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thedeviljudges · 3 years

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yohan + physical tough + trauma response

disclaimer: this is based off of eps 1-7, and preview of ep 8; i wholeheartedly recognize that this post may become the worst meta ever depending on how the rest of the show goes. however, i do think there are still some interesting things to note about yohan. a lot of this is also me just talking shit out as i was sifting through all the eps again. i’m more than willing to change my mind or hear other thoughts.

also i kinda, sorta, unnecessarily included all of the moments of yohan and any physicality. a lot of them are not super important, but i do think they help draw a distinction in how he reactions when surprised, alone and around other people.

so, here’s a long ass post that is literally 99% me bullshitting, lmao.

so i wanted to delve more into yohan’s response to physical touch by way of trauma. while i know a lot of us have pieced it together, i think it’s pretty cool to lay it all out visually because i think there’s much more justification for his reactions; not to say it makes it right, but it does really flesh out a fundamental part of his characterization that i think is highly, highly important to understand.

yohan lives on the cusp for reckless behavior, almost as if he doesn’t care whether he lives or dies. the car chase, running through industrial buildings where safety isn’t a concern, etc.

episode one

the first time we see an instance of his disinterest in physical touch is when he first meets gaon. he actually offers him his hand, but the way he goes about it isn’t a handshake. he almost looks hesitant, and then he squeezes and does not shake. it’s truly a split second gesture out of formalities. granted, he’s just met someone he thinks looks like isaac, and might be in a little bit of… not shock, but certainly distracted.

later in the episode, yohan is in an abandoned building with homeless people. he’s checking people’s wrist, but he’s quick about leaving them alone. until, a homeless man comes up behind him and grabs him. in response, yohan swings his arm to knock him off. then, he punches him, steps on him and decides whether he’s worth the effort. again, granted, no one likes to be surprised in a creepy situation like this, so his response? kinda understandable at this point.

next is the scene where yohan catches gaon in his office, where he pushes him against the bookshelf and kinda, more or less, comes off as a bit luring. we know yohan knows gaon’s lying, but a couple of things here. yohan initiated the physical contact, and he did it because of the suspicious nature of gaon. yohan also knows how to use his power and charms to catch people off guard, and i think really, he was messing with gaon when he brushed his shirt and asked him if he lived alone. gay as fuck, lmao, but i also see it as an intimidation tactic, in a way.

i could also pose a couple of theories aside from intimidation if we wanted to squint:

yohan is still in a state of awe of gaon’s resemblance to isaac. he’s not heard his voice or been around the other man for at least 10 years, and now there’s tangibility at his fingertips.

if we want to look at it from the gay perspective, gaon is clearly intriguing to yohan, and as i’ll note further down in this post about yohan in relation to physical touch, i’m sure it could be assumed that this is one of the first people in a long time that yohan has an interest in making a connection with. however, because of his upbringing, it’s clear he does’t necessarily know how to connect with people (ie. ep 7 trying to connect with elijah, eps 1-6 with him trying to non-verbally tell gaon that he has bigger plans than what’s in front of his face. his admission in ep 5 about being monster). more or less, he knows his charms can be used, but when it comes to actually flirting and/or liking someone? it’s left to be addressed, but could be assumed he’s just as awkward about it as when we see him at home.

we also see a small instance of him letting someone dress him. there’s still touch involved, but it’s very clear what the intention is. he has control over the situation, and it’s not a surprise.

the next time he engages in physical touche, again, he initiates it because he’s in control, and it’s meant to be comforting, to an extent.

and then to round everything off, we actually see him reaching for isaac, who is actually gaon in the court scene, but you know storytelling and all that. he reaches for him both in the courtroom and within a flashback.

him reaching out for isaac seems to be a motif within the show as it happens later on, of which i’ll point out.

episode two

we see him initiate a handshake again. at first, to gaon, and then with jinjoo. controlled situation.

later on in the episode is when we see our first glimpses of batshit crazy yohan, an absolute delight and fav, lmao. he actually reaches out to the spoiled kid, and it’s clearly to legitimize intimidation and a position of power.

okay look, i’m not even gonna front, this was a cute scene. when jinjoo gets out of the car, he checks to make sure she’s okay, and they have this moment before they go onto the red carpet where they smile at each other. yohan is confirming she’s okay, and she agrees. again, controlled, and i don’t know for certain if yohan is more comfortable around women, or it’s just mere fact that he doesn’t always have a problem with touch when the situation is safe. he actually lets her take his arm further on in the scene, and yes, it is a public display of niceties, and he knows that.

so in the midst of this happening, we get the ‘devil child’ story. and i want to make note of the bird scene because i do think it’s important to note that people yohan cares for, he’s willing to go to the ends of the earth to protect them. yes, they’re children in school, but the girl next to him is the only one who showed him an ounce of kindness, and yohan is proven to remain loyal to those he loves or trusts in some capacity.

of course, he ends up pitting the rich and the poor kids against one another for their betrayal and making him an outcast. in yohan’s mind, what he did wasn’t necessarily wrong because his sense of justice is based on protection and when people wrong him or those he loves, it’s seeking justice on their behalf or making the situation better - not in the technically right way, but right to him. yohan comes across as a fixer and problem solver.

yohan has a very, very strong sense of trust and loyalty, and we can assume that stems from isaac, who clearly tried to protect yohan from his father, who went out of his way to do so as best as he could as a young kid. yohan values loyalty not because he necessarily wants lap dogs and people to do his bidding. it comes from a place of love and security he’s never really had.

anyway, back to the gala with jinjoo, he does shake the minister’s hand. again, controlled. there are cameras. he also puts his arm around her, and that’s mainly because it’s a battle of the wills, and she’s trying to reprimand him, lol, as if she could. he hugs her a little hard and a little enthusiastically, and you can clearly tell it’s for show.

and then he dances with both jinjoo and sunah. and there is a stark difference between these two scenes. yohan actually teaches jinjoo the proper placement for where she should rest her hands and how to move. he’s actually having a good time with her, and again, it’s actually really cute.

with sunah, he’s reluctant and definitely on guard. he can tell from her demeanor that her intent is with purpose trying to get close to him. at this point in the story, he probably sees it as sunah coming onto him and not because she’s actually the maid from when they were children. when sunah reaches up to whisper in his ear, you can really tell he doesn’t like her being that close to him at all especially because her words may not be overly threatening, but there is purpose behind them, which means yohan’s guards are up. he physically removes her hand and than blatantly turns her down: she tells him that enjoying things alone isn’t fun, and he counters it by saying he’s having a lot of fun.

so at this point to reduce on some screen caps, he meets the minister’s family, has handshakes with her husband and the kid he went after to essentially beat up his car with a mallet, lmao. the handshake is quite funny because they both know what happened. yohan is in control, and that kid is shaking in his boots.

then the explosion happens, and of course, it makes sense that yohan helps gaon after he’s hurt. gaon has never been a threat to yohan, and it’s clear yohan’s not heartless whatsoever, but it’s also poignant to note that gaon helped saved yohan’s life, thus starting yohan’s journey of loyalty to gaon. i think he’s always had his sight set on gaon to begin with, possibly long before he even became an associate judge, but if this was a test, gaon passed it with flying colors because if gaon can rescue a little girl, and he can help an old man who fell off his bike, would he really go the lengths to save yohan who has shown him time and time again his sense of justice is different?

episode three

yohan reacts negatively to soohyun and within good reason when she questions where gaon is. he turns away because for him, the conversation is over, but for her, it’s not. to get his attention, she grabs him when he’s not paying attention, and of course he has a very adverse reaction. at this point, it can be chalked up to disrespect given the fact that he’s a head judge and she’s just a mere cop, but hindsight is 20/20. he does throw her arm off by flicking out his arm. but instead of berating her, he just tells her to catch the culprits who harmed gaon and leaves it at that.

and then of course, everyone’s favorite scene and rightfully so. yohan caring for gaon? very sexy of him. gaon is injured, poses no threat, and as i said above about yohan finding some amount of loyalty in gaon means his physical boundaries aren’t jeopardized. and for that, we get these wonderful scenes of yohan helping gaon as he heals.

and then scenes of him messing around with gaon by hitting him. truth be told, i wonder if this was something him and isaac did as young kids. anyone with siblings know how that goes. fake picking on each other? fake bickering? yeah.

and then it slowly, but surely, it’s revealed that yohan didn’t have the same upbringing as isaac did. our first instance that something at home wasn’t right wasn’t just the conversation with ms. ji and gaon. it’s the flashback with yohan reading in his room when the door opens. he hastily pretends he’s asleep, and you can see he’s visibly shaking and breathing roughly until he realizes it’s isaac who’s there to give him books.

and that’s also when we get our first glance of what kind of abuse yohan suffered from at the hands of his father. it’s clear this isn’t the only incident, and there’s been many times that isaac wasn’t around to help defend him.

it’s also very clear in how yohan acts when he’s terrified and that his abuse has gone on long enough to be a routine pattern in the house. any time he hears heavy footsteps or thinks his father is around, he visibly shakes and gets panicky.

episode four

i include this scene because it’s been noted that a lot of books yohan reads are about humans, human nature, animals, animalistic tendencies, and he says random shit like this that directly points to what he thinks about humanity and humans themselves. we notice this most prominently at the dinner with gaon and jinjoo earlier on when he describes that he likes the feel of the chew and that he cannot taste. he always mentions hunting and prey, and i think this is one of those very clear instances where he actually reveals to gaon what he truly, truly thinks; no gimmicks. this also comes into play later on in ep 6 when elijah is worried about him being out all night. yohan clearly doesn’t trust people at all. he understands their intentions, their motives and how much pain they can cause other people for their own profit and their own gain. it makes sense that he wouldn’t leave his house, especially if he has a strong sense of loyalty to isaac (even after all these years) and caring for elijah.

this is also one of the very direct moments that yohan doesn’t understand family dynamics. when it comes to people, it’s a giant chess game. not only that, later on in the episode when they’re in the car and yohan talks about how people, no matter what, are always the same in front of greed, yohan is cynical, and he expects the bad every single time.

what he reads and the way he words things (here and the discussion of him being a monster, for example) is clearly an indication that he doesn’t trust; that he cannot trust, nor does he want to at this point. yohan doesn’t understand the concept of kindness being given freely (ep 7 when he berates elijah for being used by gaon, telling her she falls for kindness every time). and yet, later on in eps, it’s clear when he’s around the right people and the right mindset (uh, gaon?? lol), he’s constantly putting up a front.

after all in ep 7 when he tells gaon that confidence is key, it literally gives him away not just in the courtroom but in his personal life. there’s a reason he looks softer at home than when he’s not there (the hairstyle changes and clothing).

basically what i’m getting at is this behavior can be seen as a defense mechanism because of his abuse.

then it’s another gala event with gaon and yohan this time. another lovely favorite where yohan helps him get dressed and then proceeds to drag him around and safe him from the lion’s den.

tbh i dont even need to include these, but i’m doing it for the indulgence.

yohan does sorta physically throw gaon as well during the rich people party, but that’s mainly to get him to shut up because he’s trying to show gaon the truth at hand and how all of it’s pretty much a farce.

later on in the episode is when we first have gaon truly attacking yohan verbally, and that’s when yohan snaps. it’s clear that isaac is a trigger for yohan, especially from someone who speaks out of line on something they know nothing about. gaon, truth be told, had a stupid moment confronting yohan the way he did. i don’t know who waltzes up to a proposed murderer and just asks them, lmao.

but here’s the thing, thus far, gaon has not entirely posed a threat to yohan. whether that’s from yohan planting gaon and guiding him exactly where he wants him or gaon just not being as thorough as yohan would like, and he’s trying to tap into that talent, is anyone’s guess. but as i said above, the one thing yohan protects is the things he does care about the most, and he tries to talk himself out of his own feelings. he constantly compares himself to an animal (again, dinner scene with gaon and jinjoo) to justify his actions, and to possibly not feel anything; because that’s easier, isn’t it? not feeling. so on top of gaon calling him a monster and a killer, confronted with the possibility about being a villain in his own brother’s story, obviously sets him off. he beats down his emotions until he’s confronted with it - and this is what gaon also meant in ep 6 about how it’s ridiculous that yohan calls himself a monster over a victim because yohan can’t even see himself in that light. not because he truly believes victims are weak necessarily, but i wonder how much he realizes that what happened to him wasn’t his fault.

to me, and as i just said, yohan convinces himself he’s a monster to make it easier for himself to belief his actions (ep 5 telling gaon some humans are born monsters in relation to himself). it’s not that he inherently thinks he’s wrong, but i think his guidance for what’s right and wrong was misconstrued without a parent figure in his life, especially if he’d read crime and law books as the focus. yohan’s actions, at least quite a bit of them are, are based on a gut feeling of right and wrong. when you think about it and your own sense of justice, how would that differ without the checks and balances in place? what punishment do you think fits the crime if we weren’t bound by written law? yohan thinks any action to protect those he loves is, more or less, justifiable because it’s a means to an end. it’s making a worng right again.

i don’t think yohan is a monster. i think his feelings, and what he knows is love, is misconstrued in terms of how to express it. we see this in episode 7 with his and elijah’s conversation where she’s just trying to be a teen, but his version of love is protecting her without, once again, understanding family dynamics and the pain points of growing up, the learning she has to do on her own. yohan might technically be right; similar to being book-smart but not necessarily street smart. his theory of telling Elijah that she’s soft for kindness and being used was true, but his delivery and the idea that that’s how humans develop doesn’t work. he’s telling her text-book rules, but people don’t live through books. they live through real life. yohan reads to get a sense of fulfillment and to learn. he’s learned his way into adulthood, but that’s not normal.

so uh anyway, back to this familiar scene:

because we don’t know the actual story of isaac’s death, it’s hard to say what role yohan played in his death, but i don’t know that i believe he was the one who did it. the entirety of the devil judge is relying on unreliable narration, so it’s difficult to gauge (for now since we’re on ep 7) how this will turn out and what happened, but to me, it really comes across as yohan upset over the insinuation that he could be the one to cause the death of the one person he loved the most. plus, i think it says a lot that he cares/loves elijah, and she was part of isaac. gaon crossed a thine line. yohan essentially welcomed him in, and this is gaon toeing it. we can also look at this is not gaon being an outsider to their family, but now has become part of the family, and so it’s easier for yohan to be ‘abusive,’ if you will, rather than the perspective of gaon still on the sidelines and pushing too far. by this i mean, the accusations made by gaon threatens their formulating family dynamics.

and once again, the only person he ever actually reaches out for is isaac.

and then we have the aftermath of yohan’s nightmare, where he’s still caught in the dream as gaon comes in, and refuses to be touched after, even if gaon’s intention is to see if he’s okay. yohan makes it very clear to gaon not to touch him, and that’s when elijah comes in with a very accusatory ‘what are you two doing?’ in this moment, yohan is not just vulnerable, but he’s emotionally sensitive. i’ve no doubt he’s still dealing with a form of sensory overload from his dream.

and then, i don’t know that this was necessary? was it necessary?

the following set of scenes are the ones where gaon tells him he’s a victim and he hasn’t confronted his own emotions about his abuse. i think yohan realizes gaon is right to some degree, but it is convoluted, and it’s not so simple to face your own traumas. however, he does for a moment after gaon leaves, remember another instance of abuse he couldn’t stop but wishes he could, wishing a parental figure of sorts would’ve come in to save him like his older self is trying to save the kid version if only he could turn back time, if only he had the power to do what he wish someone else had done for him.

and then the kidnapping scene is just. fucked up in and of itself. it actually makes my skin crawl. not because sunah is scary necessarily, but the lack of autonomy yohan has - especially when we find out later more of sunah’s story. to do something like this after what she’s suffered through makes this scene even more disturbing.

you can see the moment yohan hears heels when sunah (not knowing it’s her yet) comes in. literally the minute he knows someone’s headed his way, he checks the fuck out. his whole face goes slack, especially when sunah reveals herself. and when she’s kissing him? blank as fuck, too. it’s the most dead-eyed stare i think we’ve seen from him.

episode six

so, we get this gem from elijah that i’d like to touch on later. it’s more speculation and just me running through ideas more than it is canon fact. but what it does let us know is that yohan doesn’t seek people out. he prefers to be at home and staying there.

after we get the maid story, and we do get yohan touching sunah’s cheek, and in some fucked up twisted way, this is his way of protecting one of the things isaac cherishes the most. the point of the gesture isn’t just intimidation but serves as an act of intent, of protection in the only way yohan knows how. he’s safeguarding isaac. you can tell he doesn’t actually like sunah at all as a kid, but uses that to his advantage. imagine yohan learning violence for ‘good’ things when his father used violence for ‘bad’ things. what a twisted way of looking at it? and the irony at hand.

additionally, the main reason i’ve included so many varying scenes of yohan touching people isn’t to establish that he’s okay with being touched given how many scenes there are of him randomly shaking people’s hand or touching them. it’s all about context and what the intent is for. most often than not, really way more often than not, yohan only reaches out for people when it’s socially acceptable to do so and because it’s manners. and yet, even in some of those cases, there is still intent behind the gesture.

the moments he acts out the most are when he’s not in front of an audience, when he’s more likely to be alone with his thoughts and is exceptionally more vulnerable to his own triggers.

and i think the scene after he’s back at his house from the kidnapping is noteworthy because it doesn’t just feel like he’s shaking off the effects of the drugs he was given. he seems to visibly trying to compose himself of the mental and physical play he just had to deal with.

the next scene is yohan angry with gaon for taking elijah out. which really, he does have every right to be angry, and one thing i didn’t note above during the ‘you killed your brother’ choke out scene before is that when yohan is backed into any kind of corner, he reacts like a caged animal.

because we’ve already established the scenes with his abuse, his father took his anger physically out on yohan. so how else was yohan supposed have developed the tools to express it? it’s easy to hurt the things you love the most; it’s easy to abuse the ones you know, and between gaon and himself, they both have an unhealthy dynamic because gaon is old enough, strong enough to take whatever yohan gives him. gaon is not family and so there’s still that clear divide and a distinction as to why he lays a hand on gaon but not elijah, for example. gaon can still pose a threat. elijah is family. then again, it can also be said that maybe yohan considers gaon family, and gaon betrayed elijah and therefore yohan, and you don’t do that. not with yohan’s understanding of family dynamics.

but with that said, it begs the question why yohan keeps gaon around, and i think some of that has to do with the fact that gaon surprises yohan. he might’ve set his sights on him long before he became an associate judge or maybe he took interest after gaon was chosen for the role (this is still up in the air), but deep down, yohan sees something in gaon despite his snooping, despite his righteousness. it could be the potential; it could be the fact that gaon could be better than yohan if he just allowed himself to loosen the ropes he’s tied himself with when it comes to the court of law and the justice system.

but here’s the thing that idk a lot of people have really picked up on. gaon is one side of the same coin underneath it all. he’s also provoked yohan with physicality when yohan brought up details about soohyun.

to be fair, we can say that yohan evokes a different type of anger in gaon, one that he hasn’t tapped into for years that allows him to open up to that more physical side of himself he learned to put behind him. gaon doesn’t really come across as the physically threatening type, but yohan does push his buttons and vice versa.

but then, of course, we have the big fight scene where gaon goes in on the attack, and that’s when yohan makes his threat not to attack him ever again. it’d be easy to say he says it based on the merit of him not actually attacking soohyun, but seriously speaking, the intent feels much more than that. more along the lines of asking gaon not to provoke him without warning again because next time might be bad. most of their other fights, especially the one above,have been in the midst of conversation. this time, it’s from a place of complete surprise, and you can tell yohan goes on the defensive when his first instinct is to not just throw gaon back but raise his fist to strike.

episode seven

the only physical contact yohan has with anyone is the president, and that’s when he turns on the live video of the two of them, and it’s clearly intended to be a lowkey threat. he keeps pulling the president back into his side to be on the live camera after the dude tried to come after yohan. i do think it’s hilarious that yohan manipulated the situation with a live component just as the president and the rest of the rich people thought they could turn a live court show into manipulating the public.

and then, of course, the jail scene. the part where he makes gaon stay. he also touches gaon’s shoulder later just before they leave.

episode eight

the most prominent scene in this ep is certainly the scene where sunah comes onto yohan, and you can tell she did it to get under his skin in some way. of course, he’s smart and knows she’s up to something, but i think it’s so interesting how he wraps his fists around hers, almost as if to tame her and prevent her from trying to further put her hands on him.

we also know yohan has no issue with using physical force regardless of who it is (obviously, his dialogue in this scene, too) when he feels caged or trapped. his intention is also to retrieve isaac’s necklace, and i like how he uses literally anything to his advantage. meaning, he’ll use physical touch, his mentality, etc to get what he wants or needs, even if it is marginally uncomfortable to some degree.

and i think that also says alot about him is that he’s able to displace what makes him uncomfortable in moments like this to achieve an end goal.

additional thoughts

i know this isn’t really common with a lot of the characters in general, and could be chalked up to a cultural component, but yohan’s definitely not a hugger.

the other thing i wanted to note is yohan’s seemingly adherence to touch unless it’s for good reason in relation to sex. the main reason i bring it up is because i’ve seen it discussed a bit, especially in regard to elijah’s comment about him not staying out overnight since the fire. there are a few plausible scenarios, maybe more, but for the sake of this, we’ll go for these.

yohan has had past relationships/experience or will in future episodes

day flings

he’s never had an interest in anyone before given his upbringing and abuse and therefore never sought out sex

inexperience could be from lack of interest in other people and sex itself

he’s never found anyone to really connect with and trust in such a way and has avoided it for that reason

and i bring this up mainly because i think it could be something to explore in fanon, but also because i’m kind of annoyed with how people have been talking about yohan being a virgin. i’m not quite sure what the joke is, but lack of sexual experience does not mean naive or that he doesn’t have a sense of humor when that’s clearly far from the truth:

i don’t know that people find it unbelievable because of his age, because of characterization of yohan being more dominant, but none of these things negate this being an option. i think it’s perfectly plausible of a situation (from what we know right now), and truthfully, it would make a whole lot of sense. i just don’t get the jokes about it that i’ve been seeing online (twitter) when there isn’t a mutual exclusiveness to any of it whatsoever.

yohan already has a hard time connecting with people, and i can imagine that level of physicality could be difficult. clearly he knows how to use a version of it to get what he wants. i’ve no doubt he’s used his charms in situations where he’s needed to. yohan knows he has that going for him, at the very least. but sexual appeal and jokes doesn’t mean having a body count any more than it could indicate there being one.

lastly, i also want to pull these paragraphs from @b612sunsets‘s post because i think they do a much better job than i ever could of explaining, short and sweet, a fundamental part of yohan’s characterization, and mainly what i was trying to get at with this long ass post.

“There's two things we already know about Yohan from the last 6 episodes: he hates being touched when he doesn't see it coming and doesn't have control over it because of the abuse he suffered (I assume). To name a few: Soohyun grabbing his elbow to stop him from leaving and get answers about Gaon, the beggar that touched him while he searched for the fireman, Gaon after punching him and Yohan clearly telling him to NEVER do it again. The impression it gave to us is that if there's a next time he might not be able to stop his instinctive reaction of defending himself and using violence back (something worse than choking or pushing Gaon and he doesn't want to do that with him).

“Unless it's a friendly/small/slow touch like in the breakfast scene when Gaon touches his arm when he gets up to offer them some fruits. When he had the nightmare with Isaac, his walls were up high so even if he could see Gaon's touch coming and it was friendly, he decided to stop it because he was too defensive and sensible to accept the gesture (it would be the first time Gaon started physical contact with him too, he wouldn't be ready for that in such a state).

“The second thing is that Yohan hates when people take what is his or mess with what is important to him. Again, to name a few: Sunah with the necklace when she was a maid, the fireman with Isaac's watch (Yohan made them fall from high places, not caring if they died or not), the guy that fabricated the small bombs that hurt Gaon (Yohan would have burnt his face if "K" hadn't stopped him) and Gaon taking Elijah out of the house to Soohyun without previous notice (a cop and someone he doesn't trust).”

yohan has a very, very large sense of self-preservation for himself and for those he cares about. it’s in his intention, actions, facial expressions, movements, the way he interacts with people. i find it fascinating how calculating he can be, but at home, he’s at his most vulnerable and almost socially unaware and awkward.

yohan is a bit of an irony. he understands people from an action-oriented, instinctual level, but he doesn’t necessarily understand their thoughts and emotions in the waves of nuances that people live through on the daily. like, he gets it to an extent and on a practical level, but he himself is a square trying to fit into a circle - he doesn’t always understand it for himself and has to actively work on social cues so as not to come across as the devil child he was once painted to be.

and let it not be unsaid, yohan really will go to the ends of the earth for family, even if it means stepping out of his comfort zone.

and so anyway, i doubt this offered any real insight, but i think this is my way of breaking all of this down for myself. so, tada!!! lmao

#x #the devil judge #the devil judge meta #*#*the devil judge

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thran-duils · 3 years

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And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (P.1)

Title: And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mafia!Tony Stark. Too many fringe gangs were making ties and your father noticed. He reached out to the Stark mob for an alliance, offering up a piece of his territory at first. When Stark told him he had enough land, your father offered up the next best thing: you. He knew Stark needed a wife and what better way to solidify a relationship between the two mafia families? You were not naïve, you knew the life and you were trained with guns and negotiations. Your father had made sure of that. The two of you had seen each other on multiple occasions at mafia get togethers and knew of each other. Stark accepted the transaction but little did he know he was going to get a little hellion handed over to him that would not kiss the ground he walked on. He would grow to love it too. Words: 1,656 Warnings (more WILL be added, I am sure): Eventual smut, power dynamics, sexism, smut, public sex, fingering, dom/sub powerplay, kidnapping, violence, death, knife kink, gun kink, angst with a happy ending

Author’s Note: READ the intro! This chapter starts there.

Introduction || Part Two || Masterpost mobile || Fanfic masterpost

You barely remember the wedding ceremony. There had been no courting, no engagement whatsoever to speak of between you and your now husband, Tony Stark. Your marriage was a business transaction between him and your father. The ceremony had been short and sweet, the reception being the thing people were most concerned with and between your father and Tony, the food and drink had been exceptional. You had kept your head about you, not drinking too much, and turning down drugs that had been offered. Tony had done the same, much to your surprise. He was being as cautious about you as you were being about him in turn; neither wanted the other to get the jump on them.

A town car, driven by one of his men, had come at the end of your night to take the two of you to the airport to your honeymoon. On the drive, the car was quiet, the pair of you on your phones or looking out the window, with small comments about the reception sprinkled in. Neither of you were pretending this was anything more than it was at this point; you were practically strangers, only having crossed paths a couple times a year before now.

Plus, you were not inclined to speak with him considering what you had been told by one of your bridesmaids. Tony had apparently been bragging about how he was going to get you into bed on the honeymoon. One of your girlfriends had happened to overhear him speaking to a handful of his men in what was supposed to be a private conversation. There had been comment from another about your ‘rack’ looking ‘delectable’ in your wedding gown and that term had made you gag. Another told him it should be ‘easy’ to get you on your back considering your reputation for clubbing. You despised the men in this business sometimes.

He had not gotten you into bed on the honeymoon. Much to his extreme annoyance; he had trouble hiding his temper, that much you had figured out already. You had kept yourself occupied with local attractions and the pool for the weekend.

His mansion was foreign to you and even after a month, you had still not settled in. And he was still trying to strong arm you with his comments and behavior to be submissive. Just like he was doing right now with his trying to order you around to get him and his men drinks. Fat chance. You stayed relaxed on your floatie, hearing June, your personal favorite of the servants because she was not an idiot and could hold a good conversation, gathering up the champagne to take over to them.

<><><>

Later in the evening, you came out of your closet, finding Tony walking into his. He was uncuffing his dress shirt and he stopped seeing you.

“That’s a nice dress,” Tony commented, his eyes running over you quickly, eyes only lingering at the tight fabric around your hips for the briefest of moments. “Mind telling me where you’re going?”

“Out.”

“Y/N.” There was warning in his tone.

He had an annoying habit of tracking you whenever you left the house. Whether or not he thought you were going to betray the marriage deal, cheat on him, or he was just a control freak – the last being very likely considering the sexism in the mafia – you were unsure. But it drove you up the wall he wanted tabs on you all the time.

Sighing as you dug through your clutch to make sure you had everything you needed, you told him, “I’m going out with my friends.”

“Where?” he pressed.

“The Bungalow,” you answered seeing your friend texted that she was outside. “It’s in Santa Monica.”

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek, staring you down. You looked up at his silence finding the glower being aimed at you.

“What?” you asked exasperated.

“Be back by midnight.”

“You’re not my fucking parent, Tony.”

Tony rose his eyebrows in annoyance at your tone. “No, you’re right. I’m your husband. And as your husband, I’m telling you I want you back home by midnight. It doesn’t look good if you’re out partying until 3:00 in the morning all the time. That shit is gonna stop sooner rather than later.”

“It’s almost 8:00 and it takes a half hour—”

Tony cut in, “Then it sounds like you better stop arguing with me and get going.”

Clenching your jaw, you turned away from him and stomped out of your bedroom.

“Maybe invite your friends here next time! It’s not like there’s not a bar and pool here,” you heard him call after you.

You were suppressing the urge to scream as you descended the staircase. Just because you were married did not mean your life had to end. In the hall, you ran into one of his guys, Bucky, meandering with a drink in hand. He spotted you and gave you a smile. You forced an extremely fake one for a split second before storming past him out the front door.

Instead of forcing your friend to have to drive you home so early in the night and cutting their fun short, you risked taking an Uber by yourself back home. There were still cars outside which meant mafia members were still over. It was ten after midnight. You had had half a mind to invite your friends home, prepared to throw Tony’s words back at him about the pool and the bar. But you were afraid that the mafia would still be here and that had proven to be a legitimate fear. Plus, if Tony had lost his temper, you did not want to put your friends in that awkward position of witnessing that.

You slammed the front door as loudly as you could and immediately made your way towards the kitchen to make yourself a stiff drink. Throwing your clutch onto the kitchen island, you kicked your shoes off as well, leaving them haphazardly on the tile. You could hear music and voices coming from down the hall in what you assumed was the billiard room.

The vodka cran was stiff just like you wanted, and you took a huge gulp, leaning on the counter.

Natasha walked into the kitchen, and she paused seeing you before smiling; you returned it weakly.

“Looking for the chip stash,” she told you as she moved towards the pantry. She rummaged around in there and emerged with a couple bags. She asked, “Are you going to join us?”

“No, thank you though,” you told her. “I’m gonna watch Netflix. That’s what people do when they’re forced home before midnight, right?”

Natasha looked uncomfortable and said, “I… suppose. Well, if you change your mind then we’re in the game room.”

“Thanks,” you said again and she left you there, like she could not wait to exit that awkward conversation.

<><><>

Tossing the chips on the table, Natasha told Tony, giving him a cringing look, “You really pissed Y/N off. You gave her a curfew?”

Bucky rose his eyebrows as he grabbed one of the bags. He slowly opened it, waiting for Tony to respond.

Tony looked down at his watch and realized it was in fact almost 12:30. He had lost track of the time. “She’s home, then?” Natasha nodded and he smirked in triumph. “Good.”

“So, did you?”

“She doesn’t need to be out dancing in clubs all the damn time now. It’s embarrassing and frankly insulting for me,” Tony responded. “She’s not available and she shouldn’t be acting as such. She’s got to respect me. If my own wife won’t, then what’s stopping everyone else from not doing it either?”

Natasha chewed on that and shrugged. “I can see that. But maybe you shouldn’t be so gloating about the fact she obeyed your rule. You should thank her for listening to you. Just my opinion. Might help melt down the ice a little bit.” Tony scowled and she pressed, “You know I’m right. Her coming back when you asked should build some trust, right?”

Tony said after a few beats, “In the morning.”

“No, now.”

“Who is whose boss, here?” Tony asked her, cocking his head incredulously.

She nudged him and he let out an exasperated sigh as he got up from the couch, putting his drink down on the table.

“You said you had next game right?” Rhodes asked as Tony walked by. He was playing against Wanda at the pool table.

“Yes, and I’m going to kick whoever’s ass it is,” Tony answered, leaving the room.

<><><>

Tony walked into the bedroom, finding you under the covers, watching Netflix.

You told him scornfully, “I know, I know. I was ten minutes late. I’m sorry. In my defense, I took an uber home because I didn’t wanna make Jasmine leave early. So, they got lost for a few.”

He held up his hand, his brows raised. “Easy, tiger. Ten minutes is not a huge issue. I was just… coming up to check on you.”

“Well, I’m fine,” you muttered, eyes going back to the television.

He pointed at your glass and asked, “Want a refill?” You eyed him suspiciously and he said, “Just asking.”

“No, thank you. I had enough at the bar, and this is gonna be my last.”

Tony nodded and said, “Right. Well, be sure to drink water before you go to bed. And thanks by the way… for listening to me and coming back on time.”

“You’re welcome…” you told him, confused as all hell at his out of left field behavior.

He nodded again and clapped his hands before turning on his heel and walking out.

“What the fuck?” you said under your breath to yourself.

Since when was he that calm?

Slowly, you sunk back into the pillows. You shot another look at the door, wondering what had gotten into him.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

Fic tags: @patheticallysentimental

#tony stark x reader #mafia!tony stark #mafia tony stark #mafia marvel #marvel fic #my shit

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horansqueen · 3 years

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Stuck With You - Chapter 34

Chapter 34: Somebody

🡪chapter 1 🡪chapter 2 🡪chapter 3 🡪chapter 4 🡪chapter 5 🡪chapter 6 🡪chapter 7 🡪chapter 8 🡪chapter 9 🡪chapter 10 🡪chapter 11 🡪chapter 12 🡪chapter 13 🡪chapter 14 🡪chapter 15 🡪chapter 16 🡪chapter 17 🡪chapter 18 🡪chapter 19 🡪chapter 20 🡪chapter 21 🡪chapter 22 🡪chapter 23 🡪chapter 24 🡪chapter 25 🡪chapter 26 🡪chapter 27 🡪chapter 28 🡪chapter 29 🡪chapter 30 🡪chapter 31 🡪chapter 32 🡪chapter 33

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

I never felt like this with somebody I never thought I'd feel like I do I never felt this close with somebody Somebody, somebody but you I never had this rush in my body I never thought I'd feel something new I never felt this close with somebody Somebody, somebody but you

Something 'bout you and the way we fit Like the stars in the night, heat of you on my skin Hadn't known you for long but it felt like years From the second we met I knew things would change

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PLEASE VOTE FOR ME, AM CONVERSATIONS, STUCK WITH YOU, NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOURS AND MY ONESHOT ON HERE!

NIALL

A few days later, Devon and I had packed in silence. It was snowing and I kept glancing outside the window, seeing her from the corner of my eyes every single time. I knew I had been rough with her and I also knew that fucking her roughly against the wall of public toilets was a bad idea. At that time and with so much alcohol swallowed, It had seemed legitimate but now, I felt like an asshole and I had no idea how to handle it or what to think of it.

It was a good fuck, I wouldn't say different, but definitely not our best. I remembered the first time we had sex and the pictures she took, realizing she had never showed them to me, even if she had promised she would. Perhaps we had been so busy with our ex lovers and fighting with each other that we forgot about how amazing the few days alone at my apartment had been.

We remained silent a lot now and I hated it. I missed the sound of her laughter, her rambles and complaints, her comments while we watched a movie. The only thing I was still aloud to hear were the snores while she slept and I found myself sitting in my bed to listen to them a bit too much, and a bit too late at night.

I wanted to ask her to sit in the front seat with me in the car but I was scared she'd refuse and I was not even sure why it actually scared me anyway.

"Are you gonna ride with Lewis?"

"Mm, I'd rather ride with you." she admitted, glancing back at me before grabbing a hoodie and throwing it randomly in her bag. "Daxia and him are just getting on my nerves with their cute little nicknames and their non-stop affection. Did you know she sometimes pretends to purr? What the fuck?"

I let out a laugh and zipped my bag before turning around and letting myself fall on my bed to sit. "I know, I noticed. I think it's cute."

"Oh you would." Devon chuckled, shaking her head.

"What does that mean?"

She turned around to sit on her bed too, sending me a huge amused smile. It felt so good to laugh with her and feel like she actually cared about me that it made me want to lock the door and not go on that trip, keeping her here with me.

"The first impression you give is like, a fratboy." she admitted with a smirk. "Confident, a bit stuck-up, someone who brags all the time. Basically, you seemed to embody everything I hate in boys, especially those in college. But when we get to know you... you're a romantic, a softie. You've got the biggest heart I've ever seen in someone, and that makes you extremely endearing. That's why everyone loves you, that's the real reason you're so popular."

"Is it?" I just whispered, a bit shocked by all the compliments she had just thrown at me.

"Yes." she confirmed with a nod, sending me a fond smile that turned into a smirk. "Your face helps, too, I have to admit."

"Oh you think I'm handsome?"

She smiled more and tilted her head, nibbling on her bottom lip. "You know I do. Everyone does."

I wanted her to get up, walk to me and straddle me. I kept imagining her sitting on my lap, facing me, before her lips would meet mine. I couldn't stop thinking about my hands traveling on her body and her moaning in my mouth. I wanted her to whisper to me that she loved me while I made her cum. It sounded like the perfect scenario but I knew it wouldn't happen. I had made it clear I wanted more than just sex, and she made it even clearer that she didn't want a relationship. It was a mess, we were fucked, and I hated this situation more than I could explain. I didn't know how to handle it or change it. We had reached a deadlock and I couldn't find a solution.

Louis kept repeating me that she loved me but the more time passed, the less I was convinced. Was it even possible to resist that feeling for so long, especially when the other person is always so close? It didn't seem likely and my fate in the reciprocity of my feelings was faltering.

"My first impression of you was that you were a shy and boring girl." I admitted with a chuckle. "That's why I wasn't sure why I felt so connected to you. I don't think being around people who thinks art is useless is something I could easily do. But you turned out to be so fascinating, talented, funny and genuine. You're also a little cheeky minx, and I love how you don't let anyone walk over you, especially not me. And god knows I tried."

Her lips curled gently and she looked a bit embarrassed but I was not sure why. She licked her lips before pressing them together and finally, she chuckled.

"That's something I had promised myself when I left my old school, that I wouldn't let anyone walk all over me anymore. That I wouldn't be this... this vulnerable, naïve girl with so little self-esteem." she explained with a shrug. "It's nice to know I partially succeeded, even if it's hard to save my own heart, sometimes."

"Sometimes we just don't know how to really save it." I explained in a low tone, looking in her eyes. "Sometimes we just do it the wrong way, you know?"

"I don't know, I'm just trying the opposite of what I did last time." she confessed. I could read in her eyes how sad she was and it broke my heart.

"How does it feel so far?"

This time, she looked up and stared at me for a few seconds. "Not good."

I was trying to find the right words to tell her that she should give us a chance without being too aggressive but I couldn't find anything and after a while, my phone beeped. I sighed and grabbed it before reading Louis' text message.

"Okay, Louis is here. I didn't even know he was gone." I admitted with a frown.

"He's been so weird these days, and absent too. He's always super busy and doesn't answer my text messages."

"I think he's got a girlfriend."

Devon sent me a sad smile and shrugged a shoulder. I didn't know why she seemed so sad about it but I didn't try to find out. It was already hard to accept that she didn't love me the way I loved her, I really didn't need to start being jealous again, at least not of Louis.

"Yea that's one of my hypotheses, too"

We both grabbed our bags and got out of the building quickly, walking until we both spotted Louis' car. I held my breath but my lips finally curled when I noticed a cute brunette sitting on the passenger's seat and glanced at Devon to see her reaction. She didn't seem to think anything of it but I noticed she moved slightly closer to me.

"Look, I got to warn you two, Daxia invited Mandy and Noah, and one of them invited Abby." Louis let out as soon as we got close enough.

I glanced once again at Devon and at the same time, she had glanced at me. We shouldn't even care about Abby at all but here we were, and I was not sure why she was so much of a threat to Devon. Of course, I would be suspicious of Henry only because he's her ex boyfriend, so I could understand the aversion she felt for my ex girlfriend but at the same time, if Devon didn't love me, why was it such a big deal?

"Hey, Dev." Louis let out gently, grabbing her attention. "We won't let that ruin our trip, alright?"

She nodded and pressed her lips together before taking a quick look at the girl sitting next to Louis and then look back at him. "I'm gonna ride with Niall, okay?" she let out gently. "Give you two some intimacy."

She just sent him a fake smile and turned around. I was about to follow her when Louis yelled her name and she turned her head and raised her eyebrows up. "I just... I'm offering you the first drink, okay?"

It took her a while but she finally just nodded and we walked to my car before hopping in it. She threw her bags on the backseat and when I started the car, she immediately reached for the heating button.

"What's wrong? What happened between you and Louis?" I asked as I drove, following Louis' car the best I could.

"He's distant, and annoyed with me." she just shrugged. "People tend to get tired of me at some point but I honestly thought Louis was different."

"Devie, Louis isn't getting tired of you." I just explained, shaking my head. "He's got a new girlfriend, that's it. He's never gave up on me and he honestly could have many times. That's not how he is, trust me."

She remained silent but sighed and turned to look by the window. I would have given a lot to find out what was happening in her head but I didn't dare asking. We weren't back to being close, and we hadn't talked about those rough exchanges of words, whether it was the one we had late at night in the dark street or the one in the public toilets of a bar, and I was not sure we ever would. We could pretend everything was alright all we wanted, it was a lie. She was sad and I was in pain, and pretending we were fine was not going to change anything.

"Apparently, Daxia and Lewis are going to ride with Mandy, Noah and Abby." she finally said, taking me out of my thoughts. She typed something on her phone and my heart jumped in my chest when It made me realize that we were going to be alone again for a few hours. "That's a pretty loaded car." she added with a shrug.

"Not our problem."

"Nope, not at all." she agreed, leaning on the bench and bringing her feet up, placing them against the door of the glove box.

I noticed she had taken her boots off and even if it should bother me, it really didn't. I was in it very deep and I was literally drowning.

"That means we could have gone with Louis, save fuel and a car." she added, turning her head my way and making me chuckle.

"There's no way I'm riding with him. Not in that car. Plus, look at how slow he is. We're following him and it's a pain in my ass."

This time, Devon laughed genuinely and it made me smile. "I don't even ski, you know." she pointed out a few seconds later. "I'm just going because I'm really alone for Christmas this year, but I don't think I'll ski or anything. I brought canvases and paint, I've brought a few books and movies.. I mean I'll join you guys downstairs for a drink at night or a hot chocolate but I've never really been sportive or anything... and even less when it came to sports practiced in winter."

"Alright, no ski time for you. You know, we only go to spend time altogether. Some of us just also likes to ski."

The conversation continued for a while but when it stopped, Devon put music on and I started singing despite myself and she joined me. At some point she just stopped and even turned the volume down a bit. It made me chuckle and I glanced at her only to feel my heart jump in my chest at the way she was looking at me.

"Did I annoy you?"

"No." she whispered, leaning her head in the bench, sending me a fond smile and shrugging. "I just get so many feelings when you sing."

My smile fell and I licked my lips. It brought so many questions in my mind but every time I wanted to ask one, I stopped myself, either scared of the answer or of the way it would make her react. Before I knew it, we parked and took our stuff out, following Louis and his girlfriend in the hotel. We were walking in the lobby when Louis moved closer to us without looking at us.

"Look you two don't be pissed but, I sort of put both of you in the same room." Devon frowned while I raised my eyebrows and Louis just groaned. "Don't blame me. First off, the rest of us are sort of in relationships. I think Abby's got a room by herself so if either of you want to switch room to be with her, be my guest. Anyway, it's not like you two weren't used to share a room, right?"

We stopped near the counter but neither me or Devon had mentioned anything. Louis turned to us this time and his eyes moved from me to her and he finally rolled them. "Look I'm sorry, I just honestly thought you two would be dating by now."

I cleared my throat, feeling suddenly a bit uncomfortable, and noticed Devon bringing her shoulders up and wrapping her arms around herself, showing she felt pretty much the same. We had planned to meet in a few hours at the restaurant but it's only when Devon and I entered our room that my jaw dropped.

"I can... sleep on the floor if you want." were the only words my brain could form and express and it made Devon chuckle.

"Don't be silly, the bed's big enough for both of us." she replied, putting her bags near a side and taking her coat off before placing it on a chair. "Besides, it won't be the first time we share a bed."

Flashbacks of us cuddling in the bed of my apartment appeared in my mind and I blinked a few times as if it would make the memories even clearer. We had spent many days sleeping in the same bed but somehow, at that very moment, it felt totally different. I wondered if Louis had asked only for one bed for us because he honestly thought we were going to be together by now, or just because he's an asshole. Either way, it didn't change anything and I walked in the room to put my bags down.

I got ready to join our friends but when I got out of the bathroom, I noticed Devon in sweatpants with a book in hands. It made me frown and I grabbed my phone and my wallet, glancing at her.

"You're not ready?"

"Mm, no, I think I'd rather stay here." she admitted with a shrug. "I'm not really hungry anyway. Besides, I'm not really in the mood to see your ex girlfriend."

"Legit." I admitted, raising my eyebrows and nodding. "Do you want me to bring you something back?"

She looked up from her book and leaned her head against the pillow behind her. It made me want to kiss her and tell her once again that I loved her. It made me want to stay in the room to spend the whole evening with her.

"No, thanks, that's very sweet of you." she let out gently. "It's late anyway, I'll probably be asleep when you'll come back."

When I came back, however, she was not in bed. I frowned, realizing the lights were still on, and found her laying on the floor in a fetus position. She had put papers on the carpet to be sure she wouldn't make too much of a mess and she probably had forgotten her easel because her canvas was on the floor. I smiled when I noticed she still had a brush in hand and even more when I realized she fell sleep using yellow paint.

I turned to look at her panting and finally noticed the shades of orange and red all over it before crouching down to have a better look. I couldn't explain how good it felt to see her use other colors than dark grey and navy blue, and it made me wonder what exactly it meant. I took the canvas slowly and gently, placing it on the desk in the corner of the room before walking back to her and getting on my knees.

"Devie, hey, come on, let's get in bed okay?" I helped her up and she groaned, leaning on me and still half asleep.

I brought her in bed, laying her down and she quickly curled up again as I brought the covers over her. I got undressed and got under the blankets too, turning my body her way to look at her, my head leaning on my pillow. She looked peaceful and I noticed dried paint on her hands and forehead, wondering how long she had been asleep. The whole time I was at the table with my friends, I regretted not staying in the room with her but somehow, I knew she probably wouldn't have painted if I had been there, and the result was totally worth it.

"Mm, Niall."

I held my breath when she whispered my name and something twisted in my stomach. For a second, I wondered if she was awake but she started snoring softly again and I exhaled when I realized she had literally murmured my name while sleeping. It was the cheesiest thing ever and at the same time, I had never heard anything that made me happier.

"Don't worry Devie, I'm here." I whispered back. "I'll always be."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan story #niall horan writing #niall horan enemies to lovers #niall horan college au #niall horan au #niall horan uni au #my fanfics #swy

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ladyrynofsunnydale · 3 years

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Bo-Katan Week Day 7/ Free Day

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze & Korkie Kryze, Bo-Katan Kryze & Rey

Summary: It’s been twenty years since the battle of Yavin. The Empire is gone and Mandalore is once again in the hands of Mandalorians. Bo-Katan has not heard from her nephew Korkie in over five years until one day out of the blue he contacts her and asks her to meet him. She agrees, unaware how this one act may change the future.

Author’s Note: Happy Day 7 (and final day) of Bo-Katan Week! I have had so much fun, and thank you @bokatanweek so much for doing this and for all your time and hard work! And what amazing artists who’ve submitted and such a great group of people!

So, this is such a random headcannon that once I thought of I had to get out. I intended to finally do a fluff piece for Bo-Katan, and unfortunately it didn’t turn out that way. But I finally get to have two of my favorite characters meet, so I am a happy Star Wars nerd. And yeah, you get another Lord of the Rings quote for the title. Mando’a translations at the end.

Warnings for loss and hurt

Click on the link above or Keep Reading to read.

Bo-Katan walked into her chambers, unbuckling her armor. It had been eight years since they had retaken Mandalore, and everything was finally starting to run with a semblance of normalcy. To Bo, the feeling was somewhat surreal. Before now the only other time she had lived on Sundari without waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop was when she was a little girl, years before the Great Clan Wars. She paused before the painting of Satine that was on her wall and grazed her fingers over her sister’s painted ones.

“You’d be proud, Satine,” she said sadly.

Generally, Mandalore and the surrounding systems were at peace. Once legitimized, the New Republic had tried to get them to join. They’d even sent their most prominent Senator, Leia Organa Solo, to try to convince them, especially since Leia’s brother Luke Skywalker was training their Mand’alor’s, Din Djarin’s, foundling. Despite a surprisingly enjoyable visit, Mandalore remained independent.

Bo had originally resisted Din Djarin becoming the reluctant Mand’alor. But as she watched him, she realized he may just be the one to bring them all together. And for once, Bo realized, she could just be Bo-Katan. While she still led her Nite Owls and other fellow Mandalorian ex-Death Watch members, the expectation to rule, to have everyone’s hopes and dreams on her shoulders, was gone. And she didn’t miss it. And Djarin had brought everyone together. Her dream of retaking Mandalore had finally been realized.

Once stripped out of all her armor and clothing, Bo stepped into the shower and let the warm water cascade over her hair and down her back. She’d been training new recruits and could feel the fatigue in her body. She wasn’t young anymore, and she felt it.

Showered and dressed, she walked back into her sitting room and looked over at Satine’s painting. One of her biggest regrets at the moment was losing track of Korkie, Satine’s one and only son. Yes, while officially he was their cousin’s son and called Satine Auntie, Korkie and Bo had uncovered the true documentation with proof that Korkie was Satine and Obi-Wan Kenobi’s. Korkie had taken some time to get used to that idea, but over the years he had embraced it. He had even met with Luke Skywalker, one of the last people to see Obi-Wan Kenobi alive.

But Korkie had taken off about six years prior, saying he needed to make his own way. And Bo had let him. But she still thought about him. The first year he sent her updates, but he’d been quiet since. She’d tried to find him with no luck.

Her comm beeped with an unknown transmission. She looked at it suspiciously and thought about declining it, but on a whim accepted it.

“Aunt Bo?”

Bo’s heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice.

“Korkie?!”

“Hey Ba’vodu.”

“Korkie, you’re alright! Where have you been?! You haven’t contacted me in over five years!”

“I know, and I’m so sorry. But…I had my reasons. I…can you meet me somewhere?”

Bo paused. This could be a trap. From whom, she didn’t know. She’d made plenty of enemies in her many years. But Korkie was the last of her direct family. She’d risk it for him.

“Just tell me where.”

After a quick conversation with Djarin, who hadn’t been too happy about her taking off to gods know where without much information, and another with Koska to take over leadership duties of the Nite Owls, she was off to the coordinates Korkie had sent her. When she exited hyperspace, the first thing she noticed was that she was in the middle of nowhere. There were no planets anywhere near, and any star was far enough away to shed hardly any light. But there was a single ship. They hailed each other and she pulled her ship up alongside and docked. She took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her graying red hair, and headed to the airlock, adjusting her blasters in their holsters just in case. Opening the door, her eyes fell on a sight that caused a wide grin to break over her face.

“Korkie Kryze Kenobi,” she said, and Korkie smiled at her.

“Hey Auntie.”

Bo, too happy to see her nephew, let the nickname slide and stepped forward to pull him in for a hug.

“I’ve missed you ad’ika,” she said and Korkie squeezed her in response.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Bo pulled back and kept her hands on his shoulders, looking intently at his face. He looked tired. Very tired. And afraid.

“Korkie, what’s going on? Where’ve you been?”

But his answer was interrupted by a small voice behind him.

“Da?”

Bo craned her neck to look around Korkie and was shocked to see a small girl, not more than five, peering at them from around a corner. Korkie sighed and turned, but Bo saw a mask slide over his face, hiding the fear.

“Rey, I thought I asked you to stay in the cockpit?”

“I know, but…who’s that?”

Bo couldn’t keep the surprise out of her face as she looked from Korkie to the girl and back. Da? Was this…?

“Come here,” Korkie said and gestured to the girl. Hesitantly she glanced at Bo and came up to him, hiding behind his legs to look out. “Rey, this is your Aunt Bo-Katan. She was my mother’s sister. Aunt Bo, this is Rey. My daughter.”

Bo stared down at the girl for a moment, not blinking. She could see so much of Satine in her. Bo took a breath and kneeled down to get on the girl’s level.

“Hello Rey. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Rey hid more behind her father, then glanced up at him. He nodded at her and cautiously she stepped around him.

“Hello,” she said. Her eyes moved from Bo’s face to her armor and she took a slow step forward to reach out to tap her shoulder guard.

“That’s beskar,” Bo said.

“Why?” Rey asked, and looked back up to Bo’s face. Her curiosity was chipping away at her shyness.

“Because I’m a Mandalorian. Beskar, especially beskar armor, is an important part of our culture. This armor has been in my family, our family, for three generations.”

Rey looked up at Korkie.

“I’m a Mandalorian too?”

Korkie hesitated.

“You’re part Mandalorian. I’m only half.”

Bo reached into a pouch and pulled out a small pendant, a mythosaur skull made of beskar on a leather thong.

“Being a Mandalorian is more of a creed. It’s what you believe in. You have very strong, very old Mandalorian blood in you Rey. If you’d like to be a Mandalorian, you absolutely can be.” She held out the pendant to the girl and she tentatively reached out, but paused and looked up at her father. He smiled and nodded at her and she took it. “Can you keep an eye on that for me?” Bo asked, and Rey nodded. Korkie leaned down to look Rey in the eye.

“Can you wait in the cockpit for us, love?”

Rey looked between Bo and her father, clutching the pendant in her hand, and nodded.

“See you soon,” Bo said and smiled at her, and for the first time Rey gave her a small smile back before scampering back into the ship. Korkie watched her go with a fond look on his face before the mask fell and he turned back to Bo. “Who’s her mother?”

“She’s…it’s complicated,” Korkie said, leaning up against the wall of the airlock. He glanced into his ship then back. “Aunt Bo, I need you to take Rey. Keep her safe.” Bo blinked at him.

“Wait, what?”

“Please Ba’vodu…”

“Korkie, what is going on?”

“There’s a lot. More than I have time to tell you.” He reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a data stick. “This has all the information you need. And things for Rey, when she’s older and can understand.”

“Korkie,” Bo said, stepping towards him, but he took a step back, glancing into his ship once more.

“My wife, Rey’s mother, is Palpatine’s daughter.”

Bo recoiled.

“What?”

“But she’s good! Kind. I love her. But Palpatine. He…”

“Palpatine’s dead, Korkie. You’ve met the man who killed him.”

Korkie shook his head and Bo’s eyebrows furrowed even more.

“I’m not so sure.”

“Korkie this is crazy.”

“I know!! Don’t you think I know!” Korkie almost yelled, but he recoiled. “But someone is after Rey.”

“Why?”

“She’s Force sensitive. More than either I or her mother. We think he’s after her power.”

Bo felt a powerful protective urge swell within her. This girl was aliit; she was family.

“Then I can help you…”

“No! No. She needs to be hidden. And safe.” He looked up at her and his eyes seemed haunted. “You’re the only one I trust who’s strong enough to protect her.”

“What about Luke Skywalker? Do you not want her trained?”

Korkie shook his head emphatically.

“No. Training her will only put a mark on her. But a Mandalorian? You can teach her to protect herself. Mandalorians and Force users are sworn enemies after all.”

Bo’s heart clenched. “But if you want me to take her, what about you?”

“I’ve got to keep his attention away from Rey.” He turned to look up the hallway where Rey had left. “She’s my world, Auntie.”

“Korkie,” Bo said softly, reaching for him, and he turned, giving her a troubled look.

“Please Aunt Bo. For me. For Auntie Satine and her granddaughter.”

Bo blinked away tears. “She’d want me to protect you too.”

Korkie smiled sadly at her. “I can protect myself. And I can better do that if I know my daughter is safe.” He held out the data stick. Bo sighed, then nodded, taking the stick. Korkie visibly relaxed then took a step forward and pulled Bo into a hug. “Thank you.”

Bo squeezed him tight. “I love you, Korkie.”

“I love you too.”

She followed him down the hallway towards the cockpit. Sitting there in one of the chairs, her legs swinging, was Rey. She glanced up when they walked in and stood, ducking her head somewhat shyly again and walking forward. Korkie kneeled down beside her.

“Rey, you’re going to go with Aunt Bo-Katan, ok?”

Rey looked up at her father, uncertainty in her eyes.

“But why?”

“Because your Mom and I need to go and try to make the bad man go away, alright?”

Tears welled up in Rey’s eyes but she nodded.

“Alright.”

For the first time since she’d boarded the ship Bo saw tears in Korkie’s eyes.

“Oh Rey,” he said and he pulled her in for a hug, one which she returned fiercely. “I love you, we love you so much. Don’t forget that.”

“I love you too, Da.”

Bo walked out and let father and daughter have their moment. She leaned up against the wall, her head bowed. Was their family always destined to be split up from each other? Couldn’t they just have one normal childhood? She turned to look as Korkie and Rey stepped out of the cockpit, a bag strapped to Rey’s back.

“Ready to go?” she asked, and Rey nodded. “Got everything?” Rey glanced up at her father and he nodded.

Bo stepped forward and pulled Korkie into one last hug. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” she said, and he echoed it back to her. With one last nod she held her hand out to Rey and she took it and the two of them walked down the hallway and back to her ship. With one last farewell she closed the airlock and took one last look at her nephew. Rey’s tears were flowing freely now and Bo just looked down at her sadly.

“Um, so I don’t have any beds here on the ship, but I can make you a place in the back, or you can come up and sit with me?” Rey just stared at the closed door. “You can stay with me.” Bo guided her down the hallway and back to the cockpit. “Here you can sit right next to me,” she said, and brought her over to the co-pilot’s seat. After strapping her in, she took a seat in the pilot’s chair and began pre-flight checks. Once done she glanced back over at Rey and noticed she’d pulled a doll out of her bag. Made of some sort of fabric it had the rough look of a Rebellion fighter pilot. “Who’s that?” she asked, and Rey looked up.

“Red.”

“Red. That’s a good name.”

“My mum and da gave him to me on my birthday.”

“When was your birthday?”

“Yesterday.”

Bo’s heart lurched. She reached out and squeezed Rey’s leg gently. “Well happy birthday Rey. I’ll have to remember that.”

Rey looked out past the viewport. “Where are we going?”

“To Mandalore.”

Rey perked up a little at that. “Mandalore?”

Bo nodded. “And after that, we can go anywhere we want.”

Rey looked at her and nodded. “Ok.”

Bo smiled at her. “Ok.”

She was going to keep this girl safe if that was the last thing she did, and she was going to make sure she was happy and supported. It was the least she could do.

Mando’a Translations

Ba’vodu- Aunt

Ad’ika- little one (fond)

Aliit- family

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum- I love you

#bo-katan week #bo-katan kryze #bo katan kryze #korkie kryze #rey star wars #family #korkie kryze is a kenobi #rey is a kenobi #korkie kryze needs a hug #rey needs a hug

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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The MILFnevka AU

Once again something that was brainstormed en masse on the GG fanworks server.

I was... very much spearheading this one, but I dragged in @professorsparklepants for a lot, because Anevka, as well as input from @fenerismoon, @purronronner, @gelpenss, and @whirlibird. The original conversation took place mid-September of 2019.

AU where Tarvek's side of the family squeezed in an extra generation or so.

Aaronev was still Lu's generation, but he had Anevka young, and she was an only child who was already an adult by the time Lu disappeared. As a result, Aaronev let her married before she ended up in the machine (because he wasn’t desperate yet), and he couldn't risk drawing the attention by the time Agatha’s gen is being born.

So instead of being Tarvek's SISTER, she's his MOM.

Anevka formed her own faction, separate from the Aaronev and vaguely aligned with Terabithia’s.

She insisted Martellus and his branch hang out with Tarvek because being an only child is lonely, and also it keeps Tarvek out of his grandfather's sights and vague plans of body-hopping.

She is a Protective Momma who is a little TOO down with murdering anyone who threatens her child.

Agatha: you're just going to listen to your evil mom? Because no offense but that's worked out really bad for me so far. Tarvek: She's not EVIL, just... Valois... anyway the Baron knows what she's like and mostly he just rolls his eyes and tries to keep her away from Queen DuPree.

Anevka is definitely the mom that uses her position as mother of the king/heir to stockpile as much power as possible and control everything behind the scenes. Tarvek is currently trying to undermine this and wrestle back control as secretly as possible.

Wine mom with eighty hidden stabbing implements.

When Agatha is discovered, Anevka still kills her dad, but it's not like she can steal Agatha's voice in this AU, so she just settles for aggressively matchmaking her with Tarvek.

Anevka's managed to rein her dad in, mostly, because she's a powerful spark with an Undefined Husband who nonetheless has enough good connections to cause a ruckus if he finds out about the Summoning Throne, and he's too sparky to wasp.

This did lead to his early death and no siblings for Tarvek, but not before Anevka managed to fight her dad down to ONLY trying to throne the girls who were legitimately likely to be Agatha.

And then Agatha's in Sturmhalten and Anevka's just like. Well. Time for plan A. And kills her dad.

Regarding Gil... She kinda wants to pat him on the head and tell him to try harder.

I'm not wholly convinced Tarvek got kicked off of Castle Wulfenbach, depending on how Anevka married and decided to approach things. She might have warned Tarvek to AVOID stealing information, even, if she was worried about Aaronev trying to do something.

Less "do whatever you can to help us gain power" and more "do whatever you can to stay out of Sturmhalten."

Tarvek: My mom is a bitch and I love her so much

Klaus hates it when Anevka comes to CW because she acts like some unholy cross between Lucrezia, Terabithia, and Zantabraxus and she keeps hitting on his top enforcers but with knives and pretty dresses.

Unstoppable Divorce energies

Anevka: Do you like my new dress? Klaus: Your bodice is far too low cut, please stop visiting me dressed like my ex. I'm the same age as your father. Anevka: I know, it's really fun to watch you suffer as you fail to resist the urge to tell me to put on a sweater.

Tarvek: MOTHER YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF ALL MY FRIENDS PLEASE STOP HITTING ON THE BARON AURGH. Anevka: I'm not HITTING on him, I'm trying to make his face turn puce. Anevka: I am, however, hitting on Von Pinn. She looks like she knows how to have fun. Tarvek: MOTHER.

Tarvek, to Gil: the baron can't be your dad, he's old enough to be your grandfather. Gil: He’s at a solid age for both.

Anevka and Klaus have zero actual attraction to each other but there's definitely A Dynamic that's eerily reminiscent of his relationship with Bang, with slightly less "I did a violence, be proud of me" and slightly more "I did a sexy and/or politics, be proud of me."

Tarvek: I have a problem. Gil: What's up? Tarvek: All of our friends want to fuck my mom. Zulenna: I don't. Tarvek: That's because she used to put you in time-out when we were five.

Anevka is prime Dangerous Widow material. She didn't actually kill her husband but a hell of a lot of people think she did.

Seffie thinks her Auntie 'Nevka is the COOLEST

Anevka having an intermittent fling with that "darlingly stupid young hero, Tryggvassen" makes me laugh way too hard and also dips into my nonsense love of Otharnevka.

At one point we did sidle over into “what if Single Father KB tho”

Like they met at some point on vacation while the kids were still kids, which does lose us the “Anevka aggressively ships her kid with Agatha” thing, so I’m not sticking with this but there’s some hella fun tidbits.

Anevka: Guess what. Klaus, very tired: What. Anevka: I'm getting married. Klaus: Again? Good for you. I hope this one lives longer. Anevka: He has the same name as you. Klaus: Get out of my house.

KB isn't a widower, things are just complicated and everyone blames Lu. There's time travel involved, of course.

"So your daughter--" "Sister." "...how--" "Just... just blame my mother."

He's LEGALLY Agatha's dad, maybe? Their dynamic is parent-child. Just, you know, as far as blood goes...

Anevka wants KB to help her bag Othar again. KB thinks she means finally killing him. Anevka: I might. Haven't decided yet.

Overall, though, including KB is too complicated without undermining the entire premise I want. Which is mostly canon but Anevka is Tarvek's embarrassing, mysterious, prone-to-assassination mother.

Seriously though, the entire attraction here is Anevka having the Dangerous Widow Whom No Man Can Tie Down vibe

She's a solo act. Some flings, sure, but overall? Chaos. Refined, elegant chaos.

Anevka as Bang’s sugar mom was suggested. We were obviously all on board.

Bang doesn’t need a sugar mom, but it makes the vein in Klaus's forehead throb, and that's very important.

Bang absolutely tries to get Tarvek to call her “mom” while she’s ‘dating’ Anevka. One time he does call her that and it throws her for SUCH A LOOP because no wrong.

Anevka occasionally daydreams of a world where she could have both Othar and Bang at the same time without them IMMEDIATELY trying to kill each other. Only occasionally, though, she has evidence to plant and blood to spill.

BACK TO ANEVKA SHIPPING HER KID WITH HIS POLITICALLY-APPROPRIATE CRUSH.

Anevka: Oh look, my future daughter-in-law. Tarvek, tired: Mother, she doesn't like me. Anevka: Whyever not? You're clever, handsome, politically apt, charming, sensitive, heir to a throne, you are EVERYTHING a maiden could wish for. Tarvek: You just think that because you're my mom. Agatha: No, no, she's not wrong. You're just not someone I trust. At all. Especially since you say you've been a honeypot before. Anevka: See? A simple hurdle, dear, I'm sure you could whip him into shape in no time. I could even loan you the whip. And the harness, perh-- Tarvek: MOTHER.

Anevka sends Tarvek out with Othar for “field trips.”

It’s great!! Multi-purpose! Absolutely helps boost Tarvek’s image if he’s associated with Known Hero, gets Othar out of her hair for a little bit, sometimes he can be pointed in a direction that’s useful to her.

Othar refers to this outings as “stepfather-stepson bonding times.” Tarvek absolutely hates it. Detests it, really.

Somehow something goes wrong and like 50% of the time and he ends up getting accused of murder, probably.

It’s so unfair. Especially since of the two of them, Othar is more likely to murder than him. (It’s because everyone knows what those Valois types are like, and Othar is a hero.)

Gil: What's so embarrassing about your mom? Your mom's nice. (To me.)

She gives him head pats and lollipops. His own dad certainly never gives him head pats OR lollipops.

Anevka: Well I WAS going to push him towards dear little Seffie, but he seems to be quite enamored with YOU, darling. Tarvek: Mother, PLEASE stop getting invested in my love life.

Anevka’s job is to meddle, he’s lucky she isn’t drawing up contracts and going Full Arrangement.

I also love the idea of Anevka having one of those "sunshine embodied anime mom" smiles as she says "Oh Tarvek, dear, look at all your little friends!"

She's genuinely enthused but Klaus is heavily disturbed by Anevka smiling like that.

"Is she going to sacrifice them?" "Uh, no, it isn't Sunday."

Human sacrifice is actually garish and passe these days, haven’t you heard?

Just imagining one of those Stately Child and Parent portraits with Anevka and Tarvek here.

When Tarvek was born, Anevka has an "I've only had my son for an hour and a half" moment... and then just shrugged and rolled with it.

Anevka "Hot Mom" Sturmvoraus is one of the MANY banes of Klaus's existence, but she's definitely one of the friendliest on the list... as much as he may resent that, at times.

Anevka: Is the Baron in? Boris: Actually... [Crashing noise] Boris: He just left. Anevka, pulling on the rocket boots she stole from Othar and heading towards the broken window leading to the outside of the ship: That's alright, I'll catch up.

(I love how Anevka's name just lends itself so well to AU portmanteaus.)

Anevka definitely susses out Gil's identity but she doesn't actually DO anything about it other than angling for Useful Connections.

She's always telling Tarvek to bring his friend along, and Klaus doesn't want Gil anywhere near that family but he doesn't want it to look like he has any particular interest in Gil.

Imagine Klaus actually encouraging Gil to persue Agatha with the idea that it will put some distance between Gil and "that damn woman and her spawn." Anevka for her part is pushing Agatha towards Tarvek. Meanwhile the three of them are working it out between themselves.

She just has This Energy, folks:

Tarvek: Oh no. Theo: Whats the matter? That's your mom, right? Tarvek: Oh NO, she's wearing her 'NEWLY WIDOWED BUT OUT ON THE PROWL' OUTFIT Theo: ????? She hasn’t been widowed- Tarvek: SHES AFTER THE BARON AND I'M GOING TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT, THEO

The one thing here is that Anevka's not into Klaus and he's not into her but by GOD is she going to fuck with his head about it.

She’s just doing this for the Big Dick Energy of trying to Get Baron Wulfenbach.

Embarrassing mom of the deadliest degree.

Tarvek: YOU’RE GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE. Anevka: Don't be so dramatic, let your mother have a bit of fun. Besides, he's not expelling you anymore, is he? Tarvek: I almost wish he was-

Also Gil and Tarvek reconciling early on due to the immense power of being Embarrassed By Your Parents.

Anevka and Klaus getting increasingly bitchy at each other at dinner, and Tarvek and Gil are just. Bright red and glowering at them.

They’re DESTROYING their COOL TEEN CRED.

Tarvek doesn't ever wants to marry a woman who has been married before, not because of some weird distaste of so-called "sloppy seconds," but rather that he's just scared that they're going to be like his mom, and planning to kill him for his money.

Tarvek, waking up in the middle of the night: What if they really do get married and I have to have Gil as a stepbrother. Tarvek: (screams internally for a few hours)

Anevka is also that Sailor J contouring video

While Otharnevka is... this thing

Some more relevant Vibes: Divorce Court Half-Mourning Upper East Side Widow

Everyone always assumed she had murdered her husband. It was a natural assumption, but ultimately wrong. She had had plans in place to kill him if the need arose, but in the end she hadn’t needed them.

Most people grossly underestimated how complicated it was to arrange for someone to be t-boned by a semi carrying flammable chemicals.

Othar as Anevka's second trophy husband and Tarvek's annoying stepdad has a very specific energy.

That energy is at least 20% "the lovebirds take anniversary honeymoons every year" and 60% "Tarvek hates being in the room with them because they're gross and embarrassing."

This is partly fun because Othar being Tarvek’s stepdad is... a lot.

But honestly, I'm also just enjoying cougar Anevka with Trophy Husband Othar. They're actually in love!!! BUT. Cougar with a trophy husband.

Anevka makes sly comments about Othar and Klaus having sexual tension.

Also I have headcanons about NB Tarvek and like

I think she'd be supportive up until the point of "you want to be Storm King, don't you?"

Less "this isn't natural and you shouldn't be this way" and more "this is going to cause you trouble due to social norms."

"Keep it under wraps until your throne is secure, then you can come out in a blaze of glory." No dresses in public until you're king, then do whatever you want. After all, “Your Majesty” is gender neutral.

Anevka caught Tarvek playing dressup in her closet one time and just criticized the color relationships.

And you must try to avoid wearing that particular shade at all, my dear, it really doesn't look imperial.

#Anevka Sturmvoraus #Girl Genius #Tarvek Sturmvoraus #Klaus Wulfenbach #Gilgamesh Wulfenbach #Othar Tryggvassen #Agatha Heterodyne #Otharnevka #GG OT3 #Phoenix Posts

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

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Day 20: Moxiety

@tsshipmonth2020

(Yes this is out of order, but I figured I’d rather give you guys out of order content than no content at all. Hope that’s okay.)

Day 20 - You can send one item to your soulmate every year.

Content warning: Christmas, food mentions, homophobic family members mentions, serious fluffiness.

Word count: 2.7k

Songs mentioned in this fic: “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” and “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”.

Patton’s eyes scanned over the letter, barely reading the words he’d read many times before. After the first time he’d gotten one, years ago, he’d re-read it so many times he’d committed it to memory.

Patton Hart,

You are receiving this notice to inform you that the annual soulmate item exchange is arriving. On December 24th, BEFORE MIDNIGHT, please bring your package to your nearest postal service or drop box, marked clearly with the provided adhesive label on the TOP. Item must be contained in the shipping box provided. Other boxes will not be accepted. If the drop off time is missed, your package will not be received.

There was no signature, no return address, no number to call. At first, he’d been slightly suspicious, since everyone he asked had no further information than what was on the small letter, but after the first year, when a beautiful black and gold notebook and a matching pen had shown up on his doorstep on Christmas morning, he’d decided to heck with his worries. Despite his initial curiosity, he’d sent a gift anyways (if it was legitimate, he wasn’t about to leave his partner without a present!), a grey beanie that he’d stitched a small heart and message into.

He giddily placed the letter back into the envelope and stuck it into the gap between the hallway mirror and the wall so he wouldn’t forget. Although, he doubted he would. He’d already bought a present, months ago, when his eyes fell upon a black and purple striped sweater in the window of the mall. The black thin stripes occasionally jumped, looking like the lines on a heart monitor, and it hooked him instantly. It was simplistic yet eye catching and unique, like the gifts Patton always received from his soulmate, so he immediately bought it and wrapped it as soon as he got home. He didn’t know his soulmate’s size, but you really can’t go wrong with an extra large (baggy sleeves are ideal, after all).

His time passed quickly, filled with movie nights with his roommate (who insisted on watching Nightmare before Christmas at least once a week) and trying new Christmas cookie recipes. It was his favorite holiday, with the songs and the decorations and the ever present smell of cinnamon in every store, so the moment they had passed Halloween, every moment was filled with his Christmas playlists and cheesy holiday sweaters. His family was coming to his place for their celebration this year, so the place was decked out with tinsel and little snowy villages, candles and fairy lights on every wall, and of course, their tree in the corner of the living room. It was going to be… amazing.

He’d offered to take his roommate’s soulmate item along with him to the post office, seeing as he was uneasy in high crowd situations, and soulmate exchange days were always insanely busy. It had been the right move, too, because as soon as the office came into view, he could already see the crowd of people milling outside, trying to get into the small door. What could you expect, though, only giving people a twenty four hour window to all show up to the same spot? By the time he got inside and got both packages passed to the handler on the other side (an arduous process, since they had to check each gift thoroughly to ensure there were no cards or any other way to identify the sender), it was dark outside. All he wanted to do was curl up with some hot chocolate and watch the Grinch, as the two of them had planned.

That’s what they did, falling asleep on the couch in the process. They were awoken in the morning by a knock at the door, Patton gently extracting himself from Virgil’s arms and turning off the TV, cringing that the cover screen of the movie had been on all night. The other mumbled in annoyance at his heat source disappearing and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s too early.”

“Merry Christmas, Virge!” Patton shrieked, ignoring his roommate’s mock irritated snarl as he gave him a tight hug. “Let’s go get our gifts!”

Begrudgingly, Virgil followed him to the door that he flung open, revealing two small parcels on the step. The labels from the senders had been replaced with simple name tags, another way to ensure that their soulmates would not be traceable. The other houses on the block all had similar ones outside their doors, and the carrier was nowhere to be seen, as usual. He picked them both up, handing Virgil his, and running back into the kitchen to get scissors, pretty much vibrating with glee.

“I’m making coffee first. You want some?”

Patton hummed, looking between the gift before him and Virgil’s tired eyes. “This can wait. Let’s have coffee.”

Virgil was barely able to conceal with excitement at being chosen over a Christmas present by someone who was essentially an overgrown child, pulling out two mugs. He passed his package to Patton, who placed it beside his on the table, and shuffled around his roommate to start on breakfast.

“It’s Christmas. You’re going to eat breakfast for once,” Patton interrupted the moment Virgil started complaining, grinning widely when he finally agreed.

“Do you ever wonder who your soulmate’s gonna be? What they’ll be like?” Virgil asked as he poured the coffee grounds, dangerously precise as always. The elder hummed.

“They’re your soulmate. So I guess, a perfect match to you. It’s not like they won’t like you or anything. That’s against the whole point!” An egg sizzled as it hit the pan, quickly followed by another.

“I guess,” He mumbled, clicking the on button on the machine. The smell of coffee quickly filled the small kitchen, “So when is your family getting here?”

“Around noon,” Patton chirped, flipping the first egg while simultaneously popping bread in the toaster with his other hand, “I like to cook, but my moms don’t trust me to make the main dish alone. My sisters are super excited to be old enough to help make food this year-- it’s so cute. But yeah, they should be here by noon.”

Virgil cracked a pained smile, watching the dripping coffee into the pot. “Okay. I’ll be out of your hair by then.”

Patton’s hand froze in mid air, whipping around to his roommate. “Excuse me?”

“I said I’ll be gone by then,” Virgil repeated, looking down to play with the hem of his sweater, “Do you want me to leave earlier? I can if you want.” His voice very nearly cracked as he spoke, tone getting quieter with each word. Patton’s heart shattered.

“Why do you think I want you to leave?” He whispered, blindly shutting the stove off behind him so the eggs wouldn’t burn. The toast popping startled them both, but neither could find it in them to laugh as they usually would have. Virgil shrugged.

“I mean, your family’s coming over. I’m not family. And I know you were super excited for them to come over, and I don’t want to… ruin the vibe,” He shook his fingers in weak jazz hands, shooting a watery grin at Patton. “I was just planning to go to the mall or something. I think it’s open-”

His words were silenced as Patton threw his arms around Virgil’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. It was no secret that Virgil didn’t get along well with his own family. That was the understatement of the year, really. Patton didn’t know the details, refused to pry, all he knew is that it had something to do with Virgil coming out to a pretty conservative family, an action that ended with him being split off from everyone. He had lost his little brother to his parents cutting contact, among other things, and Patton realized with a start that this was Virgil’s first Christmas without his family.

In the single year they’d been roommates, the two had grown closer than any childhood friend Patton had kept throughout the years. Heck, he’d maybe consider them closer than he was with his moms, and that was saying a lot. For them to even fall asleep on the couch after a movie night, as they’d done last night, was a regular occurrence for them. They admitted secrets to each other they hadn’t fully admitted to themselves, about their own aromantic natures, about what that meant for soulmates, about what kind of pie was the best. Not all their conversations were deep.

“You are family, Virge,” Patton whispered, resting his chin on the other’s shoulder. “And unless you have a legitimate reason not to, you’re staying here. My family will love you, I swear,” He added quickly, knowing the other’s tendency to grow anxious around new people.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin-”

“I will physically fight you,” He hissed before the other could finish, pulling out of the hug with a soft kiss to his temple. “Stay. For me?”

“Fine,” Virgil rolled his eyes, turning away in fake annoyance to pour their coffee, “For you.” He had a reputation to uphold after all, and him nearly crying was not great for it.

Just as they finished breakfast, Patton eyeing his present next to him with, again, startling resemblance to an excited child, there was a knock at the door. The roommates shared a confused glance, silently communicating that ‘no, I’m not expecting anyone’ before Patton got up to open it. He’d barely unlocked the latch when it burst open of its own accord, a loud shriek of “PATTY!” echoing through the small entryway.

“You guys are early!” Patton laughed as two small girls attempted to squeeze him to death around his torso, the pair having the same blond curls as Patton.

“These two just couldn’t wait to see you,” A woman Virgil assumed to be one of Patton’s mother’s smiled, angling above the girls to give Patton a gentle hug which he eagerly returned.

He quickly led them all inside, introducing a nearly shaking Virgil to his family. His other mom was carrying a box laden with uncooked food, and began to set it out in the small kitchen to begin preparing it. The girls, after a bit of hesitation, flocked to Virgil.

“Why’s your hair purple?” One asked, pulling herself onto Virgil’s lap. Her southern accent was just as strong as her moms’, reminding him of the accent Patton had slowly lost since moving in with him. It wasn’t gone all the way, just dimmed, but from the kitchen, he could hear his roommate talking to his moms animatedly, the accent back in all its glory.

“I drank too much grape soda,” Virgil lamented, “When I was little, I couldn’t get enough of it. And then it turned my hair purple.”

“No, it didn’t!” The girl leaning on his knee giggled.

“Are you saying I’m a liar?” He gasped, placing a hand over his heart, “How dare you!”

They both erupted into shrieking laughs, causing Patton to poke his head out of the kitchen. Virgil couldn’t help grinning widely at him as the second girl pulled herself onto his lap as well, causing Patton’s face to light up like the sun.

“Did you know Christmas is my favorite holiday?”

“Is it really? Why’s that?” Virgil asked, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s mine, too!”

“Nu uh, it’s only mine!”

“We can have the same favorite!”

“Nu uh!”

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

Patton collapsed back onto the couch, groaning loudly. The tree was the only light in the darkened living room, the air still warm and smelling like the dinner they’d enjoyed hours ago. It was quiet again, his family gone back home. He’d missed them immensely, but he’d forgotten how loud they could be. His feet shifted on the floor, rustling the wrapping paper left over by his hurricane twin sisters; a mess he’d clean up tomorrow. Footsteps approached from down the hall, signalling his roommates arrival, and the speaker on the mantle started to quietly play “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas”, Frank Sinatra’s soft voice drifting through the air.

“I’m so full,” He groaned again, resting his head on the back of the couch.

“Mood,” Virgil said, dropping next to him. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Virgil was just as tired as him. Tired, in the best way possible.

“You’re really good with kids,” Patton noted with a smile.

“Tell anyone and they’ll never find your body,” He deadpanned and Patton snorted, before he continued, “They’re the same age as my brother.”

“Oh,” He whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. I miss him. A lot. But this was the best Christmas I’ve probably ever had. No homophobic family members, no shouting matches, just… family. It was nice.”

“Hard to be homophobic when you have two moms,” Patton joked, relieved that Virgil snickered.

“Probably would be, yeah.”

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,

With every Christmas card I write,

May your days be merry and bright,

And may all your Christmas’ be white.

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit, relishing in the silence of the house. The tree sparkled, lighting up the blank walls in rainbow hues, their conglomerate mix of thrift store ornaments shifting and reflecting the light. People shouted outside, joyful noises, and kids laughed, their neighbors wrapping up their own holiday celebration.

Patton opened his eyes as he felt something placed on his lap, looking down in confusion before grinning.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot!”

Virgil smiled sheepishly, shifting his own box between his hands. “I put them into my room when your family showed up.”

“Smart move. The twins would have torn them open.” Patton dropped off the couch onto the floor, sitting cross legged and shaking with anticipation. With a laugh, Virgil joined him when he gestured to the floor in front of him. He reached up and took his keys from the mantle, slicing open the duct tape on his box before handing it to Patton to do the same.

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,

Like the ones I used to know,

Where the treetops glisten and children listen,

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

They opened their boxes in unison, Patton gasping when he saw the item in his. He pulled out the large, black fuzzy blanket, blue paw prints the size of Patton’s palm decorating the surface. A high pitched squeal burst from his lips as he squished the blanket to his chest, shoving his face in the soft fabric.

“Virgil, look! Isn’t it-”

His words caught in his throat at the expression on Virgil’s face; one of absolute shock. He was clutching his gift in white knuckles, and Patton’s mouth went dry when he caught the distinct black heart-beat-esque lines on the purple sweater.

“Oh,” Patton whispered, both of them frozen, looking at the gift they’d bought in the other’s arms. “Oh!”

“You’re my soulmate!” They both stated at the same time, breaking off into giggles.

“I guess so,” Virgil gasped, smiling as Patton pretty much leapt into his arms, trying to maneuver his hands around the other’s shoulders while still clutching the black blanket.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so relieved! You’re aro and I’m aro and it’s not going to be awkward with someone else, and I don’t have to explain and oh my gosh this is so fantastic!”

They both dissolved into another laughing fit, Virgil finally able to wind his arms around the other and pulling him closer. The end of the song slowly dwindled down as they both untangled themselves, unable to stop grinning. There was a moment of silence in the room as Virgil picked up a shrieking Patton and dropped him onto the couch, their sides sore from laughter, and essentially settled on top of him.

“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” filled the room with soft violin swings as the two fell into a blissful sleep, wrapped in their respective gifts, more at peace than they’d been in… who knows how long.

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts soulmate au #sanders sides #sanderssides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanderssidesau

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fallenrepublick · 3 years

Note

Well, ok…I was going to not ask but since you asked us to…ask

What happened when Thrass came back in the Two Sides AU? Specifically, what happened between Thrass and Themis?

Take this wherever you please or ignore it if you would like but I am genuinely curious as to what transpired

Omg okay (I... did not expect legitimate interest in that au my god okay this is really exciting)

It was... a change, to say the least. Themis grew up fully knowing Thrass, or rather, the idea of him. You wouldn’t let your baby girl live her life unaware of her father or the legacy he carried, so while Thrawn took on a certain role-model figure for her, you made very, very clear where the differences lay.

“He was... so good...” you said often, a weakness in your voice as you held a photo of him to your chest, one you eventually handed to her when she was old enough to understand. “He... loved his family more than anything in the world, always did the right thing. He loved us, loved you...”

And Themis would frown, asking with genuine grief, as if he were only recently lost to her, “Then why did he leave?”

All you ever managed to say was, “He didn’t mean to.”

But as I’m sure you’re aware, such stories and memories can’t quite compare to someone who is there, especially to a child. It matters little how often you would take trips to find her father, who you promised her oh so often was still out there. For much of her growing years, her memories lay with Thrawn. Lessons, discussions, puzzles and most of all art, all constant presences in her head that she likely will never forget.

And yet he left all the same, frequent letters dwindling and finally stopping altogether. And in those years, she came to understand. A sudden silence, a desire to bring back someone who was never meant to be taken away. Mixed feelings swirled in her mind, a bitterness at being abandoned, fighting against her loss and vague hope that he might come back.

It’s a sudden return that Thrass makes, not altogether healed, but present enough that he’s conscious, that his stay in the hospital is less than it could have been. The worst was over, stray debris lodged in his body taken out, and he would, in time, be functional.

Themis was... skeptical. He looked... similar to the photo, but a touch paler, deep scabs that stretched up to his face distorted a bit of his features, an air of exhaustion that hung over him like a cloud and kept his eyelids low. what’s more... he is, after all, a stranger.

Her mind drifted back to Thrawn, though she felt a bit guilty about it. He is not Thrawn... he never will be. Thrawn had been there for her all her life, this man had not. And yet you sat at his side, your hands wrapped around his, pressing his knuckles to your lips, tears falling beside your smile. Despite his tired aura, he responds with much the same energy, every so often brushing your cheek or touching your hair. And there’s a bit of her that trusted him as she watched, the three of them together feeling right somehow.

But it wasn’t so easy. It never is. There was a disconnect for a time, months of strange interactions, where her instinct at being around someone unfamiliar caused her to clam up, to answer questions quietly or go find you instead of being around him. For both, it was disheartening. She wished he were something else, that he were more interesting, that he liked puzzles and art instead of books and pointless conversation. And he... well, he regretted everything.

There came days, though, when it seemed easier, when he would understand the way her mind worked, the imagination she had that went beyond solely analyzing art and finding the fastest way out of a maze. She created stories, ones she had kept to herself, but also ones he saw building in her head, the characters, the problems, the music, all of it. And they were the places she spent time in, the places she wished she lived in instead. He listened as she spoke, conceptualizing, imagining the way she would. No, it was not something he did. But it was something he understood. And no one else in her life, she realised, really listened the way he did.

She brought out her toy harp one day, and her toy piano another. Crudely pressing keys and plucking strings that every so often gave an unstable twang, she explained the “theme songs” that she thought of when certain things happened in her world. And Thrass’s hands fidgeted in his lap as he smiled. Her heart filled with pride at her years’ long work, and she held to her resolve to keep at it.

There will always be a degree of sadness when he looks at her, despite the fact that she’s grown more by now, having fully accepted him as her father, old enough to know that people can be different from each other. He missed her baby years, her time as a toddler. The teeth she lost, the first laughs and smiles, the languages she knows, the birthdays and every time her feet grew another shoe size. He works constantly to make up for it, even if he knows he never can.

But for now, she’s happy. Because you were right.

#kidtalk #two sides one coin au

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jpegjade · 4 years

Text

1950 - Spencer

SO WE HAVE THE SURPRISE/UNPLANNED FIC! Thank you to the lovely anon who sent in the bones for this one and I just gave it the little legitimates (get it? ligaments?) it needed to move.

Based off the song 1950 by King Princess

Warnings: there is a knife in here and a stabbing (but i kinda gloss over it) so if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip that paragraph or the fic altogether. no worries!

________________

“How did we end up with two geniuses on the same team?” Morgan said, watching you and Spencer walk out of the elevator.

Spencer smiled and looked over at you. He thought you might have an answer but you came up with nothing.

“We’re just that lucky!” Garcia said, passing the three of you. She always seems to come out of nowhere.

“What’s the age difference here?” Morgan motioned between the two of you.

“Basically two or three months.” You said, guessing based on when you guys last celebrated Spencer’s birthday.

“It’s exactly 2 months, 4 days, 12 hours and 3 minutes. I can tell you the exact mileage from our hospitals, if you’re interested in that.” Reid said, following you.

“I think I’ll pass.” Derek said before walking away.

You and Spencer headed in the direction of your desks, which happened to be across from each other. You looked at the fresh stack of cases on your desk and sighed.

“Hey, y/n,” someone called, causing you to snap your head up.

“Oh.” You were disappointed to see someone standing between you and your view of Spencer.

“I was wondering if you thought about my proposition.” You tried to remember the guy’s name. It definitely started with a J.

“The only thing I’ve thought about this morning is the fact that I forgot to get a coffee on my way here.” You said, being completely serious.

“Yeah well, if you-” The guys started again, only to be cut off.

“I brought coffee.” Spencer to the rescue, yet again.

He put the coffee on your desk and smiled at you. Spence was a mind reader for sure. It smelled heavenly and you were so excited to finally have something to help you wake up today.

“Hey, John.” Spencer said, giving that weird smiling thing he did when he was uncomfortable but still had to interact with people.

See? You knew it had a J in it. John backed away under Spencer’s awkward gaze.

“Y/n, Hotch wants us upstairs.” Spencer said holding his hand out to help you up from your chair. You were perfectly capable of doing so by yourself but he just wanted to be a gentleman.

“You’re always saving me, you know that?” You said, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Saving who from what?” JJ said, seeing the two of you enter the closed off area.

“Spencer’s always saving y/n from the guys in the office and all of the officers asking her out.” Morgan said, reclining in his chair. He was clearly amused by your constant predicament.

“Well, Spencer gets propositioned by every prostitute he meets.” Hotch said, still straight faced but you saw a hint of a smile there.

“I’m just waiting for someone special. I don’t know what you’re waiting for though.” You said to Spencer, who blushed and smiled.

“All right my brilliant kitties. We have a case.” Penelope worked the remote, showing a particularly horrible kidnapping and murder case.

“And that’s why you will be heading to Miami.” Garcia said, flipping off the screen.

“Wheels up in 20.” Hotch said, walking out of the room.

You went to your desk to grab you in-flight entertainment while Spencer and Derek stayed back. They looked like they were talking and you wished you could be a fly on the wall. You always wished you could be wherever Spencer was just so you could be close to him.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Garcia asked, making you jump.

“Probably the case.” You said, trying to act like you weren’t imagining them talking about you.

“Probably.” Garcia winked at you as she walked back to her office.

The flight was pretty smooth. The best part was sharing a row with Spencer. The worst part came when you were embarrassed to wake up with your head on his shoulder. But it got better when you realized that he was leaning on you too, completely asleep.

“All right, lovebirds. Time to fly.” Rossi said, gently shaking the two of you awake. You and Spencer shared a sleepy glance between you before you both stumbled out the plane.

The crime scene was horrible. Working the case was long and difficult, even though you were more than prepared. Out of everyone, you were able to predict the unsub’s next steps the most accurately. Even Spencer wondered how you were almost in step with the unsub but he put it to something in your past, and he was right. But that didn’t matter because right now? The two of you found yourselves in front of the unsub. Well… The unsub was holding you hostage while Spencer tried to talk him down.

“You don’t have to do this. You can let her go before anything happens.” Spencer breathed slow, trying not to panic.

“Isn’t she pretty? She’s so pretty. I can add her to my collection. She will be better than the rest.” The unsub was so far out of it, you knew there was no talking him down.

“She’s very pretty. But no one can see how beautiful she is if you kill her. Put the knife down.” Spencer said. You were scared but you caught that he called you beautiful. You wondered if he meant that of if he was just playing into the fantasy...

“Spence. You have to do it.” You said.

Knife poised to stab you through the stomach, just big enough to ruin so many different vital organs. You watched Spencer calculate where to wound you to at least hurt the unsub. He was no sharp shooter, and you both knew that, but you trusted him. There was no clean way for you to get out of this situation. Spencer’s mind was short circuiting and then it happened. You grabbed the knife and plunged it forward, dropping to your knees fast enough for Spencer to take the shot.

Spencer immediately ran to you, terrified. The pain was like nothing you have ever felt before. You couldn’t believe you did this to yourself but you knew it was the right decision. You had to do it so Spencer didn’t take anything to heart as his fault.

“Y/n…” Spencer said, reaching his hand out to hold yours. He intertwined your fingers and you smiled. He just needed to make sure you knew he was there.

“Spencer Reid, it took me getting stabbed for you to make a move?” You chuckled and immediately regretted it. The pain ran through you again and Spencer winced.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t… I thought you were going to turn me down. You always said you were waiting for someone special and…” Spencer read your expression, confused.

“No, you dumbass. I was waiting for you.” You smiled one more time.

“No, don’t do that. You have to stay awake. The team is almost here and…” Spencer was so scared.

“Chill. I’m not dying. I refuse…” You said, opening your eyes again. You didn’t want him to worry but you were just as scared as he was.

“I didn’t even get to kiss you yet…” He said, trying his hardest not to cry.

“Spence. I’ll make you a deal. When I wake up, if you still want to kiss me, I’ll say yes and you can kiss the hell out of me. Okay?” You said it with your last bit of strength. You had lost too much blood. Everything ran cold and you passed out.

Spencer was terrified. Once the medics came in and got you to the hospital, he was having flashbacks, reminders of what happens when he gets close to people. He had hope during his conversation with Morgan that morning, when they decided that Spencer would ask you on a date when you got back, and look what happened. You could die and he couldn’t do a damn thing but hold your hand. He was scared that if he moved you, the knife might cause more damage with the movement. He wished that he wasn’t so useless sometimes.

“Kid. Look at me. She’s going to be fine. Ride with her to the hospital, we’ll be right behind you.” Morgan said.

Everything was touch and go for so long. You were in surgery for hours and whenever Spencer thought he was done crying, he had more sobs left in him. Finally, when they announced you could have a single visitor, everyone agreed Spencer should go first.

“Hey…” You said, a tired smile on your face.

“Hey.” He responded, leaning on the doorframe, hands in his pockets.

You knew his sihloette by heart, especially that hair.

He noticed that your heartbeat was faster than it should be.

“Are you okay? Your heart is beating faster than it should be. Do I need to call a nurse?” He said, barely audible.

“I’m fine.” You said, “They patched me up real good. Also gave me hits of morphine. But that doesn’t matter because you’re the only drug I need.” You said. Spencer knew you were out of it so this wasn’t the right time to kiss you.

He walked into the room, pulling the chair next to your bed. You put your hand in his hair and smiled.

“Hey cutie.” You said before falling asleep again.

It was a painful 2 weeks when you were on bed rest. Only one case had come up that needed traveling and even then, they skyped you to make sure you were up to date.

The day you came back, the doctor had specific instructions for things you weren’t allowed to do but you were in the clear. Hotch put you on Garcia duty, meaning you were only allowed to help out Garcia on cases until he considered you ready to go out in the field again. You weren't happy about it but at least you were in the building again.

Garcia was in the middle of presenting the next case when you slipped in the room. You almost did it quietly until Garcia turned to the group and squealed at the sight of you. Everyone turned and was happy to see you.

You were about to take your seat next to Spencer when you noticed he was missing. You took a couple steps inside so you could get to your seat when all of a sudden you heard your name tumble out of Spencer’s mouth, like he was seeing a ghost. You turned to see him walking into the room.

“Hey wonder boy.” You smiled, your heart doing the same thing it did in the hospital.

Without hesitation, Spencer stepped into the room and kissed you. It was sweet and quick but still meaningful. He just felt uncomfortable kissing you when he knew hotch was about to say something to break the two of you up.

“Bold of you to assume I would say yes.” You said with a dazed smile.

“Were you going to say no to this face, y/n?” He asked.

“You know me so well, Reid.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #tw: knife #tw: knives

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nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 3 years

Text

#10: Mistake

(read it on Ao3 here!)

Things were still tense between Lewis and Arthur. Vivi could tell.

Of course they were. After Arthur thought he was missing and searched for him for years, while Lewis went on a misguided revenge quest against him, only for his identity to be revealed at the worst possible time in the worst possible way – they had every right to feel conflicted about each other. While Lewis unlearned the belief that Arthur killed him, and Arthur adjusted to the giant murder specter no longer being out for his blood, of course they were a little… awkward.

But this was getting ridiculous. It had been over a month, and the two of them still barely so much as looked at each other, keeping their eyes carefully steered away when they were forced into the same room. Had they even talked about anything yet? Or were they just pretending the other didn’t exist?

She didn’t want to push them if they really weren’t ready. Not least because it could end bad, if Lewis went into another rage or Arthur was harboring more resentment than she thought. But she didn’t see the harm in giving them little nudges. Encouraging them to spend time together, hoping to remind them of why they’d loved each other, back when Lewis was alive and nobody was afraid of murder coming out of nowhere.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be working.

Maybe they needed time alone, without her there. She could admit she’d been a little… hovery. She was just – she was worried, she still hadn’t gotten the new memories a hundred percent situated in her head and when she looked at Lewis her first thought was still shit, it’s the wraith, run. But… he’d been anything but the wraith, now that his own memories were complete. He’d been almost the opposite, meek and uncertain at the best of times. Maybe her presence was discouraging him from actually talking to Arthur, worried that she’d see it as a threat and snap at him. Which. Yes, she’d done that a couple times, in the first week or so, but she wasn’t doing it now. She’d been very careful (after Arthur gave her a warning about it) not to be rude to him! But… maybe it was worth a shot to orchestrate some alone time, anyway.

Well, “orchestrate some alone time” sounded more fancy than it was. She was going to swap shifts with Chloe.

It didn’t help.

She found several different excuses to go out, all with very well-defined time limits – work, running to the next town over for research material, stopping at home to help with chores. But if anything, the situation seemed to be getting worse. She came home every time to a clean but quiet house and two quieter friends, in separate rooms, giving her one-word answers when she tried to talk to them.

She really didn’t want to put them on the spot about this – was it even her place? – but unless she wanted to keep dealing with this, it seemed like she didn’t have a choice.

“Do you think Vivi knows?”

“Hmm?”

Arthur and Lewis were sitting together on the couch, legs tangled together. Lewis was reading, and Arthur was scrolling on his phone, though he’d set it down to look back at Lewis.

“About… y’know.” He waved at the room. “This.”

“Wh- oh. I mean, I don’t… see why… she would? It’s not like we’ve done anything, or said– I mean, I know I haven’t.”

“Yeah- yeah, I know, but it… it s-s-seems like she’s been orchestrating a lot- a lot of… time for us alone? I mean- this doesn’t feel like- like just, coincidence, yeah?”

Lewis sets the book down, staring at the ceiling. “…Maybe. Maybe she… overheard something, or just figured it out on her own, and… wanted to give us our space?”

“Feels too- too nice for Vi, but yeah, maybe.”

There was silence for a moment.

“We could just… y’know. Tell everyone.”

“I- I mean, it’s your call.”

“It’s yours too!” Lewis looked back down at him. “This affects you too.”

“Yeah, but it- it’s mostly you.” He tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand. “I’m good with wha- whatever you wanna do, yeah?”

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “I just… I want a little more time.” Time for everyone to get used to me, is the unfinished second half of the sentence.

“Then time you’ll have!”

“It’s just, I know- you probably don’t like keeping it a secret.”

“You don’t like keeping s-se- secrets. I do this for fun.” Arthur’s hand trailed down to his wrist and squeezed it. “It’s al-“

He was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and Vivi’s voice shouting “Hey, I’m back, I just forgot something!”

Immediately the two of them scrambled to untangle themselves from the very conspicuous limb pile they were wrapped up in. There was a moment of confusion about which way was best for each of them to move, and then Arthur ended up pulling himself across Lewis’s lap and hopping the armrest while he got up.

They mistimed spectacularly, and Arthur tipped over before he had his feet on the floor, smacking his head directly into the end table with a definitive bang and an “Ow! Fuck!”

Lewis floated over the back of the couch, intending to help him– but then he heard Vivi’s footsteps coming down the hall and was frozen in indecision for a moment. Was helping him up too familiar? Should he sit back down? Should–

Vivi was there before he could make a decision. She glanced between the two of them, frowning, and then focused on Arthur, saying, “you okay?”

“You surprised me,” he whined, the very picture of innocent, boring clumsiness. Lewis almost had to admire it.

Her eyes flicked to Lewis for a second, and then she was moving to help him up, even though he was mostly standing up already.

Okay, this time wasn’t part of some grand scheme. Vivi legitimately had to run out. Or, not had to, but they were in dire need of snacks and the store was closing soon. She didn’t get very far before realizing she left her wallet at home.

Only a moment after she opened the door, there was a loud bang from down the hall, accompanied by Arthur swearing a lot. She frowned and stuck her head in the door, still in her shoes.

Arthur was there, kneeling on the floor, apparently having just smacked his head on the table. Lewis was hovering just behind him, staring at her and looking a little paralyzed.

A shock ran through her, turning her blood cold. He– he wouldn’t have. Right?

Not a good time to ask. She looked back over to Arthur. “You okay?”

“You surprised me,” he huffed, reaching up to put one hand on the table and pull himself up. He sounded honest, but she was having trouble imagining how her opening the door translated to him tripping over into a table. Although Arthur was impressively clumsy and easy to startle sometimes.

She glanced over to Lewis, but his expression didn’t hint at anything. With a laughed “hey, sorry!” she went over to check on Arthur and help him up.

Enough was enough. She was all for letting them talk things over on their own – they were adults, after all, they should have been capable of that – but that required them to actually talk. Or at least admit they weren’t comfortable sharing a living space for now, if that was too hard.

So over dinner one day, as everyone was more or less finishing up, she set her utensils down on the table with an, “okay, look. We need to talk.”

Weirdly enough, it was Lewis who went more tense at that. Had he always been that edgy?– She couldn’t remember, but she didn’t think so. He fiddled with his sleeve-cuff, regarding her with upturned brows, his shoulders high and tight.

Arthur looked nervous, for his own part, but not quite as much as Lewis did. His eyes flicked to Lewis for a moment, and then he slowly lowered his fork with a wide-eyed stare. “About… what?”

“About you two!” She spread her hands out to emphasize. “I mean, I get it, okay? But you either need to talk or step away. Not– the weird- uncomfortable ignoring thing you’re doing now.”

Some of the tension actually went out of Lewis at that. Like he was expecting her to say something even worse. Arthur tilted his head a little, frowning. “Uh, what?”

“Come on, you two can barely even look at each other! I’ve been trying to get you to work it out, but apparently you aren’t getting the message! So. Talk.”

The two of them stared at each other for a while, expressions unreadable.

“I, um, I think the game is up,” Lewis said hesitantly, and then Arthur burst out laughing.

“Uh, what?” she said, lowering her hands. He just slumped back into his chair, continuing into an almost silent snort-giggle. It was… nice to see him laugh so genuinely, but she still wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I- uh, shit.” He lowered the hand he had pressed to his face to look at Lewis. “Are y- are you s-sure?”

Lewis sighed, but the crinkle around his eyes indicated he was smiling. “Yes. Sure. Go ahead.”

“Okay. W-we-“ He took a deep breath and sat up straighter, reining in his laughter. “We’re not av- a-avoiding each other ‘cause we’re- we haven’t t-talked. We, we’re actually, uh.” He glances again at Lewis, who nods. “We’re dating.”

“Wait, what?”

He giggles again at her reaction. Lewis is still quietly looking at his hands, but for once, Arthur seems content to do most of the talking. “We, uh, we talked everything out right af- after th- a-after the… whole thing at th-the shop. Th-that night, actually. You were asleep. Kind of… cleared the air, yeah? Once we figured out the… th-th whole thing with my arm,” he swallows, shivering at the memory, “it was… a lot… better?”

“Obviously we didn’t start- then,” Lewis picks up, “but… it was only a few days after. After a few more conversations and… there was kind of this feeling of- at least for me- not knowing if we’d… have another chance to say it? So…”

“I- I mean, and that was- w-was part of the reason why we… didn’t tell anyone? We weren’t sure if i- if it’d work, there might’ve been… too much stuff, or we just weren’t… in- i-in the right space, but… it… s-s-seems to be working okay?”

Lewis nods. “And, I know you… a lot of people still don’t… trust me. Entirely. I didn’t want anyone to think…” he trails off, letting Vivi fill in the sentence on her own.

“Oh. Okay. But, um, then, what’s with all the… glaring in Arthur’s direction…?”

Arthur snorts again, and Lewis buries his head in his hands. “My face just does this,” he groans. “I think it’s my default with the skull.”

She bites back a giggle at that. “Sh- okay, then, uh. I’m… I’m really happy for you guys…?”

“Thanks,” they both mutter at the same time.

#mystery skulls animated #MysteryMarch2021 #the nemesis speaks #swift writes #the disparity between this and the last prompt is amazing lmao #i do not control the fluff to drama slider

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ursus-mari · 3 years

Text

Morgana wakes from a dream of Gwen being crowned and is deeply confused.

When Gwen comes to wake her in the morning, Morgana asks her point-blank if she likes Arthur, to which Gwen, panicked at her years long crush asking about her starcrossed boyfriend, panics and says, “No!” then backtracks and says something like, “Not that-- I’m sure he’s perfectly lovely really, if you know him, which I don’t, I didn’t mean--”

Morgana snorts and goes, “Perfectly lovely? Arthur? Hardly.”

With that option (erroneously, mind) firmly off the table in Morgana’s book, she ponders the other possibilities. Uther? Never. Morgana would kill him before he forced Gwen into anything, and Gwen would never marry him of her own free will. So it can’t be any of the current royal family, and Morgana plans to take the throne soon…

That possibility that had been niggling in the back of her mind that she’d been refusing to entertain now seems the only viable option on the table, and Morgana blushes despite herself, butterflies lighting in her stomach.

She holds off on going to Morgause until she’s sure, and in that time, every time Gwen looks at her or touches her (quite often, given the duties of a maidservant) makes her giddy, and she starts to believe it despite herself.

Hating Gwen, kind, lovely Gwen, who holds her after she wakes up screaming and brings her flowers to brighten her day, had been so hard. This is effortless, by comparison. Natural. Like breathing. And if her dream is right, Gwen will feel the same, whether she falls now or later. Morgana is positively giddy.

Gwen deserves wooing, and Morgana starts to daydream of all the ways she could make Gwen happy… flowers for sure, maybe a dress? A romantic picnic, perhaps. The possibilities are endless, and Morgana cannot wait to start putting a smile on Gwen’s face.

Morgana starts by gifting Gwen whatever she seems enamoured by at the market. This includes but is not limited to pastries, pretty bobbles, truly expensive silk, a bouquet of flowers, and way too much jewelry. Gwen is really, really flustered by this and has absolutely no idea how to handle it. She tries to tell Morgana to stop, but Morgana is like “I’m basically a princess and if I want to buy gifts for my maidservant, I’ll damn well do so.”

Morgana’s not really got any concept of subtlety or taking it slow, see.

Poor Gwen is so flustered she feels like she could explode and has absolutely no clue where this came from, which only encourages Morgana to buy more stuff because she thinks Gwen being flustered is adorable. It’s as much the way Morgana is looking at her as it is the gifts, though, warm and fond and like Gwen hangs the moon and stars, and Gwen had missed that look, and she turns into a stammering wreck.

Afterwards, once Gwen’s collected herself, she explains to Morgana that she just can’t buy her things for money reasons, for Uther reasons, the whole shebang. And Gwen doesn’t really want or need those things, she says, and she certainly doesn’t want them all at once.

So Morgana has to go back to the drawing board.

Morgana goes to Morgause like, “Hey, I know we haven’t talked in a bit but I was wondering what you knew about wooing people.”

And Morgause is like, “??? Wooing people???”

“Yea.”

“Uhhhh, find their greatest desire and use it to manipulate them? Chop off their enemy’s head and propose a strategic alliance?”

So Morgana’s like, “...Right, so you’re absolutely useless, bye,” and fucks off to go look for other, more trustworthy sources.

The problem is she trusts absolutely no one other than Morgause so this is a difficult endeavor. She asks Arthur in a bid of desperation because he’s had flings, right???

Arthur goes, “Uh. Slay monsters very impressively? Show personal growth? Offer chicken? Have Merlin do it for you?”

Which is also useless, but she should have expected that, really.

She goes to the library as a last resort and tells Geoffrey, “BRING ME A BOOK ON WOOING!” in her most intimidating voice and Geoffrey scampers off to get that but he’s like. Really slow. Morgana waits as Geoffrey rushes and yet moves as fast as molasses, getting increasingly impatient and snappish.

What she gets is mostly a book on courtly rituals, so a lot of it is useless with Gwen but damn if Morgana isn’t going to try, but it also mentions something about asking family for permission, which, no, but it reminds her to go, oh! I’ll ask her brother!

And Elyan’s mostly like how many goddamn royals are in love with my sister (within the privacy of his own head, of course), but he also tells her that Gwen likes thoughtful, heartfelt gifts and honest work (and privately resolves to tease Gwen so much when she comes home).

So Morgana’s like???? Heartfelt???? What do I do with that??? Crap, what does Gwen like? But she’d given Gwen all the things she liked at the market, so that can’t be all there is to it?? Morgana is confusion?????

Okay, honest work. So should she make a gift?

Morgana doesn’t have any crafting skills though. Fuck. Uh.

She could embroider something? She’s crap at embroidery but she knows how to do it, at least. Something small, there’s only so much embroidering she can stand. Handkerchief, maybe? And that’s like offering a favor, almost, so that’s cool.

Morgana thinks back to the market and all the fabrics Gwen had lingered on and goes for a (relatively) moderately priced one that Gwen had run her fingertips over longingly.

So Morgana utilizes her well-honed sneaking skills to go buy the fabric, then bewilders Gwen by kicking her out to work. This is not her brightest idea, as it makes Gwen feel quite hurt and renews her suspicion.

After many, many hours of pricked fingers, extensive and creative cursing, and a half dozen traumatized servants (except not because if you work under the Pendragons on a regular basis you’ve probably got balls of steel, but Morgana certainly tries her best), Morgana comes out with a crude, messy rendition of a rose embroidered onto the (...maybe a little bloodstained? Whatever. It's fine.) handkerchief.

Morgana presents it to Gwen, shy and yet utterly pleased with her work, and Gwen wavers between fond laughter and bursting into tears. In the end, she just smiles so hard her cheeks hurt and thanks Morgana, then tucks it away like something precious.

Gwen still regards it with wariness, of course, because Morgana has up to this point been extremely suspicious and possibly (definitely) evil, but it's very hard to think it might be magically dangerous when it looks like a child's work and Morgana had seemed so sincerely proud. The fear and animosity melts away in the wake of it despite Gwen's best judgement, and, she reasons, it would alert Morgana to her suspicions if she didn't use it, right? It's only logical to use it and treat it like something precious and gaze upon it fondly, right? Right.

And now Gwen has two utterly romantically incompetent people she adores with all her heart doing their best to make her happy. And that's… yeah.

This might work out after all.

(Meanwhile, Arthur finds out who Morgana wanted to woo, and the two of them turn the courting of Gwen into a competition, because of course they do, ignoring entirely that Gwen is perfectly happy to date both of them, and plans of kingdom conquering fall to the wayside, much to Morgause’s chagrin.

Merlin regards Morgana with deep, deep suspicion that she returns with interest, but Gwen won't stand for the animosity so they grudgingly make nice while glaring at each other over Gwen's head and being blatantly insincerely sweet. They forget their hostility only when they both turn on Arthur, at which point they join forces in insulting him, Arthur complains, and Gwen laughs at them all. It turns out to be remarkably hard to sustain ill will in such a comfortable atmosphere; who knew? It's like there hasn't been attempted murder on both sides!

Uther is bewildered by his children’s good moods and Morgana's renewed disdain of him, and they merrily ignore him except when he's being genocidal. When his genocidal tendencies manifest once more, as they inevitably do, Merlin and Morgana are baffled to find themselves on the same side but remain vehement in their assertions that they do something about it, and Arthur is convinced by his very passionate friends and quietly conflicted but firmly insistent girlfriend.

(Merlin and Morgana feed off of each other’s strong feelings and forget to check with Gaius and Kilgharrah and Morgause respectively. As such, they have no one to talk them down into caution and suspicion, which is on the whole for the best as they find themselves a united front.)

This whole situation cumulates into a coup. Also, magic reveals. And long, emotionally involved, serious conversations about magic and its morality and Merlin and Morgana's roles in magic shenanigans thus far. There's a decent amount of shouting, maybe a few threats, hurt all around, but they make it through, and they do it without completely destroying their relationships with each other, so that's cool.

Uther is overthrown (Morgause is very upset to have missed it), the kingdom is absolute chaos, it takes a lot for Arthur to be seen as a legitimate, trustworthy ruler, but he has his people behind him, they call the knights of the round table and knight them, and they make it work.

Work is started on the legalization of magic.

Gwen does become Arthur's queen, and Morgana relives her dream, and finds herself overwhelmingly, brilliantly happy despite having been wrong. After all, afterwards Gwen throws herself into Morgana's arms to give her an enthusiastic kiss and wipes away her happy tears with the handkerchief Morgana had gifted her all that time ago.

And so they live happily ever after (or something mushy like that).)

#bbc merlin #morgwen #mine #mari writes stuff #you cheer me up #this is absolutely and unabashedly silly #and wish fulfillment to a factor of like eleventy billion #i can't figure out how to insert breaks from my phone so sorry ab that #girl of my dreams

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snowflake-of-destruction · 4 years

Note

Imagine Roxas’s reaction to seeing Axel shirtless when he started getting buff for the first time

Enjoy the distraction of the evening and Roxas and Sora bonding, and be warned of language and reference to adult situations.

"Can I complain to you about Riku for a second?" Sora asked. It was perhaps not the ideal time to start a new conversation as Roxas was in the process of landing the gummi ship in a clear spot of grass in the courtyard outside the entrance to the keyblade academy at the Land of Departure, but that was how Sora was, keeping things in and then letting them explode forth at times that often seemed odd to others, but were simply the breaking point to him.

"No, I require at least ten minutes of complaining about Riku every week,"Roxas deadpanned, guiding the ship down between two others already parked. "You know the time table. Three minutes without air. Three days without food. Seven days without busting Riku's silver dusted balls."

"Gold," Sora chirped, unbuckling his restraints and going for the door.

"I'm going to regret this," Roxas sighed, half to himself as he followed suit, "But...what?"

"Gold medal," Sora grinned. "Everything in that area is nothing less than first place."

"Strongly disagree." Roxas screwed up his face in exaggerated disgust.

"You have no way of..." Sora complained as they started up to the castle.

"Please, can we get to the complaining?" Roxas cut him off.

"It's official even. The council of judges, me and Data Sora judging pictures saved on my gummi phone, awarded him the blue ribbon. I tied it..."

"I will give you all the munny in my munny bag not to finish that sentence." It was pretty clear to Roxas that Sora was torturing him on purpose for crimes of his past lives. Sometimes he still hated his other.

"Then I suppose you don't want to hear about the ribbon cutting ceremony either? Or, well, it was more of a ribbon untying ceremony. I'm not usually good at tongue tricks like the cherry thing so I was kind of proud of myself that I managed to..."

The pattern of hasty interruption of an oblivious or happily malicious Sora continued. "For the love of sea salt ice cream, Sora, I'm begging you to stop before I hurl."

"What were you talking about before?" Sora blanked and grasped at straws of stray thought. "Tortillas?"

"What? Why would you think that?"

"It was taco night when I came up with the ribbon ceremony."

"You were going to tell me how much Riku was annoying you."

The enlightened glow of remembrance entered Sora's eyes, but the spark of happiness at conquering his brain only lasted a moment before Sora was collapsing against the doors of the castle academy, playing up the drama of whining, "Riku is driving me crazy!"

"That's more like it! Tell me all about it." Roxas was perhaps a bit overzealous in his support, judging by the look Sora shot him, so he tried a more nonchalant and less gleeful tone, "You'll feel better."

"He keeps looking at me like I'm going to disappear in front of his eyes. He's woken me up in the middle of the night to make sure I'm still breathing. He keeps tripping me up in battle because he's started diving between me and the Heartless, like all of a sudden I can't take care of myself. I know why it's happening, and I know he means well, but I'm not sure how much longer I can take it. Do you have that problem with Axel?"

Now, he and Axel had to work through some anxiety about being separated again. It had taken a lot of long talks, time, and trust exercises, to work through them, but now Roxas could help Sora with Riku's issues from the point of view of someone who had been there before and gotten out. Or he could just make a joke. "Well, I'm afraid he'll get caught in a strong wind one night and snap in half, but I'm trying to keep myself rational. I mean I can stick unwound hangers in his clothes to try and create a brace from something more substantial than his limbs, and I can put a bell on him so I don't lose track of him when he turns sideways, but after we take all the precautions we can, all I can do is tell him to be careful lifting his keyblade so it doesn't break his arm, and look at the positive. He and Jack Skellington wear the same size jacket and being able to trade clothes with the King of Halloween is pretty cool."

"What are you talking about?"

Roxas steeled himself to be drawn into a serious talk anyway, taking a spot leaning against the doors alongside Sora and putting a hand on his shoulder, dearly hoping someone didn't open the door from the other side and send them sprawling. "Listen, I picked a ridiculous example, but the same principle applies. Take measures to keep each other safe--simple ones that don't stop you from being able to do your job-- talk about what his fears are, and then just try to find silver linings and agree to live your lives. You guys are going to be okay."

"Oh yeah, I know that," Sora dismissed, shaking off his hand. "I was just letting off steam. Riku's actually being really sweet. I just need to make him realize what he's doing before he finds a way to sacrifice himself again to keep me safe. What you said about Axel doesn't make sense though. He's ripped."

"He's a twig," Roxas countered with a scoff. "He's got the muscle mass of the jelly creature from Monstropolis, and looks like it the time it let me suck it into a large straw to make Boo laugh. I love him but he's a scarecrow. My stickman scarecrow, and I love him, but let's be realistic."

The light of dawning realization lit Sora's eyes once more, and Roxas found it a bit unnerving. He was definitely missing something. "...Haven't you visited Axel since he started training with Terra?"

"No, this is my first visit, to see Terra confer the master title on him." Master ceremonies had become a big thing now, a little pomp and circumstance to make it seem more important, Roxas guessed. Riku had missed out. Too bad for him. "He was on a journey of the soul as well as the body...Whatever that means. Terra didn't want me distracting him."

"That's what makes it more fun. When I went to retake my mark of mastery at Yensid's tower...Wait a second, Terra ordered you to do something and you just listened?" Sora's pursed lips and glaring eyes spoke more of tantrum throwing toddler than betrayed friend.

"He's a master," Roxas answered simply, though it wasn't respect for orders of a master that held him back. He could have been a master too, if he wanted, if he felt like he needed the validation of being recognized by the others and wanted to jump through hoops set up by Yensid or Aqua or even worse options. He had been named master of the keyblade by the Organization, that was enough. He and Axel had agreed they would help guard the worlds but they wouldn't play into the ranking game. Axel had changed his mind, and Roxas respected that, but he felt no compulsion to join him.

"You never listen when Riku tells you to do something. He's a master too."

"Master, my ass."

"No, master of my..."

"Why do you have to be like this?" Roxas groaned, sliding to the ground.

"Don't get pissy just because you haven't gotten laid in months."

"I didn't visit because Axel told me not to. We've been doing the long distance thing. We've done it before for stretches, like when he and Isa were working on their first book,"Roxas answered Sora's original question, loudly, to change the subject.

"But you've talked on the gummi phone?"

"Every night."

"With video?"

"Is this going back to a weird place you never leave?"

"I live in the gutter now!" Sora confirmed happily, before going back to neutral. "No, it's a serious question. Have you gotten a good look at Axel recently?"

"Same loveable bozo sleeping in a fuzzy zip up adult onesie that makes him look like a Meow Wow he's always been. "

"You haven't seen him out of the onesie?" At Roxas's exasperated look, Sora defended himself once more. "Legitimate question."

"Some nights I don't even see him take down the hood. He has a voice for Meowaxel."

"And you were griping about the ribbon ceremony. Your sex story is much weirder."

"We don't have phone sex," Roxas's pining despair outweighed his distaste for discussing this kind of thing with Sora who was a dog that never let go of a bone without making a joke about boning. "We have an agreement. He almost crashed a gummi ship once."

"You...while he was driving?" Sora looked impressed and Roxas felt a rare flash of shame.

"New idea?" He pushed through and said the words as if they were a crack of his own.

"Great idea!" Sora's face split into a wide grin and Roxas apologized to Riku internally, the only way he ever did so. Sora grabbed his former Nobody's arm and dragged him to his feet. "Come on. We're going to spy on Axel sparring with Terra. They have a routine. Terra wouldn't deviate from it even knowing people are arriving for the ceremony tonight."

"I am always down to see my baby light someone on fire," Roxas followed Sora down the hill, pliable and, frankly, excited to see Axel as soon as possible.

"Baby? Blech." Sora pulled a face that lasted maybe half a second and rang false while it did, thrilled and supportive as always to see Roxas showing a soft spot, but attempting to play some of Roxas's own attitude back at him.

"Your pet names for Riku are worse...and you should not prove it by listing them." Roxas tacked on the latter part hastily, leaving no room for Sora to start his reign of terror anew.

" There are several riffs on Dream Eater that would make you wish you were as smart as me," Sora huffed, "But that's not what we're here for." He held Roxas back for a second with a thrown out arm, and glanced around the last bend in the hill. Roxas could hear sounds of exertion. Satisfied with what he saw, Sora withdrew the restraining arm in favor of waving his hands like a cheap magician as he ordered Roxas to, "Feast your eyes!"

Roxas ignored Sora's theatrics and stepped around him, only to stop short when he ended up following the other man's order despite himself. His eyes were feasting and there was an entire buffet in the form of Axel, stripped to the waist and hair up in a messy bun with damp loose tendrils stuck to the back of his neck, twisting away to avoid a strike by Terra (in his weird black spandex shirt like always, showing off for who the hell knew or cared) and using the momentum to whirl the rest of the circle and carry out his own blow, the flex and spring back of newly defined muscles Roxas had missed the development of covered by freckled skin that didn't quite make the definition of tan but had been cultivated into a tone more golden than ghost pale translucent on display. The first dish was broad shoulders that had always been there, but no longer existed just to make clothes hang smoothly like they did on a clothes hanger now that they were attached to the freshly carved meat station--arms that bulged and Roxas was going to declare illegal to ever hide under bunched neon fleece or a thick black coat again. He'd call Axel's new abs the salad bar because he wanted to charge like a bull and then start grazing, but they could also be the drink station because there was definitely a six pack there much more appealing than the beer Hayner had developed a fondness for, and Roxas was remarkably thirsty looking at them. Axel's waist was still comparatively small (Dorito. Delicious. More buffets should include snack food on the side. Jokes weren't over. The man was a snack.) but then there was perhaps the most shocking addition of all had popped into existence below it.

"Bite the buns and have a popsicles for dessert," Roxas whispered under his breath, awed, unable to even be embarrassed by half consciously daydreaming out loud because his eyes had continued their journey and found out there was now meat on the stork (too long to be chicken) drumsticks Axel walked around on.

"Think he's safe from the wind now?" Sora taunted.

"Time for you to leave." Roxas shook himself out of his daze to return fully to the present.

"What?"

"Run up to the castle," Roxas gave the same order in new phrasing as he walked on ahead and waved to Terra, yelling, "Time to leave."

The scene that ensued was bordering on comical as Terra froze, caught off guard and was smacked full in the face with head turning force by the flat of Axel's keyblade, an act that was accompanied by an apologetic, "Oh shit!" and widened eyes that spoke to Axel trying to cut his actions short but being unable to stop the blow, just lessen it. Terra stumbled and Axel reached out to steady him, but then appeared to change his mind or become irrevocably distracted halfway through as Roxas's presence sank in fully. His keyblade disappeared in a shower of sparks, Terra fell, and the lovers ran to be reunited.

Roxas found himself lifted off the ground like he weighed nothing and his soul left his body, leaving him not responsible for the happily sighed word that he used to greet Axel, "Arms."

#akuroku #soriku #snippets #fanfiction #Anonymous

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years

Note

Hi I just want to ask something. Do you think Jungkook has been always like/love Jimin the way he is before or just when he started to glow up. I'm just asking this bc you know Jungkook has been always rank Jimin last on looks or said he look different without makeup before. I know he didn't meant harm to Jimin but do you think Jimin has been trying to look good and go on extreme diet to be loved by Jungkook or Jungkook has been always trying to hide his feelings for him but act tough

Huh?...

What an interesting question....

For a moment there I thought I had already discussed this in my blog posts? Chileee.

Now you'd have to specify which period in time you consider a glow up point for Jimin. Do you mean the period of 2014/15 when he was starving himself, passing out on stage and bleeding through his nose to stay anorexic? *Side eyeing you.

To me, Jimin's 'glow up' coincided with their debut in 2013. Those fine abs, sculpted muscles yet soft toned feminized features- sorry Jimin, you weren't fooling no one.

This was also the period I noticed JK showing overt signs of sexual and emotional attraction towards Jimin. Jimin just seemed oblivious to it. And he would begin his own whipped journey around 2015/16 in my opinion.

Personally, I believe JK fell first for Jimin and 'turned' him- turned for lack of a better word. I don't buy into this whole Jimin fell first JK fell harder rhetoric.

But I think JK's interest in Jimin began long before this period. I don't think Jk had fully grasped the concept of his own sexuality much less to have come to terms with it in any time before 2012- before Jimin arrived in Bangtan- ok maybe he had a vague idea of it, but I do believe Jimin was his sexual and romantic awakening.

Jk and Jimin have two very distinct and opposite idol personas. I keep saying this.

Since we don't know them in person, I think it's safe to assume every aspect of them we experience on screen is a persona.

That persona is a facade, a curated wall on which they project bits and pieces of their true self and often put up a performance of this identity for our consumption.

In Jk's persona, he likes to retract and conceal aspects of his true personality and censor himself a lot while JM likes to amplify and exaggerate his true personality and put up a performance of it.

As I've said, it's mainly due to their backgrounds. JK was given a lot of leeway in his upbringing which he feels puts him at a disadvantage because he ends up exposing himself too much. Thus he likes to retract and hold himself back.

Jimin coming from a conservative background with many rules and what not revels in the new found freedom Idol life gives him so often he doesn't hold back as much as JK does. But that doesn't mean that who they really are in real life.

So often you'd hear people say Jimin looks more serious in person than he does on camera while JK is said to be more expressive than he usually is on camera.

But here is the thing, concealing his feelings is not JK's nature it's his choice. And this is very important to note. He chooses not to do certain things on camera while Jimin chooses to do certain things on camera.

So when JK is not showing his feelings for Jimin it's not because he can't show those feelings, it's more like he doesn't want to show those feelings.

Thus when people say he wasn't showing his feelings for Jimin because he was shy I raise my brows- Shy my ass. Lol

Was he acting tough then? Hmmmm. He likes to act tough no two ways about that. I've said he has a good poker face between him and Jimin. If you are not careful you might think he doesn't like Jimin. But trust me, that man is whipped on god.

But I don't think that's what he was doing in those early dynamics.

I think he was hesitant in pursuing Jimin openly at the time because he wasn't sure about Jimin's sexual orientation much less whether or not Jimin reciprocated the feelings he had for him.

And you could tell not knowing these about Jimin terrified JK a lot, hence his hesitation.

But later when he was certain of both he became more confident in the way he expressed himself and his feelings for Jimin.

Prior to this you could see him fishing and testing the waters with Jimin, slowly pushing Jimin's boundaries- a gentle touch here, a lingering stare there.

He would often pay attention to the things Jimin would say but especially about his romantic and sexual preferences. Like when Tae said he felt Jimin liked men and when Jimin was asked about why he liked JK and JK seemed like he wanted to know.

Then he went through that phase where he seemed obsessed with Jimin's reaction to when other guys sexualised him and expressed interest in him. He seemed very attentive to these little details in a way that seemed to me as if he was fishing for confirmation that Jimin actually liked men and liked him- in a nonplatonic manner.

I feel Jimin noticed these things too in JK but was mostly fascinated by it. So often he would go out of his way to express his sexuality, exaggerate it and perform it as if to let JK know he was ok with JK liking him in that kind of way. Often, you'd see him egging JK on to touch him where JK seemed hesitant, reassuring JK- I think y'all know the bit I'm talking about. I feel JM wanted JK to feel comfortable expressing his interest in him- he ain't slick.

I've said Jimin's persona is a performance. I can see how to JK that could be very confusing. Hell, half of the fandom still read Jimin wrong to this day. Is he gay, bi, straight, a woman, a man, bigender- it's a lot of questions. Legitimate questions.

And I think for JK, seeing Jimin behave like the rest of BTS with the skinship towards him was equally confusing. So often he would shy away from it. Jk was going through puberty, everything was heightened for him.

It's also important to consider the possibility that, if JK was LGBTQ plus that he was going to hide it and not come out to his bandmates for as long as he worked with them- because it's none of their business first and foremost but also because it would have affected their attitudes towards him.

I mean look at the fear and panic with which they greet Jikook when Jikook breath anywhere near eachother in public spaces- not to call them out or anything but I don't think if they were straight that they were going to treat them same. I mean Taejin is as wild as Jikook but.... sigh.

So then going on to catch feelings for one of such said band mates who gives off queer vibes, he had better be sure about him before coming out to him and confessing to him lest he risked his career and friendship with him.

If Jimin wasn't LGBTQ plus it would have been cruel of him to act the way he does with JK honestly. For instance Joking about marriage knowing full well the fight LGBTG plus couple have to put up to have this basic human right- of course JK would yeet himself out of that conversation. I'm talking about that Jikook Vlive and all the time JK has squeezed his face disgruntledly when Jimin has asked him to have his kids- like why Jimin!

Jimin I feel because he is Bi whatever doesn't take this gay business seriously at all. If you've ever dated a bisexual you'd know the feeling. He is my bias and I love him but God he frustrates me for Jk honestly.

What annoys me most is I know how deep he is into JK. Like I've never seen a man so in love with another man in my entire queer life! Like shut up whippidy whipped ass we saw your face at Manila. You like that man. You like him.

Let JK put up a front and you'll see this tactless homegirl descending into that space we all hate so much and embarrassing himself left right left clinging on to JK seeking validation and reassurance- like can you be serious in your life for once Park Jimin. 😒

Anywho, I went off on a tangent there. Sorry.

But yes, this is another aspect of their dynamic I feel most people get twisted. Jimin enjoys JK's expressions of interest in him- however way he does it. Jk enjoys it too when Jimin shows him he wants him. Remember magic shop? Show me, I'll show you? And that line JK sang to Jimin that made Jimin nervous on Live with VMin? Yea...

They love each other and they love when the other is showing and expressing their love. Hell, isn't that why they are constantly trying to find creative ways to communicate their love? 5/8, love letters punctuated with sorries? Chileee.

Could Jimin's look be a contributing factor to JK liking him? Let me put it this way. People are attracted to people for a plethora of reasons, physical appearance being one of them.

Looks attract people, emotional connection binds them and make them stay. I have said this time and again JK is attracted to all of Jimin-looks, everything. When asked which part of of Jimin he liked most he put all of Jimin as the answer.

With regards to JM's weight, I think the tears he shed on stage during the performance of I Need You says it all. Jimin was killing himself and it was killing JK. Jimin wasn't doing all that out of self love much less for the love of JK.

He was doing all that because he wanted to be an Idol in every sense of the word. He was killing himself for his career. A career JK was once willing to walk away from and JM advised him to stay.

Jk defies the dictates of his career with the piercings and tattoos and gay pubs- the emphasis is mine. Y'all think he is about to be demanding of his life partner to look like what now? Chileee.

And when JK was starving himself and losing weight who was it that brought him down that ledge? Jimin. If it was a positive thing I thing he would have encouraged him.

Jk allegedly called Jimin his Mochi in that infamous graduation night track video. Did you see his reaction to when James Corden called Jimin Mochi? Baby fat cheeked Jimin was cute not ugly. And even if you think he was, JK still found that attractive. Jimin could be looking like my Aunt Becky and Jk would still fuck him.

Have you seen JK freeze frame to take snapshot photos of Jimin? It's almost always pictures of Jimin looking like the wicked witch of the west. He loves him some park Jimin memes. Loves that man to death.

How many times have he said Jimin looks beautiful without makeup? Remember the Vlive Jimin didn't want to be on camera because he didn't have makeup on? What did JK say?

Jk isn't a shallow person you know. He really isn't. He doesn't strike me as the kind at all. Questions like these presupposes that JK is a vain shallow person who only likes people for their looks. Don't get me wrong, it's a valid question, one that I'm happy to discuss but it also exposes the biases against JK and indirectly, Jimin.

Do you feel JK is shallow? I find a lot of people do and it breaks my heart.

Have you heard any of his songs? His GCFs?

He barely idolizes his subject matter's looks and appearances. You gave me the best of you, so I'll give you the best of me. What I found in you is real. That's doesn't sound shallow to me.

They work in a highly competitive and highly vainglorious environment. I think they know more than anything the dangers of vanity- it's fleeting. They put themselves through so much to appease the vanity matrics, to subject people they love through the same.

I've talked about how because JM comes from a demanding home and work environment that acceptance is one key aspect of his love language. He wants a person who loves him for who he is and accepts him without placing expectations on him.

If JK was this shallow JM wouldn't honestly have found him attractive much less love him to begin with. He wouldn't have found fulfillment and nourishment from JK. He loves JK because JK's values and upbringing makes him the perfect person for him to trust himself fully to.

Besides, for JK to be only attracted to JM because he glowed up, he himself must have been a ten from the onset which he wasn't let's be honest- no shade to him but he wasn't exactly packing now was he?

BTS are pretty but they've all undergone hefty transformations throughout the years, magic foreheads and all. So if you wonder if Jimin's glow up contributes to JK liking him, then you'd have to wonder if Jk glowing up also contributed to Jimin finding him attractive- it's a vicious cycle.

As for JK ranking Jimin last... did he ever rank himself first? No. He ranked Jimin last and himself second to last consistently. If he found Jimin unattractive he certainly found himself as equally unattractive only one step above Jimin.

I honestly think he was just teasing Jimin. He loves teasing Jimin because it's how he flirts with him. It's just the masculine energy in him I guess. V does this too when he flirts with Jimin. He teases him about his pinky, his Mochi cheeks and his glow up- Iland anyone?

Why y'all think JK looked away sharp when JM dropped to the floor?? He recognized what V was doing- don't mind me. I'm trolling. Lol. But deadass.

Jimin teases JK too by acting like he is available most times. It's the feminine energy in him. Girls like to tease their crush by amplifying their sex appeal. What better way to amp up your sex appeal than by having other people show interest in you? Jimin is a tease. Bless him.

Besides, when JK ranked Jimin first in looks he ranked himself last. I hope y'all don't think it's because he has low self esteem?

He ranked himself and Jimin last because he wanted to humble himself and by extension Jimin because he sees himself as Jimin's equal and as such recognizes their place as the youngest within the group. As he has explained, as the youngest, he places everyone else above him.

I honestly don't think Jungkook had always been interested in Jimin. But somewhere along the line while he came to terms with his own sexuality he began developing feelings for Jimin. His glow up had nothing to do with it. In my opinion.

I think Jimin caught him off guard? It's that red string serendipity destiny voodoo working its magic that orchestrating their love. In my opinion.

I don't think either of Jikook went searching for this love thingy either as I keep saying. It wasn't planned, it wasn't foreseen, it just happened to both of them but at a different pace.

I hope this helps?

Signed,

GOLDY

#jikook #jikook theories #kookmin analysis #kookmin #kookmintheories #jikook analysis #jikook scenarios #jikooktheories #Ask response #ask goldy #GOLDY #nightswithkookmin

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a-la-la-llama · 4 years

Text

Aged Up Daminette Pt:2

This is a continuation of This��post! I suggest you read it first before this one. This was amazing! Damian was actually having a pleasant conversation with a girl who saw him and only him. He didn’t have to worry about the ending of his legal name or the image that came with it, nor the weaseling of his pesky brother! For a good hour and a half, that was when an intoxicated Jason Todd thought it was a good idea to approach his favorite person. “Pixie-pop! I didn’t see you till now! Is he causing you any trouble?” Marinette giggled as Jason wrapped an arm over her shoulder and looked at his brother with a smirk. “No Jay, Larry actually sent him over!”, flicking to the pink straw in her drink indicating the bartender thought Damian was safe. It was the little safety indicators like these created by Larry and Alice that kept her coming back. “What was he thinking! Sending Demon Spawn over here, he could have killed you!” Jason was livid, there was no way he would ever trust his youngest brother to be around her. Marinette crossed her arms and leaned against Jason, facing Damian, “So you're the ‘Demon Spawn’ Jason's always complaining about?” Damian wanted to kill Todd that very second, he had a legitimate chance with this girl but it was all thrown down the drain by his loudmouth brothers.

“What did you say, Todd?”, he seethed hissing out the words while glaring at said brother. Damian was greeted by a cheeky smile, “You know, even if I could remember I wouldn’t tell you. I’m usually black-out drunk when I start spewing things about my life.” Marinette giggled and pushed herself out of Jason’s embrace, “And that’s also when he likes to start fights!” Damian scowled, that wasn't fair, he wanted a hug too! “I always have valid reasons though, I’m not some brute!”, Jason defended himself. “What about when you broke a barstool on someone when they interrupted you and Larry trying to order a drink?” Jason retorted, “Okay, but-“ Marinette added more, “Or when you stole someone else’s shot and proceeded to throw them out the window?” Jason huffed, “But that-“ Marinette just continued, “Or when you stabbed that-“ Throwing his hands up, “Okay, Pixie-pop! I get it, you made your point!” She smirked now satisfied with the points she made. “Since Damian has someone to talk to now, I’m going to the bathroom!” She closed her sketchbook before sliding off the stool.

Damian turned to his brother once she was out of sight, “Now tell me what you told her, Todd!”, he all but demanded. “I’m not lying when I say I don’t remember. Now tell me what you're doing around her, of all people!” Jason asked, dropping his smile for a narrowed glare. “That’s none of your business.”, retorted Damian. “Oh, like hell! Pixie-pop is a literal angel and I will not let her be corrupted by the son of satan on my watch!” Tt, as if Damian would do anything to harm her, he did like the name angel, however. “Where are Grayson and Drake?” Jason stole Damian’s drink and chugged what was left in it before answering. “Grayson passed out and was picked up by his wifey and Tim is over there chatting up Larry about mixed drinks.” The two turned to stare at Tim who was desperately trying to understand the concept of a Galaxy Cocktail. “Fess up, what are you doing with Mari! I care about her more than you, so if-“ Damian did not stay sitting around to listen to the rest of Jason’s lecture, who had not turned around yet from looking at Tim so it was an easy escape. At the moment, Damian was on a search for a good spot to wait for the wonder of the girl.

Idly waiting on the edge of the dance floor, Damien leaned against a structure pole little ways outside of the bathroom. It was the perfect spot to wait, hidden by the crowd on the dance floor to hide from Jason but where he could easily catch Marinette without it being weird. That is until a woman along with a man walked up to him. Both seemed a few years older than him, most likely in their late twenties. “So you're the dude hanging around Mar-bear.” The woman was the first to speak with him, well more like interrogated. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was set in a staredown with him. He kept her gaze while answering, “Yes, and who might you be?” She gave a small huff, “I’m her honorary big sister! Let me tell you, everyone who knows her in this bar is not above throwing down and kicking ass for her!” Damian grew up with Bruce and Batman as a father; this self-proclaimed ‘big sister’ would not deter him from Marinette. “No need for that Alina, he has been nothing but nice!”, Marinette joined the conversation before Damian could even say anything snarky. “You never know Mar-bear! He could be just like that ‘nice guy’ Matt from last week. I’m just doing my duty as a big sister to protect you!”

The man placed an arm on the pouting woman, Alina, and smiled. “Sorry Marinette, you know how she gets. I couldn’t hold her back this time.” Marinette waved her hands in dismissal, “You don’t have to apologize Aven, plus this is Jason’s brother so he has it covered!” Alina raised an eyebrow to the new information, “Which one?” Marinette threw a thumb towards Damian, “This is Damian!” The couple, Alina and Aven, sighed. “Mar-bear, he has like three! Are you the smart one, annoying one, or the evil one?” Alina asked, turning her attention towards him. “ Hm. Drake is definitely the smart one. I could be considered an annoying or evil one. I’ve learned he refers to me as Demon Spawn, here.”, he all but grumbled out. Aven was the one to comment, “ No way! You’re like my favorite to get him to talk about. Dude, you do the craziest shit sometimes. Like when you stabbed Jason in the leg when you were like twelve after he ate your dessert. I could not stop laughing when he showed me the scare!” Out of all the stuff Todd could have said about him, he picked how violent he was. How was Marinette not running for the hills yet? “You got your work cut out for you then, Mar-bear here is a little fire-cracker, if you know what I mean!” Alina nudged Marinette in the side. “What?”

Marinette giggled at how stunned Damian looked, “Who do you think is Jason’s back up in fights, Dami?” As if summoned by his name, Jason popped up out of nowhere. “There you are Demon Spawn, we gotta go! Say bye to Pixie-pop cause it’s the last time you’ll see her on my watch!” Tim was there too, but was occupied with the hell-ish concoction he convinced Larry to make him. “No need, Jay-bird! Big sister Alina has this covered!” Said sister nudged Jason out of the group. “Hey! I met her first, plus, I fought that Matt guy last week when he wouldn’t stop hitting on her! I got honorary brother rights too!”, pushing Alina back. “ One, Marinette actually knocked him out, you just threw him outside. Two, I’m a girl and she’s a girl so it should be me! And three, this is your brother, that makes you biased!” Having a feeling this was going to go on for a while, Damian took the opportunity to grab Marinette’s hand and lead her further into the crowd on the dance floor.

“You know, you have to ask a girl to dance before you just take her away?” Marinette teased him along with a smile. “My bad, Angel. That was not my intention.” Surrounded by people, he stood in front of her and looked down. Damian realized why Jason’s nickname fit her, he had at least a good eight inches in height above her. He lifted her hand that he held up and intertwined their fingers, his hand was huge compared to her small, soft, and slim ones, and brought them back to their sides. “You brought a girl onto a dance floor but expected not to dance?”, she said between giggles. Now embarrassed Damian looked away and tried to excuse himself, “Ask my family, I don’t dance and I’ve got two left feet. It really isn’t my style either.” The giggles stopped and he could feel her body tense up through her hand. He turned his head back to look down at her again. “It’s Alright! I’m just teasing you, Dami.” Her smile didn't go to her eyes, was she disappointed? That caused a jab in his heart, she really had him in the palm of her hand. Screw it! Damian didn’t care, he’d do anything for her no matter where to keep that smile. He brought their joined hands back up and spun her before setting his free hand on her waist and bringing her closer.

Damian took back what he said, “I’d loved to dance, Angel. As long as it’s with you.” Taking a peek back down, Damian enjoyed the view he had of her blushing face. Best idea ever. He took note of how he could feel her lean into his chest and the way her voice vibrated against him, “Thanks, Dami.” If Damian had the guts, he would tease her and tell her how she was waltzing away with his heart with how adorable she is. Maybe, he should save that for the future? For now, he enjoyed their first dance together and hoped for his sake, the first of many. God, he sounded like Grayson! Marinette finally helped him understand Grayson’s words

“Wait till you have a girlfriend, Baby Bird! When you’re older you won’t be teasing me then, I’ll be teasing you!” Which he always responded with, “Yeah right! I’d never give into disgusting emotions like you. It’s a waste of my time.” Though, that might have been from living with the league. He was that kind of kid who despised romance. Oh, how wrong younger him had been. Good thing his Angel never had to meet the teenage version of himself. Hear stories, maybe? But meeting the hell-bent kid version of him would have been a nightmare. Damian knew if they had known each other then he certainly would have driven her away. Love never came his way until this day. He never imagined he would want to settle down with someone, let alone someone he just met. But everything felt easy with Marinette. It was familiar, felt normal, almost natural. As if they were destined to be with one another. She might not be feeling what he was, but Damian was determined to make this last. This was the farthest he had ever gone with someone and it had only been a few hours. Dancing as if there was no one else around him and Marinette, Damian decided he wanted this as his future.

Bonus!

Jason: “Tim! Are you recording this? I’ve never seen Demon Spawn dance!”

Tim: “There he is, spinning this girl round and round in circles. Hell must be freezing over!”

Jason: “ Dick is going to have a field day tomorrow!”

Alina: “Truce. We are totally working together to spy on their first date.”

Aven: “ Isn’t this technically a date?”

Alina: “Shut up, babe. That’s just the minor details!”

Jason: “Shut the fuck up both of you! I’m trying to get good blackmail here!”

People who said they wanted more in the last post!

@mystery-5-5

Well this was a 3:14 am! Next

#maribat #daminette #maridami #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damienette #Aged Up Daminette

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

Text

I Love You (Part Thirty) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing, murder-- everything Criminal Minds. Mentions of Dom/sub relationship.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 14765

Timeline: Season 4 Episode 18. A month after part twenty-nine.

Hotch’s hand was slowly running up and down my arm as I slept. After a few moments, he started whispering my name and I subconsciously realized that he was trying to wake me up. I groaned and rolled over onto my other side so that I was facing him. His thumb caressed my cheek lightly and I smiled against his touch. It was so early, way too early for anything but a case, but he didn’t seem to rush me awake, so I just continued to enjoy his touch and nothing else. While his hand drifted down to my arm to start gently squeezing and massaging, I leaned over and kissed his shoulder.

“I have to go out,” he whispered, still massaging my arm. I pouted and looked around his shoulder to see the clock on his nightstand. It was still the middle of the night. What the hell was he doing going out so late? I figured that if he was waking me up and seemed in a rush, it was likely due to another case, so I started to move like I was going to get ready for the day. Hotch grabbed my arm gently. “It’s not a case,” he said as though he had read my mind. “An old friend of mine called… He needs to see me; says that it’s important.”

I squinted and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Why does he need to meet with you right now?”

Hotch shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ll tell you when I get back.” I nodded and laid back down. He kissed my forehead and tried to lean back up, but I caught the back of his head with my hand and brought him in for a kiss on the lips. “I love you. Try to fall back asleep.”

“I love you. Be safe.”

He pecked my lips before crawling off the edge of the bed to sneak out of the bedroom. I rolled back over onto my side of the bed, trying to find the darkness and peace behind my eyelids to fall asleep again, but I was already awake and worried about Hotch leaving. Of course, there was no doubt in my mind that he had a real, legitimate reason for leaving. I wasn’t the kind of person to just assume that he was cheating on me or something, because: one, he wouldn’t; two, he wouldn’t have woken me up to tell me he was leaving if he wanted to keep it a secret. But meeting an old friend so late at night and without warning seemed odd, to say the least. The fact that Hotch didn't know what it was about either put me on edge. What if he was in danger? What if he was going to get hurt and I had no idea where he was or who he was with? How was I supposed to sleep as that raced through my head?

I sat up as I heard his car backing out of the driveway, the headlights still off so that he wouldn’t disturb mine or Jack’s rooms. I brought my knees to my chest and hid my face in my palms. There was no reason to be worried about Hotch. None. Right? I was just nervous for nothing. New York still had me shaken up, still six months later. Every time he was out of my sight, I got worried that it would be the last time I would ever see him. I hated that feeling. I wanted it to end soon. I wanted to trust that Hotch was capable of just going to a friend’s house and that I didn’t need to constantly worry about every little thing he did. He was a grown man; he was going to be fine. But I still loved him, and I still worried about him. That would never change.

When the sun started to rise and my alarm went off, I checked my phone again. Hotch still hadn’t reached out. I tried not to think about it as I pushed the covers off my body and went to get dressed before waking up Jack. He was sure to have questions about where his dad was, and I honestly didn’t have any answers for him. I wished that I could look at him and tell him what was going on, but I really didn’t know. I wasn’t even sure how to lie about where his dad was, that was how out of the loop I felt. So, all I did was tell him that his dad needed to leave early for work and that we’d see him at dinner. Thankfully, Jack bought it, and he started getting ready for school.

By the time I dropped Jack off at school and made it to the office, Hotch still hadn’t called or texted. I was really starting to worry. If he wasn’t in his office, then I was going to storm into Garcia’s office and demand that she track his phone, because I wasn’t about to lose him. Not now. Not when I wasn’t there to help him.

Thankfully, though, after I passed Anderson on my way into the bullpen, I could see Hotch up in his office, finishing up a phone call. I let my shoulders fall in relief. Morgan turned in his seat to wish me a good morning, and I responded with a smile as I dropped my things off at my desk. As I walked towards Hotch’s office, I flicked the back of Morgan’s neck playfully, earning the snap of a rubber band against my elbow.

I scoffed. “I’m telling on you,” I teased, making my way up the ramp.

“Snitches get stitches!” he yelled out to me.

“Only if I get caught!” I winked. “Hey,” I walked into Hotch’s office. He looked up from his work on his desk, quickly hiding away whatever it was he had been reviewing and smiled at me. “You didn’t come home last night. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I was going to call, but I didn’t want to wake you up.” He pushed himself out of his chair, walked about around his desk, and caught me by the waist using his arms. “Are you okay?”

“You had me worried.” I propped myself up on my tiptoes and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I didn’t end up falling back asleep because I thought you would come back or call.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head understandingly. “I get it. Did you talk to your friend?” I asked while pushing his hair back since he hadn’t run a brush through it yet. He nodded and kissed my forehead. “Care to share with the class?”

He smirked against my skin before pulling back. “Close the door,” he ordered. I nodded, sliding out of his arms to do as I was told. Hotch closed the blinds then met me on the couch. “I went to go see my old unit chief. He’s dying, and his last wish was to speak with me.”

My eyes softened and I ran my fingers on my left hand through his hair. “You’re a good man and friend for getting up in the middle of the night like that to go see him,” I complimented with a small smile. “But why didn’t he send for you sooner?”

Hotch looked over at the door and the blinds again to make sure that no one could walk in or see us talking. Whatever he had to say, it needed to stay between the two of us, and I was alright with that. “Back when I first started working at the BAU, I worked for a man named Tom Shaunessy. He taught me everything I know about profiling and being a good unit chief. In ‘98, we got a case where the Unsub was killing random couples on the highway, and I was the lead profiler for the very first time. We tried to build a loose profile based on what we had, but his M.O. was scattered, his victimology was unpredictable, and there was never any evidence. He got himself involved with the media, though, and they titled him The Reaper. And you know how it goes after the media names them, they usually get cocky and big headed. The Reaper, he started leaving symbols or messages at his scenes in order to taunt us. He killed well over a dozen people, and we never caught him. One day, Shaunessy came in and he sent us all home. He told us that the case was over, the trail had run cold, and we needed to move onto more prevalent cases. He was my boss, so I didn’t question it, and I haven’t even thought about it once in… years…” He looked over at the door again. “Shaunessy called me last night to tell me that he made a deal with The Reaper ten years ago to make the killings stop. We would stop looking for him and he would stop killing. That was the deal between Shaunessy and The Reaper, but now the Shaunessy’s dead, the contract will become null and void once The Reaper finds out.”

“Meaning that The Reaper will start killing again,” it dawned on me as I said it.

Hotch nodded. “He passed the case onto me.”

“Aaron—” I hesitated.

If Shaunessy was half as good as Hotch cracked him up to be, then it meant that he was the best of the best— more so than Rossi or Gideon ever were. The fact that Shaunessy and the BAU couldn’t catch The Reaper ten years ago was enough cause for concern. Would Hotch have to make the same deal? Or would we be able to catch him? Either way, it wasn’t fair of Shaunessy to dump this on Hotch’s lap. I didn’t like that this had him so shaken up. Cases like this hardly ever made Hotch blink twice, but now he was sitting across from me, scared to even tell me the truth.

“I know, I know,” he insisted. “But what choice do I have?”

“To not put yourself in the middle of this mess!”

“So, do what? Turn a blind eye and let him start killing again? Or do I get ahead of this guy and I finally catch him?”

“Yes, turn a blind eye. If it’s unsafe, then… yeah…”

“Why are you saying that?” he cocked a brow of curiosity, though his tone was more accusing. “You’d never turn down a case, especially if you knew that it was bad and important.”

I pulled my touch away from him entirely. It was a valid question, I supposed. In his shoes, I would have asked the same thing because it was so out of character for either of us to dodge or turn down a case—especially after I had basically just sent him down to Dallas on his own for a bit, even though he didn’t want to go. I had to tell him the truth. That was our deal. We didn’t keep secrets from each other because communication was of the utmost importance in our relationship. But it was starting to get tiresome to keep explaining to him that I was worried about him. That conversation always ended the same way every time. I’d start by telling him that I was still worried about him since New York, he’d counter by arguing that he was fine, and then I’d tell him that didn’t matter because I loved him and I was worried about him, and then it would end with him holding me and telling me he loved me. I’d forget about my worries for a bit, but then it would all come crashing back, and the cycle would continue. But he asked. His question was valid, and now I had to tell him the truth, unfortunately.

“If this guy got the best of Shaunessy, what’s to stop him from doing the same to you?” I asked, rather than answering first.

“I won’t take any deal, Y/N. You know that. I’m going to find this guy, and I’m going to put him away for good.”

“See how you’re saying ‘I’? Hotch, this isn’t just your case. We’re all here, and if you do this— which I don’t think you should— we’ll all help you. You can’t do this alone.”

“I have to.”

I raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“When I turn down his deal, because I know that he will make one, I can’t drag any of you into the mess. Shaunessy and I started this ten years ago; I can finish it.”

“Aaron. No.” I shook my head and stood from the couch. “I’m putting my foot down on this one. I can’t let you do this. If you think that it’s dangerous for us, then it’s dangerous for you. You’re not fucking doing it.”

“Y/N, stop it—”

“No!” I shouted a little too loud. Both of our gazes turned to the door and windows to make sure no one would come in to disrupt us. I took a moment to breathe. “Shaunessy was scared of this guy. You seem scared of this guy. I’m not doing this with you, Hotch. I’m not going to stay up every night for who knows how long while you’re off in Boston, chasing some guy who has had years to build up his thirst for blood. I’m not doing that to myself or Jack— or even the team. I can hardly sleep as it is. I worry about you constantly. If you’re going to do this, you need to have the team helping you. That’s my final offer, I swear, Aaron. So help me—”

“Fine!” he also shouted a little too loud, jumping out of his seat. “Just stop!” He walked over to me and put his hands on my face, “Stop…”

I let my eyes fall shut and I pressed my face against his chest. “I’ll always fight for you, Aaron. I made that promise to you a while ago. I’ll never stop fighting for you, but I can’t always be worried about you. Does that make sense?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry.” He hugged my shoulders, holding me close to his chest. “But I worry about you, too. And I don’t want you to get mixed up in a mess that I made.”

“Your messes are my messes, Aaron Hotchner. They always have been and always will be. That’s a part of loving you.”

I could feel him smiling as he kissed the top of my head. “Okay,” he gave in. “I love you.”

Since Hotch and I argued about The Reaper case, it had been a few days. JJ still didn’t have any new cases for us, but that didn’t stop Hotch from sitting in his office late at night and getting there early. He was coming home around midnight every night now, and he was leaving around five or six. Honestly, I don’t even think he was going to sleep. He was probably coming home just to make sure that Jack and I were safe, and to make sure that I was sleeping alright, and then he was leaving. I was worried, and I wasn’t really sleeping, but I feigned it all for Hotch. I was hoping that he’d get some sleep soon, or maybe he’d just spend some more time at home. Jack missed him. He was staying up as late as he could, procrastinating on his homework so that his dad could help him. Even if I tried to sit down and help him, he wouldn’t heed my advice. It was hard for him to know that his dad was in town, but he still didn’t get to see him.

On Wednesday, things still weren’t better. Our ten o’clock meeting came and went with no new cases, and all of my reports were done. Now it was a waiting game for something interesting to happen. Emily and I set up a trash can at the end of the bullpen, and what started as a paper airplane race quickly devolved into just crumpling up pieces of paper and seeing how many we could throw into the trash can from different distances. Once Morgan finished his work, he joined in, too.

“Y/N,” Hotch called calmly from his office. I looked up from my work to see what he needed, yet all he did was nod sideways towards his desk, gesturing that he needed to speak with me privately.

“Ooh, someone’s in trouble,” Morgan teased.

“Bite me,” I flicked the back of his neck again, just like I had the other day, while passing by his desk. This time, though, he didn’t have a rubber band ready to retaliate, so I made a slight run for it before he could shoot one at me. When I was at Hotch’s office, I closed the door behind me, and made my way over to his desk. He was standing, so I stayed on my feet, too. “What’s up?”

He threw a case file towards me onto his desk. “He struck last night.”

I carefully eyed him through my lashes as I grabbed the file and started looking through the first page. The Reaper. Hotch knew that this was coming, he had anticipated it ever since Shaunessy’s death a couple of days ago, but I didn’t think it would come this fast. It had to be The Reaper considering everything Hotch told me about him. He killed couples on the highway, always overkill with the female, and he left a drawing of an eye on the side of the car using the victims’ blood. This was The Reaper’s work. No one else’s. And, honestly, it terrified me. It meant that Hotch was finally being roped into something that was dangerous. We always knew that Unsubs could get to us one way or another, but this guy, whoever he was, clearly knew how to get to the BAU. He did it with Shaunessy, and now he was doing it with Hotch. I didn’t want us to become targets. But maybe that was the incentive to find him faster.

“I wanted to tell you first because I want to know if you’re still convinced that we need to do this together.”

“I am.”

“No, Y/N. I need you to look at everything in there, and then I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that this is our best move.”

I flipped through every page, taking in every detail of the case almost as fast as Reid would have. This guy wasn’t any worse than half of the cases I had worked while with the BAU, but what was terrifying about him was the control he clearly had over the feds and the media. Hotch was a stubborn man, and he wasn’t going to let The Reaper roll over him like he did with Shaunessy, but the fact that The Reaper managed to do it in the first place… that made him more dangerous than any Unsub I had ever come across. That might sound ridiculous but think about it. Most of the time, the Unsubs we went after were scared of us because they didn’t want to get caught. Even if they were dominant, cocky assholes, they were still playing a game or a dance around us to ensure that they wouldn’t get caught. But they always did. That was why we were good at our jobs. But then this guy came along, and he told Shaunessy: I’ll stop killing if you stop hunting me. And that deal sounded sweet because Shaunessy felt like he was saving lives. The Reaper had ten years to himself after making that deal. Ten years of letting his urge to kill eat him alive. Now that Shaunessy was gone, Boston was going to turn into a bloodbath, and when Hotch was inevitably going to turn down any deal thrown his way, it was surely going to make The Reaper spiral. This was only going to get worse. That was why we were scared. That was why we were terrified.

I looked up at Hotch. “We do this together.”

He stared at me for a moment, getting a read on my face while searching my eyes. I held true, showing no fear, despite the fact that it was bubbling in my stomach. I didn’t want him to become a target. I was petrified by the idea of losing him to this maniac while having just survived New York. But I couldn’t let Hotch know that. Ever. If he saw any sign of weakness, he’d pull the case from the BAU, and he’d go down to Boston to do it himself.

“Okay,” he finally gave in. “We’ll go to Boston, then.”

I silently thanked him for trusting me enough to listen to my advice. The other day, when we argued about it, I thought that he wasn’t listening, and that the first chance he’d get, he’d be gone to solve this on his own. But he got the case file, and he immediately confided in me. I was grateful for that. It went hand-in-hand with not keeping secrets from each other, another thing I was appreciating. We had grown so much as individuals, but even more as a couple over the past year and a half or so. It was a relief that he could trust me and talk to me like this. After everything we had been through, it was honestly a relief that he still kept me around.

“I’ll tell the team to meet in the boardroom,” I offered.

“There’s no time. We need to go straight to the jet.”

I nodded and turned on my heels to gather the team. “Grab your gear,” I told the bullpen as I hurried down the ramp.

“Finally!” Morgan cheered, spinning around in his chair.

“Two people are dead, Morgan. Maybe you shouldn’t cheer?”

Morgan grabbed his go-bag, threw it over his shoulder, and stood up. “Finally,” he said less enthusiastically before winking playfully.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.” I grabbed my go-bag. I maneuvered around Emily and Reid as we all started making our way towards the doors.

On the plane, Hotch immediately dove into what he knew about The Reaper. Everyone thought that we’d have a few minutes to settle down first, but Hotch collected everyone around the four seat table, handed out the case files Garcia had sent to the jet, and started reviewing what he knew from the initial investigation back in the 90’s. The entire time, I watched him closely. I kept up with what was saying, but I was more concerned about the fact that he looked more driven and tunnel visioned into a case than I had ever seen before. It was worrying. Hotch was a hard working man by nature, and he took each and every case as seriously as possible, leaving room for us to still be us outside of work, but he had never looked like this. As I stared at him, he didn’t glance once at me. The human body instinctually recognizes when it’s being watched, so there’s a natural, automatic need to check your surroundings when you get that feeling on the back of your neck. But Hotch didn’t look at me. He didn’t even look at the team. He was just flipping through the pages again and again. It reminded me of the time when Elle was taken hostage in Texas, and all I could focus on was rereading the case file over and over again until Hotch finally stopped me.

So, I did something unexpected.

When everyone was looking down, I reached up and put a hand over Hotch’s. He froze. After a short moment, he looked at me. For the first time on that flight, he stared into my eyes, and he smiled. I squeezed his hand gently before retreating entirely to look back down at the case. Everyone got back to work, too. They obviously saw what I did, even though I hadn’t intended for them to, so they tried to pretend like they weren’t watching.

The Reaper, according to Hotch, was all of the following: Dominant, proud, overconfident, highly intelligent, and news obsessed. Honestly, he sounded like every other Unsub. Issues arose, however, when he started losing the thrill of each kill, so he had to get more creative. He went to the police—specifically Shaunessy—and made that deal to have them stand down in exchange for his “retirement”, which gave him more power. He won back in the 90’s because he had the upper hand. Now that Shaunessy, the only man who truly knew that The Reaper had won, just died, he needed to start killing again in order to gain attention, and probably just to keep himself busy. A hiatus as long as his likely had him itching at his own skin. He was a wild psychopath on the loose with a thirst for blood, which meant that this would only get worse until we could capture him.

“There isn’t much here,” Morgan said after a few minutes. “How did you guys build this profile?”

Hotch sighed. “Technically, we didn’t. This is everything I’ve worked on over time. Back in ’98, this was my first case as lead profiler, but Shaunessy sent us home before we could get much work done. So, now we have to do it.” He closed the file in his hands. “To start, I want Y/N and Reid to come to the recent crime scene with me. Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan, start building the profile at the precinct. JJ, we need to contain this in the media before it gets him off—”

“I’ll shut it down faster than you can say ‘Boston’,” she said with a smile.

Hotch nodded a “thank you” to her before sighing and resting his head against the side of the plane. He had been rushing to discuss the profile, but now that we had done everything we could, I could tell that he was mentally and emotionally drained. That was what he got for pushing himself too hard. Imagine what would’ve happened if he did all of this on his own.

Over the span of five years, The Reaper managed to kill twenty-one people. By the time Hotch got involved, eighteen people were already dead, and under his watch, three people died. Now that the Reaper was back, two people were already dead. This wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Hotch was already exhausted, and The Reaper had only just begun. Since Hotch knew the truth about Shaunessy’s deal, he had to be vigilant on this case, making sure that it didn’t get personal. If The Reaper found a way to get in contact with us, there was no doubt he would try to offer up a similar deal. Hotch didn’t like letting the bad guys get away. He didn’t like when they died, and he didn’t like when they got away. Therefore, there was no chance in hell Hotch was going to give into any deal. He told me that himself. What terrified me most was that Hotch’s defiance would end with The Reaper going after him… What was I supposed to do then?

When we landed in Boston, Hotch, Reid, and I took a separate vehicle from everyone else. We headed straight to the latest crime scene, as planned, while the others headed to the precinct to get settled. Technically, we weren’t on this case yet. Hotch had gotten wind of this recent crime scene, and he knew that it had to do with The Reaper, so he leapt at the chance. However, this still wasn’t our case. Rules were rules. Hotch was always a rule follower, especially when it came to jurisdiction. If we weren’t invited onto the case, then we had no right to be there. But Hotch hoped that by asking in person, there was a chance that the lead detective on the case, O’Mara, would bring us on to help.

Hotch and I were in the front seat during the drive. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught how white his knuckles were turning as he kept squeezing the life out of the steering wheel. I had never seen him so tense before. I was really worried. If this got personal for him, it was my duty to tell Rossi to pull him off the case. Right? I mean, when cases got too personal for me, Hotch immediately benched me—or at least tried. Especially since New York, there was no way in hell I was going to let Hotch cloud his judgement by making this a personal thing. If he didn’t ease up soon, I was going to talk to Rossi… Or, if it came to it, I’d call Strauss. That wouldn’t exactly make Hotch too happy, but I would do what was necessary in order to protect him. I understood suddenly how he felt about me. Fuck.

He parked the car outside of the yellow tape. “Wait here. I’ll talk to the lead detective about asking us to join the case. We know each other from the first wave of cases. If he talks to just me, he might be more inclined to invite us in.” Hotch got out of the car, leaving me and Reid in silence.

As we waited and watched Hotch head over to O’Mara, I took note of what I could see at the crime scene from a distance. The victims’ car was taped off up ahead. The media was standing around the tape, trying to get a better look at the bodies inside the car and the blood painted on the driver’s side door. There was a trail of blood on the pavement. It had been washed away somewhat by the rain, but the general outline of the blood was clear enough to indicate that one of the bodies had been dragged from the street to the car. Probably the driver.

That was all I could see from where we were, though. Without getting a closer look, I wouldn’t be able to deduce much. I couldn’t even see what the blood spatter on the car’s exterior looked like, I just knew that it was there. And like he could read my mind, Hotch looked over to the car, then waved us over. Reid and I got out, ducked under the yellow tape, then strided over to Hotch and the detective.

“Detective O’Mara, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and Agent Greenaway. The rest of my team is setting up at the precinct.” Hotch gestured to each of us respectively. I shook the detective’s hand, then watched as he tried to shake Reid’s, only to be met with a polite wave. I snorted lightly. Hotch and Reid both glared at me. “Do you mind if we take a look around?”

O’Mara shook his head. With his thick Boston accent, he responded, “Take as long as you need, do whatever you need to do. I trust you, Aaron.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

The three of us turned to look at the car and the bodies still inside it while O’Mara ordered his men out of the way. Reid started reviewing the victims’ information aloud, but I stepped away to think on my own while canvassing the car. As I had seen before from a distance, there was blood trailing from crime scene markers 3 and 7 all the way to the car door. Drawn onto the silver paint was The Reaper’s symbol in blood. I recognized it from the files Hotch showed me when we initially discussed The Reaper. I didn’t know what the symbol was, though. It was an eye with lines coming out of it—almost like eyelashes… or like the protruding lines Jack would draw on a sun doodle to represent the sunrays. Maybe it meant we were being watched? I wasn’t sure.

I looked into the car, leaning in through the window to get a look at the bodies. Hotch came up behind me and handed me a pair of blue rubber gloves. I silently thanked him. While sliding the gloves on, I took note of the male victim’s rolled up left sleeve, revealing that he had a tan line where a watch used to be. According to Reid’s narration, this victim’s name was Evan Harvey. He was a twenty-three year old recent college graduate, traveling to visit his parents with his girlfriend, Nina Hale, nineteen. For a man who was bludgeoned repeatedly, then shot execution style, Evan’s body seemed pretty… intact. I mean, he was hardly recognizable behind all of the blood, but everything else about him looked put together. He was a poster child for a low-risk victim. What stuck out to me the most were the glasses on his face. If The Reaper had beat him with a tool of some kind, Evan’s glasses would’ve been completely shattered, bent, and ruined. They wouldn’t be sitting perfectly on his broken face. So, The Reaper posed him that way. The question was, why?

I stepped out of the way so that Hotch could get a look at Evan while I went around the car to look at Nina in the passenger’s seat. She was in much worse shape than Evan was. His face was the only thing that had been destroyed by The Reaper, but when it came to Nina, every part of her was destroyed. He had started by stabbing her forty-six times. Everywhere from her shoulders, breasts, stomach, even her thighs, were completely torn up from the overkill. And then he slashed her throat to finally end the torture.

“Reid, look at this,” Hotch said as he leaned out of the car. I looked up shortly to see what they were talking about. Hotch had grabbed Evan’s wallet from his pocket to inspect something. “The glasses.”

Reid ducked down to look at Evan, Nina, me, then he stood and looked at Evan’s wallet again. “His eyesight’s perfect. He doesn’t need to wear glasses.”

Hotch sighed. “The Reaper always took something from each of his victims so that he could leave it on the next, that way we knew he was responsible. It was another way of claiming dominance and power. He took Evan’s watch and left George Foyet’s glasses.”

“George Foyet?” Reid inquired.

“The Reaper’s last victim.”

I stood and circled the car again. Crime scene markers 1 and 6 represented the two flat tires on the car. I bent down to get a good look. I glanced around and asked one of the uniforms if they had a carjack. He nodded and raced off to grab one from the trunk of his police car, then returned to hand it to me. I knelt down and started jacking up the car so that I could get a quick look at the tires before Hotch could yell at me for doing so. I didn’t need it to go very far. The second I could see under the tire, I realized what had happened, so I set the car back down and handed the jack back to the cop.

“Nails,” I said, standing up. Hotch and Reid looked at me with curious faces. “There are about seven different five-inch drywall nails embedded in the tire back here.”

Telling by the fact that there were so many nails, and they all seemed to strike both back tires, I was inclined to assume that this was on purpose. The Reaper probably planted the nails in the road, then waited for a random car to pass in order to let fate choose his victims.

“Reid, do you know what the drawing on the car means, if anything?” I asked.

He stepped back to get a better look at it. “The Eye of Providence.”

“Explain.”

He perked up at the opportunity to explain something—since the chance hardly ever arose. “The U.S. Government adopted the symbol in order to incorporate it into the Great Seal in 1782 with the words, ‘Annuit Coeptis’ inscribed underneath. You can still see it on the one-dollar bill today.”

“What does Annuit Coeptis mean?” Hotch asked.

“It’s Latin for fate.”

“The word ‘FATE’ was written on the wall in blood at the Foyet crime scene back in ’98.”

“My best bet, then, is that The Reaper sees himself as the personification of fate.”

“Maybe. But, then, why would he make a mistake like leaving Foyet alive?”

“He survived?’ I asked in shock. After seeing the brutality of this crime scene, I couldn’t understand how anyone could possibly survive anything like this…

“Yeah,” Hotch nodded. “Him and his girlfriend, Amanda, were attacked in their car when driving home from a date night. Foyet told police that The Reaper stopped them by pretending to be a lost tourist in need of directions. He stabbed Amanda and stabbed Foyet thirty-two times each.”

“Thirty-two? And he lived?” Reid seemed just as shocked as I was. The likelihood that Foyet could have survived that was next to impossible. He was incredibly lucky. “How did they save him in time before he bled out?”

“The Reaper called the police from the crime scene. There was an off-duty ambulance nearby, so they raced to resuscitate him.”

“He called during each crime?” I interrogated.

Hotch nodded.

“But he didn’t make a call this time.”

“He must’ve learned his lesson last time,” Reid said.

“Hotch,” O’Mara called, hurrying over, “there’s a reporter over there that wants to talk to you. It’s Roy Colson.”

Hotch sighed and silently left to go handle it. I didn’t understand. Hotch didn’t handle the media because that was JJ’s job. Why would some reporter ask specifically for Hotch, especially when we were busy like this, and Hotch was taking all the pressure?

A few minutes later, when Hotch was done talking with the reporter, he walked back in our direction, yet he didn’t stop until he got to the car. Reid and I took the hint. We headed to the car, too, getting back into our seats that we had been in when we arrived, and Hotch started driving off. The ride was silent since Hotch was lost in thought, and Spencer and I were busy with adding our crime scene notes to our files so that we could catch the team up when we would get to the precinct.

When we parked in front of the local police station, Hotch said, “Y/N, when we get inside, I want you to meet up with Morgan and find Foyet for questioning. Last I heard, he went off the grid. You might have to work with Garcia to find him.”

I nodded and headed inside. The team, as expected, was already set up in a boardroom. They had case files and boxes littered around, a fresh, hot coffee pot nearby, and a bulletin board filled with pictures, names, and notes. I sat down next to Morgan. Taking a few minutes to finish up my own notes, I gave Morgan some time to finish what he was working on. After a bit, I asked him if I could borrow his help. He closed his file and looked at me. I explained everything Hotch told me about George Foyet, then said that he wanted us to find Foyet and question him. The issue was, we were going to have to dig to find Foyet, since he went underground.

Morgan immediately called Garcia. I thought it would’ve been fun to figure it out ourselves, but he was being a little lazy, so he wanted to cut corners. Garcia would be able to find Foyet without breaking a sweat.

“Mmm…” she hummed out of curiosity. “I’m gonna have to do some more digging. I’ll call you back when I have something.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said.

A few minutes later, after we told Hotch that it would take some time to find Foyet, he insisted that we should give the profile to the local P.D. in the meantime.

I hadn’t actually heard the term “omnivore” used in regards to a profile before. I mean, I knew of it while studying to be a profiler, but I had never heard anyone on the team use it during a case before. We dealt with plenty of omnivores before, sure. But this was different. Since Hotch had been building this profile over the span of years, he was pulling out all the stops. He wanted to sound impressive. He wanted to be impressive. He didn’t want to make it seem like he had just been sitting on his ass since 1998, not doing a damn thing about The Reaper.

The term “omnivore”, in our line of work, referred to a very specific type of psychopath. An omnivore was someone who didn’t choose a specific victim type. They were opportunistic people. If the situation arose for the perfect crime, they would take it. Like The Reaper, for instance. What we saw with Evan Harvey and Nina Hale was due to unfortunate circumstances. He left out nails on the road, then waited around for someone to appear. It didn’t matter who, it just mattered that it happened. It needed to happen because of the fame, not the thirst for blood. Yes, that was always a factor when it came to psychopathic serial killers, but with omnivores, the media and the fame was just as important as quenching that thirst. Because of that narcissistic mindset, it was damn near impossible for omnivores to maintain any kind of close relationship. As always, there were outliers. The Reaper, however, did not pose as an outlier to us. It seemed that his main focus was on the fame and dominating the police. No one would be able to befriend or fall in love with someone like that.

Hotch made it clear that although we were also profiling The Reaper as a Hebephile—someone attracted to younger people, specifically teenagers—that didn’t mean he could get it up. One of the first things any potential profiler would learn was the serial killers who used knives did it because they were impotent. They couldn’t get it up, so they used the penetration of a blade to make up for that. The Reaper loved using knives. We saw the overkill with Nina Hale, and with Amanda, Foyet’s girlfriend. He couldn’t rape them, so he took the next best option. It was important to note that in the profile we gave to the police because we were therefore looking for someone who worked with young girls. A teacher, a coach, a tutor, even a pediatrician. We were especially looking for anyone with a record within the last ten years. There was no way a guy like this hadn’t been arrested previously.

My phone started ringing just as we started wrapping up the profile, I looked to see that it was Garcia. I excused myself from the team. As I stepped away into a private room, I answered the call, not finding enough energy to respond to her sassy pickup line. Maybe I should’ve been snippy enough with her to make her bad news blow over better. She told me the worst thing imaginable: Penelope Garcia couldn’t find George Foyet. There weren’t many times when Garcia couldn’t pull through for us, yet somehow this was one of those times. I didn’t understand. She explained that he had gone completely off the grid, getting rid of his entire past and turning into a ghost. Probably on purpose. I didn’t blame him. If I knew that there was a serial killer out to get me, I’d go underground, too.

“Okay. Thank you, Garcia.”

“You’re welcome.” She hung up without her usual, peppy self.

I sighed and buried my phone in my pocket. I was sorry that I couldn’t match her upbeat personality that afternoon, but trying to keep up with Hotch’s intensity was… well, I was just as exhausted as Hotch was, I was sure.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked, stepping into the room and taking note of my worry and confusion.

“Garcia can’t find Foyet,” I admitted. “He’s disappeared entirely in order to hide from The Reaper.”

Hotch shook his head and fished out his phone. “I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner…”

“What?”

“I might know someone who knows where Foyet is.”

I perked up slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. Give me a second to make a call.”

I nodded and stepped out of the room to give him privacy. I leaned against the wall just beside the door frame while biting my nails nervously, watching the team as they talked with some of the uniforms that had questions about the profile they just finished presenting. It only took another minute or so before Hotch knocked on the window on the door. I jumped slightly. As I caught my breath and calmed my nerves, I pushed into the room again.

“So?” I asked.

“I got the address.”

“You want to go?”

He nodded. “You’ll come with me?”

“Always.”

He smiled at me. As I smiled back at him, he stepped forward and kissed my forehead. It was a silent thank you for bearing with him through all of this, but he had to know that I didn’t need a thank you. I loved my job, and I loved him. If something meant a lot to him, I was going to go out of my way to make it mean a lot to me, too. Whatever he needed, whenever.

It was already getting late by the time we arrived at Foyet’s address. When we first spotted him, he was walking home from the grocery store, his arms full of grocery bags. We gave it a moment to make sure the coast was clear. We didn’t want to accidentally lead The Reaper straight to George Foyet. That wouldn’t have been fair to him. But once we were sure that no one was watching us or him, we got out and met him on the sidewalk.

“George Foyet?” I inquired. He looked up at us with worry. “It’s alright. We’re with the FBI.” He relaxed, but only slightly. I showed him my credentials to make him feel better, and Hotch followed my lead. “I’m Agent Greenaway. This is SSA Hotchner.”

“We’ve met once before,” Hotch said. “Do you remember me?”

Foyet nodded. “Of course. You helped save my life.” He glanced over his shoulder, searching up and down the street to make sure no one was watching us. “Would you mind if we got off the street, please?”

Hotch and I nodded. Foyet pushed past us with a limp, leading us up to a house just down the block. He coughed as he struggled to get his keys out of his pocket while juggling his groceries. I offered to take something for him, and he thanked me before handing me one of the brown paper bags. He coughed again as he opened the door. His coughing was deep, with a painful wheeze that told me this wasn’t just a cough from the cold or because he had a cold. This was a serious, dangerous cough.

As we walked into his small home, he guided us to the kitchen where I set the bag down on the counter for him. He quietly thanked me. I nodded as he coughed again. He sat down at the kitchen table, trying to catch his breath while adjusting his glasses on his nose. At least he got a new pair since his attack all those years ago. That was a plus… Right? Honestly, I couldn’t imagine being in his shoes. I pitied the guy. Getting stabbed as meant times as he did probably affected his health more than we could ever know. And there was no one there to help him. He was all alone, navigating this without any friends, families, or loved ones. I could only hope that if something like that ever happened to me, Hotch and the team could be by my side to support me

“How did you guys find me?” he asked.

“Roy Colson,” Hotch answered.

Foyet’s face fell at the realization. He had been so careful attempting to cover his tracks, but the one person he trusted to keep his identity a secret just betrayed him. “Oh.” He pointed to the medicine on the counter beside me as he started to cough loudly once more. I caught the hint, handing him the orange bottle as quickly as I could. After he popped a pill and swallowed hard, he asked, “Is this going to take long? I don’t want to be late for work.”

“What do you do?” Hotch inquired.

“I’m a freelance computer specialist for the city. I could get fired if I’m late.”

“This won’t take long, I swear,” I said. “We just want you to tell us what you can remember from the night The Reaper attacked you.”

“So, the recent attacks aren’t copycats?”

I shook my head.

“I knew it…” he said woefully. “I was going to propose to Amanda that night… I was going to do it at the restaurant, but I cowered out of it at the last second. We were heading home, and my plan was to do it there. But when we got in the car, he approached our window, pretending to be a lost tourist. I rolled down my window and tried to give him directions… That was when he dropped the map and stabbed me.” He started to cry. “I couldn’t do anything… I just sat there, bleeding out, listening to her scream and cry my name… I wanted to help her—I wanted to save her, but I couldn’t.” He shivered and sobbed. “Do you know how long it takes to stab someone thirty-two times? It felt like years… It felt like I was stuck in that seat every second for years, and there was nothing I could do to make time speed up.” He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. “I never found the ring. He took it. I thought that he was going to put it on the next victim, but the next one never came…” He looked at me. “What did he put on them?”

“Who?” I asked.

“The most recent victims. You wouldn’t be here unless it was about those murders last night.”

I shuffled on the balls of my feet. “He left your glasses.”

“So, that son of a bitch still has Mandy’s ring?!” He broke down again. “No… You can’t let him put it on another victim. You can’t let him ruin that for me.”

“Mr. Foyet, have you received any odd calls recently?” Hotch interrogated.

He shook his head. “I have multiple residences that I move between randomly so that no one can get ahold of me.”

“What about your work?”

“If they want to talk to me, they have to wait to see me in person.” He grabbed a napkin from the table to use as a tissue. “He likes to kill people in their cars, so I’ve been taking the bus. I’ve done everything in my power to make sure no one can get to me. Especially him.”

“We’ll need your other identities and residences so that we can get ahold of you,” I said.

He nodded. “Okay.”

Hotch pulled out a notepad and pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “We can put you under protection to keep you safe.”

“You can’t protect me,” he scoffed. “No one can.” He started scribbling all of his information down. “You have to be careful with this, Agent Greenaway. Please. I’m entrusting you with my life.”

“I understand.” My eyes pouted in pity. I took the notepad from him. “We can check on you tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“No. The more you come around, the more likely he is to find me.”

Fair enough, I thought. The longer we were with him, the more danger he was in, too. So, Hotch and I thanked him for meeting with us, then left to drive back to the precinct. When we arrived, Hotch paused and sighed before getting out of the car. I eyed him warily. As we crossed the street, Hotch approached a man standing just in front of the entrance to the precinct. When he spotted us, he jumped onto his toes.

“Y/N, this is Roy Colson. He and I met in the 90’s. He wrote the biography on The Reaper.” Hotch sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“This arrived at my office this morning,” Roy said while handing a letter preserved in a laminated cover to Hotch. “I didn’t know what else to do, since you asked me to hold the story and whatnot.”

“It’s just a copy of what he sent to the police during the original case,” Hotch said.

“I know. But the only people who have it are the police and The Reaper. So, if the cops didn’t send it to me, we know who did.”

“We’ll run this in the lab for DNA. Thanks, Roy.”

“No problem.”

“We’ll be in touch again, if we need.”

“Got it.”

Hotch and I nodded politely in his direction before continuing on into the precinct. Inside, Hotch gave the letter to Reid, who was supposed to take it with him to the lab to get it tested for DNA while also inspecting its authenticity. As for the rest of us, however, it had already been a long day. We had done so much already. It was imperative that we take a break, get some rest, refresh ourselves so that we could come back the next day to be as good as new. So, Hotch sent everyone to the hotel for the night.

When we got to the hotel, Hotch immediately sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked so tired. He seemed worn out and worried, which was only worrying me, which would only worry him, and the cycle would continue. It wasn’t healthy. The best way to sort this all out was to get him to just talk to me. He would be reluctant to do so, but I’d force it out of him eventually. Aaron Hotchner sucked at keeping secrets from me. He tried multiple times, and each time I found out, I got pissed. Now, this wasn’t necessarily a secret, but he was certainly bottling something up, and I just needed him to get it off his chest.

So, I strolled over to him and brushed my fingers through his hair. He sighed away his worries. I smiled lightly and kissed his head as I moved to straddle his lap, my knees squeezing his thighs. Hotch grabbed onto my ass to keep me steady. We took a moment to just sit calmly and in silence, giving him a chance to sort his thoughts out because we both knew that I would eventually ask him to tell me everything. I could spare some time to let him breathe. I could spare all the time in the world for him. If just holding me in his arms for a few minutes was all it took to let him catch his breath, then I was fine with that. I would always be fine with that.

I wiped my palms over his face, clearing away any stubborn wrinkles he had from thinking too hard. “You okay?”

“I’m really worried about this one, baby,” Hotch said as I kissed his forehead. “This case has always stuck with me. Why?”

“Because you don’t like letting the monsters roam free.”

He shook his head. “There’s something more than that. There’s something… off. It’s just under my nose, and I can’t figure out what it is. I wish I could. But I can’t. I’m worried that my inability to comprehend what’s wrong here is inevitably going to come back to bite me in the ass.”

“You can’t give into all of that fate bullshit, Aaron.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and went to the bathroom to start getting ready for the night.

“I’m just worried…” he muttered under his breath.

The phone started ringing while I was brushing my hair out. “Babe?!” I called out to him, almost like a plea for him to answer it because I couldn’t. I heard him stand from the bed and walk to the phone. It stopped ringing as he answered.

“Hotchner.”

I stepped to lean against the doorframe. Hotch’s side profile was facing me, giving me enough of him to look over in both a lustful and profiling way. I was admiring him and his tight muscles under his shirt. He looked so good like that. His biceps were flexing while holding the phone up to his ear, and it made me want him. But then I saw his pale face. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, and my desire was quickly replaced by worry.

Hotch turned to face me. “You think I’d take that deal?” he asked into the phone. Deal? Deal as in the deal that The Reaper made with Shaunessy? Was that why Hotch looked pale? Did The Reaper call our hotel room? “I don’t care if it’s a good deal.” He was silent again for a bit. “I’ve misjudged you,” he said as his demeanor changed. He was using the profile we built on The Reaper to take the upper hand in this case. Good. “I thought you were smarter than this.” Silence again. “Then you’ve misjudged me.” Hotch’s eyes shot wide and he looked at me suddenly. I pushed off the doorframe and cautiously approached him. His eyes seemed to flutter shut in peace when I put my hands on his shoulders to calm him down. “I don’t make deals. You can threaten me and them all you want, but I’m not going to stop. I’m the guy who hunts guys like you. Threatening them only makes my urge to track you down stronger.” Hotch turned out of my touch so that he could slam the phone down to hang up.

“Was that The Reaper?” I inquired, even though I already knew the answer. Hotch grabbed my hips and pulled me close. He nodded shortly. “He threatened you?”

“And you.”

“Of course, he did,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “But you didn’t take his deal?”

“I told you I wouldn’t.” He draped his arms over my shoulders, keeping me close in a tight hug. “You still believe that my messes are your messes?”

“They always are and always will be.”

The phone started ringing again, making Hotch and I both jump. As we settled, we both chuckled lightly. It was just a phone call. It couldn’t hurt us. So, Hotch leaned over to answer the phone again, and I held onto his elbows, refusing to let go, especially after what just happened. Hotch was protective, everyone knew that, but when someone threatened him, I felt the need to protect him, too. It came with the territory of loving someone like him in our field of work. After the call The Reaper just made to our hotel room, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let anything happen to Hotch. I didn’t care about what could happen to me. I only cared about protecting him.

“Hotchner.” He turned back to face me while talking on the phone, so I buried my face in his chest, running my fingers over his abs through his shirt. He tensed. “Thanks for letting me know.” His tension wasn’t in response to my light, tickling touch, but to whatever happened on that call. He hung up just as quickly as he had answered. “There’s a new crime scene.”

“It’s only been a few minutes—”

“He knew I was going to turn him down. He was waiting.”

“Aaron, before we go, you need to know that it’s not your fault. If he was really waiting on you, then he was just looking for an excuse to kill someone—”

He pushed me off his chest and went to grab his suit jacket. I watched him silently. When he went to the bathroom to gel his hair back, I sucked in a deep breath, trying to collect my security. He pushed me off because he was upset at the case, not at me. I had to remember that.

“It’s not your fault,” I insisted again as he hurried for the hotel room door. He didn’t listen to me. He started walking down the hallway, knocking on the team’s doors when he passed them. “Aaron, please!” I skipped a few steps to catch up to him. “We knew this would happen!”

Hotch stopped and turned on his heels abruptly, making me crash into him. “He killed seven people on a bus, Y/N!”

I stumbled back. I stared at him in shock for a moment before letting him go on his own. The doors behind me opened. After a moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to see that it was Reid who had come to check on me. My eyes softened.

“We have a new crime scene. Tell the others.” I shrugged out of his touch gently before walking off, too.

At the crime scene, Hotch was already on the bus, looking around at the chaos The Reaper created. The team, since we had only just arrived, filed onto the bus to get a look, too. As I stepped on, Hotch immediately pushed past me. I scoffed. Then, I tried to make a move to follow him.

“Stay here, kiddo,” Rossi warned, holding up a hand. My shoulders fell in defeat. I stepped out of the way so that Rossi could chase after Hotch instead of me. “It’ll be okay,” he said while passing me.

I sighed and shuffled through the rows of seats, counting the bodies. Yep. There were seven people. The driver up front… He was wearing Amanda’s engagement ring. That was the first thing I noticed. George Foyet begged us to not let The Reaper ruin that good memory for him, and we broke that promise— I broke that promise. How was I supposed to tell him the truth? How were we supposed to give notifications of death to seven different families?

A tear slid down my cheek.

We knew that this would happen. Hotch had been saying since the very beginning that The Reaper would inevitably attempt to make a deal with him, and he would turn it down. But we hadn’t anticipated that the repercussions would happen so fast. There was no time to warn the team, the Boston Police, or even the city. We could’ve saved lives if the deal had come at any other time. That was why Hotch blamed himself. He felt like these seven deaths were on his hands because he wouldn’t make a deal with the Devil. And, honestly, he had every reason to believe that, especially with the note drawn in blood on the window that read: “NO DEAL”.

Besides the “NO DEAL” message, there were three sets of numbers painted onto the windows, too. “1439”, “201”, and “1488”. I cocked a brow. Those numbers… They looked so familiar. I had no idea why, but they were ringing some bell in my head that I couldn’t understand. So, I asked Reid if he recognized them. He shrugged and shook his head. Well, if boy genius couldn’t put it together, then we were fucked.

And then it dawned on me.

“Holy shit…” I raced out of the bus, pushing past Emily inconsiderably, then hurrying onto the road. I stopped for a moment to look around for Hotch. When I spotted him and Rossi talking to O’Mara, I ran over. “Hotch!” He turned to me with panicked eyes. “The numbers—” I pointed to the bus, “They’re Foyet’s address numbers. He knows where Foyet lives!”

“This bus is the 7 line,” O’Mara said, “it runs right by that first address, 1439 Yarbrough.” He was already running to jump into his car.

“Foyet’s in trouble,” I said to Hotch.

Hotch scratched his five o’clock shadow. “We’ll split up and cover each of the addresses. Y/N, go with Morgan to 1439, Emily and Reid will go to 201, and Rossi and I will head to 1488.”

“Morgan!” I called out as I turned around. He looked up at me through the bloody windows of the bus. When I gestured to one of the cars, he nodded, then raced out to meet me there. “Drive,” I told him, tossing the keys in his direction.

As he started the car up, I opened the trunk just wide enough to get ahold of two of the blue bullet proof vests, then slammed it shut and hurried to jump into the passenger’s seat. Morgan started up the lights and sirens. We were off before anyone else. I started putting on my vest while we drove, just to save time. When we would get there, we would have to wait a moment for Morgan to strap his on, but this way we were a little bit ahead of schedule.

The second we were parked in front of the house that Hotch and I met George Foyet at, I tossed him his vest, then got out of the car. I unholstered my weapon. As I glanced around the street, I saw O’Mara’s car parked just a few houses down. When Morgan was ready, he unholstered his gun, too, and turned on the flashlight he had attached to his. Fucking hell, I needed to upgrade mine like that. Maybe I could beg him to do it for me for my birthday or something.

We ran up to the front door, but I held him back when I saw that it was open. O’Mara must’ve already gone inside without back up. Idiot. That being said, we still had to clear the house ourselves, just in case. The best way to do that was to take a floor each. Morgan and I agreed that he would check the ground floor, meanwhile I’d race upstairs to clear the upper floor.

“Don’t shoot O’Mara,” I whispered.

Morgan rolled his eyes, then pushed the door open. As he ran into the pitch-dark living room, I skipped up the twelve steps of the stairwell. At the top, I took notice of how many rooms there were to clear. Three. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a spare room. I held my breath as I turned into the spare room. There was absolutely nothing in there. Foyet probably didn’t choose that as his bedroom considering how close it was to the front door. I didn’t blame him. So, I moved onto the bathroom. Nothing and no one.

I froze as I turned into the bedroom. Detective O’Mara’s body was on the floor, his shirt drenched in his own blood from being stabbed dozens of times in the back. His gun was nowhere to be found. My breath quivered as I quickly stepped into the room, clearing the corners before someone could jump me, then checking the closet and the bathroom to make sure no one could get me like they did with O’Mara. There was no one there, though. I was all alone. Well, alone with O’Mara’s dead body, but still. The concern was that there was no sign of Foyet, no sign of The Reaper, and there was a dead cop on the floor.

Suddenly, the sound of a window breaking echoed throughout the house. “Morgan!” I cried out. I jumped onto my toes and started racing back downstairs. “Morgan!” I called again when he wasn’t responding. I ran into the living room to see the front window completely smashed open like someone had been thrown through it. I heard painful groaning coming from the front yard. “Morgan!” I peeked out the open window frame with my gun raised. “Morgan, no—” I saw him lying on his back in the grass. He was half awake, barely writhing around, still groaning in agony. I jumped out the window and fell to my knees beside him. I grabbed his face long enough to see that his eyes were fluttering open. “Morgan, where is he?” He didn’t respond. “Is he still here?”

“No…” he croaked weakly.

“Where did he go?”

Morgan didn’t respond again. I figured that he only had enough strength to warn me that The Reaper was gone, and that was all. He did good, though. It meant that I could call in for help while staying with him instead of going back into the house to keep searching for an Unsub who was long gone.

I pressed the comm on my shoulder. “Morgan’s down! We need back up. O’Mara’s dead, Foyet’s gone, and The Reaper left after attacking Morgan!” I put my hands back on Morgan. “Look at me, Derek. Keep your eyes open.”

He groaned and tried to hand something to me. “Take—” He couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, but I caught the hint, quickly taking what it was that he was holding onto.

My face fell. “Morgan…” I turned the bullet over in my palm. “I…” A tear slid down my cheek. He always took something from his victims and gave something from the last one. What I didn’t understand was why he didn’t leave something from one of the last victims. Why this bullet?

“Cred—” He groaned and patted his pocket. “My… Creds…”

I frantically looked into his pocket, ignoring how weird it would’ve been if it were anyone but my partner. I was shocked to find that his credentials weren’t in his pocket, though, which was probably what he was trying to tell me in the first place. The Reaper left a bullet, but took Morgan’s FBI credentials—the thing that identified him as an agent. The thing that represented how far he had come since Buford. How did The Reaper know to take that one thing?

I pressed my palms against his cheeks. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Foyet…”

I shook my head. “I don’t know where he is.”

“No—” He gasped for air. “The kitchen… Blood…”

“Is Foyet dead?”

“I don’t know.”

He gasped again, this time more deeply as he caught his breath. He was already sounding better, but he wasn’t looking better, which was a concern. I knew that he was going to shrug this off. The minute he could sit up, he was going to insist that he was alright, and he would want to get right back into the case and the field. Over my dead body… For a lack of a better term.

Sirens started approaching from the distance. I sighed with relief, but I never stopped holding him. I shouldn’t have split up from him. We learned this lesson years ago when Hankle took Reid because he split apart from JJ. Every time we split up, something bad happened, and I should’ve known that this time would be no different. We could’ve cleared the house together. It wouldn’t have been that hard. Sure, it would have taken longer, but at least he wouldn’t have been attacked by The Reaper.

The lights of the ambulances started flashing through the street. I waved one of my arms in the air, signaling that we were still on the lawn outside Foyet’s house. They pulled up in front of the house and the paramedics jumped out. I stepped back. As they started attending to Morgan, I saw one of the team’s cars pull up, too. I prayed it was Hotch. When I saw that it was a worried Emily and Rossi getting out of the car, I felt my heart sink a bit.

Emily ran straight over to me while Rossi went inside to start dealing with the crime scene. “What happened?” she asked me.

I looked back at Morgan, who was now sitting upright. “We split up to clear the house. I found O’Mara’s body in the bedroom upstairs when I heard a fight break out in the living room. By the time I got downstairs, The Reaper was gone and Morgan was barely conscious.”

“Where’s Foyet?”

“I don’t know. Morgan checked downstairs, and he started to tell me that there was a lot of blood in the kitchen, but no sign of Foyet.”

“The Reaper could have taken him.”

“Maybe? But, then, why wait around for us to show up?”

“For the thrill kill? He thought that he could kill Morgan, which would up his game from civilians, but then you came downstairs, so he had to run.”

I watched as Morgan was lifted off the ground by the paramedics and taken inside so that they could start giving him stitches. Emily and I followed them, but I stayed out on the porch to catch my breath. I could have lost Morgan. I left him, and I could have lost him. How was I supposed to live with that? I should’ve been there. This wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t split ourselves up.

“Y/N—” Hotch called desperately, running up the front yard to meet me on the steps. I turned away from the doorway just in time to catch Hotch in a tight embrace. I hadn’t anticipated that he would do such a thing while we were at work and the team was around, but, honestly, I was glad that he did because after what happened, I really needed it. “Are you alright?” he whispered into my ear while squeezing me until I practically couldn’t breathe.”

“Yeah,” I answered through a strangled breath.

Hotch released me entirely. I caught my breath slightly before looking up to see that he was pale with worry again, but this time his eyes were red. “I shouldn’t have split us all up.”

“Hotch, you didn’t know—”

“He threatened you, Y/N. I shouldn’t have let you—”

“We’re doing our jobs. This isn’t the first time an Unsub has made it personal, and it won’t be the last. I need you to calm down for me, Aaron. Please.”

“Is Morgan alright?” he croaked.

I stopped. He was… He was trying not to cry. Aaron Hotchner— SSA Aaron Christopher Hotchner… was trying not to cry during a case. He never showed emotion while we were on the job. Ever. Yeah, okay, maybe he would get annoyed or upset by something, but he tried to hide it until we were at least alone or something. I didn’t understand why this was really getting to him. There were hundreds of other cases where something went wrong, something didn’t go according to his plan— and, of course, he was upset, but never like this. He didn’t break down in front of people like this. Why? Why now? Why this case?

Brushing his hair off his face always seemed to calm him down, so I started with that. As the paramedics that had been attending to Morgan’s wounds exited the house, I cupped Hotch’s cheek, letting him press tenderly into my palm. “He’s okay. We’re okay.”

“I shouldn’t have let you guys come here on your own.”

I ran my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp smoothly. “Please, don’t blame yourself. He needs you to hold it together just for a little longer—we all need it.” I didn’t want to tell him to hide his emotions. I knew that it wasn’t healthy to keep it all bottled up. But if Morgan saw how worried Hotch was about him, Morgan would fly off the rails. “The Reaper took Morgan’s credentials.”

Hotch’s eyes widened. “What did he leave?”

“A bullet.”

“To tell Morgan that he could have killed him… He owes his life to The Reaper.” He turned and punched the wood column standing at the edge of the porch. He whimpered quietly at the pain. “Fuck.”

I grabbed his hand, immediately tending to his bloody knuckles. “I’ll get you some ice. Go inside.”

Hotch kissed my temple as he passed by me. When he was out of sight, I hid my face in my palms, trying to choke back the sob that was building in my chest. How did all of this go so wrong? From the deal, to the bus, to Morgan getting attacked by The Reaper? It was wearing me down. I was exhausted physically and mentally. If I didn’t get to rest soon, I feared I was actually going to tear my own hair out.

As I suspected, Morgan insisted on not being benched once we got back to the precinct. Hell, he didn’t even let the paramedics take him to the hospital. The worst part, however, was that I was too tired to fight him on it, and he knew that. He knew that I couldn’t make him sit out of this, and he used that against me. I was pissed for a bit. I’d be the first to admit that I was glaring at Morgan as we got coffee together in the break room, then went to sit down with the team in the boardroom to revisit our profile. But then I realized something. I was only mad because I was worried about him. I was frustrated that he wasn’t taking care of himself and that I couldn’t do anything to help him. That was when my focus changed to Hotch. He had taken his anger out on me earlier, after the deal was made, because he was just worried about me. I couldn’t blame him for that now that I felt the same way about Morgan.

Hotch held the new ice pack I got him from the freezer in the breakroom against his swollen fist as he asked the team, “Why is he so focused on Foyet? What’s so special about him?”

There was an obvious answer, but I was going to let it slide considering how tired we all were. The truth was, The Reaper was obsessed with Foyet because he was the only one that got away. He was his last victim before making the deal with Shaunessy. But those answers weren’t good enough for Hotch. Something was still bugging him, therefore, he wanted us to dig deeper.

“What about Amanda Bertrand?” JJ asked. “Foyet’s girlfriend.”

“He told us that she was the love of his life, that he was going to propose the night she was murdered. He looked… distraught… It seemed real,” I answered, staring at Hotch. I wouldn’t know how to react either if I lost Hotch. Even years later, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to move on from something like that.

Morgan furrowed his brows and looked into his notes. “But, she just got here from Michigan.”

“What?”

“How long had she been here?” Hotch inquired.

“Four weeks,” Prentiss answered.

My jaw fell agape. To be fair, I supposed I couldn’t blame them. Hotch and I started going out about a month into my promotion at the BAU. It was possible that George Foyet and Amanda Bertrand fell in love at first sight. Who was I to judge? JJ…

“Wait, didn’t our profile say that he’s a Hebephile?” JJ asked. “He was a teacher’s assistant back then. He worked with Amanda’s class— That’s how they met.”

“Oh, my…” I trailed off when the realization hit me like a train.

We trusted him. We were invited into his home, and we were convinced by the tears he shed for Amanda. I was blinded by his illness and the love it seemed he still had for her. I—I should’ve… I should’ve seen it sooner. If I had, O’Mara would still be alive, and Morgan wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Even the suspicious things he said, like, “Do you know how long it takes to stab someone thirty-two times?” He played me with the empathy card. He made me pity him. Somehow, he knew that it would get under my skin by pressing the love button over and over again. I felt so fucking stupid.

“Colson went to see Foyet,” Hotch said after a moment of shock. “George Foyet is The Reaper—Someone call Garcia and tell her to get a trace on Roy Colson’s phone.” He leapt out of his seat, throwing the ice pack to the side, and hurried to get his vest back on. The rest of the team followed suit while JJ called Garcia.

By the time we had our vests on, Garcia had already sent us the location of Colson, and likely Foyet, too. On our way to the car, I apologized to Hotch for not seeing it sooner. He told me that it wasn’t my fault, the same way the bus massacre wasn’t his fault. I shook my head in denial. We got into the car with Morgan and Rossi.

“My thing has always been profiling people and scenes with a glance. I’ve always done that. I should’ve done better. I shouldn’t have let my guard down because—”

“Y/N,” Hotch interrupted while speeding out of the parking lot, “no one ever saw it. Since ’98, no one put the pieces together. He stabbed his girlfriend, called the police a mile down the road, drove back, then stabbed himself thirty-two times. Of course, no one was going to suspect him. He played the victim and love card on us both, and we fell for it. This isn’t your fault. You have to believe me.”

I slumped in my seat. Defeat coursed through me. I didn’t know what else to do but sit in silence.

At the location Garcia gave us, Hotch and Emily turned off the sirens and lights on the cars so that we could approach quietly. As we silently stepped onto the pavement, Hotch gestured with two fingers that Rossi, Emily, and Reid should go around back, then I would go with him and Morgan to the front door. We needed to close off all possible exits. So, we waited for the other half of the team to canvass the backyards for possible escapes, but when we had the go ahead, we stormed up to the front door.

“We’re inside,” Rossi whispered into his comm.

“Go,” Hotch told Morgan.

Morgan nodded, then winced as he kicked the door open. We hurried into the living room to find Roy Colson sitting at a table with George Foyet, the latter holding a gun to Colson’s head. They both noticed us immediately. Colson’s relief was countered by Foyet’s furiousness that we had interrupted his plans.

“It’s over,” Hotch said, stepping in front of me and Morgan.

Foyet stood. “Stop there or I’ll kill him.” He cocked his gun.

“No, you won’t. You need him to write your story,” I said after noticing the computer open in front of Colson.

“Then, I’ll take him with me. I’ll let him go as soon as I’m safe.”

“No, you won’t,” Hotch said. “You’re going to kill him, regardless. But, here’s the secret, Foyet: you kill him, I kill you. Got it?”

Foyet snorted. “You think I’m afraid to die?” He gestured to his chest, referencing how he had stabbed himself for the sake of throwing us off his trail.

“I think you’re narcissistic and greedy. You’re only afraid to die if it means no one will remember you. If you do this now, no one will remember you. You’ll disappear. If you keep him alive, however, he’s going to write another book about you—this time naming you, making you more famous than you’ve ever been before. People will make movies and documentaries about you if you’re still around to tell your story. But if I kill you here and now, they might make one documentary about The Reaper, who was never found or heard from again, and then they’ll forget all about you. Is that what you want? Because I can make that happen.”

Foyet’s attention turned to Morgan. A slow grin grew on his face. “Well, hello there, again, Derek.”

“Don’t talk to him,” I snapped.

Foyet smiled at me before putting his gun down. “Fair enough, princess.”

Morgan immediately holstered his weapon, switching it out for his handcuffs. He hurried to pull Foyet’s arms behind his back, then cuffs his wrists together as tightly as he could, earning a groan and an ear to ear grin from Foyet.

“Where’s my badge, you son of a bitch?” Morgan asked angrily.

Foyet’s eyes were trained on me, though. He was staring straight into my soul, as if he could somehow see under my clothes, into my heart and brain, like he was drowning in the color of my eyes. It ran a chill down my spine. I tried looking away to ease my perturbation about it, but what he said next made me look back up at him.

“See, I get it now, Aaron,” Foyet snickered. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Morgan hissed before pushing Foyet forward.

“I’m going to be more famous than you even realize, Aaron Hotchner! Watch me!”

Roy and I let out shaky sighs at the same time once Morgan shoved Foyet out of the house. I turned to Hotch. He was fuming, I could tell. So much had happened, and he felt like all of it was his fault. It wasn’t of course. I was the one who pushed him to take the case, to bring the team along, to keep me close so that I could keep an eye on him. We just hadn’t anticipated this mess. We didn’t expect that Morgan would get hurt and that Foyet would creep me out on purpose. It was so odd to see him go from that shy, sick, broken hearted man to that confident, angry, sociopathic man that had just stared into my soul moments ago.

Hotch stared at me from across the room. His eyes searched mine, trying to replace the disgusting feel of Foyet’s stare with his loving, calming, dark chocolate gaze. I relaxed a bit. He pouted his eyes at me in a way that said: “I love you”, and I returned the favor.

On the jet, I sat with Hotch in the back where the two seats away from everyone else were. He had me sit next to the window so that he could hold my hand under the table. Morgan and Emily were talking on the couch, and Reid had his hand on JJ’s stomach, feeling the way her baby kicked. It creeped him out. Of course, Spencer Reid, Knower of All Things, would be creeped out by a baby kicking and hiccupping inside a mother’s stomach. He was so funny when he was naïve. But it was good that they were all distracted. The fact that they had their own things going on meant that they weren’t focused on us. That gave Hotch a chance to hold me.

At some point, after Rossi left the bathroom and took a seat across from JJ and Reid, I even rested my cheek against Hotch’s shoulder. We hadn’t slept in so long. We were so fucking tired. While we were obviously eager to get back to Jack, I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to have one night to ourselves where we could rest, then tomorrow, to distract Hotch, we could play with the black box before picking up Jack. It was a good plan. It sounded like a nice plan, honestly.

When JJ’s phone started ringing, it woke me up slightly. I lifted my head long enough to look up at Hotch to see that he had just woken up, too. I chuckled at him before poking his dimple. He was cute when he was sleeping. He was even cuter when his eyes were barely open, but he could still see me smiling, so he instinctively smiled back at me. We were going to be okay.

We looked over as JJ got off the phone. She swallowed hard and looked at each of us in silence. I felt my smile fall. She didn’t look well— not that something was wrong with her or the baby, but because whatever happened on that call made her heart sink. Everyone sat in silence, waiting for her to give them answers. If it were just another case, she would’ve told us, or if it were something wrong with reports, she would’ve told us. This was different. She looked petrified with fear.

“George Foyet escaped custody.”

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