As nervous as it makes me, I love it.

[speaktoitproductions]

We’re Alive!

TL;DR: Verdant Heart editing is back underway, and you can check out the casting call for Goldenrod right now!

our carrd with links for everything

The long update under the break.

Hey, everybody. It’s been a while, but I’m absolutely thrilled to be getting back on the creative horse.

Speak to It HQ has moved *again* (though thankfully just a couple of neighborhoods over, rather than across the country). Our life is still in boxes and poorly arranged furniture, but Ariel and I have a bit more space to stretch and work now that we’re in a larger apartment. That being said — moving is stressful as many of you may know, and I’m far from finished in getting the space to a place wherein we can feel relaxed and productive. Nevertheless, I’ve had a steady job for over six months now, and an actually good therapist for longer than that, so despite the mental illness dragging me down, it’s nowhere near the burden it has been previously in the course of the last four years.

So, what’s up with my unfinished show? The simplest answer is: We’re gonna finish it! As for *when*, well… I’m not so sure. That depends on a lot of factors that I simply cannot predict, though I have tried in the past with poor results. This project has taught me a lot over the past few years about what works for my creative process and leadership, and what really doesn’t. The thing that matters most right now to me is that I am as patient with myself as I am the other collaborators that make this production possible, as I learn to find a sustainable creative pace. This patience is something I want to be part of the core philosophies of what Speak To It is trying to accomplish as a production company. I will complete the other four episodes of Verdant Heart, and begin to publish them over some interval once all four are completed. At this time, I have no intention of re-recording or re-editing the original two episodes. When the remainder of the show is released, you will notice some differences: slight changes in style of writing, music, editing, and even some of the voices of the actors themselves (though no characters have been recast, the entire voice cast has been a crew of absolute angels). I hope your suspension of disbelief will allow you to continue the show as if there was no break, or at the very least, you may enjoy how I hope to make Verdant Heart’s final product somewhat emblematic of the entire journey it took to make it. Please watch this space, as I will try to offer some glimpses of our work as we put this wonderful thing together.

Now for the other important news: we’ve started casting for our next project! Goldenrod is a horror drama limited series created by Speak To Its third major member, Lauren Tucker. The script they have written is nothing short of dazzling, and I couldn’t be happier to help Lauren make it the next show on our lineup as a team. The production road ahead is long and I have my work cut out for me, but the wisdom we have gained as a group over the last few years leaves me confident that we can only get better from here.

If you have any questions, please don’t be afraid to reach out. I am so excited to return to the audio drama space, and am looking forward to interacting with folks outside of my immediate little team once again.

~ Jules <3

[aylacavebear]

She Thought She was Normal

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine

Word Count: 2331

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. May have future SMUT 18+!

Warnings: Angst, Fluff. Insinuation of SMUT.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 26 - A Reunion They Didn't See Coming

The woman Maria saw standing in the kitchen of the two-story home looked somewhat lonely. She’d been watching her for the last hour, invisible and undetectable.

The woman performed mundane tasks but seemed to only be going through the motions like her heart wasn’t in it. Maria took a deep breath and revealed herself, sitting at the table across from her.

“Please, don’t scream,” Maria asked her calmly.

The woman was startled and got out of her seat, taking a few steps backward, “Who… what are you?” she asked.

“It's a long story, but I can give you the short version and perhaps fill in the rest later,” Maria replied.

The woman took a deep breath and gingerly moved back to her seat, sitting across from her again, “Okay, I’ll bite,” something about her deep, dark blue eyes and jet-black hair seemed familiar.

Maria could tell she was a bit apprehensive and completely understood why, “I’m Maria, Maria Winter. William and Alarra’s daughter. I think you met me once when I was like two. A lot has happened since then. I wanted to ask you, do you want to come back?”

The woman stared at her, wide-eyed, and goosebumps ran down her body. She could tell that more than twenty years had passed, which meant that a lot had to have changed, “What would I be coming back to?” she asked. She needed at least something from her before she could fully decide.

“We’re all safe now, mostly. We have a home, and it’s amazing,” Maria told her, then smiled a little as she looked down at the table, “We’re hunters, but it’s different now. Azazel is dead, and we’re working on finding out what is manipulating our lives, and now we have the resources to do it.” Maria looked up at her, “Will you join us?”

She took a deep breath. Maria hadn’t given her much, but it was more than she thought she would, “Yes. I want to come back.”

Maria smiled happily as she stood up and walked over to her. She stood as well, and Maria could tell she was nervous, “Don’t be nervous. It might be a little weird initially, but it won’t last. I’ll help you, by sharing some memories with you once we get there. They’re all still asleep right now.”

The woman smiled a bit in anticipation as Maria took her hand, then snapped her fingers, and the two were in the war room of the bunker. 

“That was a bit, disorienting,” the woman told her, chuckling a little.

“Want some coffee?” Maria offered.

She chuckled, “Sure. It’s somewhere to start, at least.”

The two entered the kitchen and stopped dead in their tracks, seeing John sitting at the table. Maria had thought he’d still be asleep and glanced from the woman to John. He looked like he was looking at a ghost.

“I can explain, Uncle John,” Maria began, but John said nothing.

He closed the distance between him and the two of them, only focusing on the woman in disbelief until he reached out and touched her cheek, finding her quite real. Tears fell from his eyes as he cupped her face in his hands smiling, overjoyed. She smiled up at him and put her arms around him.

“I’m really here, John. Maria brought me back,” she told him softly.

“Mary…” he whispered before he kissed her.

Maria just smiled as she backed out of the kitchen. There would be plenty of time to catch her up on things later. She knew the two needed some privacy, even if the kitchen was a common area. Maria sat down at one of the tables in the library and created a cup of coffee for herself, smiling happily, and contently. She sipped it, thinking about how things would go once the other three woke up and they found out. It wasn’t like she had consulted any of them about this. She’d just done it. 

The thought had crossed her mind of bringing her parents back, but she knew they were together in heaven, their souls at peace. It wouldn’t have been fair to ask either of them, and she knew it; plus, it was riskier. She had suspicions about Mary’s soul being restless, even in heaven. Then there was John and her boys. Yeah, just over twenty years had passed, but none of them had stopped loving her.

A half-hour later, Dean ran into the war room and headed straight for the kitchen. Maria had barely seen him, “I’m in here,” she quickly told him before he’d made it to the hallway leading to the kitchen, which made him stop in his tracks and turn to her.

He put his hand on his heart like he had gotten scared as he took a deep breath, walking toward her. She tilted her head a bit, confused at his reaction, “I thought something happened to you. You weren’t there… when I woke up…” he told her, and she saw the fear in his eyes.

She quickly stood up and put her arms around him, attempting to comfort him, “I’m so-,” she stopped the apology, remembering what he’d said about kissing her and knew now wasn’t the time. “I had something I needed to do. I should have at least left you a note. I promise I’ll remember, if it happens again,” she told him softly.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, taking in her scent, feeling his racing heart finally start to slow down, “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he breathed, kissing the top of her head.

Mary and John had begun making their way into the war room at that moment. John stopped, though, and smiled, seeing his son with her. Mary smiled as well. He pulled her a little closer. The two parents enjoyed seeing the love between their son and the woman he loved. One can’t describe it in words, but it brought a sense of peace to their hearts.

“Dean, there's someone I want you to meet,” Maria whispered, biting her lip as she looked up at him.

He looked down at her, a little puzzled, and Maria turned to the war room, seeing her and John standing there. Dean still had that puzzled look as he turned in the direction she was facing, and he, too, thought he was seeing a ghost.

“Mom…” he breathed in a whisper.

John had at least filled her in a bit over the last half hour or so. Mary smiled and nodded, meeting her son in the middle of the war room before the two hugged. Maria just smiled happily. She did notice John mouth the words “Thank you” to her from across the room, and she nodded in acknowledgment. She could also see the glistening of unshed tears in John’s eyes as he looked back at his wife. There were tears of joy that Maria could see fight to fall from Dean’s eyes, but he tried to stop them, missing a couple. 

That was when Sam and Jess entered the war room, with Sam stopping dead in his tracks. He had been six months old when his mother had been killed and only had pictures of her; otherwise, he never would have known what she looked like. Now, there she was, hugging Dean. Jess kept walking, but when she felt that Sam wasn’t walking with her due to them still holding hands, she also stopped, turning to him. 

“What’s wrong, Sam?” she asked, puzzled.

Dean and Mary stopped hugging as the two looked at them, as did Maria and John. Sam was speechless, more emotions swimming through his expression than he wanted. Mary went over and hugged Sam, which he did return. Then she hugged Jess, having heard about her from John.

Bobby eventually joined all of them a half hour later. They were all sitting in the library, Maria keeping their coffees full while they caught Mary up on what had happened over the last twenty years. Bobby had the same reaction as if he was looking at a ghost. He was apprehensive, just as the others had been, but he was assured that she was quite real. Maria filled him in on what she’d done, although she had left out the why of it.

There was laughter, a lot of laughter, and when they got hungry, Maria made breakfast appear in front of them all. She’d practiced as much with her powers as possible, using every opportunity available. John, of course, sat next to Mary, wanting to keep at least one hand on her, like she was going to disappear or something. They shared their past with her, and she shared her dreams that she had had for them when she was alive. Those would change now, with all that had already changed. Mary found Jess to be absolutely adorable. 

Maria felt something strange and began looking around the room. She couldn’t see anything, and the feeling felt as though it was distant, still a ways away from where they all were. It was somewhat unsettling to her, though. She knew that her going to heaven and retrieving Mary Winchester wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by the angels. 

Maria took a slow, deep breath before finally speaking up, “Okay, so you guys aren’t gonna like this,” she began, looking around at them.

“What's going on kid?” Bobby asked her.

“Uh… well… By bringing Mary back, I might have set off some alarms in heaven. Sooo…. I uh, I need to make it so that we’re all undetectable by the angels,” she explained.

They looked at her, slightly puzzled, “And what does that entail?” Sam asked.

Maria pursed her lips for a moment, looking down at her coffee cup, “Branding your ribs in an Enochian warding spell,” she mumbled. She’d read about it in that book of hers a few days ago; she just hadn’t brought it up yet.

“Is it gonna hurt?” Jess asked, wondering.

“Probably,” she sighed quietly.

Dean gently squeezed her leg, just above her knee, as he looked over at her, “If we can survive monsters, a little rib branding is nothing,” he told her with a soft smile, trying to comfort her.

The others thought over what Maria said, but Mary spoke, “Let’s get it done then. I’ll go first.”

That, and what Dean said, at least brought a small smile to Maria’s face. She got up and walked over to Mary, who stood from her seat. Mary softly smiled as Maria placed her hand over her chest. It hurt, but only for the few seconds it took to brand her ribs. Maria also added the anti-possession tattoo on her shoulder, the same place John and Bobby had theirs. Of course, the guys weren’t gonna let Mary show them up. They all stood, as did Jess, making Maria chuckle a little. Maria closed her eyes, and that white/blue light showed a little on their chests as she branded the rest of them and herself. 

“OWE!” Dean groaned, holding his chest momentarily, as did the others.

Maria gave them all an apologetic look, but at least it was done now. It was nearly lunch, and Dean considered a shot of whiskey after that but decided against it. 

“I want to give you some information, from the present, like how to use a computer,” Maria told Mary with a soft smile.

Mary smiled at her and gave her a reaffirming smile. Maria touched her first two fingers on her forehead, giving her knowledge of the now so she wouldn’t feel so out of time. Little did any of them know that at that moment there was a very angry man sitting in front of a computer screen, cussing up a storm now. Or that there was a very curious angel in Lebanon, Kansas, trying to figure out what was going on with the town and why there hadn’t been any crime. The phenomenon was also spreading, already reaching the towns closest to Lebanon. 

The rest of the day was spent with all of them together. They had a lot to catch up on. Well, catch Mary up on at least. She hadn’t wanted to raise her boys to be hunters, but she was so proud of how they had turned out, the men they’d grown into. John gave Mary a tour after lunch, holding her hand. That was when both Dean and Sam hugged Maria at the same time. She was a bit surprised at first, then giggled when they sandwiched her between them.

“We can’t thank you enough, Sis,” Sam told her, overjoyed, but his tone was soft and quiet.

“It felt like something that needed to be done. I don’t know how to explain it, but uh… you’re welcome,” she replied, “Getting hard to breathe, though,” she added, giggling a little as the two of them squeezed her a little tighter.

The brothers chuckled a little as Sam let her go, but Dean didn’t. He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her lovingly, letting that action tell her just how much it meant to him. She wrapped her arms around his back, holding him close and kissing him back. Maria could feel everything Dean couldn’t convey in words through the kiss he gave her, and she smiled a bit against his lips.

Maria created dinner for them that night and even clothes for Mary that she would be comfortable in, which appeared in John’s room in the dresser and closet. They all had drinks, Maria sticking to only a couple of beers. This time, Bobby and the kids retired early, leaving Mary and John to have the library and the rest of the bunker to themselves. Although, once Dean closed his bedroom door, with Maria already inside, he quickly closed the distance between them, kissing her deeply, passionately, intimately, wanting to show her just how much what she had done meant to him.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 27

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67

Link to the master list for this story.

[thenatashamaximoff]

The Last Day Of Christmas; Day 9

Summary: On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

List of warnings could be found on the masterlist

Words: 1,784

✎ | ☃

December 22nd, 2022 (Present Day) You couldn’t stop the smile from lighting up your features despite having just woken up, walking into the kitchen to see Wanda using the cutting board you had gifted her the other day was just enough to replace that sleep in your eyes with a sparkle of happiness. You didn’t hesitate to walk into the kitchen, looping an arm around her waist as you planted a kiss on her cheek. After the light giggle that bubbled out of her throat, the two of you settled in a comfortable silence as you helped her finish cooking. You were a bit surprised she hasn’t mentioned the gift of the day, though you had to have figured that she was up to something by the way she had been avoiding eye contact with you ever since you had walked into the room. Yet you still continued forward, eating breakfast in silence, even cleaning up in silence.

You had cleared your throat, leaning against the sink as she loaded up the dishwasher, watching her blankly. She still hasn’t met your stare, and you were feeling nauseated at the fact that you were incapable of looking into her fanfiction green eyes. “What’s wrong?” you finally questioned as she loaded the last dish into the machine. Her movements faltered at your inquiry for a moment before she closed it and began fiddling with the buttons. “Baby-” Your voice caught in your throat when she met your eyes for the first time, seeing the guilt hidden behind the emeralds. “What’d you do?”

She straightened her form, wrapping her arms around herself as she breathed out heavily. “I found the present,” she confessed, rubbing her arms nervously as you stepped away from the counter, “and I opened it.”

“Wanda-”

“I know!” she expressed, huffing nervously. “I felt so bad after I tore it open.”

You sighed, scratching the back of your neck. “I mean, it’s not the end of the world,” you assured her. “It’s only a simple quote.” You tilted your head when the shame lifted off her face with a beaming grin, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she quickly grabbed your wrist and guided you into the living room, tugging you past the Christmas tree with the ever-growing presents building underneath it, pausing in front of the wall. You sighed once again upon seeing the present you had gotten her already hanging up, the framed quote hanging below the photo of the two of you on your first date. “You wasted no time, huh?” You looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “You didn’t actually feel bad, did you?”

“No, not at all,” she admitted, grinning as she shrugged casually. “Isn’t it nice, though?”

“Please tell me you remember the quote,” you stated, turning back towards the picture, but you could feel your face drop in disbelief when you heard her hum thoughtfully. “You don’t?”

“I’m kidding,” she said, laughing lightly. “Here, I’ll even tell the story.”

━━ᗢ━━

May 20th, 2019 You had always been nervous when you had felt it was the right time to ask Wanda to move out of the compound and find a house with you. The two of you have been sharing the same room there anyway, so the only difference would be having an entire place to yourselves; your own kitchen, your own living room. Just a place out of the prying eye of your fellow teammates. Though you had always tried to convince Wanda to move her stuff out of her room and into yours - Tony was looking to recruit that spider boy for a while now, the kid might need a room.

But it wasn’t you who asked Wanda, it was Wanda who asked you. And the relief that you had felt when you had found out that she was at the same level as you were is beyond describable. Now, the two of you just have to go through the painful process of finding that house that you connect with. The perfect house. Which was easier said than done.

“How many houses have we looked at today?” Wanda questioned, your eyes traveling up the house as she pulled to a stop in front of it. “This’ll be number four.” You had left her to answer her own question, though you did look at her with a raised eyebrow. “And, by the look on your face right now, I’m assuming there’ll be a number five soon.”

“I’m not feeling it,” you told her. “What if we go back to house two? At least I felt something with that house.” You huffed back into the seat, pressing your fingers against your forehead as your eyes fluttered close. “We got this. This could be the house. We’ll never know until we go inside.”

Wanda watched you with a small smile as you climbed out of the car, greeting the realtor with a wide grin. He has dealt with this kind of undecided doubt before, he clearly had the patience for it, yet she couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. She killed the engine and got out of the car to trail after you as you walked into the house.

“This place is nice,” were the first words that came out of Wanda’s mouth upon entering the home. She sent you a toothy grin when you looked at her, the realtor sending her a grateful smile. She stepped into the large, empty room adjacent to the kitchen, spreading her arms out wide. “This is obviously the living room, with a sliding glass door to the backyard!”

“Hex-” You cut yourself off when she held up a finger, walking past you to stand in the middle of the kitchen. You released a sigh when she, once again, spread her arms out, looking at you expectantly. “That’s clearly the kitchen.”

“See? The vision is already coming in.” She gestured for you to follow her as she made her way down the hall, and you released a sigh as you did. She disappeared into a room, and you couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on your face no matter how hard you tried. “Bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” you agreed, fully giving in to the smile.

“The bathroom’s across the hall,” the realtor stated from the doorway, “and there’s a spare bedroom if you two plan on having any ki-” He cleared his throat when you both turned your head to look at him, Wanda’s eyebrow raised silently told him to continue speaking. “Company.” He smiled, but the fake moment of happiness didn’t last long. “I’ll just wait outside.”

You looked at Wanda, though the grin that was on your face never returned. Instead, your eyes shined brightly with unshed tears, your bottom lip trembled, and you whispered an incoherent apology as you hurried out of the room. She didn’t hesitate to chase after you, following you as you made your way out the glass door and into the backyard. She lingered back as you looked up at the sky, your shoulders slouching as a tear managed to escape its prison. “I’m sorry,” you said, a bit more coherently this time.

Wanda sighed, stepping forward to stand next to you. She didn’t look anywhere but at you, her hands itching to wipe away that stray tear. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it the house? We have one more we can look at, Y/N.”

“It’s-” You cleared your throat, shaking your head as you looked down. “It’s not the house.” You sunk to the ground, holding your knees to your chest nervously. Wanda joined you in the grass, crossing her legs as she looked at you. 

“Do you not want to move in together?”

“Of course I do,” you expressed, meeting her wary gaze. You huffed, furrowing your eyebrows in what she couldn’t tell was anger or sadness. “Wanda, I’ve been wanting to move in with you for months.”

“Talk to me, detka,” she whispered, searching your eyes for any sign. “I need to know what’s bothering you.”

You breathed out shakily, pursing your lips together tightly for a brief moment before you said, “I just need the house to be perfect for you. I… I just want it to give you something to look forward to coming back to everyday.”

“Oh, baby,” she laughed, tilting her head as she brought your face in between her hands. “It’s not the house I’m looking forward to coming back to. It’s you.” She chuckled lowly, smiling as her thumbs wiped away the loose tears covering your cheeks. “Y/N, I’m not picky about the house we move into, as long as you come with it.”

You stared at her, sniffling. “That was really cheesy,” you confessed, causing her to laugh. The corners of your lips twitched upwards into a brief smile. “Like, that was off the charts of cheesiness.”

“Alright,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Wherever you are, Y/N, that’s where I’m meant to be.”

“Do you like this house?” you whispered.

She laughed softly, nodding her head. “This is the perfect house.”

“Then we’ll take this one.” You smiled at her, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against her lips.

“Not to ruin this intimate moment or anything,” you pulled away, your jaw locking in annoyance as Wanda looked up at the realtor with a wide smile, “but did I hear that you two are taking this house?”

“Yes,” Wanda answered, chuckling. She smiled softly, turning back to you to meet your gaze. “We’re buying the house.”

━━ᗢ━━

Present Day Wanda sighed as she brought you into her side, looking at the framed quote in front of her. “‘Wherever you are, that’s where I’m meant to be.’” She smirked. “I’m pretty sure I read that in a fortune cookie or something.”

“I don’t even care,” you stated. “I know it from you.” You looked at her, feeling her lean close to you. And when her lips were inches away from yours, you laughed lightly as you slightly pulled back. 

“It still stands true,” she promised, leaning forward to brush her nose across yours, pulling a smile out of you.

“Oh, yeah?” She nodded as you smirked. “What happens if I go somewhere you can’t?”

“I’ll find a way,” she claimed, moving to step in front of you. Her body still flushed against you by your arms, the tips of her fingers teased your jaw as she met your gaze. “I know wherever you go without me, Y/N, I’ll find my way to you. Through hell and highwater.”

“Let’s hope I don’t wander too far away from you then.” She started to smile, but it was interrupted when you closed the distance between your lips.

[stardustshelb]

"Orange Juice" Part Two (End)

TW: Language. Your name (female) + Danny. 2,813 words.

The song "Orange Juice" by Noah Kahan inspired me to write this story; each part of the story is inspired by a different part of the song. Also, I'm in my sad girl era so you all must suffer with me.

Part Two

“...My life has changed, that this town had changed, and you had not.

That the world has changed, don't you find it strange that you just went ahead and carried on?

…I'd say the last time I drank I was face down, passed out, there on your lawn.” - NK

“Hello?” you repeated in an angrier, more annoyed tone. I gripped my phone tighter. I couldn’t believe it was you. I finally was able to stammer out a word after the shock wore off.

“Y/n,” is all I could get out before hearing nothing. You hung up on me. You must have recognized my voice as well and made the choice to end the call. I hung my head and weighed my options. I know you wanted me to leave you alone but I felt like I wouldn’t be able to drop it. I needed to make things right and give you closure. It’s the least I could do. I opened the messaging app on my phone and composed a text to send to you.

Me: One conversation is all I want.

I watched the three dots appear on the screen but they disappeared quickly. I continued to stare at the screen hoping they would return. I wondered if you blocked my number.

Me: I will be leaving town in three days. Can we meet before then?

The text says delivered. You haven’t blocked me, yet. I breathe a sigh of relief. Before I could get a third message typed, Josie popped into my doorway.

“Hey, do you want to talk about today?” she asked as she lingered. Times like these are when I’m grateful to have a sibling. 

“Yeah,” I sigh as I pat the spot next to me on the bed. She sat next to me and laid her head on my shoulder.

“Can I be honest with you?” Josie asked.

“Always,” I said.

“I think you need to leave her alone,” she said while still resting on my shoulder. I felt my body tense up at her words but she didn’t move. “I only say that because she’s the best she’s ever been. I don’t want you bringing up old feelings and painful memories. I want her to continue to be her best self.”

“And you don’t think I want that too?” I argued.

“Danny, I think you could make her relapse,” she said so quietly I barely heard her.

“I just wish I could talk to her,” I said, putting my face into my hands.

“If she wanted to talk to you,” Josie said as she put her hand in mine, “she would reach out.”

“I think I’m going to get some sleep,” I lied. I really just wanted to be alone. Josie may have been right and I should probably leave y/n alone. But something inside of me was not wanting to let this go. Josie patted my hand as if she knew I was lying and stood up. Before leaving my room, she turned to give me one last sympathetic look. 

…

My eyelids were getting heavy after laying in bed for hours. My mind was racing too fast for me to find any rest. I turned to grab my phone to check the time. It was now after midnight which technically meant tomorrow was Christmas. As I went to put my phone back on the nightstand, a text from your number popped up on my screen.

You: What is there to talk about?

I stare at the screen in disbelief. Granted, the response wasn’t great but it was a response nonetheless. I sat up in bed and tried to think of how to word my reply. If this was my one and only shot at getting you to talk to me, I couldn’t waste it.

Me: Anything. Everything. Nothing. 

I hit send. I wasn’t proud of it; however, I knew if I spent too much time overthinking it, I’d never know what to say. 

You: Let’s go with nothing then.

Me: One conversation, please. Are you free?

You: I want to lie and say no.

Me: Where can we meet?

You: You can come by my place around noon. Do you remember where my sister lived? 

Your sister. I stared at my screen as I remembered her. Her laugh. Her smile. Her touch. I hadn’t thought about her in years, and I felt guilty about allowing her memory to become so distant.

Me: Yes. See you soon. 

…

I didn’t need a GPS to route me to your sister’s place. I made this drive more times than I could count back in the day. Though it no longer belonged to her… I wondered how it felt living in a space that used to be occupied by someone you loved. Did you think of her when sitting in the living room? What about when staring up at what was once her bedroom ceiling? Did you think of her making us breakfast when you stepped into the kitchen? I hadn’t even made it to her apartment and I already was overwhelmed with memories. I couldn’t imagine living there.

I pulled into the driveway and stared at the outside. I begged and pleaded for you to talk to me only to get scared of actually seeing you now that I had the opportunity. I took a deep breath and felt my lungs expand. I did this a few more times until all I could focus on was my breathing. I laid my forehead against the steering wheel and continued to breathe while simultaneously trying to work up the courage to knock on your door. 

Bang! The sound of something hitting my driver’s side window made me jump. Startled from my thoughts, I saw you standing outside my door. You looked angry. I opened the door and you let out an annoyed sigh.

“Are you just going to sleep in the driveway all day?” you asked as you crossed your arms across your chest. 

“I wasn’t asleep,” I said as I felt my heartbeat relax. “I was just trying to muster up some courage.” I couldn’t believe I admitted that aloud.

“Come inside, it’s freezing out here,” you said as you hurried back toward the front door. Michigan winters were nothing you wanted to stand around in. I exited my car and followed you inside. It was surreal being back in your sister’s apartment. It was somehow both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. I couldn’t explain it. The four walls that surrounded us were ones I knew well, but they didn’t look the same. Not that I would expect you to keep everything the same after all this time. 

“Have a seat,” you said as you gestured to the recliner across from the couch you were sitting on. I would have preferred to sit next to you, but I wasn’t going to push my luck. I walked to the recliner and sat, yet I felt anything but relaxed.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked. 

“About a year,” you said, smoothing your hands over your legs. “It came available and I jumped on the opportunity to get a lease.”

“That’s great, y/n. I’m happy for you,” I said.

“Are you?” you asked. I stiffened.

“Yes, of course,” I explained.

“I don’t know why I’m talking to you,” you said. 

“I don’t either, but I’m glad you are,” I said.

“Do you even know what it’s been like for me since you left?” you asked. 

“No, I–” I began.

“I am sure you’ve heard about my many stints in rehab,” you said with a forced laugh. Though, nothing you were talking about was funny.

“I don’t pay attention to what others say about you,” I said. “I never have.”

“I’m six months sober today. That’s the only reason I agreed to see you. It felt kind of… serendipitous,” you said. 

“Why don’t you think I’m happy for you?” I asked.

“Because you moved away and never once looked back. I lost my sister and my best friend in the same year. It felt like you both died,” you yelled. I felt my eyes grow wide as you unleashed your built-up anger.

“Y/n, I never meant to make you feel that way,” I pleaded.

“You never called. You never visited. My world flipped upside down and you were out making your dreams come true while I stayed here trapped in a goddamn nightmare,” you said. I didn’t know what to say, so you took my silence as an invitation to continue. “And you know this town worships the ground you and the Kiszkas walk on. I am happy for your success, Daniel. You guys made something of yourselves and you’re beyond talented. It just hurts to know that you left me behind like I didn’t matter. Like she didn’t matter. She loved you. I loved you. And you–” you were screaming at this point. I’m not sure if you noticed.

“I loved you both too, y/n. You know that,” I interrupted.

“Six months ago your mom found me passed out in your front yard. Did she tell you that?” you asked, suddenly changing the subject.

“No,” I said quietly. Why hadn’t she? She normally jumped at the opportunity to tell me any juicy town gossip.

“That’s when I knew I was at my lowest. I haven’t touched anything since. I wished I were dead that night,” you admitted. My heart broke at the thought of losing you too.

“Please don’t say that,” I said as I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

“Do you ever think about me? About her?” you asked.

“Y/n…” I said as I hung my head.

“I’m serious. You were my best friend. You were her everything. And then she died and it’s like you didn’t even give a shit!” you yelled.

“Of course I gave a shit!” I yelled back. I was shocked at my own voice. It was rare for me to raise my voice.

“I know it wasn’t your fault, but you were the last person to see her alive, and it’s like you disappeared right along with her,” you cried. I was crying too. 

“I never meant to make you feel abandoned, y/n. It hurts to be back in this town. It hurts to be back in this apartment. It hurts to be reminded that I held her hand as her pulse stopped,” I choked. I had never said those words aloud. You stared at me for a moment before wiping your tears away. I got up from the recliner and joined you on the couch. Our knees were inches away from one another.

“I loved her. I always will. But being here reminds me of the worst night of my life, and I’m sorry that I chose to run away from that,” I said as I placed my hand on your leg. “I never want you to feel like you wish you were dead.”

“Being sober for this long helps drown out those thoughts and feelings, but seeing you happy and successful without her… without me… Well, it makes me want to drink, honestly,” you admitted. “And I’m sorry if that makes me sound like a selfish bitch, but it’s how I feel.”

“And your feelings are valid, y/n. I am here to support you now and from here on out. I can’t stay in Frankenmuth, but I won’t disappear on you. Not again,” I said, hoping you’d meet my eyes. You continued to stare at my hand on your lap. I wondered if you believed a word I said.

“It’s too late for us to be friends again, Daniel,” she said. “But it felt good to be able to share with you how I’ve felt for so long.”

“It’s not too late, y/n,” I said.

“No, it is. And that’s ok. Our lives are too different now. I’m in a good place. I need to stay that way,” you said, finally putting your hand on top of mine. “You’ve lived without me in your life for almost a decade. You don’t need me.”

“Will you at least come over for Christmas like you used to?” I asked. “It would mean a lot to my family.. To me.”

“I couldn’t face your mom again, Daniel. It’s too embarrassing,” you said. 

“She would love to see you like this, y/n. Please. Even if it’s just for a moment,” I practically begged.

“Maybe,” you said. I held on to that word with every ounce of hope I had left.

…

“Honey, come over, the party's gone slower.

And no one will tempt you, we know you got sober.

There's orange juice in the kitchen, bought for the children.

It's yours if you want it, we're just glad you could visit.” - NK

I rolled the peas around on my dinner plate with my fork as thoughts of you wandered through my head. I knew it would be unlikely that you would show up to my family’s Christmas. I felt kind of stupid for inviting you in the first place. Not because I didn’t want you here, but because you hadn’t visited in years. Why would you start now? Back in high school, you and your sister would stop by every year if for anything a glass of eggnog. Sometimes I’d sneak a kiss or two from her under the mistletoe. My parents never cared that we were drinking underage because they were “holiday spirits” like Dad would say. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay a few more nights?” Josie asked.

“I’ve had about all the holly jolly I can take,” I admitted. I hated that I was being such a downer but any chance I had at feeling joyful and triumphant was nonexistent. I stood up to take my plate to the kitchen before my mom could offer to. I didn’t want her to see that I hadn’t eaten much. She’d take it personally like her cooking was bad. Truth be told–I just couldn’t stomach much after our conversation. It’s all I’ve been able to think about and I hated it. I raked the uneaten food into the trashcan when I heard a soft knock on the door. No way.

“I got it!” I heard my dad yell from the table. I waited in silence as I stood over the trashcan. I felt like I stopped breathing as I listened for who would be knocking on our door this late on Christmas.

“Y/n!” my mom squealed. “Please, please come in!” There’s no way. I must be dreaming. I put my plate and fork in the sink and ran to the front door. There you were. At the risk of sound cliché, it was a Christmas miracle. 

You were holding a poinsettia plant that you kindly handed to my mom as she kissed you on both sides of your face. The green sweater you were wearing complemented your eyes. It was refreshing to see you so happy. When my mom finally let you go, I walked up to give you a hug. I wrapped my arms around you and gently squeezed, savoring every second of lost time.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” I whispered so only you could hear me. You squeezed me a little tighter and I knew that was your way of telling me you were happy too. I let go and allowed the rest of my family to embrace you like they always did.

“Are you hungry?” My mom asked. “We just finished eating, but we have so much food left over. I’ll make you a plate!”

“No, no. I’m not hungry. I just came by to say hello,” you said.

“Well, you can’t leave without a glass of holiday spirits. We’ve got our famous eggnog!” Dad exclaimed. Mom and I looked at each other for only a second. I wonder if Dad realized what he had just offered. I tried to hide my embarrassment but you didn’t show any.

“No eggnog for me this year, but thank you,” you said with a smile.

“How about a glass of orange juice instead?” my dad asked.

“That would be great, thank you,” you said. My parents disappeared into the kitchen and we were alone. 

“I really am glad you’re here,” I said. 

“Me too,” you said.

“Two glasses of orange juice!” Dad announced before entering the room as if he were trying to avoid another awkward moment. I’m sure Mom filled him in on his blunder when they were in the kitchen. I watched you graciously accept the glass and then took the second glass.

“Cheers, y/n,” I said as I reached my glass out to you.

“Cheers, Danny,” you said. Clink!

And for the first time in a long time, I finally felt like I was home.

[aquietwritingcorner]

I'm Doing This Because I Care About You

Title: I’m Doing This Because I Care About You Day: Febuwhump Day 24 Prompt: I’m Doing This Because I Care About You  Fandom:  TMNT 2003 Word Count: 972  Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating:  T Characters: Splinter, Leonardo Warning: NA Summary: Sending Leonardo away is the last thing that Splinter wants to do. But he knows that keeping his son here when he’s hurting so will only be worse.   Notes:     ff.net || AO3

__________________________

I’m Doing This Because I Care About You

Splinter watched as Leonardo packed for his trip, his brothers watching in a muted disbelief. None of them could believe this was happening, that Splinter was sending Leonardo away, and Splinter couldn’t blame them. He had never expected to, never wanted to, send any of his sons away. He had always hoped that they could live their own lives one day, and maybe that would mean them choosing to leave, but he had never wanted to send any of his sons away.

Splinter kept his eyes trained on Leonardo. His son looked so sad. He looked so uncertain, devastated in a particular way, and it made Splinter’s heart ache. He wanted to go to his son, to embrace him, and to tell him that, no, never mind, the trip was off, he didn’t have to leave. He could stay, and they’d keep trying to work on things.

Splinter knew that wasn’t the right choice.

His son was hurting. His son was hurting in ways that Splinter couldn’t fix, not anymore. He could see echoes of the little boy his son had once been as Leonardo packed. He remembered that same sort of expression, when his son realized that they were different and how humans would actually treat them. The hurt, the sadness, the devastation.

Then, at least, Splinter could hold his son, though he was almost as big as Splinter himself at that point, and soothe him, reassuring Leonardo that they would, at least, have each other. At that point, to his sons, Splinter could fix everything, and he had done the best he could. It had been enough. Now, however? Now Splinter didn’t even know how to help his son.

He wanted to hold his son here, to wrap him up in his arms again, to keep him close, but Splinter knew that it wasn’t the right choice. If Leonardo stayed here, he would continue to sour inside. He would either go back to being angry, to taking reckless risks, and to demanding too much of his family, or he would turn devastatingly melancholy, a great sadness overtaking him, wiping him of his will.

Both would kill him, although in different ways. And if they didn’t kill him physically, then they would kill Leonardo at his core. Splinter may not have known how to fix this, but he knew that much, at least.

No, if Leonardo was to truly live again, if he was to return to who he was, then he would have to leave. To keep him here would be selfish, cruel. It would be giving him a slow death. Splinter would be putting what he wanted above the needs of his son, and he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. No matter how much his own heart ached, he wouldn’t put his own desires ahead of what was best for his children.

Leonardo finished loading everything in his pack and turned to his brothers. Despite how difficult things had been with them lately, it was clear that they were all upset about this. They didn’t fight it, trusting Splinter’s judgment, but they didn’t like what was happening either.

One by one, Leonardo said good-bye to his brothers, saying a few words to them, and taking a few last-minute things from them. It only took a few minutes, but Splinter could see that sadness in Leonardo grow.

And then his son faced him.

Leonardo looked at him, with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He was still clearly feeling very guilty over the injury he had given Splinter, and he was warring with himself over if he deserved anything from Splinter.

Splinter took care of that himself.

Splinter stepped towards Leonardo, and embraced him, hugging him closely. He could tell that Leonardo was surprised, but he quickly returned the embrace. He could feel Leonardo’s emotional turmoil so very, very clearly, and it both ate at Splinter and strengthened his resolve.

“Please know that I am doing this, because I care about you,” he said softly, so that only his son could hear. “I want very badly to keep you here, my son, but if you stay, your spirit will die. So, I must sent you away, so that your spirit can learn to live again.”

He released Leonardo and pulled back, but reached up and cupped his son’s cheeks with his paw. “But know this,” he said to him, his gaze steady on Leonardo’s. “I will always love you, my son. Nothing can or will ever change that.”

Leonardo took in a sharp breath, and then reached forward again, drawing Splinter into a hug. Splinter hugged his son back, and then, after a few moments, released it, stepping back from Leonardo.

“Be safe, my son,” he said.

Leonardo nodded. “I will,” he said, and turned towards the door that led out into the sewers. He paused, right before leaving, and looked back at all of them, and then turned and walked on. The door closed behind him, and Splinter found himself praying to the ancestors that it wouldn’t be the last time he’d see his son.

After a few moments, his other sons went on their way, returning to things that they were doing, and Splinter himself headed toward the kitchen to make himself some tea.

Sending Leonardo away to the Ancient One was necessary. It had to be done. And because Splinter loved his sons so much, he was willing to do it. But even though he sent Leonardo away precisely because he cared about him, it didn’t make his absence, or the need for Leonardo to leave any easier to bear.

Splinter sighed, poured his tea, and hoped beyond hope that he had made the right decision, and that his love for his son would be enough to get them all through this. Leonardo included.

[aestheticaltcow]

A Different Point of View

I want more Sugar in season three. I've also been doing a lot of edibles recently, and they've given me a lot of interesting fan fic ideas...

The Bear Masterlist

There's a saying about getting phone calls late at night, but at the moment, it was the furthest thing on Natalie’s mind. She sat on the front porch swing, foot-tapping a million miles an hour as she repeatedly called her younger brother; she knew he’d still be awake. New York was only an hour ahead of Chicago, and he had never been off work before 2 AM. Natalie let out an exasperated sigh and hung up before dialing again. “Nat?” Pete softly called from the front door; he had been watching her chain smoke from the kitchen while making her a cup of tea. “I love you, but please leave me alone.” she pleaded as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. He nodded and stepped forward, placing the mug on the small table beside her, “I’ll be upstairs.” Pete weakly grinned and kissed her head before going back inside. “Carmy, answer your fucking phone.” Natalie moaned in frustration, “Mikey’s gone.”

“And one hot mocha for the wife.” Pete cheerfully greeted, placing a mug in front of Natalie the following day. “Thanks.” she mustered before returning her attention to her phone, “Did he call back?” Pete softly approached, sitting next to her. She shook her head, “I’m going to kill him. He’s supposedly a grown-up,” Natalie cut herself off when Carmy’s contact came up on her phone. She got up from the table and answered the call, “Carmen. Why didn’t you answer my calls last night?” it had come off harsher than she’d originally intended, but in the moment, it felt justified. “I was workin’ Sugar, okay?” he was annoyed, but Natalie didn’t care, “Okay, so you get what 100 calls from your sister, and you don’t step outside for what all of two minutes to find out why she’s calling you?!” she heard Carmy let out an annoyed grunt. “Natalie-” Carmy started, “No, Carmy! Just because you left doesn’t mean you aren’t still part of this family.” “I know… I know… I’m sorry, Natalie.” Carmy attempted to apologize. “Just come home. Mom’s a mess-” “Sugar, I can’t right now. I’ll come out when I can.” 

Natalie closed her eyes and tried to compose herself before saying something she may regret. “Carmen Anthony Berzatto. Michael killed himself. He was always fuckin’ there for you. Get your ass to Chicago now.” “Sugar, I can’t fuckin’ deal with this right now. I love you, bye.” Natalie stared at the wall in disbelief. She returned to the kitchen and sat beside Pete without saying anything. He sensed something was amiss. He put his coffee cup back on the table before moving closer to her and putting an arm around her shoulders, “He’s such a bitch, Pete.” Natalie said she was at her breaking point. Pete nodded and pulled her closer to his body as he rubbed her bicep. She put her head on his shoulder and quickly blinked, trying not to cry. 

The Berzatto house was quiet, apart from Donna’s sobs. Natalie sat on the couch, trying to make plans for Mikey’s funeral. “Any luck with Bobby Flay?” Richie asked, bringing Natalie a glass of water. She shook her head, “How’s Donna?” Richie sat down on the couch beside her, “Like when your Dad died but on crack.” Natalie scoffed at the comment. 

Later that night, Natalie sat at the kitchen table, trying to finalize the plans for Michael’s funeral. She bit at the dry skin on her bottom lip as she thought about that point of view. It was something that she hadn’t understood these past weeks. Why did Mikey do this? There had to be a reason he didn’t talk to her about what was happening. She rubbed the bridge of her nose as Pete came clambering down the stairs, “Nat? Honey, you should get some sleep.” Natalie shook her head. “I need to finish these plans-” “You can after you get some sleep.” Pete asserted, putting a hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “Come to bed.” 

Pete noticed the turmoil that Natalie had been going through leading up to Mikey’s funeral. He was never particularly close to either of her brothers, but he knew how much they meant to her. Watching his wife’s heart break when she noticed Carmy’s absence was his tipping point. He contemplated getting on a plane and dragging the man back to Chicago. He pushed the thought out of his mind when he noticed Donna lecturing Natalie about something. He couldn’t hear what was said but knew it had to be something out of Natalie’s control. He managed to slip over and change the subject effortlessly; he laughed internally, knowing that the Berzattos never truly warmed up to him even though he’d been with Natalie for as long as he had. “Thank you,” Natalie whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He nodded and kissed her head as he hugged her back. 

“Call me back, Carmen. I love you. Bye,” Natalie snapped as she hung up the phone and pushed her fingers through her hair. This was her breaking point with Carmy. He’d finally returned to Chicago, but watching him lose himself in The Beef was killing her. He only called when he needed something, and Natalie feared Carmy would turn into Mikey. Mikey had roped her into the dumpster fire at the family restaurant, and now that Carmy was involved, she felt like it was going to steal another person she loved.

 “I just don’t understand how he can go in the place.” Natalie ranted to Pete that night. He nodded, “Didn’t Mikey forbid Carmy from working there?” Natalie shrugged in response. “Carmy was just a kid, you know? Mikey was protective and didn’t want him to waste his life away in that place like he and our Dad did… or some other unknown reason.” Natalie poked at her food and ultimately stood up from the table in frustration. “I thought when Carmy moved back, he’d go back to being my little brother- before he left for Europe, he’d actually call me. Not just when he needed me to do something for him.” Natalie picked up her plate and took it to the kitchen, “Pete, I just want my brothers back.”