#anyway im not going to dive into how long this piece took and if this doesnt do well ill just die i guess orz

[azuries]

❤️💙💜it aint no lie!❤️💙💜

#mike wheeler #max mayfield #platonic madwheeler #madwheeler #love projecting my bi-ness to chars i like. you should have expected thid #anyway im not going to dive into how long this piece took and if this doesnt do well ill just die i guess orz #jk i hope you guys like it as much as i enjoyed making it ^^ #stranger things #mike wheeler i know what you are #piano arts #st #the way i almost gave up on this piece but kept pushing through like... omg thats the first time in my decades of drawing that i pushed #im proud of myself #bi mike wheeler

[vivaladicamillo]

RYAN DUNN WITH A GOTH AND METALHEAD GN READER

heyy yalll im backkk, took a little break for a bit but IM BACK BABYYYY, ive been getting into goth culture a lot as of recent and have been changing my style to fit around it more so this is js a silly little thing to fuel my brain ☺️☺️ enjoyyy

WARNINGS: none

—————————————

GOTH

ok so really i think ryan would LOVEE a goth s/o

but it depends on the era of him

if we r talking BEGINNING of cky days i feel like he would be into it but NEVERRR let yk abt it

if we r taking 1999 ryan oh my god hed fall in love with u then and there

we all know back then he had a little thing for more hardcore women (COUGH COUGH YALL EVER SEEN GLOREN BRO, the leather jacket RYAN WE KNOW WHO U RR)

i feel like he would be curious about it

just with how intricate the style is

i feel like hed be into all the styles of goth ngl, hes js so curious on how it all works

the closet thing hes really seen of goth is bam fanboying over ville

soo not much to compare it too

i feel like he would ask so many questions

just like “where do u find clothes like that??” “how long does it take u to get ready?” js air headed questions

if u started dating him tho oh my god hes a sweetheart

anything halloween related that looks edgy in the slightest he will buy and say it reminded him of u

will help tie up corsets, clip on necklaces, and always have a spare pair of flat shoes on him just incase ur heels start to kill ur feet

obsessed with the make up, he thinks its so cool (and so hot)

oh bam is lowkey so jealous

especially if u are a fan of ville

ryan would try and color match his shirts to ur outfits

u wearing red? his shirt is gonna be red

purple? he has a purple button up somewhere

hes js so in love w u he doesnt care

will be the type of guy to run to the store last minute to get accessories for an outfit for u

also will buy u those overly expensive edgy ass heels from the store bc he know u will rock them

probably has tried on some of ur platformed shoes or heels and busted his ass

bam would probably be there dying laughing bc of it

or he would casually put on a hair piece or some necklaces and imitate you (he swears it out of love)

honestly would let u give him a gothic makeover, js dont show bam

he doesnt reallyy get whats going on but he loves it anyways bc he loves u

METALHEAD

oh he thinks ur so cool

depending on what metal genre u prefer he would listen to so many songs from it

i feel like he’d be a little intimidated at first bc mf thinks HIM and CKY is hardcore

he will buy patches for ur battle vest

love hearing u go on about the bands

WILL GO TO CONCERTS WITH U

warning tho hes gonna try and fucking stage dive into the mosh pit

hes gonna get his ass KICKED

loves ur accessories

the gauntlet cuffs, the bullet belts he thinks its so edgy and cool

hes a little scared of the corpse paint tho

hes seen bam do it but never fully going out with it

when he walks into the room and see u just with two massive black holes for eyes a white face and a frown drawn on it kinda scares him for a second

but he thinks its so cool after he realized

wants u to do it on him

literally if u do he will js be staring in the mirror of a good 20 lins is awe

will go to bar shows with u

cant fight for shit tho so if someone starts shit goodluck LMAOOO

lowkey would grow his hair out bc one of ur fav bands fav members has long hair

hes wayy more into this probably then the gothic vibe but tbh ryans such a sweetheart if he liked u, HE LOVEDDD u

—————————————-

hey yall so hope u enjoyed, ive been really into both these scenes recently and broo the goth metal style is my favvv, its hella cool. i need to start writing on here again lmk if i should do other cky/jackass members with different styles and genre loving readers!! byeeee :))

#jackass #cky crew #cky x reader #cky4 #cky2k #ryan dunn #ryan dunn fluff #ryan dunn x reader #rip ryan dunn we miss u ! #Spotify

[bkghq]

hi hi i saw your requests were open? i was wondering if i could request a scenario where reader remembers how bad she used to be treated in high school by her friends, and she comes across a report she made a long time ago to her teachers about her being bullied online for her looks and being called really vulgar names by boys, but now it’s made her indifferent to expressing emotion and she starts crying when she sees the report, so bakugou comforts her? maybe takes her out to eat? i’m so sorry if this is too much, i’m in my last year of highschool kinda sitting around the sidelines and I remembered how bad it used to be which ruined my whole day😭 have a good day/night :)

ᝰ INCLUDES ⋮ bakugo katsuki x fem! reader

— CONTENT WARNING ⋮ angst w fluff ending, bullying, past trauma, best boyfriend katsuki, use of the endearment 'pretty girl' twice (other than that its pretty much gn)

— BONUS ARYA ⋮ hello luv ! ! m so sry it took me superr long to get to ur request,,,, first n foremost i wna say that i love u so much n im always here for u,,, im so sry u had to go thru something like this, i hope this piece can make ur day a bit better ! ! also my inbox is always open if u wna talk <3

ever since you were three you’ve felt as if you were a fighter, a fighter fighting through the rough reality of being quirkless. it was not only hard mentally but also affected your school life gravelly. from being being bullied to being called vulgar words. you were from the very start a prey for this world full of predators.

however, life seemed to get better when you met your boyfriend pro hero dynamight. even though you were a quirkless nobody as per you, bakugo knew you were special. and at times he didn’t understand how someone as sweet, loving and caring as you could feel as if they were a nobody.

you’re everything and more he could’ve asked in a partner, and listening to things you went through, through-out your school life made him sick. because he knows he made someone else make the same way as people made you feel.

thinking about how he was once the predator preying on someone who he thought was a quirkless nobody.

he has changed though, bakugo katsuki is a changed man and he proves it to you on every occasion he can that he is no more a predator, he is now an alibi to protect people like you, who are bullied for something they can’t control.

and he succeeded in it. you had no longer thoughts about people who bullied you, it was a chapter in life that you had shut closed and you were finally happy in life, so so happy.

however, everyday is an up and down.

one evening while you’re boyfriend was showering you stupidly enough decided to go through some old stuff of yours. and thats when you found it, a hardcopy of the report you’d once written to your homeroom teacher in 11th grade when things had gotten really really bad for you.

your curiosity got the best of you, and even though the small voice in the back of your head begged you— it begged you to not read it, not read through the trauma you’ve faced, something you always wanted to shut down and never open again, you did it anyways.

you skimmed over the format diving straight to the main matter of the report.

i’m writing this letter to you to bring a very important issue to your attention and i’m hoping you can help me. i’m a student in your grade, along with 20 other students. as you may already know i’m quirkless and that has taken a toll on my mental health ever since i was big enough to realise what being quirkless meant. however, i’ve been continuously bullied and harassed by my fellow students. being called stuff like ‘useless’, ’stupid’, quirkless idiot’ and many other words which are extremely harsh. on many occasions my fellow classmates have told me to take my own life because im so ‘useless’.

recently my house address has been leaked by someone and i have experienced my fellow batchmates throwing stones at my window. i feel highly unsafe. it was bearable when it was just verbal abuse but now it’s getting out of hands and i’m quite literally scared for my life—

you clutched the piece of paper tightly, not wanted to read anymore. it was so painful reliving those times. it felt as if you were stuck again, stuck in the constant loop of being bullied and tortured. continuously being told to end your life. 

thinking about it all restricted your breathe, it coming out in pants as tears flowed through your eyes freely.

it hurted so bad, your heart felt so fucking heavy, all these things all this trauma that you, as a 16 year old faced has affected you even when you're a grown up.

opening upto people, talking about your feeling, all of this has made it so hard for you. how indifferent you are just because you didn't have a quirk.

“babe have you seen-“ bakugo said as he came out of the shower with only his sweatpants on, though he stopped mid- sentence when he found you on the edge of bed clutching a paper in your hand and crying.

without wasting another second bakugo rushed to your side, sitting infront of you on the floor on his knees, taking the piece of paper from your hand and placing your small hands in his huge calloused ones.

“wha’s wrong pretty girl?” he asked rubbing his thumb on your palms as worry laced his feature.

sniffling you said, “’s nothin’ Important ‘suki, ’s jus’ my old report i wrote to my homeroom teacher.” bakugo’s hand moved to your face wiping away your tears

“what report sweet girl?” he asked, while his one hand stroked your cheek and the other held your hand.

you looked down, a fresh set of tears forming in your eyes, your lower lip wobbled as you sighed,”’s from back when the bullying….” you looked up at the ceiling still not meeting your boyfriend’s worried gaze,”……’s from back when the bullying got really bad, ’n i know ’s stupid cryin’ over it now but—“

bakugo stood up in a heartbeat and engulfed you in a hug, “’s not stupid baby, don’ beat yourself up, your feelin’s are valid.” he pulled back holding your face in his hands, his thumb stroking your cheek bones, “gosh i hate those fuckers, wish i coulda beat the shit outta each ’n every one of them.” he angrily said, though a softer tone still visible in his voice.

a choked chuckle left your mouth at his words, soon followed by another sniffle,”’s alright i’ve got you now.” you smiled at him hugging his waist and snuggling your neck in his broad chest.

“you w’na go out pretty girl? jus’ you ’n me out on a date? we can go wherever you want?” he whispered in your ear as he hugged you tightly letting you embrace him. bakugo placed a chaste kiss on the top of your head waiting for your answer.

“……even to the cafe you don’t like because there are so many cheesy couples?” you asked face still buried in his chest as you enjoyed the warmth that his body radiated.

“yeah, even that shitty cafe you like so much.” he grumbled, but he knew— he knew that he was more than to take you to that shit ass cafe with the cheesiest couples if it meant that you’d be happy and smiling again.

“yeah, yeah i’d love to go with you ‘suki.” you replied pulling away the slightest so you can look into his beautiful crimson eyes that brought you so much warmth.

bakugo nodded his head and gave you the softest smile, a smile only and only for you. 

THNX 4 READING <3 RBS + COMMENTS APPRECIATED ໒꒰ྀི ⁰́꒳⁰̀ ꒱ྀི১

#not beta read i'll do that in da mrng #idk if i like this tho is it too rushed? #bakugo katsuki angst #bakugo katsuki fluff #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou drabble #mha imagine #bakugou angst #bakugo x you #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x gender neutral reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katuski #mha fanfiction #bakugo smut

[fredrickzoller]

How do you think they started hooking up? Due to Dieter internalised homophobia, I doubt he would makes moves towards a man who much more powerful than him in terms of career and rank. Maybe you wrote a story and I just didn’t read. Also I hope you aren’t tired of my questions, im on my “obsessed obsessed obsessed” phase of shipping rn loool

No, I love your questions, anon! I love getting to think about them all over again and I love hearing peoples' takes on them as well.

It took me a while because I can't really go into this without delving into the territory of non-con, and i have to be in the right headspace to like, dive into this. So, yeah, behind the cut because talk of non-con/sexual assault.

(Also, as a note, this is a very abridged version of everything because again I hope to expand upon it more in upcoming fics)

So in the timeline I have for Landstrom, they start hooking up in 1934 (as per "Tease Rough") shortly before the Night of the Long Knives. For those unfamiliar with the event, uh, quick and dirty is that basically Hitler wanted to purge anyone from his ranks he felt was undermining/against him/not conducive to his "vision" for Germany and that included his main homie, Ernst Roehm, who was as "out" as a gay man could be in 1930s Germany. (Like, secret-but-not-a-secret, you feel me?)

So like the point of this is, before Roehm was murdered, homosexuality within the SA and the SS was way more… I mean not "accepted" per se but it was just like, a blind eye was turned to it. Only after Roehm's death and Himmler taking over (the SA was dissolved and what was left was absorbed into the SS) did they start really cracking down on homosexuality within the organization, and then of course persecute citizens who "practiced" it.

In my hcs for Dieter, he joins the SS at a young age (18/19, so around its inception, which would make sense if he's already at major at 34) and at first he's thinking like, okay, discipline and purpose will help rid me whatever the fuck I got going on but then it's like oh. Wait. I can maybe find an advantage here.

For all his internalized homophobia, I think he is also quite audacious (as witnessed in how he interacts with Hugo and Archie, and he seems a bit flippant even with Goebbels, which is… lol probably not wise), and he knows he's attractive in a boyish way. So, yeah he doesn't necessarily proposition officers but he makes it very clear that he's available in exchange for however they might be able to assist him. He's young and reckless and arrogant. He does not think he will be caught or subject to punishment so long as he proves and ingratiates himself, in which case he will have protection (but you know, he's also not above selling people out if need be. I haven't a particular instance in mind but I can ABSOLUTELY imagine he'd play the victim if he were suspected of any of this, because of course he would. His whole life is about playing the victim wah poor me.)

But there's more to it - to him actively seeking out partners (including Hans).

And this is where the non-con/assault comes in. But my hc for him is that he's a victim of rape, his first "boyfriend" when he's 14 and his bf is 17 - and him putting himself out there to sleep with other superior officers to get ahead is yes, exactly what it says on the tin (getting ahead, whoring his way up the ranks) but also self-inflicted punishment, what he feels is deserved for what he "let" happen, and for this behavior he's letting rule him, unchecked. He does not like bottoming but he does it, accepts it, because he feels it's deserved - for this thing he doesn't really want to do (or, shouldn't want to do) but is doing anyway, this is his punishment. It's some fucked up shit that never really gets resolved (of course) and that Hans only sort of? pieces together because he only finds out certain details (about the boyfriend/the rape trauma etc).

As for who starts it, it's addressed in the 2nd chapter of "Preoccupied" that Dieter is the one to proposition Hans (very bluntly, might I add), and this is what draws Hans to him - just that he'd be so brazen about it. Of course, Dieter is a fucking moron and thinks that this means he has any sort of power over Hans, which we know is not true lmao. (Again, this is gone into, in Tease Rough, how Dieter thinks he's in charge and hasn't figured Hans out enough to realize it.)

Hans isn't the first man he tops with, but obviously Dieter is drawn to wanting to continue whatever the fuck they start, because he knows that will rarely, if ever, be an option. He doesn't have to relive the trauma each and every time, which, okay. Like good, I guess? In his mind, any way.

(Also, after Night of the Long Knives, Dieter definitely does not seek out other officers as partners, and lucky for him, many of the men he's been with [I say 'many' but I can't imagine it actually being more than a handful] he either does not see again or they are dealt with. Not all, but most.)

I just personally see Hans as being very turned on and intrigued by people who show that sort of audacity, because it's a nice challenge for him - very stimulating to try and figure out how to one-up them, in the end (tangentially, this is my hc for Hans and Bridget's tryst too, that he's drawn to her being able to keep up with him, banter-wise). I think Hans would be bored by someone who would just give in to his advances immediately, which I have him hinting at has been the case in the past with the few men he's hooked up with - that they submit to him quickly and he's just like yawwnnnn.

And part of the reason Dieter propositions him so confidentally is because he has a Source in re: to the fact that Hans enjoys being with other men.

And this Source will make an appearance in my next Landstrom fic. :)

#landa #hellstrom #ship: landstrom #cw rape #thank you anon!

[twogyuu]

one thing about me is that when i read smth i like i will review the fuck out of it.

Great use of body language and natural movement to build the scene, it doesn't feel robotic or staged.

The detailing of the memories, of all senses - tangerine sky did something to me because look... (the closest thing to a tangerine sky that i have taken, sunrise btw, and when i read it i immediately thought of this)

i like how you described her body reactions to his memories rather than her mind or emotions if it makes sense?

her timidness or I'd rather say anxiety making her feel scrunched up before meeting him, like that dread at the pit of your stomach when seeing someone you used to be so close with after a long period of time, the million thoughts running around not knowing what to expect...

great detailing in the scenery and setting, without stating, there's a seamless natural flow that lets you know what's going around her (the people, espresso machine) without listing the specific events.

NOW THEN FLOWERS - im a sucker for flower symbolism in literature and I've used it sooooooo many times, the bouquet in my head looks soooo pretty like omg

MY GREMLIN - it's him opening a door that was left ajar just a little bit, taking that first step back, it says soooooo much calling her by a nickname, like continuing the page right where they left

and it hurts herrrrr the way she's holding back and putting up a front, as if to ward him off, and yet he's so casual about it asking her to the brunch date

I LOVE THEM. AND I WANT THOSE FLOWERS.

lovely work holly, worth that distraction

(also not you assigning me the stethoscope emoji ahhhhhhh)

- with love and hugs, eboni 🖤

Eboni 🥺😭

You're gonna make me cry! No one has ever given me this much feedback on my writing - let alone all the praises too 😭 I'm really taken aback - and touched! 🥺 When you said "review" I was a little worried LoL. This was unexpected, but welcomed💙

I'm thrilled you really enjoyed all the description - growing up, I was taught to write like you're watching a movie, which is why I never really dive into fEeLinGs (that and I'm emotionally constipated); I'm so happy that came through. That's a GORGEOUS picture of the sunset btw 😍 I was picturing something like that, maybe a little more orange, just skimming across some glistening ocean - a little breeze brushing back Jeonghan's bangs- 😭😭😭😭

CAN YOU TELL A BITCH IS WHIPPED FOR A GREMLIN?

LOL I projected on OC - tbh, I don't like flowers either, but I looked into those two specifically because a while ago Jeonghan said those were his favorites 💀 the things I do for men who don't know I exist . . . I love that for you that you use that in your writing though 🥰💙

AnYwAyS aaagggh I don't really know where I'm going with all of this sjsjsbs! I'm honored you to took the time to review and analyze my work like this! Let alone, this was a rework of an old fake dating!au for Jeonghan I wrote a long time ago (but deleted it sksjsjs). . . It holds a special place in my heart cuz it was one of my first pieces even though it wasn't that good lol.

Seriously though!!! Made my day - thank you 🥺💙

P.S. if you want a different emoji you can definitely pick a different one!!!! 😆

#eboni 🩺 #sadkidwarexpert

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au doyoung late birthday post for mr. kim! i am never on time for these posts, apologies.  find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei

a sinking feeling has you rooted to the floor. staring at the lock of your front door as someone knocks politely over and over again.

“what are you doing?”

your mother’s voice gusts past you like a breeze, she leans over your frozen figure and turns the knob.

you step back to avoid being hit by the door and dread the light that washes over your mothers face

“doyoung! come in!”

he steps through and all you catch is a bit of side profile, hidden behind the gigantic plant he’s holding

“oh! that’s the orchid your mother was just up in a fit about? come here sweetie, place it on the kitchen table -”

his footsteps echo and you shrink a little, he didn’t even look at me. 

you’re thankful for your mothers insolent obsession with being a good host and trudge your way back to your room

doyoung is in your house. 

which is weird, the first time he was in your house - you knew, obviously, but he was uninvited. your mother didn’t welcome him through the door.

now - for the past month - after both his mother and yours had come to a unbreakable bond over their indoor houseplants 

doyoung has very much been a presence, an invited presence, a presence everyone but you seemed to be delighted about

“he’s such a nice boy, he’s spending his summers tutoring younger kids and i see him biking all around town.”

your mother gushes almost every time at dinner after doyoung leaves - delivering whatever ailing plant his mother has sent to yours to fix and play botanist with

you pick at your food

yeah, he’s a nice boy. that’s what makes this all so much worse.

now - you’re laying on your sheets with your hand on your stomach and staring up at the wall thinking very much the same thought.

he’s so nice, and so perfect, and everything anyone ever dreams of. why am i such an idiot for not wanting that?

you drum your fingers and again spiral back into the memory that keeps itself wedged between you and him like a piece of food that’s stuck so sternly between teeth, no pushing at it with your tongue helps.

summer starts in ten days, officially you know - by the university calendar. you’re supposed to be focusing on a final paper for some elective politics class you took, but you’re not. you’re staring at the back of doyoung’s neck. he sits in front of you for most lectures.

“hey, do you know anything about this military-first politics and nuclear armament essay prompt the professor gave us?”

doyoung turns slowly, blinking at you from behind his thin-wired classes, “yeah - it’s been the topic of discussion and reading for like a week.”

you know you sound kind of stupid to even ask - but you will admit, politics isn’t your thing and it seems to really be doyoungs - so you smile, with a please pity me kind of look in your eye. doyoung sighs, but he gets up and slides into the seat beside you - opening up the half blank word document on your laptop.

that’s it. that’s all it was going to be. doyoung helping you skid by, so that your summer isn’t ruined by a shitty grade. 

but that’s not what happens. at all. 

doyoung instead spends a lot of time helping you write a good enough paper to pull through a B-. 

that means a lot of alone time in the library, in study hall, in the empty halls of the school buildings where classes have ended and no one is around.

it’s a lot of being shoulder to shoulder with him, realizing how nice he always smells - how long his fingers are when they type - how he doesn’t have a significant other because no one except his friends ever end up interrupting you.

it’s the day after you get your grades for the semester, something about getting the paper back sparks a fire in you

you scope doyoung out at the coffeeshop and exclaim that you and him did it!

a couple of heads whip around, did it?, you quickly add some mumbling about the paper.

doyoung laughs, it’s the first time you’ve heard the genuine sound, because most of the time he just makes a half-sided smirk or chuckle.

you buy him an iced latte as repayment and somehow end up walking out of there with side by side.

doyoung asks if you live near by if you don’t dorm, you say you do. he does too. that’s weird - you’ve never seen him around the neighborhood.

after that you pretend it’s a blur. because truth be told it isn’t.

you and doyoung are going to be taking the same train anyway, why not take it together. you and doyoung are going to know the same little places around town, why not talk about them.

why not? why not? why not? 

why not invite him inside when you’re back in your hometown, why not lead him up to your room just so he can see it and why not kiss him when he leans over you.

people your age do it all the time, they hookup. that’s the only answer to that stupid hanging ‘why not?’

so when you felt doyoung’s fingers graze down your side and he’d clumsily gotten his glasses off just in time for you to pull his shirt up over his head 

you were convinced it meant nothing. you were convinced he thought the same.

then it all happens and you can’t take it back. 

especially not the part where you’re laying on your bed, just like you are now, waiting for doyoung to start gathering his things and instead a hand loops around your sweaty waist.

“aren’t you going to leave?”

the words blurt out of your mouth before you even think about it. 

the tension that stalled in the room had been so horrible you swore you’d felt it seep into every pore, damn near trickling itself down the walls.

doyoung had darkened, pulled himself away from you, and disappeared before you could string together your next thought.

part of you had been relieved, the other part felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.

you were just grateful the rest of the summer could easily be passed by keeping away from each other - until your mother had found her new best friend.

downstairs you can hear doyoung shuffling around with your mothers plants, you can’t make out what they’re saying, but you’re sure your mother is inviting him to stay and eat with you. asking doyoung about his amazing future plans to become a lawyer. enthralled by everything he is as a child and that you, most likely, are not.

when he finally leaves and the commotions die down you can’t get up

this is the most confusing moment. 

not the whole ignoring each other when he pops over, not the whole reliving the past from just a glimpse. 

it’s why - when it happened, you had been so content with it just staying nothing - you had been the one to make that decision for the both of you

yet

why does it seem like you’re wallowing in it, clinging to it, imaging it all over

every time he comes over

because you didn’t just want a hook-up. you wanted doyoung and were playing it off because having a crush on him isn’t worth it right?

your mind coils itself through a storm

you thought he only wanted to sleep with you too, because the thought of someone as good as doyoung liking you just doesn’t make sense?

despite the summer heat, you feel cold

you’re not good enough to actually be liked, to be the person doyoung chooses for something more than just your-

your phone rings and you sit up so fast it gives you a headache, you feel around and bring it to your ear without checking the number

“hello?”

“our mothers are trying to set us up on a date.”

you want to be anywhere in the world, but here. 

doyoung’s blank expression doesn’t let you know if he feels the same, but the way he won’t get in at least eight feet of you is telling enough.

you’re in his backyard, well technically you’re in his neighbors backyard, because he doesn’t want to be visible behind the hedges

rather be caught dead than be next to me, right? 

you shrill at yourself and try to bury the wince you make internally

“i think you should just tell them you have another boyfriend.”

“i can’t lie to my mother.”

you start and doyoung watches you chew on your lower lip and retreat defensively a step back

“why not?”

“she’s noisy - she’ll find out. she’ll insist until i die to meet this ‘other boyfriend’. plus i’m not a good liar.”

“really? could have fooled me.”

doyoung straightens himself as he says that, eyes unblinking behind the frames of his glasses

i probably deserve that. well actually-

“doyoung, i never promised you anything when we-”

the words wilt and doyoung suddenly looks over his shoulder.

“you’re right, you never promised me anything. im the one who was a fool for ever thinking it was something.”

you look at the grass. 

you wonder, if you had not said that one sentence - aren’t you going to leave - would this summer be different?

would you and doyoung be spending every second together, holding each other at the beach? kissing under the fireworks? sharing ice-cream and diving into pools filled of water and your laughter?

the thought blooms something in your chest

i wish - i wish it was that.

“you say i should lie, but you’re pretty good at it too doyoung.”

“excuse me?”

“it’s not like you - it’s not like you really wanted it to be anything more than it was.”

you think the grass is going to burst into flames with how hard you’re concentrating on it.

“what, you’re telling me-” you swallow “you’re telling me you actually wanted to be with me after? our mothers are trying to get us to go on a date and you called me out here just to avoid that.”

he leans forward

“if you are trying to make me the only guilty party here-”

he’s closer and you feel your voice shake a little, but you try to push to the end of your thought.

“im not, you never made any effort to make it seem like you had any genuine emotion so am i so wrong for just assuming it was just se-”

his hands, large and gentle, manage to find your shoulders and doyoung presses his lips to yours 

you stiffen from the external shock, but then relax under the light grip

his breath smells sweet, like he’s been chewing bubblegum, he’s wearing the same cologne he does at university

“i don’t just sleep with people.” 

he whispers against your mouth

“nothing against it, but i don’t think there’s a point to sharing something intimate with someone who i don’t want in every possible way.”

when you and doyoung agree to go on a date - both your mothers lose it. they’re convinced you’re soulmates.

although you and doyoung both agree they’re thinking way too far ahead in the future - it doesn’t mask the fact that the attraction that ends up forming between you two is undeniable

doyoung is so determined and intently goal orientated that you would think there isn’t the capacity to have fun in one bone in his body, but that’s not true

when he’s comfortable, he’s charming and full of humor - he makes you double over with laughter more than you could have imagined

and you aren’t as spacey and shy as doyoung might have assumed either, you have a competitive streak and you make doyoung feel like this is the summer of his life

the summer of his life that someone could probably make a decent coming of age film out of

he brings it up after you two exit a movie that was just about the same topic and you look down at your hands intertwined and shake your head

“no they’d never cast the right people to play us.”

doyoung sees the reflection of the milky way in your eyes, but he doesn’t say it

“no one on this planet is like you.”

he returns this sentiment with a small kiss that bumps this glasses against the bridge of your nose.

you get nervous sometimes when you think about how the summer started, it’s not like you’re living in the middle ages where intimacy is a sin before eternal commitment or anything

no you just get nervous because the reason you ever even made that situation as bad as it was, was because of your insecurity

does doyoung actually like me? did two weeks of being together at school make him realize something about me is worth it?

you can’t ask him that - even though sometimes you want to, so you can explain why you hadn’t just rolled over and nuzzled yourself into the dip of his chest

much like you do now - you fit so perfectly right between his arms

instead it sometimes gnaws at you until doyoung is cleaning his glasses over your sink and you’re sitting in the bathtub looking at him

your parents are ironically over at doyoungs for some wine party or whatever and although your mothers are in awe about you two being “a cute lil couple” 

they see that - cute, part of it makes you snort. you and doyoung sometimes act more mature than they do.

“i always knew you were staring at me in lecture.” he starts and a little smirk pulls at his long lips

you flick some of the water at him and he leans against the counter

he doesn’t like baths, he prefers showers, but he still stays in the room with you when you take them 

“i wasn’t staring at you.”

“you were staring at the back of my neck.”

you look away because fair, not like he spends a lot of time looking away from the professor.

“so i knew you liked me, or something about me. that’s why it hurt.”

“when we-”

“yes and i like being logical, so not having a real answer for why that all happened like it did still haunts me.”

he tilts his head and you see the line of his thin collarbones through his shirt

“i thought you’d say it first.”

he blinks

“i thought you’d say something like, that was cool. ill see you at uni come fall. and then leave. so i mean, i didn’t even say go leave - i asked, aren’t you going to leave?”

doyoung is smart so he gets what you’re saying in the most roundabout way possible

he walks over and squats down, leans over the ridge of the bath to kiss you and doesn’t complain when you bring your soapy hands up to cradle his neck

“im sorry i did leave, i should have just said what i felt right there.” 

he mutters and you nod. you should have said it too.

when you and doyoung graduate and he goes on to law school and you start working, you almost break up - twice - because of the stress

but somehow neither of you can ever ask the other one

aren’t you going to leave?

because neither of you ever really wants to.

so you don’t, you stay through all the hardships, through every argument and bump in the road. 

you stay, you choose to stay and so does he and you might not even fall asleep next to each other on some days but the heat of the person you love is always there.

and then doyoung gets his first big promotion at his job, runs all the way home with the news and ends up breathing hard and talking nonsense to you in your shared kitchen

“you need a shower.”

you say, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he shakes his head, no. he needs a bath.

you lean back against his chest, stronger and broader as he’s aged. 

he looks down at you and even the eyebags that have gotten darker with all that work he does don’t do anything to make him less attractive

you peck his chin, because it’s what you can reach.

“if we sit here any longer we’re going to prune.”

“are you going to be the first one to leave?”

he asks and you shake your head. 

you’ll sit here forever if that’s what it takes.

on the counter of the bathroom, there’s one of the houseplants your mothers keeps shipping to you. 

you don’t notice that it’s the same orchid that doyoung carried into your house all those years ago, when you thought he hadn’t even looked at you when your mother opened the door.

he curls a strand of your wet hair around his finger.

he had looked at you, quickly, but he had done it. 

even half covered by orchid leaves, you’d made his mouth dry. 

“no seriously though - we will prune.”

“i’ll get up if you get up?”

i’ll never leave, the only way i’ll leave is if it means im taking you with me. 

#im late..........dont look at me #happy late bday king #doyoung au #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct #doyoung #nct 127 #nct u #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 au #nct 127 scenarios #member: doyoung #kim doyoung au #nostolgic au #suggestive/

[thegreatestofheck]

dark of the night [A. Hotchner]

word count – 25,555 (its so long im so sorry) warnings - a lot, blood, torture, mentions (but no descriptions) of sexual assault/rape, murder, canon violence stuff, this is essentially a hurt/comfort fic so expect a lot of hurt to come before the comfort, also a slow burn. synopsis - an agent gets taken in the middle of an investigation. in a race against time, the team at the bau must find her by diving into her deepest secrets. when a video tape arrives with horrible images of the state of their friends, aaron hotchner realizes just how terrified he is of losing her.  tagging: @magicalbluepanther (i hope you don’t mind the tag lol) a/n – did anyone order an extra long aaron hotchner slow burn? Because here you’ve got one. so my mental health is declining again and that means I have to write a criminal minds one shot that involves a lot of hurt/comfort. also I gave y/n a name because i don’t really like y/l/n or anything, but you’re more than welcome to replace it with your own! please dont be mad at me. anyway, stay happy, healthy, safe, and groovy!

The moment Agent Hotchner realized that she wasn’t coming back, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. It had happened once before, this feeling, the day he was in his car and he got that call from Foyet and heard Hayley’s muffled sobbing over the phone. Panic settled into his bones, unable to shake it away even as the terrified eyes of the rest of the team looked his way. 

“Did we just lose her?” Emily Prentiss asked, her words wavering ever so slightly as she tried to keep herself calm. 

At the sound of her voice, Hotch finally found himself able to look around the room. 

Morgan had shifted his eyes back to the door that his friend was supposed to come through. Reid stared at Hotch, wide eyed, lips parted. JJ was chewing on her thumb nail, waiting for Hotch to do something, say something. Emily was looking between the door and Hotch. Rossi was standing behind him, so he couldn’t see the look on his face, but Hotch couldn’t imagine he looked any different than the rest of his team. 

Agent Evelyn Caro had walked into the meeting, undercover, in hopes of baiting a serial killer into a quick and easy arrest. After three years of horrific killings, the BAU team was so close to catching him and Agent Caro was more than willing to be the one to take him down. 

Hotch knew this particular case was a sore spot for Caro, as all torture/murder cases were. But during this entire case, she had been far more on edge and far more eager to tear their suspect to shreds. He shouldn’t have let her go to the meeting, he knew it was too personal for her, even if she had never told him why. 

She had refused to take in a ear piece, said that the stories that would be told at the meeting were personal and their privacy was to be respected. Hotch trusted her. He agreed. They all stood outside and waited. The meeting should have been only two hours, Caro promised that she would be back with the suspect in less than three hours. 

But it had now been three hours and almost thirty minutes. The door hadn’t opened a single time since the last of the members of the meeting left, all except Caro and the suspect. 

She fit his physical appearance preference and possessed the confidence he appeared to have deep hatred for. It should have been an easy job. 

“What went wrong?” Hotch murmured out loud, more to himself. 

His words seemed to trigger something in Morgan, who pushed open the van door and unholestered his weapon before anybody could stop him. 

“Morgan!” Rossi yelled after him, but there was no slowing down, and once Morgan was running toward the meeting building, Emily and Reid were on his tail. 

“Hotch, what do we do?” JJ asked, turning toward him as Rossi hopped out of the car to go after his peers. 

Hotch ran through every single protocol that he knew like the back of his hand. They flitted through his brain like smoke, a flurry of useless words and numbers that meant nothing to him. Not a single one told him how to deal with this. Tightness squeezed at his chest as the rules and regulations he clung so tightly to began to fail him once again. 

“We find her.” 

Gun drawn, Hotch entered the building with JJ on his tail. His heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his composure about him. The same couldn’t be said for some of the others. 

“Evie!” Morgan called out, kicking down a door. 

“Evelyn?” Rossi’s voice echoed through elementary school. 

Hotch was seconds away from calling out her name himself, but he kept his jaw clenched tight. JJ followed every move he made. If he lost himself now, so would JJ. He needed at least one person on his side whose head was still level. 

They scoured the entire grounds, but they could find nothing. The room where the meeting had taken place was empty. Not even the leader was there anymore. This dark room was where the team met up after searching every inch of the grounds. 

There was silence for an eternity as they passed glances between each other, wordlessly asking if anyone had found anything. 

“There’s not even a footprint,” Morgan said helplessly, his eyebrows pulled together in concern. 

“I didn’t hear her scream.” JJ’s voice was weak and her eyes downcast. 

“None of us did,” Rossi replied. 

“We have to find her quickly,” Hotch said, finally trusting himself enough to speak. “He only keeps his victims for five days and if he knows she’s FBI, it’s probably less than that.” 

“I’ll call Garcia, track Evie’s phone,” Morgan said, pulling out his phone and turning away from the group. 

“We start from the ground up,” Hotch instructed. “Right now, Agent Caro isn’t our coworker but a victim and we have to treat her as such if we want to find her. Dig into her life, figure out what connects her to the other victims. Did he take her because she’s FBI or because she’s connected to the others. Morgan?”

“Her phone’s off,” Morgan said, pulling the phone away from his ear. 

“Tell Garcia to look for a connection between all of the victims. Dig and dig deep. Hold nothing back.”

Morgan paused for a moment. They all remembered when they had to do this very thing to him, when he was a suspect all those years ago. He knew what it was like to have his friends digging into a personal life he long wanted buried, how they looked at him differently after they knew, even if they didn’t mean to. He didn’t understand then, that they were trying to help, but he did now. There was no time to hesitate. This was Evelyn they were talking about. 

“Garcia, give me everything on Evelyn Caro that you can find. Dig deep. She needs us,” Morgan said. 

“Got it.” 

“Call me when you get anything.” 

“Yup.” 

She ended the call and Morgan turned back to the team. 

“Garcia’s on it.” 

“Okay, then we need to get back to the station and look at everything again. We have a name. We know it’s him. We just need to find them.” Hotch turned away from the team and started for the exit. “No one goes home until we find her.” 

___

Hotch meant what he said, but no one needed to be told twice. Red rimmed eyes scanned the same files over and over and over again as they waited for any amount of information from Garcia. 

“There has to be something here,” Morgan said with a frustrated sigh. “Something we’re missing.” 

“Why did he take her?” JJ asked as she set down her file. The woman rubbed her eyes before crossing her arms and looking up at the rest of the room. “I mean, what changed in that room that made him want her?”

“He found out she was FBI?” Reid suggested, leaning back in his chair. 

“How though?” Rossi piped in from his position leaning up against the wall. “Caro isn’t dumb enough to reveal herself, we were careful.” 

“She must have said something in that meeting that convinced him that she was a good target,” Hotch said. He could feel all eyes on him as he watched the ground, unable to meet any of their gazes. “Maybe this is how he finds his victims. At these group meetings.” 

“So we sent Evie into a death trap.” Morgan shoved his chair away from the table and stood, hands on his hips as he breathed heavily. 

“We have to figure out what connects her to the other victims,” Emily said. “Just like any other case.” 

“But this isn’t any other case is it?” 

“Morgan-” 

“This is Evelyn we’re talking about!” 

“Morgan, I need you to calm down,” Hotch said, standing from his place. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Hotch.” Morgan trembled with rage, his eyes glazed over with water. “You can’t expect me to sit here and-” 

“I expect you to do your job, Agent Morgan, seeing as that is the only thing that will get Caro back home.” Hotch struggled to keep his voice low. He curled his fists so the others couldn’t see how badly his hands were shaking. 

“You think we’ll get her back?” 

“If you do your job.” 

Morgan breathed in deeply and nodded his head. Before he sat back down, Morgan put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. The kid had his hand covering his mouth, his eyes glazed over like Morgan’s had been. 

Hotch knew how close Morgan and Caro were. Ever since she signed on to the team, the two had been nearly inseparable. Hotch wondered if it was something he needed to discuss with them. Every time that he seriously considered it, he had to question his motivations. Was it to keep complications out of their team or was it something else, something he wasn’t ready to admit? 

Turning his eyes away from Reid and Morgan, Hotch opened his mouth to address the team when Garcia stepped into the open doorway. They all turned to look at her only to see that her cheeks were streaked with tears as she clutched a file in her hands. 

“Garcia, what is it?” Emily stood and walked toward her, a hand out open for her. 

“You...you told me to dig deep so I did,” she stammered. “I...I did and I found...oh, God.” 

“Come in,” Hotch said, trying to smooth the furrow in his brows. 

Garcia took Emily’s hand and shuffled into the briefing room, sniffling through her tears. 

“Our poor baby girl,” Garcia said, setting the file gently onto the round table as if it was fragile. “She never told us-” 

“Garcia.” 

Garcia cleared her throat and nodded her head, flipping the file open. The team crowded around the table. Staring up at them was a picture of a young girl, her face purpled and bloody. Morgan clenched his jaw, Reid turned his face away from the picture. 

“Is that Caro?” JJ asked, her hand hovering over her mouth. 

Hotch had seen this picture before, attached to the file so covered in black redacted lines that he barely gleaned anything from it. But there were no more black lines. Everything about Agent Caro was there for him to read. Her life was an open book for him. This was his job, the only way to get her back, so why did he feel so dirty doing it? 

“When Evie-”

“Evelyn,” Hotch corrected. “She can’t be our friend right now.”

Garcia nodded, her eyes still glassy. 

“When Evelyn Caro was 12 years old, she was kidnapped from her front lawn. She was held captive by her...by her uncle for four years. He did...he did horrible things to her...I’m sorry-” 

Garcia choked, turning away from the file. Morgan put his hand on Garcia’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

“She was held by her uncle,” Hotch continued, eyes scanning the page, when it was clear that Garcia wouldn’t be able to. “There were clear signs of r-pe and physical violence, even though she never spoke about it afterward.” 

“She was held captive by her uncle?” Morgan asked. “How did no one know it was him?”

“Police talked to everyone in the family,” Garcia said, turning back into the conversation. “He was never on their serious list of suspects.” 

“How did she get out?” Rossi asked from his place near the back of the crowd.

“She broke out,” Garcia said, her voice like iron even as her lower lip trembled. “She stabbed that son of a bitch the moment she got the chance and she ran until someone found her.” 

“She killed him?” JJ asked. 

Hotch let out a heavy sigh. Something like pride blossomed in his chest. Maybe it was vindication. He would have killed the bastard himself. 

“Why wouldn’t she tell us?” Reid asked, looking up at Hotch like a lost dog. 

“We all have secrets we’ve kept from each other,” Hotch told him, even though he was wondering the same thing. “Now we need to figure out if this is somehow related to why he took her.” 

There was a moment of silence hanging over the room. 

“Garcia, look into the lives of the other women again,” he continued. “See if there is any kind of connection.” 

“I’m on it.”

There was a new kind of determination in her voice, like a fire was lit underneath her.

“Videos of the other victims were sent to the families of the victims,” Hotch said, looking back at the rest of the team. “JJ, contact her brother, see if he’s received anything and tell him to contact us as soon as he is.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the rest of us?” 

Once again, all eyes were on Hotch, expecting him to have all of the answers. But he didn’t. He didn’t know anything. 

“Do your jobs.”

___

When the video was sent to her family, it wasn’t her estranged brother who received it. 

“Hotch.” Morgan’s voice was shaking as he picked up the yellow envelope on his desk. “Hotch!” 

As soon as Hotch saw the package he knew what had to be in it. He had seen four of them before all from the previous victims’ families. His heart constricted in his chest. He knew what they were about to watch. Their team member, their friend. 

Grinding his teeth together to keep his face straight, Hotch took the package from Morgan and started back for the briefing room. 

“Do you want me to round up the team?” Morgan asked. 

“You guys shouldn’t have to watch this,” Hotch told him. 

“You’re not watching it alone.” 

Without another word, Morgan went to collect the others. 

Once they were all in the briefing room, Garcia put the recording onto the big screen. 

“You don’t-” 

“We’re staying,” JJ said, her fingers laced with Emily’s. 

Hotch nodded once before looking over at Garcia and signaling her to start the video. 

As soon as Garcia hit the play button, Morgan put an arm around her shoulder and she put a hand up to her mouth. Hotch leaned against a chair, his knuckles going white. 

The screen was black for a few moments. When it turned on, Agent Evelyn Caro was sitting half naked on a cot. Bruises littered her body, her ribs on the left side blackened. A cut ran across a purple cheek with dried blood running down her face. One of her eyes was black. But Caro stared straight ahead of her, eyes made of steal. 

“Oh, baby,” Garcia breathed. 

The room was small, bland. It looked cold. 

A man stepped into the frame. Caro didn’t even look at him, she just kept staring straight ahead. Before he even said anything, he raised a hand and slapped her across the face. Reid flinched, but none of them turned away. Their attention needed to be on this video, gleaning as much information as they could to get her home. Hotch refused to let her suffering go to waste. He would watch every second of it, no matter how much his stomach burned with hatred. 

Caro barely reacted to the backhand, her head snapping to the side, but the rest of her body stayed in the same place, her hands clasped together in her lap. When she straightened her head, blood trickled down from her lip. She lifted a hand to wipe the blood away before looking up at the man. Her eyes carried the heat of a thousand suns as she looked at her assailant, almost as if daring him to touch her again. That was the Caro that Hotch knew. She would never back down, never give in. 

“What do you want?” She asked. 

Hearing her voice so raw sent a chill down Hotch’s spine. Everything about this was wrong. 

“I know what happened to you when you were young,” the man said, walking in front of her. 

Caro clenched her jaw and turned her face forward once again, seeming to pretend that he wasn’t there. 

“Does this feel familiar to you?” the man asked, spinning in a circle. “The room, the bed, the chain.” 

Hotch’s eyes shifted away from Caro and he looked more at the bed. There was indeed a chain attached to the metal of the bed frame. Caro’s jaw tightened again and Hotch watched as she ran a finger over a scar he had seen on her wrist a million times before but never asked her about. He could only imagine a young Agent Caro, chained to a bed. She carried that scar around with her and he had never even cared enough to ask her about it. 

“It’s exactly the same,” Caro said.

The man sat next to her and still Caro didn’t flinch. Not even her breathing changed. Amidst his anger and his fear, Hotch felt pride. Damn right she would not even acknowledge him. Hotch expected nothing less from her. Though he wouldn’t fault her if she did. 

The Unsub put his hand on her knee and Hotch’s eyes went red. His ears rang, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. He watched Caro look down at the Unsub’s hand and Hotch noticed a slight tremble in her body. Her shaking was rage, not fear. He knew her well enough to know that. 

“What do you want?” The tremor reached her voice. Hotch could see her holding back from killing the unsub then and there. Her restraint told him that her captor was the only way out of her room. If she killed him now, she would be trapped. 

The unsub sighed and tilted his head to the side, his eyes fixed on the ground. 

“I want to break you,” he said.

Hotch clenched his jaw, but still Caro’s face stayed straight. She didn’t even blink. The words ‘I dare you to try’ never even passed her lips, but it was a clear challenge in her eyes. 

The image cut and Hotch almost thought that was going to be the end. But then it suddenly clicked on. Caro was slowly sitting up from laying on the bed. The unsub was halfway in the frame, buckling his belt. Hotch heard a quiet ‘oh’ come from Garcia and when he glanced over at her, he noticed tears in Morgan’s eyes. 

Caro seemed stiff as she sat up. The chain that had before been only attached to the bed was now shackled to her wrist. Hotch watched her grimace as she moved her feet to the ground. Her toes curled, telling Hotch that the ground was cold. The entire room must have been freezing. 

A silence hung over the team as they waited for something to happen. 

“You’re tough, I’ll give you that,” the unsub said. Caro refused to look at him. “The other girls gave in at this point.” 

“And then you killed them.” Caro looked over at him, moving slowly and clearly despite the pain that was obvious settling into her bones. 

The unsub shrugged his shoulders, a proud smile on his face. 

“Some girls seem to think that death is better than what I did to them,” he said. “But maybe you kind of like it.” 

Caro pulled harshly against her chain, shutting her eyes and turning her face away from him. 

“Son of a bitch,” Rossi breathed. Hotch refrained from looking back at him. 

“How does she not strangle him?” JJ asked. Her words were tight from the swelling in her throat. 

“He’s her only way out of that room,” Hotch told her. “She kills him and she starves in there.” 

“Not if we find her.” 

They fell quiet again, just soon enough to hear a low rumble of a laugh from the man. 

“I see I struck a nerve.” The unsub said. 

Caro steadied her breathing and straightened her shoulders. 

“I’m not surprised you’ve lasted longer than the other girls, being an FBI agent and all. I wonder how your friends are doing.” 

Caro pulled against the chain again, her eyes squeezing tighter. 

“Ah, another nerve. Should we poke at that one a bit more?” 

The unsub stepped out of the frame. For the briefest moment, with his back turned on her, Caro’s eyes flicked toward the camera. 

“She knows it’s there,” Reid said. “She knows about the camera.” 

Caro sucked in a deep breath and gave a short nod of her head. She knew her taker’s MO. She knew about the videos and the envelope. She knew they were watching her, and she was telling them that she was okay. 

When the unsub walked back into frame, he was holding something in his hands. With his back to the camera, they couldn’t get a good look at what he was holding.

“I am aware that your brother is the only remaining relative of yours who will speak to you, is that correct?” The unsub said.

Caro breathed deeply in once, her eyes staring straight through the unsub.

“This is him and his wife, their two daughters. Beautiful family. When was the last time you spoke to them?”

Agent Caro’s eyes moved from the unsub to the object in his hand and her eyes immediately welled up with tears. The unsub clicked his tongue.

“It’s the shame, isn’t it? It eats you up inside. You can’t bear the thought of tainting your brother and his perfect family with your past.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face away.

“This is Penelope Garcia, yes?”

Garcia straightened her back, surprised at hearing her name.

Caro opened her eyes and Hotch noticed a drastic shift in her breathing. Once steady and calm, her chest now rose and fell at an uneven pace. Her eyes darted between whatever the unsub was holding and his face.

“Jennifer Jareau?”

The unsub tossed something onto the bed next to Caro. And then another.

“David Rossi?”

For the first time, Caro flinched as he flicked what Hotch was starting to realize was a picture in her direction.

“Emily Prentiss. Spencer Reid.”

Two more pictures were thrown at her and Caro flinched twice more.

“Derek Morgan.”

A fire lit in Caro’s eyes as she stared up at him again.

“Aaron Hotchner.”

Before he could even throw the picture her way, Caro jumped up from the bed and charged at him, pulling on the chair.

“If you touch them, I swear I’ll kill you,” she seethed.

The unsub shoved her backward onto the bed, but she scrambled up again. He hit her across the face, sending her back with a yelp. Breathing heavily, she turned to look at him, like a rabid dog.

“That’s a hard promise to make seeing as you are chained to a bed and I am not.”

“She has to know that he can’t hurt us,” Emily said, looking to Hotch for answers.

“She’s panicking,” Hotch replied. His knuckles tightened over the chairs.

“You think I won’t go after them?” the unsub said as he dropped a hand onto her shoulder.

Caro turned her face away from him and shook her head.

“You can’t,” she said. Her voice was growing weak, shaking more. “They’re FBI, you can’t just-“

She didn’t get the chance to finish before the unsub threw a fist across her face.

“I won’t even have to hurt them though, will I?” The unsub sneered, bending down close to her face. “I bet by now they know every dark secret about your past. Every skeleton in your closet. They know about the blood on your hands.”

Hotch had read her file that Garcia dug up a thousand times over in the last few days since she found it. Something in him told him he had to, though another part of him wanted to wait until Caro was there to tell him herself. But she deserved better than for her story to go unknown. She deserved to have someone know.

“No,” Caro whimpered.

“You really think they’ll accept you after that?” The unsub let out a laugh.

“Evie, we love you,” Garcia said as she took a step forward. “Evie-“

“Garcia, quiet,” Hotch said, putting out a hand.

“Sir, she has to know, she has to know.”

Morgan put his arm back around Garcia and pulled her in for a hug.

“She knows,” he whispered to her.

“You lost your family once because of what you did to your uncle,” the unsub said. “Now you’ll lose another.”

“No!”

Caro threw herself at the unsub once again, her fists flying. Hotch had seen her fight before. She was well trained, and she was calculated, confident. But this was animalistic. This was pure instinct. Her punches were weak and light, hitting the places of the unsub where very little damage would be done. The chain prevented any real effort from her, though the bed shook and rattled as she yanked against the metal. It didn’t take him long to wrestle her onto the bed, pinning her down by her arms.

Her face was clearly displayed to the camera. She breathed sporadically, panting and gasping for air. Sweat beaded down her battered face. Her eyes were wide and flitting back and forth, terrified.

“How would you feel if I paid one of them a visit, huh?” The unsub asked, his nose brushing against her cheek.

Caro struggled, a growl of frustration strangled in her sore throat.

“That Spencer Reid lives alone, doesn’t he?”

Rossi put a hand on Reid’s shoulder, who had suddenly gone pale.

“Don’t touch him!” She thrashed again, trying to throw the unsub off of her. She tried to kick her feet, but they were effectively pinned under her by the weight of the unsub. She grunted and groaned in the effort it took to try and get him off of her.

“I doubt it would take much to strangle that skinny neck of his.”

Caro suddenly stopped struggled. The sweat that pooled down her cheeks suddenly started to look more like tears as her body went still.

“Please don’t hurt them,” she said, her voice quiet.

“What, you don’t want me creeping into Emily’s apartment tonight, pay her a little visit?”

Caro let out a quiet sound, something that was almost like a sob.

“Please.”

“What will you do for me in return?” He asked, pressing still closer to her face.

Caro rolled her head back and forth on the bed and Hotch could see the tears that pooled in her eyes.

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

She just nodded her head, lower lip quavering.

“Don’t give up, baby girl,” Morgan whispered. Garcia clung tighter to his hand.

“Well, well,” the unsub said with a sigh as he sat up, releasing Caro from his hold. Her body sagged even further into the cot. He stepped away from the cot and bent down to pick up some of the pictures that fell to the floor. “There isn’t really anything I want from you just now, so I might go and visit one of your friends just to keep you on your toes.”

“No!” Caro leapt from the bed and attached herself to the unsub’s back.

He threw her against back against the cot. Hotch could see him lift his hand to deliver hit after hit to his agent, but he was grateful that the unsub’s back blocked the view of the camera. He didn’t think he could stand to watch her get beaten.

Caro was surprisingly silent as the unsub hit her.

It was over relatively quickly. The unsub straightened himself out, squaring his shoulders. Without a word, he turned to the camera and walked toward it. Caro let out a quiet groan just before the unsub picked up the camera and shut it off.

There was a heavy silence that fell over the team.

“What the hell did we just watch?” Emily asked, setting her eyes on Hotch.

They were once again expecting him to have all the answers, but he had nothing to say. His hands were cramping from how hard he was clenching onto the chair. It took all the strength in him not to throw it across the room. Caro should be here with them, not in that room, not with that man.

“Garcia, can you play the end again and turn up the volume?” Rossi asked.

“No offense, sir,” Garcia said, teary eyed. “But I can’t watch that again.”

“Just the very end, as he’s walking toward the camera. Agent Caro said something.”

“Did she?” JJ asked, crossing her arms.

Garcia pressed a few buttons on her laptop and the video returned. Hotch was almost tempted to look away. The audio was louder as the unsub heaved out an exhausted sigh and started walking toward the camera. And then they heard it, the quiet groan. But it wasn’t a groan at all. She had said something, just a quiet name.

His name.

Aaron.

___

Sitting at his desk, Hotch couldn’t seem to lift his heavy head from his hands. The window, which was almost always closed, was wide open. His office was too stuffy, too hot. He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t get the sound of his name from her lips out of his head.

A knock came to his door and he finally lifted his head. Rossi was standing there with his usual “something is wrong and I’m going to fix it” face. Hotch wasn’t sure if he was in the mood for this conversation.

“What can I do for you, David?”

“We have to talk about what just happened,” Rossi said.

“I don’t really think-“

“Aaron, listen to me,” Rossi said, walking into the room. “Evelyn needs you right now.”

“There’s nothing I can do that the team isn’t already doing.”

“She said your name.”

“I know that. You think I don’t know that?” Hotch’s tone was a little sharper than he meant it to be. He let out a sigh and stretched out his fingers.

Rossi sat down across from him.

“Why? We all know that she’s closest with Morgan, so why say your name?” Rossi asked. Hotch squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. The exhaustion headache that was plaguing him wasn’t helping the fact that thinking about who Caro was and wasn’t closest with lit a fire in his gut. “And why your first name? She only ever called you Hotch, like the rest of us.”

“That’s not true,” Hotch said, memorizing the lines on his hands so he wouldn’t have to look at Rossi.

“What isn’t?”

“She’s called me Aaron.”

“When?”

“When she was angry with me,” Hotch said. The thought of it pained him. He could hear her sharp tone, the way she hissed his name like venom. When she thought he was too cold, too apathetic.

“Or….”

“Or what?”

There was another time when she called him Aaron. Three other times.

On the worst day of his life, when he held Hayley’s body in his arms, Caro had sat next to him on the floor. People were calling his name. “Hotch, Hotch, Hotchner.”

She sat there on the ground and whispered his name just once, “Aaron.” It was quiet, like a pin dropping during a storm. But still he heard her.

“Aaron, your son,” she said.

That decision, to stay with Hayley or go find Jack, tore his soul into pieces until she spoke again.

“I’ll stay with her.”

The second time was a few weeks after Hayley’s death. Hotch wasn’t handling it well, or at all. She saw right through the façade that he had put forward. He was at the office late one night and so was she. Even when he tried to send her home, she politely refused, saying there was a lot of work she needed to get done.

He spent hours in his office, the grief and the sorrow and the shame building and building and building until he was suddenly standing over his desk. Everything here reminded him of Hayley. The baseball, the picture of Jack, even the piles of papers that were stacked high, shaming him for not being there for her more.

The only way to keep himself from crying was to let the anger take over. Anger at Foyet, anger at the job, anger at the world, anger at himself. Forgetting where he was, Hotch had dumped everything off of his desk with one sweep of his arm.

Collapsing to the ground, Hotch didn’t remember how long he sat there, leaning against his desk, hyperventilating, until Caro walked in. She didn’t say anything to him. She just lowered herself to the ground next to him, letting out a long sigh. She just sat there, breathing louder than Hotch was used to her breathing, but he found after a few minutes that his breathing began to match hers. A calmness returned to his body, at least enough to breathe normally.

“Aaron?”

He turned to look at her, the edges of his eyes lined with red.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Hotch nodded his head. He pushed himself to his feet before helping Caro to hers.

“I’ll drive,” she said, stepping around all of the things on the ground.

“What about-“

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow,” Caro had said. “Come on.”

She talked to him all the way back to the car. She asked if he wanted to talk about what made him dump all of his stuff on the ground. When he said no, she asked him about Jack instead. It felt comfortable to talk to her about his son, even though he tried to keep personal life and business separated. He had never really talked to her about anything other than work, except for the times when the team would go out to eat, back when Hayley would come with them. She would talk about her brother, his family, but very vaguely.

Now he supposed he knew why she was always so vague.

The third time she called him Aaron, they were on a case. Young girls being kidnapped, assaulted, and dumped. This was one of many cases just like it. Hotch couldn’t even remember what town they were in now. All he remembered was walking by Caro’s hotel room and feeling like he needed to go inside. Something pulled him to a stop outside her door that night and he couldn’t ignore it.

He knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for a respond before he opened in.

Caro was still up, even though they had left hours ago. She had skipped the meal they all shared together, which was unlike her. She sat at her desk, the lamp on but not the overhead light. The case that they were working was laid out in front of her. When she looked up at him, startled that he had come in, her eyes were red and he couldn’t tell if it was all of the reading or if it was something else.

“What can I do for you, Hotch?” Caro asked, one of her legs propped up on the swivel chair.

“I….” He hadn’t really thought this far ahead. “….wanted to check on you, see how you were doing.”

Caro’s lips pulled into an amused smile.

“You never check on me.”

“Maybe now’s the time to start.”

They were quiet for a few moments until Caro let out a sigh. She patted the bed, signaling for him to sit.

“These cases, the ones with the young girls, they’re hard,” Caro told him after he sat down.

Hotch felt like a foreigner sitting there and talking to her, awkward as he sat on her bed, like it shouldn’t be him here doing this. But she seemed so eager to talk, like she was just waiting for someone to ask.

“I understand,” Hotch said finally, looking at the carpet. “They’re hard on all of us.”

“Aaron.”

At the sound of his name, he looked back at her and he could see the tears in her eyes. He didn’t realize it then, but she had been begging him to understand so she didn’t have to say. She didn’t want to have to say it.

He couldn’t sleep that night and he didn’t know why.

“She called you Aaron when she was mad at you or….” Rossi’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“Or she needs me to listen.”

“So, what does she need you to hear?”

___

“He knows her,” Hotch said suddenly, startling the life out of the half sleeping agents.

“What?” Morgan asked, sitting up.

“The unsub knows her. There is no way that he learned all of this about her at the meeting they went to. No way he could have replicated the room that she was kept in when she was a child unless he had personal information.”

“He knew everything about her…and us…before he even took her,” Rossi said, his voice laced with awe. “Which means….”

“All those other murders were about getting her here.” Hotch felt his heart restrict in his chest. “This has all been about her. She was the piece we were missing.”

“Sir?” Garcia hurried into the room, meaning she had found something. “The link between all the victims, I think I found it.”

The team turned toward her.

“Evie is the link.” Garcia swiped up on her laptop, a couple different screens popping up on the big screen. “Sarah Jordans went to kindergarten with Evie. Paulette Bobin was the daughter of the police officer who found Evie after she escaped her uncle. Robin Everard was her high school drama teacher’s niece. Celia Hough was the sister of a woman she walked dogs for in middle school. They weren’t close enough to Evie for her to recognize them, but they were all a part of her life in some way.”

Hotch looked over at Rossi and shook his head.

“It’s been about Caro all along. All of it.”

“That means that the place she’s being held is about her too,” Morgan said. “More than just making the room look the same. He’s holding her somewhere that means something to her.”

“Garcia,” Hotch said, turning his attention back to the tech analyst. “Who owns the uncle’s house now?”

“You think he took her back there?”

“She said the room looked exactly the same. Maybe because it was the same.”

“The house passed onto his wife’s son when he died,” Garcia said.

“Where is the son now?”

“He is….” They all watched her carefully, waiting for the last piece of information. “…. He changed his name just after his father’s funeral to….”

Hotch turned back to the screen, where the picture of the unsub was plastered so none of them would forget it.

“Ralph Bennet,” Morgan said, venom in his words. “The unsub.”

“How did she not recognize her own cousin?”

“His father and mother got divorced when he was young. He didn’t even know he had a step-dad who was still alive until he was dead,” Garcia said.

“So, Ralph Bennet was the step-son of Caro’s uncle. He feels like he has to punish her for taking another father figure away from him,” added Reid.

“He wants her to pay. He wants to hurt her in any way possible.”

“He’s got her at her old house.”

___

Evelyn could barely see. Her eyes were weak and tired, partially from the crying and partially from the lack of sleep. She was terrified of letting her eyes shut, of letting her guard down. She needed to stay awake, to keep her guard up. But she couldn’t take her eyes away from the red stain on the floor.

The cot mattress was itching her skin. If she could ignore the itching, she would begin to feel the sting of the metal chain against her skin. She preferred the itching.

A thud from downstairs echoed to her room. The attic. Pretending like this wasn’t that room she had been kept in for all those years was the only thing that was keeping her from breaking down, but that wall between what she pretended was real and reality was growing thin.

Breathing in through her nose, Evelyn shut her eyes and imagined herself back in her apartment, safe and warm. In her hands was a cup of tea, chamomile with only one sprinkling of sugar. It was raining outside. Not too hard, but hard enough that she could hear it pattering against the window. Her dog slept at her feet, breathing softly. In her lap was-

Another thud from downstairs, tearing Evelyn from her fantasy. She opened her eyes and looked toward the door.

“Ralph?” She called out, voice hoarse. There was no response.

When the door burst open suddenly, Evelyn yelped and jumped backward, curling her legs in on herself.

Ralph stood there, his face red and sweat beading down his forehead.

“What’s going on?” Evelyn asked, curling up tighter.

Ralph let out a growl of frustration and started toward her.

“Ralph- no!” Evelyn kicked out at him, but he grabbed hold of her ankles and dragged her to the edge of the bed. “What are you-“

“Shut up,” Ralph snapped, unlacing the chains around her wrist. “We’re leaving.”

“What-“

“I said shut up!”

He tugged down hard on the chain, making it dig deeper into the wound around her wrist. Evelyn hissed in pain, but she quieted as he told her. There was another thud from downstairs and Evelyn snapped her head in the direction of the sound. Things were slowly starting to come together; Ralph’s shaking hands, his red face, the thudding downstairs.

Evelyn looked between Ralph and the door. She sat a still as she could while his trembling hands, waiting for the just right moment. As soon as the chains were loose, Evelyn slipped her wrist out of the chain, kicked Ralph over with as little strength as she had, and ran for the door.

“Aaron!”

Her cry echoed through the house just before Ralph grabbed her from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He hissed, dragging her back into the room.

“Caro?”

Evelyn gasped through Ralph’s hand at the sound of Hotch’s voice, trying to shout back. She struggled against Ralph as he pulled her back to the bed, thrashing her shoulders to try and break free.

“Agent Caro?”

I’m here, Hotch, I’m here.

Ralph threw the weak Evelyn onto the bed and backhanded her across the face so hard that her head started to spin. She stretched her jaw, blinking away the blackness in her vision.

“Evie!” From somewhere far away, she thought she could hear her best friend, Derek Morgan, calling for her. She opened her mouth to call back, but all she felt was numbness.

By the time she finally felt like she could see again, there was someone else in the doorway. At first glance, she thought it was Ralph, but he was still there in the room with her. The man in the doorway had a gun, the man in the doorway was Aaron Hotchner.

“Ralph Bennet, step away,” Hotch said.

Evelyn watched, head blurry as Ralph did as he was told, backing away from her. But he was going the wrong way. There was something wrong that way. Something she needed to tell Hotch about.

“You came for me,” she said, trying to smile.

“Are you okay, Caro?”

Evelyn could feel the headache behind her eyes begin to fade. She nodded her head once, letting her eyes close. There was something she needed to tell him, something really important.

“There’s something,” she said, shaking her head to try and clear it. “Over there-“

Before Evelyn could even finish, Ralph stepped forward and swung a bat at Hotch, the bat that Evelyn knew was in the corner. The bat that broke her ribs. That was what she needed to tell Hotch about. But now it was too late.

The bat knocked Hotch’s gun out of his hands and onto the ground. Hotch wasted no time in jumping into action, springing at Ralph without a second thought. Evelyn tried to shake herself out of her stoper. She would be no help to anyone weary. Even if malnutrition and the beating she got that morning were the cause of her exhaustion, she wanted to be of more help.

Hotch knocked Ralph backward, but Ralph held tight to the bat in his hands, using it to push Hotch backward. It was hard for Evelyn to follow the fight, her eyes not able of following every hit and swing. When her eyes finally caught up with what was happening, the ringing in her ears starting to fade, Evelyn found that Hotch was on the ground, Ralph standing over him with the baseball bat, ready to bash his head in.

Evelyn pushed herself off of the bed, her legs weak and shaking, and ran toward Ralph.

“Don’t touch him!” She growled, reaching up to grab hold of the bat.

“Let go, bitch!”

It didn’t take much for Ralph to throw Evelyn’s grip off the bat, but only by throwing the bat out of his hands as well. She hit the ground with a thud, the force rattling through her bones. Ralph immediately turned his attention back to Hotch, who was still on the ground but in a less vulnerable state.

On the ground with Evelyn were the bat and the forgotten gun, but they were all the way on the other side of the room. She didn’t know if she could make it there and back before her legs gave out.

She was laying on the ground by the edge of the bed, hearing Hotch and Ralph go at it. There had to be something that she could do. She had to do something. As she pushed herself up, Evelyn’s had grazed over the chain, the chain that had been used to keep her tied to this bed for days. Looking up at Ralph, Evelyn dug into all that bitterness and all the rage that she had been brewing for the past twenty years of her life and found some ounce of strength.

Strength enough to wrap her hands around the chain. Strength enough to pick to chain off the ground. Strength enough to stand.

With Ralph paying attention to Hotch, his back was left exposed to her. He didn’t think she had the strength left. He thought he broke her.

But she was unbreakable.

Wrapping the chain around one of her hands, she walked up behind Ralph and swung the chain around his neck. He let out a startled gasp, lifting a hand, but not before Evelyn grabbed the chain with her open hand and pulled. Ralph stumbled backward into her. He slapped at her hands. He tried to hit her with the back of his head.

But the adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her strong. She pulled tighter, tensing her hands.

Ralph gagged and Evelyn scrunched her nose. He let out a gurgling sound and Evelyn groaned as the muscles in her arms began to cramp from the tightness. But still she did not let go.

Hotch stood, his lip bleeding and his eye beginning to bruise. Ralph and Evelyn stumbled over; he fell to the ground and she landed on the bed, never once letting the chain go slack.

“Agent Caro,” Hotch said. “You can let him go.”

Evelyn only pulled tighter. Ralph smacked at her hands lamely, choking sounds gurgling from his throat. His legs kicked out, struggling in the same way that she had been. His legs kicked and his body twitched and his arms flailed out and he maybe felt an ounce of the terror that Evelyn had.

“Caro.”

Evelyn’s face twisted she breathed heavily, pulling tighter against the chain until Ralph’s eyes were rolling.

“Evelyn.”

She froze, looking up at him. All the tension in her face faded as her eyes met Hotch’s. She always used his first name when she needed him to listen to her, but now it was her turn to listen to him. Ralph gasped for the air that was slowly entering his lungs.

“You can let him go.”

Evelyn remembered that scared little girl she was all those years ago. There had been no other option then. It was just her, her uncle, and the knife in her hand. It was kill him or live the rest of her life in a prison. She felt like that again. Alone, terrified, trapped, cornered. There was no other way out.

“You’re safe now, Evelyn,” Hotch said. “You can let him go.”

She wasn’t alone anymore. Hotch was here with her. She wasn’t that terrified little girl with no way out. She was an FBI agent. She had grown and she had learned and she was no longer alone. Her team had come from her. Her family had found her.

She let go of the chain, pulling her legs onto the bed. Ralph heaved in lung fulls of air, but Evelyn kept her eyes on Hotch. He took a step toward them, pulling out his handcuffs. Evelyn flinched away, pulling her legs in tighter.

“These aren’t for you,” Hotch told her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Relaxing her muscles as best as she could, Evelyn nodded her head.

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

She sat there on the bed while Hotch roughly rolled a still coughing Ralph onto his stomach to handcuff him. Once the handcuffs were on, Hotch turned back to Evelyn, who was still staring at him. Her eyes were full of tears.

It was hard for Hotch to say that he didn’t enjoy beating Ralph into the ground. He shouldn’t want to keep beating the shit out of the man now that he was in handcuffs, but seeing those tears in her eyes made Hotch want to. He had been tempted to let Evelyn kill Ralph. She deserved that bit of closure. But he knew the guilt that she already carried, the guilt she would carry on top of that. He knew because he carried that same guilt.

Still, he wanted to see that monster dead. He wanted to wipe those tears from her eyes before they even had a chance to fall.

“Caro-“

“Evie!”

Morgan burst into the room, his eyebrows pinched together in worry. Evelyn tore her gaze away from Hotch at the sound of Morgan’s voice.

“Derek.” The relief in her voice as she said his name made Hotch’s stomach drop.

Morgan rushed toward the bed and dropped to his knees in front of it. He reached forward and pulled the tattered blanket on the bed up and around Evelyn’s shoulders, covering her. Evelyn just stared at him, the tears threatening to fall from her lashes. Morgan brushed hair from out of her face as a smile began to pull at his lips. His smile made her almost able to break a grin too.

When Morgan first put his arms around Evelyn, het body immediately tensed. She expected to be surrounded by Ralph’s smell, feel his clammy skin on hers. But it was Morgan’s smell; that expensive cologne she had bought for his birthday mixed with the laundry detergent he always used. He held her tight. Even when she opened her eyes, she wasn’t able to look down enough to see Ralph, which was probably Morgan’s intention. She would have done the same thing.

The adrenaline had succeeded in keeping her heart rate steady, but now that Morgan was holding her, her heart started to pound.

Hotch grabbed Ralph off the ground and hoisted him to his feet. Evelyn listened as he shoved Ralph down the stairs, Ralph grunting and groaning all the way down.

It wasn’t until they could no longer hear him that Morgan pulled away. She didn’t want to let him go, afraid that she would begin to crumble without him there. Morgan put a hand on her cheek and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Let’s get you home.”

___

The first worst part about walking down those stairs was remembering the last time she had done this. That red stain on the floor had been there for twenty years. Evelyn had left her uncle bleeding out on the floor while she stumbled down the stairs, dazed, terrified. She knew the blood was the same because she had been covered in it too.

The second worst part was when everyone turned to look at her.

JJ, Emily, Reid, and Rossi were all in the downstairs of the house. They had holstered their guns, but Emily still had her hand on hers. The stairs were too narrow for Morgan to walk alongside her, so he held her hand as he walked in front of her. She was almost hesitant to take that final step, terrified of how the others would look at her.

When they heard the stair creak, they all turned their heads toward Evelyn. She froze, her blood running cold. She expected the concerned stares, the pitied eyes, it was all she got last time. Tightening the blanket around her shoulders, Evelyn couldn’t bring herself to look them in the eyes.

JJ walked toward her, stopping only a few feet away.

“Can I hug you?” JJ asked.

Evelyn looked up to see that there were tears in her friend’s eyes, but a smile on her face. There was no pity, only relief.

Slowly, Evelyn nodded her head. JJ didn’t need to be told twice. She closed the distance, wrapping her arms around Evelyn’s neck. Emily was next, pressing a gentle kiss against the side of her head. Reid’s hug was awkward, shaky.

“If you ever need to talk,” he said quietly.

Evelyn nodded her head. She knew that he understood what it was like, to be taken and held against your will. She gave him a gentle smile that he returned. Rossi was the last to approach her. He had teary smile on his face as well. He didn’t hug her entirely, but instead put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her toward him to press a kiss against her forehead.

“C’mon,” Morgan said. “Ambulance is out here.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Evelyn said, looking over at him and giving a shake of your head.

Morgan raised his eyebrows, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Same old Evelyn.” He put an arm around her shoulder, as he always did. The action was simple, but it was enough to make her smile, to make her feel normal. “But yes, we’re taking you to the hospital.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes but let him lead her outside to the ambulance. Hotch was already out there, talking quietly to the EMT. Ralph must have gone in a different police car. He was nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital?” Morgan said once she had a quick once over by the EMT.

“You’re not going to ride with me?” She asked. Evelyn hoped that the fear of being alone again that she was feeling didn’t show through in her voice.

“Hotch’ll go with you.”

Morgan dropped a hand on Hotch’s shoulder, who wore his usual scowl, his arms crossed. He turned toward Morgan, who raised his eyebrows and walked away.

“I’ll be right back,” the EMT said before turning and walking away.

Evelyn sat on the bed, still wearing the blanket Morgan had wrapped around her. Her stomach twisted as Hotch walked toward her. She kept her eyes at the ground, chewing on the inside of her lip. She could feel only shame as he looked at her. Maybe it was because he could see the bruises and the cuts and the blood. Maybe it was because she was at her lowest and he was her boss who should only ever see her at her best. Maybe it was because he had to talk her down from choking the life out of a man. Maybe it was some combination of everything.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, leaning up against the ambulance.

Evelyn nodded her head slowly. She would have responded with a decisive yes, but her mouth had gone too dry to talk.

“That’s a stupid question, of course you’re not okay,” Hotch muttered and looked down at his feet.

“I’m okay,” Evelyn affirmed. “I’m okay.”

When he looked back up at her, Evelyn was surprised to see his eyes were watery.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get you sooner.”

Evelyn shook her head as aggressively as she could manage.

“I knew you would come, Hotch,” she told him. “I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault.”

Hotch let out an almost bitter laugh.

“I should be saying that to you.” Hotch looked at her in such a way that made Evelyn’s stomach squeeze. “All this time, and you’re still looking after me.”

Evelyn gave him a small smile in return.

“Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course.”

The EMT returned, telling Hotch that they were getting ready to go. He pulled himself into the ambulance and the EMT followed after him.

“Lie back,” the EMT said. Evelyn did as she was told, feeling a suffocating feeling settling on her chest as she stared up at the white ceiling. The sting of tears returned to her eyes and she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to hold them back.

Her hands tensed at her side, clenching around the blanket of the gurney. Hotch, now sitting in the chair beside her, reached out and took her hand in his. She turned her head to look at him, sniffing in deeply.

“It’s going to be okay,” Hotch told her before giving her a sharp nod.

Evelyn nodded back at him, breathing in deeply. She let go of the blanket and shifted her hand around until her fingers were laced through his. She didn’t know how comfortable he was with holding her hand, but at the moment she didn’t care. She needed someone’s hand to hold. She needed his hand to hold.

She wasn’t in the hospital for very long, which she was grateful for. Garcia got there as soon as Evelyn was released and put a pair of shaking arms around her, already dissolved into tears. Evelyn laughed, grateful for her friend’s antics.

“I love you so much,” Garcia said, her tears watering Evelyn’s neck.

She had ditched the gross blanket and was currently sporting a wonderful hospital gown and Hotch’s coat.

“Are you staying somewhere? Do you need somewhere to stay? I’ve got some clothes and a warm bed and I can make you some tea-“

“I really appreciate it, Pen,” Evelyn said, “But Hotch offered me a bed already.”

Garcia stopped her rambling to stare at her, glancing behind Evelyn to where Hotch was talking to the rest of the team.

“Hotch offered-? Right, okay. That’s good. I still brought you some clothes to wear. Come with me.”

“O-okay.”

Garcia led Evelyn to the bathroom to put her in some clothes.

“As soon as they went to get you, I went home to grab you some clothes.” Garcia dropped her bag on the ground. Evelyn covered her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing. It was sweet of her friend, but Evelyn didn’t think she needed that many clothes for a few nights. “I hope it’s enough.”

“Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Evelyn stepped into one of the stalls and pulled a thin sweater on over her head and a pair of sweatpants. It wasn’t the cutest outfit, but it was comfortable, and it covered her ill looking body, so it would do.

Penelope was wiping tears away when Evelyn stepped out of the stall. Evelyn smiled at her and put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.

“I’m okay, Pen.”

“Evie-“

“I’m really okay. I promise.”

Penelope let out a heavy sigh and nodded.

“Can I have a smile? It’ll make me feel better,” Evelyn said in a sing-songy, letting her hands fall back to her side.

A smile tugged at Penelope’s lips and she turned away, letting out a little laugh.

“There you go. Now the world’s right again.”

Evelyn and Penelope left the bathroom and rejoined the group just as Hotch was finishing his little speech.

“Go home, everybody. Get some sleep. We’ll come back to work on Monday,” Hotch was saying.

“Thank you,” Evelyn piped up before they turned to go their separate ways. “For everything.”

___

Hotch opened the front door of his apartment. It was dark inside, only one of the lamps were on. It was silent, still. Part of it was reassuring, the stillness. Part of it was unsettling, the quiet.

She looked back at Hotch and he nodded his head, so she stepped inside.

It felt better once she was inside. It was warm, warmer than the attic.

She had never even imagined stepping into Hotch’s home. She expected it to be stiff and cold like his office was, impersonal. But it was lively, with pictures hung on the walls and décor covering shelves full of books. Evelyn wondered absent-mindedly how much of it was Hayley’s sister or if Hotch had a secret interior designer in him somewhere. The thought made her smile.

“You’ll sleep through here,” Hotch said, his voice in a hushed tone. Jack was probably already in bed.

“Your room?” She asked, keeping her voice equally as low.

Hotch nodded.

“I’m not going to displace you,” Evelyn said. “I can sleep on the couch.”

On the couch, there was already a blanket and pillow set up.

“No, Caro. I can’t let you sleep on a couch your first day back,” Hotch said, giving his head a shake.

“Hotch, seriously-“

“Agent Caro…”

Evelyn tilted her head down and raised an eyebrow.

“Now you’re using your boss voice on me.”

To her amazement, Hotch actually smiled. He was looser here, less uptight. Something about passing into his house must have been some kind of release. Domestic Hotch was very different than at work Hotch.

“Fine,” Evelyn said. “But only for tonight.”

“I’ll be out here if you need me.”

Evelyn nodded her head. She turned down the hall as Hotch walked toward the couch. Evelyn stopped, turning to say one last thing to him, but she decided against it. He sat with his back to her, taking off his shoes. She watched him let out a deep sigh and roll tension out of his shoulders. Evelyn couldn’t help but think that she was the cause of that tension and the sooner she was out of his hair the better.

It was strange, standing by Hotch’s bed. This would be the first warm, safe bed she would be falling in to and it wasn’t her own, it was Hotch’s. It felt wrong to touch. It wasn’t hers. Even if he had said she could, it wasn’t hers. This bed belonged to someone else. Hotch’s permission didn’t feel like the only permission she needed.

On the bedside table, there was a picture. Hotch, Jack, and Hayley, all huddled together and smiling. Evelyn felt herself smiling as she looked at it. Reaching out her hand, she ran a finger along the picture frame.

“I hope it’s okay with you,” Evelyn whispered, looking at the picture of Hotch’s late wife.

They’d met a few times in the past and she was just the gentlest woman. She loved Hotch and she loved her son. There she was, staring up at Evelyn and smiling. But the only image that Evelyn had of her in her mind was Hayley’s limp body, the blood that stained her shirt.

Turning away from the picture, Evelyn pulled the blankets back before she kept overthinking. She dropped the bag that Garcia had given her onto the ground, flicked off her shoes and socks, and crawled into bed.

The warmth of the blankets was strange to her. Even her own bed wasn’t as warm as this one was. Still trying not to over think it, Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut and rolled onto her side. She breathed in deeply and was overwhelmed by his scent. With a heavy sigh, she rolled back onto her back and opened her eyes.

“Get over yourself, Evelyn,” she whispered to herself.

Breathing in slowly and steadily, Evelyn let her brain relax. She went to that safe place in her mind, that place far away. She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep, safe and warm in that room where no one could reach her.

It wasn’t until blood started to seep through the walls that she realized she was asleep.

She woke up to someone screaming. The sound echoed off the walls of the bedroom. Someone was crying.

“Caro. Caro.” Someone was calling her name. Someone close by. Someone far away.

“Evelyn!”

Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might be having a heart attack. The room was still dark, but the bedside lamp was turned on. The blankets were half on the floor. She had been throwing them off when she kicked her legs. Hotch was sitting in front of her. Not just sitting in front of her, but holding onto her shoulders. He had been shaking her. There was worry on his face, his eyes wide. Behind him was Jack, tears rolling down his face.

He was the one who was crying. That must have meant she was the one who was screaming.

“You’re okay,” Hotch said. “You were just dreaming.”

Evelyn lifted her hands to her face to find that there were tears on her cheeks.

“I…I’m sorry,” she said, a scowl in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Hotch shook his head. He looked tired. She must have woken him up.

“Is she okay?” Jack asked and sniffled.

“She’s fine, Jack, go back to bed,” Hotch said. When Jack hesitated, Hotch gave him a smile. “It’s okay. Go back to bed.”

Jack nodded and shuffled out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn whispered again, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hotch said again and dropped a hand onto her knee. “You’re safe here, no one can hurt you here.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….”

Her hands were shaking too badly for her to say anything else. She already couldn’t remember the dream, but there was blood, so much blood. And she remembered she couldn’t breathe, like there was a chain wrapped around her neck.

Evelyn shut her eyes and put her shaking hands up to her head.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.

Hotch let out a sigh. He was frustrated with her. The thought made tears sting her eyes.

“It’s not your fault.”

Even with her eyes closed, the tears still managed to slide down her cheeks. Hotch reached out his hand and rested it on the back of her neck. The contact only made her tears fall faster. She moved her hands to cover her face, ashamed of her reaction. Hotch pulled her in toward him and the closer she got to him, the harder she started to cry.

He put his other arm around her and she lowered her forehead to his shoulder, the sobs shaking her shoulders. But Hotch held her tight, one hand on the back of the neck, the other on her back.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t sure what she was really sorry for. Sorry for waking him up. Sorry for sleeping in his bed. Sorry for invading his space. Sorry for getting kidnapped. For getting in the way. For making his life harder. For setting them back from work for days.

“It’s okay, Evelyn. It’s okay.”

At the sound of her name, she stopped her apologies. She heard her first name come from his mouth so rarely, she didn’t want to talk over him. She just wanted to hear him say it again. Finally letting her hands fall away from her eyes, she let her hands fall into her lap.  

“It’s not your fault, Evelyn,” he whispered, hesitantly letting his fingers lace through her hair.

She sniffed.

“It wasn’t your fault and none of us are upset with you,” Hotch told her.

Slowly, her breathing started to return to normal, sucking in short, gasping breaths of air, but they were steadier.

He pulled away from her, brushing her damp hair out of her face and resting a hand on her cheek. She wouldn’t look at him, still taking shallow breaths, tears still rolling down her cheeks, body still shaking.

“None of us blame you for any of it,” he told her, leaning down to try and catch her eye. “And there’s nothing that could have ever happened to you or that you could have possibly done that wouldn’t make us come for you.”

He brushed a tear off of her cheek as it slid from her eye.

“Evelyn, look at me.”

It took her a moment, but she finally managed to lift her eyes to meet his. They were wide and terrified, trembling like the rest of her body. Hotch tightened his jaw.

“We’re not going anywhere. I know your last family left you after what happened, but I promise you, we are not going anywhere.” Evelyn let out another shuddered breath and nodded her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It took a few more moments to calm her down and by the time she had stopped crying, her eyes were getting heavy.

“Sleep now,” Hotch said, slowly standing up from the bed. She was still sitting up, her head hanging and her hands in her lap.

“Aaron?” He paused at the door and half turned toward her. “Will you….”

She scowled and cleared her throat, shaking her head.

“What can I do for you?”

She breathed out heavily and looked up at him again.

“Would you stay, here, with me?” She felt stupid, asking.

But he wasn’t looking at her in pity or loathing. He nodded his head before walking to the other side of the bed.

Evelyn laid back onto the pillow, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She closed her eyes, embarrassed to see him, as if her request was ridiculous and gross. But she didn’t think that she could have fallen asleep if she was on her own.

She felt the other side of the bed dip in and the blankets rustle.

“Do you want the light on?” He asked.

“You can turn it off if you’d like.”

The light flickered off and they were shrouded in darkness.

“Goodnight, Evelyn.”

“Night, Aaron.”

___

When Hotch woke up the next morning, the other side of the bed was empty. He got used to the empty bed a long time ago, but there was a pit in his stomach this time. Evelyn should be there. She should be-

There was a smell coming from the kitchen. A pleasant smell.

Sitting up and stretching, Hotch made his way to the bedroom door. He heard laughing coming from the kitchen. When he opened the door, he had a direct line of sight to the kitchen. Jack was already awake, sitting happily at the table. There were usually only two chairs at that table, but Jack had pulled up a third.

Standing in the kitchen with a smile on her face was Evelyn. Jack was saying something to her, barely incoherent through all his laughter. Evelyn was just laughing along with him. Hotch shuffled through the hallway, leaning his shoulder against the corner of the and crossing his arms.

“What is going on here?” He asked with a smile on his face.

Evelyn and Jack both turned to him, both smiling.

“Eggs, bacon, French toast,” Evelyn said. “Want some?”

Hotch couldn’t help the smile on his face. He nodded, walking toward Jack and sitting down at the chair next to him.

It was strange, seeing Evelyn this way. She was generally serious at work, like he was. She would laugh and tease with Morgan and the girls and Reid, but Hotch was so used to her being solid, so stoic, so ready. But here she was, smiling and laughing and making jokes with him.

Evelyn walked over to the table carrying three plates of food and set them onto the table. She sat down, the biggest grin on her face.

“Dig in,” she said.

Hotch and Evelyn both knew that this happiness on her face went only so deep. Her suffering and her pain were just starting to bubble to the surface. But for now, she could eat this breakfast, laugh with Jack, pretend everything was okay.

“Would you like to watch my soccer game today, Evie?” Jack asked as they took the empty plates back to the kitchen.

Evelyn looked over at Hotch, hesitant.

“That would be great, buddy,” she said before looking back at Hotch. “Would you mind?”

“No, of course not.”

Jack’s grin was the brightest Hotch had seen in a long time.

Hotch knew of course about Evelyn’s competitive nature. They had been working together for years. He had seen enough games between her and Morgan to know that she liked to win. He still somehow didn’t expect that much competition to come out of her during his son’s soccer match.

She yelled from the sidelines, cheering for Jack and shouting at the ref and even exchanging glares with other parents. It was hard not to be distracted by her as Hotch tried to coach his team, trying to keep his laughing to a minimum. When the game ended, after Hotch had a word with the players, Jack ran straight for Evelyn. He stopped just in front of her, remembering what his dad had told him about not getting too close, and grinned up at her.

Evelyn put her hand on his head and ruffled his sandy blond hair.

“You were great out there, kid,” she said. “You got the most goals on your team.”

“We, uh, don’t usually keep score,” Hotch said as he walked over.

Evelyn looked up at him with the brightest smile.

“Well, I did and your team did a great job.”

One of the other moms walked over, her daughter and Jack immediately engaging in teasing and chatting about the game as they tried to kick each other in their still guarded shins.

“My name is Mary,” the mother said, reaching a hand out for Evelyn to shake. Evelyn startled, her heart rate spiking at Mary’s sudden movement. She recovered quickly, shaking Mary’s hand.

“Evelyn Caro.”

“Are you and Aaron-“

“We work together,” Hotch said.

Mary nodded her head.

“That explains the….”

She gestured toward Evelyn’s face before pausing and forced a smile.

“Right.”

Evelyn had forgotten how horrible her face must look. She had been absently rolling the scab on her lip between her teeth all day. Her bruised and cut cheek was sore, her other eye throbbing every now and again. The battered shape of her face hadn’t even crossed her mind while she offered to go to Jack’s game.

Evelyn looked over Hotch for assistance. His smile was still there, but thinner.

“Mary, how is your husband?” Hotch asked, clearly trying to direct the attention away from Evelyn. She was grateful for it.

She listened to their conversation with a smile until Jack walked back over to them and grabbed her by the hand. She turned to look at him with a smile. He beckoned for her to bend down and she did. Jack even stood on his toes so he could whisper in her ear.

“Can you ask Daddy if we can get McDonald’s on the way home?” He asked, his voice so quiet that Evelyn barely heard him.

Still, she let out a laugh and straightened her back.

“I can do that.”

Jack grinned and ran back toward his friends. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him run away. She had met Jack only handful of times in the past, but he was such a light. He meant so much to Aaron that it was impossible for Evelyn not to love him, too. The poor boy had been through so much already.

“What did he want?” Hotch asked.

Evelyn turned back around to find that not only was Mary talking to Hotch, but three other unaccompanied women were hanging around as well. She resisted the urge to tease him about it right there. Teasing Hotch was also something new. She never would have done it before. Their relationship was strictly professional.

“Jack wants to go to McDonald’s on the way home,” Evelyn told Hotch.

“Ah,” Hotch said, his hands on his hips.

“The kids always do,” a blonde mother said, no ounce of amusement in her tone as she glanced at Evelyn.

“I suppose he thought you asking would make the likelihood of me saying yes higher?”

Evelyn shrugged. The other moms stood there, laughing joylessly, but Evelyn didn’t even see them.

They did stop at McDonald’s on the way home. Jack happily sang a song to himself in the backseat, munching on his apple slices and French fries. Evelyn was sitting in the passenger seat with one of her feet propped up on the dash.

“This feels like cheating,” Evelyn sighed, staring at the fries in her hands.

“How?” Hotch asked with a short laugh.

Evelyn shrugged, shoving the fries in her mouth.

“Something about it. They’re too good, I guess. There’s gotta be a downside.”

Hotch opened his mouth to say something but she held up her hand to stop him.

“You don’t have to profile my eating habits, Hotchner,” she said.

Hotch simply laughed.

When they got back from the game, Jack went to take a nap, leaving Evelyn and Hotch alone in the apartment.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited the team over to watch the game this afternoon,” Hotch said.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Evelyn said. “This is still your home.”

“Right.” Hotch nodded his head.

She dropped herself onto the couch, her eyes tired, but she had no desire to sleep, especially if the team was coming over.

But her eyes were beginning to droop against her better judgement. The apartment was quiet, she could barely hear Hotch moving around until there was the soft sound of music flitting through the room.

Hotch sat down at the table, trying to be far enough away from the sleeping woman on his couch to help her feel comfortable. Light music floated through the room as he sat, flipping through a book that he wasn’t really reading. It seemed like every three seconds, his eyes would move from his book to where Evelyn was sleeping. He justified it to himself, trying to tell himself it was just to make sure she wasn’t having another nightmare. Last night had been hard on all of them and he didn’t want a repeat. But there was something else that kept drawing his gaze to her.

She just looked so at peace. Like none of the thousands of terrible things in the world could touch her. Her breathing was short, but steady and there was almost a bit of a smile on her face. His hands were tense around the book, just waiting for her breathing to change to signal to him that she was going to a place in her mind where she didn’t want to be.

He was almost tempted to ask the others to not come to allow Evelyn the chance to sleep. But Hotch thought it was best to allow her the time to socialize with the people she loved. She needed to be surrounded by support at this time and Hotch knew he couldn’t possibly provide enough of it to be any help.

An hour and a half later, fifteen minutes before the others were due to arrive, Hotch walked over to where she slept on the couch. Again, he was tempted to just let her sleep. But he put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a light shake in hopes of rousing her.

“Caro,” he whispered.

She woke with a startled gasp, her eyes snapping open. Hotch was prepared for some kind of emotional response. He was ready in case she needed his help, but after the initial shock of being woken up, she sat up normally. Rubbing her eyes, Evelyn let out a yawn.

“Are they here?” She asked.

“Not yet,” Hotch said. “Soon. I’m going to wake up Jack. Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” There was a little bit of a scowl on her face as she continued to try and wake herself up. “Anything I can do to help get ready?”

Hotch was already halfway to Jack’s room, but he shook his head.

“Everyone else is bringing food. We’re off the hook for this one,” he told her before slipping into Jack’s room.

Evelyn forced herself off the couch, even though her bones were still stiff and tired. She straightened the cushions she slept on before rubbing her eyes again. She didn’t think she had dreamed, which was the first time she hadn’t in a very long time.

She was rubbing tension out of her neck when there was the first knock at the door.

Evelyn started and reached for the gun that should have been there but wasn’t. Her heart pounded in her chest, her hand still on her hip where her gun should have been. She wanted to move, but her muscles felt frozen. Eyes wide and body tense, Evelyn struggled to breathe. There was a tightness in her chest she couldn’t shake.

There was a knock at the door again, but she still couldn’t move.

“Caro, you okay?” Hotch asked as he came back from Jack’s room. “Evelyn?”

He stopped on his way to the door. She saw him standing there, staring at her, but all she could do was watch the door. Her body began to shake ever so slightly from the tension in her muscles.

“It’s just the team, Caro,” Hotch said, slowly putting his hands out toward her. “They’re not going to hurt you.”

Evelyn heard what he was saying, but something in her bones told her that it was a bad guy, someone who wanted to come in and hurt her, hurt Hotch, hurt Jack. She wouldn’t let that happen.

“Caro, I need you to look at me and just breathe,” Hotch was saying, taking a step toward her. There was another knock at the door and she flinched. “Look at me. Breathe.”

Evelyn sucked in one deep breath in through her nose before flickering her watery eyes away from the door and toward Hotch. He titled his head to the side, taking on a non-offensive stance. Her eyes strained to look at him.

“I’m going to open the door, okay?” Evelyn gave a sharp shake of her head, her body jerking forward but her feet not going anywhere. “I’m going to open the door. It’s going to be okay.”

He took a step toward the door and Evelyn shook her head again. Hotch turned away from her and kept walking toward the door.

“Hotch,” Evelyn said, her words just barely above a whisper.

When his hand touched the handle, Evelyn shook her head again, staring at the door unblinking. The door unlocked and the handle turned.

“Hotch-“

The door opened. Evelyn’s eyes widened even further, waiting for Ralph to be standing there on the other side.

But it was just Penelope and JJ and Emily, all grinning wildly.

Evelyn blinked her eyes hard and shook her head, dropping her hands back to her sides and relaxing her defensive stance.

“Come in,” Hotch was saying.

Evelyn forced a smile onto her face and went to greet her friends as they came in. She helped them set up the table with the food and drinks they brought.

“How are you doing?” JJ asked as she tore into the chips.

Evelyn sighed, still trying to smile.

“I’m doing okay,” she said.

“I might not be as good a profiler as any of you guys,” JJ said. “But I know you well enough to know when you’re lying.”

Evelyn turned to face her, leaning her hip against the table and crossing her arms.

“I am doing as well as you can imagine I’m doing,” Evelyn said. “But most of the time I’m doing okay.”

JJ put a hand on her friend’s arm and offered a small smile.

“If you ever need anything-“

“I know you’re always there for me, JJ,” Evelyn said. “I won’t ever forget it.”

JJ nodded and they turned back to the table. It was only a few more minutes before the boys arrived. After greeting Hotch and Emily, Morgan came straight for Evelyn, who was still at the table rearranging everything for the fifteenth time.

“I swear I’m going to lose it if you ask me if I’m okay, Derek Morgan,” Evelyn said, moving the napkins off the plates where she had just put them.

Morgan let out his signature laugh before throwing an arm over her shoulders.

“I know how you’re doing, so I don’t need to ask,” Morgan told her. “I just came over here to give you a hug.”

Evelyn let out a breath and turned toward him, eagerly putting her arms around his waist. There was safety in his arms. Her muscles were still tense from her moment before, and it felt impossible for her to relax and fall into normalcy with her friends. But with Morgan there, everything seemed to be at least a little bit okay.

“Keep fighting,” he whispered in her ear. “That’s how you win.”

Evelyn nodded her head. She pulled away and quickly swiped away a stray tear before wiping her hands on her jeans. She back at Morgan briefly with a strained smile, glad to see him smiling back.

“Let’s go sit,” Morgan said to her.

Evelyn sat herself on the very end of the couch, knowing how much her team loved to cram in together and not really feeling comfortable being stuck in between Morgan and JJ as they shouted back and forth at each other about their opposing sports opinions. She sat with her feet up on the couch and her knees pulled up to her chest.

Reid sat next to her, still and quiet.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey, Reid.”

He didn’t say anything else. Evelyn didn’t really want him to. Still, she leaned toward him and put her head on his shoulder. Reid tensed for a moment, but then he relaxed.

“It’s good to have you back,” he whispered to her.

“It’s good to be back,” she whispered back.

A few minutes before the game had started, there was already yelling going on between Rossi and JJ about something Evelyn couldn’t really follow. Jack came out of his room, hair a mess and eyes looking tired.

“Hey, buddy!” Hotch said. “Come for some food?”

The newly awake Jack shook his head and hobbled over to Evelyn. She dropped her feet to the ground as he struggled to crawl into her lap. He dropped his head to her shoulder.

“You okay, kid?” she asked him, rubbing her hand up and down his back. He nodded and yawned.

A chip flew over her head that Morgan had definitely thrown at Rossi who sat in the chair next to Evelyn. Penelope was watching the commercials eagerly, shouting at everyone to quiet down. JJ had roped Emily into her argument with Rossi and Reid was telling Morgan something about some sports statistic that Morgan was desperately trying to refute.

Evelyn looked over at Hotch, who was watching them with a look in his eye that she couldn’t really read. She was usually good at reading Hotch, but every now and again, he’d get this look that she didn’t understand. When he noticed her looking, he gave her a smile and nodded his head.

Part way through the game, Jack left her lap to go and grab some food. She offered him her seat when he came back so that she could go over to the table for some food and a breather. Hotch met her there, scooping cheese dip onto his paper plate.

“Intense game,” Evelyn said, popping a grape into her mouth.

“Very.”

“Oh, come on!” Morgan yelled.

Evelyn laughed quietly to herself.

“If you need to step out-“

“I’m fine, Hotch, really,” she said, turning toward him. “Everything’s good. What happened earlier-“

“Was a completely normal reaction.” Evelyn was startled by his rebuttal interruption. “You’re allowed to have bad moments or even bad days.”

“I know that.”

“You’re also allowed to have fun.”

“I know that, too.”

Morgan stood up quickly from the couch, letting out half a expletive before remembering Jack was there and switching it up half way through.

“I really missed this, though,” Evelyn said through a laugh.

Hotch looked at her and then looked over at Morgan and let out a sigh.

“He was really worried about you,” Hotch told her, his hands tightening around the poor paper plate in his hand.

Evelyn nodded her head, looking down at the grapes in her hand.

“I thought I’d never see him again. I thought I’d never see any of you again,” she told him.

“You didn’t think we’d find you?”

“Oh, I knew you would,” she looked back over at him. “I just didn’t know if it would be soon enough.”

“Evelyn-“

“Evie, come look at this!” Penelope called, waving her over.

“Pardon me, Hotch.”

Hotch watched her walk away and kneel on the ground beside Garcia. They laughed about something. Smiling looked good on her, but he knew that it only ran so deep. He couldn’t wait for the day that smile would be real again. He just hoped he was there to see it.

By the time everyone left, the sun was almost down. They stayed long after the game, talking and laughing and throwing things at each other like a bunch of children. Penelope was the last to go, always asking for one last hug while Morgan waited for her just outside.

“I’ll see you soon, Pen,” Evelyn laughed, trying to push her friend toward the door.

“I hate leaving you,” Penelope said.

“I think I’m in the safest hands I can be.”

Penelope pulled away at that.

“You’re right.” She looked over at Hotch. “Hotch won’t let anything happen to you. You’re perfectly safe here.”

Evelyn gave her a smile.

“Exactly. Now, go. Morgan’s waiting for you.”

Penelope straightened her jacket and nodded her head.

“Right.” She turned and walked out the door. “Let’s go, Derek.”

Morgan offered one last wave, tossing an arm over Penelope’s shoulders. He sent a look Evelyn’s way that she read perfectly. If she needed anything….

Hotch shut the door and the apartment was silent. Evelyn let out a heavy breath.

“That was fun,” Jack said, laying on the couch.

“Time for bed for you, buddy,” Hotch said.

The team was generally good at cleaning up after themselves and taking the food that they had brought with them, but there was always a mess to clean up afterward. The few times Evelyn had one of these gatherings at her own place taught her this well enough. Hotch walked Jack toward his room while Evelyn turned to start cleaning.

“You don’t have to do that,” Hotch said, emerging from his son’s room as Evelyn pulled the full trash bag out of the trash can.

“I won’t be able to sleep knowing this place is a mess,” she told him.

It was these quiet moments when it was just the two of them that Evelyn felt the most exposed, the most terrified. Not that he would hurt her because she knew he never would, but just knowing that all of his attention was on her made her almost sick to her stomach.

“I’ll take the trash to the can outside,” Hotch said, walking toward her.

“Alright.”

She handed the bag off to him, his fingers just barely grazing over her hand. Evelyn elected not to look up at him as electricity crackled up her arm. She breathed in deeply and turned toward the couch.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said. He took a few steps away from her and Evelyn just nodded her head.

She didn’t look at him as he left the room. With a pounding heart, Evelyn sat slowly onto the couch, shutting her eyes and breathing deeply until she dropped her head into her hands.

What was wrong with her? She had always been able to keep her emotions under control around Hotch. Always. Even when he was talking about Hayley, even when he cared so deeply about people it made him rage, even when he did that thing with his eyes that silenced even the haughtiest narcissist, even when he gave her a look that put all other looks to shame. She had always kept her cool because that was what she had trained herself to do.

But now her training was backfiring on her. Her training was making her think danger was there when it wasn’t. Her training was making her question the movements of everyone she loved. Her training was taking her sleep from her. Her training was crumbling and slowly revealing that terrified girl that lay underneath.

Evelyn opened her eyes, hoping to think of absolutely anything else than the heat in her cheeks and the pounding of her heart in her stomach.

Maybe keeping her eyes closed may have been better because as soon as her eyes were open, they landed on Hotch’s bag propped up against the coffee table. Someone must have moved it during the game. Sticking out of the top was a file. There was no name on the file, but Evelyn knew it was hers, or at least from the last job they’d done, which was hers.

Instinct took over and she bent down, snatching the yellow folding from his bag. It was thick, thicker than she’d have liked. Laying it on the table, her suspicions were confirmed as she flipped open the first page. It was this last case and the very first picture on it was the one they took in the hospital when she first arrived.

Evelyn didn’t realize how terrible she looked until just then. She was thin, trembling. Her hair was matted with blood. She looked dirty, covered in blood and bruises. Evelyn gagged, covering her mouth with her hand. That was how all of her friends had seen her that day. The thought made her shiver.

The picture just underneath it was the one they had taken when she was a kid. The similarities in the pictures made her even sicker.

She shuffled through the files, eyes scanning the pages just like Reid had taught her, until she found Hotch’s report.

She pulled it out, hands shaking as she held it in front of her. She had always wondered how Hotch managed to write these reports, summing up everything they went through during the case in just a few short pages.

Her throat swelled as she read through the beginning. She read about the women Ralph killed, how they were assaulted and murdered, how the team discovered it was Ralph. She read through them deciding to send Evelyn into the meeting to find Ralph and lure him in. She didn’t know then that he was the step kid of her uncle. If she had, she wouldn’t have gone in there empty handed.

Then she read how they had found out she was missing and what they did to find her. Her heart plummeted into her stomach, dropping from her chest like a ton of rocks. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth, hoping swallow the sob that was threatening to come from her mouth. Sitting in that attic, Evelyn had wondered what the point of killing those other women was. She had spent hours pouring over ideas. She thought him running into her was an accident, pure coincidence. This case already put her on edge, seeing as it took place in the very same town she grew up in.

But the team had solved it. They had figured it out. All those women that Ralph had killed….

Tears clouded her vision, but she refused to blink. A quiet moan of distress came from her. She didn’t even hear the door of the apartment open.

“Evelyn?”

She didn’t jump at the sound of Hotch’s voice. Instead, she turned toward him slowly, those same tears gathered in her eyes.

“It’s my fault,” she said, holding the report in her hands. The tears dropped from her lashes, hitting her cheeks with the strength of a butterfly.  

“It’s not.”

“It is!” Hotch let out a defeated breath. “It says right here that-“

“That report says Ralph Bennet made the decision to assault and murder those four women.”

“Because of me!”

Hotch walked over to her and sat on the couch beside her, but not too close.

“Did you kill those women, Caro?”

“No, but-“

“No, you didn’t.”

“Hotch, he killed them because I knew them. He killed them because he knew it would lure me in. If I hadn’t-“

“What? If you hadn’t what?” She was quiet. “If you hadn’t killed your uncle? You did what you had to do to survive, Evelyn. No one will fault you for that.”

“If I hadn’t….” she trailed off, staring at the paper with her teary eyes.

“If you hadn’t come with us to solve this case? More women would have died.”

“I fell right into his trap,” she whispered, her hands tightening around the paper. “I didn’t even know he existed, and he knew me well enough to set the trap and just wait for me to walk right into it. I can’t believe I was that stupid.”

“Do you want to know what that tells me?”

She looked up at him.

“You returned to a town where you had been traumatized to help bring justice to these women. You went into that meeting trying to catch a killer. You stayed alive long enough for us to find you using clues that you gave us.” Evelyn sniffed, wiping the underside of her nose with the back of her hand. “You’re not stupid, Evelyn. You’re the bravest person I have ever met.”

She looked over at Hotch again, her lower lip trembling.

“They died for me,” she said and took in a shaky breath. A tear slid down her nose. “How do I repay them for that?”

Hotch was quiet for a moment and heaved out a sigh, just allowing him time to think of a proper answer.

“You live,” he told her. “You survive this and carry on for them.”

Evelyn closed her eyes. She was hearing him and her brain was telling her that he was right, but her heart wasn’t believing him. She couldn’t believe him.

Without saying anything, Evelyn pushed herself off the couch and made for the door, hoping to escape before he could see the tears that were threatening to run from her eyes again.

“Caro, where are you going?” Hotch asked, standing after her.

“I need some air,” she replied as she struggled with the lock on the door.

“I’ll come with you.”

“I need to be alone right now,” she said, finally getting the door open.

Hotch put his hand on the door and pushed it shut. Evelyn froze, keeping her hand on the doorknob.

“You’re not going anywhere by yourself.”

Evelyn turned around slowly. Hotch was looming over her, his hand still on the door to keep her from opening it again.

“Let me out, Hotch.”

“You’re not a prisoner here, but you’re not going out there alone.”

She stared at Hotch unblinkingly. Evelyn’s breathing started to speed up, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but it wasn’t anger or fear that made her heart rate spike.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, why not?”

Evelyn knew she was poking the bear, but she felt like she had to. Poke the bear yourself, make it roar on your terms before it decides to do it itself.

“Why can’t I go out there alone? You think I can’t handle myself?”

“No, I know you can-“

“Then why won’t you let me leave?”

“Because I want you to be safe.”

The calmness of his voice made her even angrier. It made her want to poke harder.

There was a gaping wound in her soul and it was still gushing blood. Hotch was trying to patch it up, help her to heal, but he was getting too close to the only thing that kept her breathing. He was getting too close to the wound and she was terrified of the idea of him seeing her, feeling her, so she recoiled. She would snap at him until he left her alone. Until he left her wound bleed in peace.

“Why did you come for me?”

“Why did we come for you?” Hotch repeated, astounded by her question. “You’re part of the team. Why wouldn’t we come for you?”

“I’m not asking about the team, Aaron. I’m asking about you.”

Hotch straightened at the sound of his first name. She knew why. She’d done it on purpose. She needed to convince him she was angry. That was the only way to keep him at bay.

“I couldn’t just let you rot there; the team needs you.”

“The team?” She let out a bitter laugh before pushing past him and stalking into the middle of the room. “It’s always about the team with you, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“I could have died in that house, Aaron, and all you can come up with is the team needed me and that’s why you came?”

She hated the taste her words left in her mouth. She hated saying them. But she had to. She had to push him away if she had any hope for surviving. She had tied her heart to his and if she didn’t severe it now….

There was real anger in his eyes at her words. Finally, an emotion. A chink in his armor.

“If you had died in that house, I would have killed that bastard myself!”

Evelyn sucked in a sharp breath. It was so rare to see an emotion on Aaron Hotchner. In the last few days alone, she had seen more from him than she had ever seen in all her years working with him; fear, joy, grief, anger, relief. And it was mostly because of her.

“Enough with the team needs me bullshit.” Evelyn dropped the tone of her voice. “I’m going for a walk.”

She turned her back on him and walked toward the front door. She made it all the way there, her hand on the doorknob before Hotch spoke again.

“I need you.”

Evelyn froze, her hand glued to the doorknob as if it was ice and her hand was burning hot. Her blood ran cold and her heart stopped in her chest.

“What?”

“You don’t accept that you’re a vital member of the team as a worthy reason for us to come and help you? Fine.” There it was again, anger in Hotch’s voice. His dark eyebrows were pulled together. “I need you.”

Evelyn had started this argument because she needed to keep his hands away from the wound she was nursing, the wound that every breath seemed to tear open a little bit more. His kindness and compassion were just insult to injury. But his sincerity in this moment punched through every wall around her wound that she had been attempting to build up in the last few minutes.

He said it like he would say any other truth. He said it like he would say anything during a case; without a hint of uncertainty.

She turned toward him. For the first time in a while, she felt no shame as tears glimmered in her eyes.

“You mean it?” She asked, pulling on the edges of her sleeve.

“Have I ever lied to you before?”

“I mean when, Emily-“ Evelyn stopped herself and cleared her throat. “No. You haven’t.”

Hotch stood there, clearly not wanting to say anything else that would set her off. Evelyn bowed her head, let her hand fall away from the doorknob, and she crossed the room, putting her arms around his waist before he even realized that she was coming toward him.

Hotch was frozen for a second, her change in mood so rapid that he almost couldn’t register it. Evelyn’s eyes were screwed shut as she prayed that he wouldn’t reject her embrace, though she could understand if he did. But, eventually, he put his arms around her, pulling her in closer and she could finally relax.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, letting the tears stream down her face, fast and hot. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” he told her, his words just as quiet.

“Please don’t give up on me.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m trying.”

Hotch knew from the report what happened with her parents after she had escaped from her uncle. He knew how they turned their back on her in the following months. She had come back to them after four years, after killing her father’s brother, and she wasn’t the little girl they had lost anymore. They reported anger issues, lashing out, screaming and hitting and breaking things. They told authorities they couldn’t handle her anymore. They just didn’t know what to do.

But Hotch also knew that she was a child who was cut so deeply by someone she trusted and that she deserved to be loved and protected by her family no matter what. No matter how loudly she screamed, no matter the mess she made, they should have loved her. They should have fought for her just as hard as she was fighting to survive. He wouldn’t abandon her like they did.

“I promise not to give up on you if you promise me not to give up on yourself,” he told her.

Evelyn nodded her head.

“Promise,” she said.

___

The following months were hard. Moving back into her own apartment where it was quiet and the silence was deafening was the hardest part. When there was no one to wake her from her nightmares or hold her while she cried, when there was no Jack to make her laugh even when she wanted to cry, when there was just her and the mirror. She hated being back home. She wanted to back at the Hotchner’s, but she knew she couldn’t impose on them any longer.

There were days when her promise to Hotch was the only thing that kept her going. He had made her promise not to give up on herself and she would be damned before she disappointed Hotch again. So, she fought, tooth and nail, just to stay afloat. Some days, that looked like lying in bed and letting the tears fall. Some days, that looked like calling Morgan or Penelope and asking them to play a board game with her. Some days, that looked like running until she couldn’t breathe. Some days, that looked like dancing around her apartment at 3 am.

Slowly, she began to remember what it was like to feel alive. And she started to love it again.

The day she came back to work, the smile on her face reached deep into that wound in her soul. It wasn’t healed, but it was better. It didn’t hurt to breathe anymore.

The team acted like she knew they would on her first case. Hotch didn’t let her go anywhere by herself. Someone had to be by her side at all times. It was suffocating, but she knew it was for the best.

By the time the case was finished and the guy arrested, Evelyn almost felt like herself again. This is what she was meant to be doing. She wasn’t supposed to be sitting by herself in her room all day, wasting away. The field was in her blood. It was part of her.

They all went out to dinner that night and everything was right in the world again. Evelyn used to sit in her apartment, Hotch and Morgan and Garcia sending her updates as they went. She knew when she got the triple text that the case was over that they’d be going out to eat, celebrating, having a laugh to cope with everything they had seen. And she would sit in her dark apartment.

But now she was in the right place. They went to a pub downtown. She ordered fries and a coke with a little cherry on top. Morgan made fun of her for smothering her fries in ketchup. She stole a bite of Emily’s pasta as she talked to Rossi. Life had returned to normal, and it was just what she needed.

The next few cases went the same way. Hotch began to trust her being alone again, allowing her to have the space she needed to do her job. There were cases where she needed to step into the bathroom and cry. There were times when she stayed behind with the local police because she couldn’t even think about going in without panicking. And the nights in her apartment alone were the worst.

But as long as she was on a case with her team, things were actually okay. She could push away her fear and the anxiety that made her bones rattle and her muscles freeze. She could go back to be Agent Evelyn Caro, where she was at her best.

Almost a year passed. Evelyn knew that the anniversary fear was a thing, but she was determined to be fine. The case they came in for was the farthest away from anything that could remind her of what she went through. Men were being taken and killed. The pattern was easy to solve, the profile quick to figure out. Everything was going to be okay.

Until Hotch and Evelyn were hunting the killer on their own. Evelyn was walking through a suspect’s house with her gun drawn, knowing that Hotch was upstairs doing the same thing. There was a thud coming from the second floor.

“Hotch?” Evelyn called out. “You okay?”

There was no reply. Her heart started to seize.

“Hotch?”

Walking toward the stairs, her gun drawn, Evelyn told herself to breathe. She would be no help to Hotch if she was panicking. She took one step up the stairs before a sudden and sharp pain exploded against the side of her head, sending her into the wall, knocking her unconscious.

When Evelyn woke up, she was in a basement. Her head squeezed and ached, jaw stiff. She shook her head and forced her eyes open.

Sitting across the room from her, still unconscious, was her boss.

“Hotch!”

Evelyn scrambled over to him, barely standing at all before she dropped to the ground next to him.

“Hotch, hey, you good?”

She saw him breathing, so that was something, but he was unresponsive to her voice. She shook his shoulders, but still he slept.

“Please don’t fire me,” Evelyn whispered before pulling her hand back and slapping him across the face.

Hotch gasped and his eyes flew open, his body falling over to the side.

“Oh, thank God,” Evelyn breathed.

“Did you slap me?” Hotch asked her, sitting back up.

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

“So you slapped me?”

Evelyn shrugged as Hotch rubbed his jaw with his hand.

“Remind me to never piss you off,” he told her. Evelyn felt herself almost smile. “Where are we?”

Evelyn looked around the basement and let out a heavy breath.

“Not sure,” she said. “We got the profile wrong, didn’t we?”

Hotch nodded his head and used the support beam in the middle of the room to push himself upward.

“There was a woman. I thought she was hurt, but….”

“She got the drop on the mighty Aaron Hotchner? I’m impressed.” Evelyn teased, needed to joke about something before her brain exploded from the pain or the panic she felt growing in her bones took over completely.

Hotch looked down at Evelyn with a stern look that told her maybe joking wasn’t his favorite way to cope with being kidnapped. Evelyn pursed her lips and pushed herself onto her feet.

“Lions got me, I think,” Evelyn told him, using the support beam to keep her standing.

“So there are two of them and one of them is a woman.” Hotch breathed out a sigh. “How does that change the profile?”

“We know that the men were chosen because Lions wanted something they had.”

“Position, status, money-“

“A certain woman.”

Hotch turned to look at Evelyn, who was scanning the basement as if it would hold the answers. There were blood stains on the ground. This was definitely where the victims were killed. There was a door at the top of the stairs, but if these guys were any good at what they did, the door would be locked.

“You think his partner could have been the wife of one of the victims?” Hotch asked.

Evelyn looked back at him and shrugged.

“A wife, a girlfriend, a sister, a daughter. Maybe the person he wants to take her from isn’t even dead yet, but he’s the reason Lions is killing.”

“Why would she help him?”

Evelyn breathed out again.

“Maybe she feels trapped where she’s at and he’s got her convinced this is the only way to save her? If she feels completely dependent on him, she might just do whatever he says.”

“Even kill?”

Evelyn shrugged her shoulders again, but they both knew that the answer was yes. A woman caught in a corner was just as capable of killing as anyone else.

“Well, that’s good then,” Hotch said, putting his hands on his hips.

“How is any of that good?”

“It means I’m the one they want, not you,” Hotch said.

Evelyn’s eyebrows pinched together.

“That really doesn’t sound good, Hotch.”

“You can get through to the partner, Caro,” Hotch said, walking back toward her. Evelyn narrowed her eyes even further at him.

“Maybe, yes.”

“Good. That will get us out of here.”

He turned away from her again. He pulled off his blazer and loosened his tie and the temperature in the room raised about fourteen degrees. Evelyn had to shake away her imagination before responding.

“And what are you going to do?”

“What they brought me here for.”

___

“Please, stop!”

The female unsub, Rosalie, held tight to Evelyn’s arms, holding her back as the male unsub, Jeremy Lions, pounded his fist into Hotch’s face.

“You think you’re so strong,” Hotch laughed, taunting Lions. “Don’t you?”

Lions hit Hotch in the face again.

“You have to stop him,” Evelyn said to Rosalie. “No one else can get through to him.”

“He’s doing what he has to to keep us safe,” Rosalie whispered to Evelyn, but despite the strength in her arms, her voice was weak. “Your friend just needs to give in. It’ll be easier that way.”

Lions hit Hotch again and Evelyn cried out, pulling against Rosalie.

“Shut her up, Rose!”

“Shh, shh,” Rosalie whispered in Evelyn’s ear, holding her right from behind. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“No!” Evelyn struggled against the woman holding her, jerking her shoulders in hopes of breaking free.

“You really think that any of this will earn you manhood, Lions?” Hotch said with a laugh, turning the unsub’s gaze back onto him and away from Evelyn.

Lions hit Hotch in the face again.

“Stop it, damnit!”

Lions whirled around and backhanded Evelyn in attempts to get her to quiet down. Rosalie gasped and let Evelyn fall to the ground.

“Jeremy! You said we wouldn’t hurt her!”

Lions let out a growl and grabbed onto Rosalie’s arm, dragging her out of the basement and leaving Hotch and Evelyn behind.

“You need to get through to Rosalie, Caro,” Hotch said as soon as she took a single step toward him.

“I am,” she huffed. Hotch raised an eyebrow at her. “She doesn’t want me to get hurt, that much is clear. If she associates you getting hurt with me getting hurt, she’ll push for Lions to hurt you less.”

Hotch nodded his head once, stretching out his jaw.

“You trust me, right?” Hotch said.

“Of course.” Evelyn’s response was immediate.

“Good.”

That night, they slept in the basement on opposite sides of the room, even though it was freezing cold. Saying they slept was an over exaggeration. Evelyn could barely even close her eyes. It was the cold that kept her eyes frozen open, but it was also the reality of it all. She was trapped, once again. She was a prisoner, once again. She was at the mercy of a man, once again.

And Hotch was here but she had never felt more alone.

The door creaked open and Evelyn sat up with a gasp. She shuffled backward, away from the door, but it was just Rosalie walking down the wooden stairs. The woman locked the door behind her, but still flinched.

“Hi,” Rosalie whispered as she neared. There was a cup and a plate in her hand. She watched the sleeping Hotch as she walked by, only turning her attention back to Evelyn once she passed him.

“Hi,” Evelyn whispered back, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“I…I’m not going to hurt you,” Rosalie said. She lowered herself to the ground a few feet away from her. Rosalie set the cup and the plate down and scooted it closer to Evelyn.

Evelyn looked between the food and the woman.

“You need to eat.” Rosalie’s voice was soft. Kindly.

Evelyn straightened her back and lifted her chin, giving a slight shake of the head.

“I’m not hungry.”

Rosalie let out a sigh and turned to look over at Hotch, who still slept soundly.

“Saving it for him won’t do anything for either of you,” Rosalie said, almost sadly. “Only one of you is making it out of here. I think you know which one it’s going to be.”

___

“Here, eat.” Evelyn pushed the plate of cold potatoes and toast in his direction, the cup of water sitting on top. Hotch raised an eyebrow at her. “Rosalie came in last night. Brought us some food.”

“Did you eat?” He asked her, sitting up from his sleeping position.

Evelyn nodded her head.

“Caro-“

“I ate, Hotch,” she said, a little more harshly than she meant to. “You need to keep your strength if we’re going to have a repeat of yesterday.”

Hotch almost laughed as he hooked his finger over the edge of the plate and slid it toward himself. Evelyn watched, her stomach gurgling as he took a bite out of the bread.

“Stale toast is just ravishing, isn’t it?” Evelyn asked as she leaned up against the wall he also sat against. Hotch hummed his response. He ate slowly, took a sip of water.

“How are you?” He asked.

Evelyn rolled her head against the wall to look over at him.

“Just peachy, Hotchner. How are you?”

“I’m serious. How are you doing?”

Evelyn let out a sigh, looked up at the ceiling, and closed her eyes.

“Taking it one breath at a time,” she said. “I’ll deal with the aftermath once we’re out of here.”

Evelyn looked over at him again and attempted a half-cocked smile. Hotch wasn’t smiling. He was staring at her, staring right through her smile and her outer shell of calmness and straight into her soul where her wound was, her wound that was slowly starting to heal.

“I’ll be okay, Aaron,” she said, dropping her smile. “Promise.”

Hotch nodded his head and turned away from her.

“Don’t do anything stupid today, Caro,” he told her.

“Do I ever?”

___

“I told you not to do anything stupid,” Hotch sighed as Evelyn let out a hiss of pain.

“I didn’t realize that trying to stop you from dying was considered something stupid.”

“It is when you get put in harm’s way.”

Evelyn held a strip of her shirt against her bleeding nose. Hotch rolled up his sleeves.

“We’ve got two days left here,” Hotch said, pacing back and forth in front of Evelyn.

“The team will find us,” Evelyn replied. She lowered the piece of her shirt and scrunched her nose before stretching it out again.

“I don’t doubt it.”

The sun went down sooner than Evelyn thought it would, meaning she had slept longer than she thought she had.

“You should sleep,” Hotch said.

“I’m not tired.”

“He won’t hurt you, Caro.”

The dark concealed Hotch’s face from her, even though he was only a few feet away. Evelyn shifted uncomfortably.

“I know.”

“If I don’t make it out of here-“

“Hotch, stop. We’re both going to walk out of here just fine.”

“But if I don’t, promise to take care of Jack.” Evelyn breathed in deeply, ready to shake her head and tell him again that they were going to both survive this. “Promise me.”

Instead of arguing, which she knew would get them nowhere, Evelyn nodded her head.

“I promise.”

Hotch didn’t say anything else. Evelyn didn’t sleep. The change in his breathing after a while told her that he had fallen asleep.

She didn’t know how long it was before the door creaked open. Evelyn startled and sat up straighter, gasping in a breath. But it was just Rosalie, coming down with more food. This time, she didn’t say anything. She sat right next to Evelyn and set the food between them.

“You have to eat,” she said finally.

Evelyn reached out and took the cup of water and brought it to her parched lips. She drank some, but set it down before it was finished.

“You don’t have to save it for him.”

Evelyn turned her head to look at Rosalie.

“He’s my friend. I’m not going to let him starve.”

Rosalie was quiet for a moment.

“I think he’s more than that.”

“How did you meet Jeremy?” Evelyn asked. She thought she saw a smile on Rosalie’s lips.

“I lived with my brother and his wife as their live-in nanny of sorts. Jeremy worked for them as a gardener. My father kept me locked up my entire life and when he died, my brother took over. His sister’s keeper or something. But Jeremy he…. he made me feel free and alive and seen. And so, so loved.”

Rosalie stopped there, her smile lingering for a few moments before falling.

“But he changed, didn’t he?”

Rosalie nodded her head slowly, her lower lip curling and tears starting to run down her cheeks. Evelyn just let her cry for a few moments, until the woman collected herself. She sucked in a sob and stuffed her hands full of her dress.

“He took me from my brother’s house, brought me here,” Rosalie said. “Said he needed my help.”

“He used you to lure in men that he saw as superior to himself so that he could kill them.”

Rosalie nodded again, tears still rolling from her eyes.

“I never wanted to…I tried to tell him that I love him as he is…that he doesn’t need to-“

“Rosalie, listen to me. Nothing you could ever do will convince him of that because his issues have nothing to do with you,” Evelyn said, turning to face her.

“I don’t….”

“Jeremy Lions may love you, Rosalie, but he is very sick. He is not killing people to be a better man for you, no matter what he has told you. He feels inferior so he thinks he has to kill to be superior. That’s why he wanted Hotch.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

Evelyn heaved out a breath.

“Hotchner is everything Jeremy thinks he’s lacking. Confident, strong. He’s got a high-ranking job. He’s respected by his peers. He’s good looking and has a nice home and great friends. Jeremy doesn’t think he has any of this and he wants it, which is why he wants to hurt Hotchner.”

“To take something he doesn’t think he has.”

Evelyn sucked in a breath and reached forward to take Rosalie’s hands in hers.

“No matter what you do, Rosalie, you will never be enough for him, do you understand? He has you, he has love, but that will never be enough for him.”

“No, no!” Rosalie stood up quickly. “No. Once we’re married, everything will be okay. We’ll buy a new house. Live a happy life.”

“Rosalie-“

“No! You’re wrong.”

“Rosalie….”

“You’re wrong!”

Rosalie hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Evelyn shut her eyes again. With a growl, she pounded her knuckles into the hard concrete ground.

“You okay?”

Hotch was barely awake, his voice gravelly and tired.

“I’m okay, Hotch, go back to sleep.”

He grumbled something and was soon asleep again. Evelyn could do nothing but sigh. Still, she didn’t sleep.

The next day went no better than the last. It was night again before Evelyn knew it. She sat on the ground, head between her knees. Hotch stood, leaning up against the support beam in the middle of the room.

“You’re not sleeping,” he said. Evelyn didn’t move. “Talk to me.”

“I told you, I’ll deal with it after we get out of here,” she told him, her words muffled by her knees.

Hotch walked toward her and let out a groan as he lowered himself to the ground.

“You can sleep,” he told her, his words even quieter than they were before. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Evelyn lifted her head finally to look at him.

“That’s not why I’m not sleeping,” she said, which was partially a lie. She didn’t sleep because she needed to be aware at all times. She couldn’t risk nodding off and letting her guard down. But there was another part to it.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked her.

“I thought I was going to die alone in that house, Aaron.” Her voice was thick with tears. “Twice. I stay awake because I can’t stand the thought of dying alone. And if you die while I’m sleeping-“

Hotch reached out and took her hand in his. When she looked over at him, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at her. She let out a shaky sigh and let him lace his fingers through hers. It was all the comfort that she needed.

“You’re not going to die alone,” Hotch told her. “You’re not going to die here at all.”

Evelyn nodded and let a few of the tears in her eyes fall, grateful for the darkness to cover her face. She lowered her head slowly to his shoulder, damning all protocol to hell, if there even was protocol for maybe dying in a basement with your boss. When Hotch didn’t immediately pull away from her or shake her off his shoulder, she settled in and shut her eyes.

“You’re not dying here either,” she said. “Not if I can help it.”

For the first time in days, Evelyn slept.

She awoke to someone grabbing hold of her hand. Her first thought was that it was Hotch squeezing her in his sleep. But when she gasped and opened her eyes, she found that it was just Rosalie sitting in front of her. It was still dark outside. She thought that the woman had brought her more food, but she turned out to be wrong.

“We have to go,” Rosalie whispered. “We have to go.”

“What?”

“Shh, shh,” Rosalie put a shaking finger to her lips and pulled on Evelyn’s hand. “You were right. We have to go now.”

Rosalie pulled Evelyn to her feet, dragging her toward the door before she was even fully awake.

“Wait, stop,” Evelyn whispered, trying to shake herself awake.

“No, now! This is the only chance you have.”

Rosalie dragged Evelyn out of the basement doors and up the stairs into the house above. It wasn’t the same house that Hotch and Evelyn had been searching before, she could tell that even in the dark.

“Where are you taking me, Rosalie?”

“You have to get out of here, now! Jeremy doesn’t want to kill you, but he will,” Rosalie said, pulling her through the rundown and dirty home.

“Stop. Stop!” Evelyn dug her heels into the ground and forced Rosalie to stop. “I’m not leaving Aaron.”

“You don’t have time!” There was nothing but pure desperation in Rosalie’s voice. “Jeremy knows I left. He’s coming here. You have to go now or you’re not going at all.”

Evelyn wrenched her arm out of Rosalie’s grip.

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Jeremy will kill you.” Rosalie sounded desperate, terrified.

Evelyn shook her head and took a step backward.

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving him.” Rosalie’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Go. Call the police. Tell them where we are.”

Rosalie nodded her head.

“Go.”

Without another word, Rosalie turned around and ran from the house.

Evelyn watched her go. Her heart rate spiked when headlights flashed through the front window. All she could do for Rosalie was hope that she found some place to hide until Lions entered the house. If Lions was here, this was it. He was coming for Hotch.

Evelyn ran back to the basement as quietly as she could. She shut the basement door, hearing it lock with a heart wrenching click, just as the front door opened. She hurried down the stairs and dropped to the ground next to Hotch, startling him awake.

“What’s going on?” Hotch asked, still sounding stuck in sleep.

“Lions is here,” Evelyn whispered to him. “Rosalie is gone, she’s calling the police.”

“How-“

“We need a plan and quick,” Evelyn told him.

“We don’t know how long it will take for the police to respond,” Hotch replied quietly, his voice surprisingly calm. This might be his last few moments on earth, and he wasn’t terrified or angry or anxious. He was just calm. “All of his attention will be on me. You can escape then.”

She shook her head.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“This isn’t a time for heroics.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

Before Hotch could argue, Evelyn pushed herself to her feet.

“What are you doing?” Hotch asked, standing after her.

“Like you said, Lions’ attention will all be on you. He won’t be expecting me.”

“Caro-“

She sunk into the shadows just as the door of the basement opened. Lions trudged down the stairs, grumbling to himself.

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward Hotch.

“Where’s the girl?” Lions asked, his voice low and gruff.

Hotch was silent.

“Doesn’t matter,” the unsub grumbled to himself. With his back to her completely, Lions started for Hotch. Evelyn would make sure he never reached him.

She crept out from her shadows, walking toward Lions. The ever present ache in her head from when Lions knocked her out didn’t even stop her. She was silent as she moved until she was right up behind him. In one quick motion, Evelyn kicked the back of his knee, dropping him to the ground before wrapping her arm around his neck.

Lions struggled against Evelyn. He was strong and she was weak from days with little food and water as well as the head injury. But she held on as tight to his neck as she could.

Hotch ran to check the basement door, but Lions had closed it, leaving it locked.

As he did so, Evelyn was so focused on keeping her grip on Lions, that she didn’t see his hand moving toward his pocket. He pulled out a knife and rammed it into her shin. She cried out, falling back and away from Lions.

“Evelyn!”

Hotch turned away from the door and ran back toward her as Lions stumbled away. Evelyn fell back against the support beam, lowering herself to the ground as she pressed her hands against the cut on her leg.

Hotch ran toward Evelyn, but Lions intercepted him. Fire spread throughout Evelyn’s leg, dark blood seeping through her fingers. She clenched her jaw in hopes of easing the pain. Hotch and Lions tumbled, a blur of bodies that Evelyn once again couldn’t distinguish. This scene was all too familiar to her.

Hotch was trained, but he was weak. Lions relied mostly on his size and strength, but lacked any formal training. Evelyn needed to get back into the fight, that was the only way Hotch would win this.

With a groan of effort and a sharp stabbing pain shooting through her leg, Evelyn forced herself to stand. Using the support beam as her support as well, she allowed herself a few moments to breathe through the pain before lurching forward.

Lions had Hotch pinned against the wall, his arm across his chest to keep him there. Evelyn hurtled toward Lions, pushing through the pain in her leg and barreled into him. This knocked him off balance. Being unable to stop herself once she started, she and Lions tumbled over each other until they were both on the ground. Hotch started forward to help Evelyn to her feet, but Lions had an arm around her waist and the knife pressed to her neck before either of them could really react.

“Back off,” Lions said, his voice even more gruff than before. Blood dribbled down from a broken nose and he wheezed, telling Evelyn that Hotch had hit him enough times near the diaphragm to knock the wind out of him.

The cool of the metal knife pressed against Evelyn’s throat didn’t scare her. Especially when she met Hotch’s gaze. That dead calm he always put forward she now felt flow through her veins. Everything was going to be okay, she could see it in his eyes. Evelyn breathed as shallowly as she could, trying to keep her throat from extending too far into the knife.

Lions pushed himself off the ground and brought Evelyn up with him. The knife cut into the first few layers of her throat and Evelyn flinched, feel the cool of her own blood dribble down her neck. Hotch put his hands in the air, trying to show that he meant Lions no harm.

“She’s not a part of this,” Hotch said. “You know that, Lions.”

“She’s a bitch is what she is,” Lions snapped, pressing the knife harder against Evelyn’s neck.

Hotch flinched forward and Evelyn shut her eyes.

“You want me, Lions, not her.” This was the calmness that Evelyn had never understood before. Her negotiation skills had never been good. Hotch said that she was too emotional. She cared too much and it was too easy to read in her voice. But Hotch was too good at pretending not to care at all. “Let her go and I’ll go with you.”

“No, Hotch-“

“Shut up,” Lions seethed in her ear. “You don’t get to talk.”

“Is that how you treat Rosalie, huh?” Evelyn asked, her hands on his arm that held the knife to her throat. “You call her a bitch and tell her shut up?”

“Be quiet!”

Evelyn could feel blood soak into her shirt, weighing it down.

“Lions, look at me,” Hotch said, pulling his attention away from Evelyn. “You can let her go.”

Evelyn felt her wounded leg start to grow numb and her balance shifted. In not too long, she wasn’t sure that she would be able to keep herself standing upright.

The door behind them burst open and Evelyn let out a gasp. Lions flinched and loosened his grip on her just enough that she broke free from him and stumbled forward, right into Hotch.

“Jeremy Lions, drop the knife and put your hands in the air!” Emily Prentiss said, her voice deep and commanding.

Evelyn’s leg gave out, every ounce of weight put on it causing a shooting pain up and down her entire body. Hotch held her up by her arms, her back pressed against his chest. He was the only thing keeping her standing and she could barely even do that.

Lions didn’t turn around, but he put his hands up in the air.

“Rosalie did this,” he said, his voice deadly low.

“Drop the knife, Lions,” Emily said again.

“You turned her against me.” Lions shifted his angered eyes away from Hotch and onto Evelyn. “You did.”

“I don’t want to shoot you, Lions, but I will.”

“You turned her against me!”

Lions took half a step toward them, the knife now facing her. Hotch turned Evelyn away, preparing to step between them, but Emily fired a single shot, the bullet tearing right through Lions’ shoulder. He fell to the ground with a cry of pain, the knife falling out of his grip.

Evelyn, still unable to stand on her own, turned to Hotch, her neck still bleeding.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, noting the bruises on his face.

“Are you guys alright?” Emily asked, her gun trained on Lions.

“We need a medic,” Hotch said. Emily nodded her head, her eyes flickering down the cut in Evelyn’s shin and neck.

Emily relayed the information through her earpiece, as well as saying the offender was down. Evelyn stayed leaned up against Hotch, his hands clinging to her arms to keep her steady, as Emily took Lions away in handcuffs.

Morgan and Reid came running into the basement along with the paramedics.

“Evie,” Morgan stepped toward her and she just smiled.

“We’re okay,” she told him.

“Ma’am,” the paramedic said. “Let’s get you to the ambulance.”

The paramedics stepped forward, one taking hold of Evelyn. The other moved toward Hotch.

“How are you feeling?” the paramedic asked him.

“Can you make it to the ambulance?” the paramedic asked Evelyn, who nodded her head.

“I can carry you,” Morgan said, stepping forward. Evelyn let out a quiet laugh.

“I can manage on my own, Derek,” she told him. Still, he followed her and the paramedic, his hands out just in case she started to fumble.

They helped her up the stairs and she looked back at Hotch, to find that his eyes were still on her. He nodded her head and she smiled at him.

The pain that flared throughout Evelyn’s leg was white hot, but with the paramedic taking most of her weight and Morgan just behind her, Evelyn was able to make it to through the house and to the ambulance without letting a single tear fall from her eye.

Hotch came out of the house a few minutes later, the paramedic still trying to get him to sit for a moment while Reid filled him in on everything they missed in the case.

“I’d like to speak with Rosalie,” Hotch said.

“She’s over here,” Reid said.

Hotch tried not to look over at the ambulance where he knew Evelyn was. He still had a job to do and he couldn’t focus on that if all he could think about was whether or not she was okay. He knew she was okay. She was always okay.

Rosalie sat in the back of one of the cop cars, her eyes closed and silent tears running down her cheeks. Hotch popped open the door, but she didn’t look at him.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

“He’ll survive,” Hotch told her. Rosalie let out a shaky breath and slowly opened her eyes. “Why did you help us?”

“I didn’t help you,” she said, looking away from him and toward the ambulance. “I helped Evelyn.”

Hotch scowled.

“She loves you, you know?”

Her words startled him and Hotch felt ice run through his blood.

“What?”

“She loves you. I gave her food at night but she’d only eat part of it, saved the rest for you. And last night I came to take her somewhere safe before Jeremy came back to kill you, but she refused to leave. I almost had her out of that house, but she ran back in. For you.”

Hotch looked down at his feet. He didn’t really expect anything less of Evelyn Caro. She always put everyone’s lives above her own. He shouldn’t expect her to act any different toward him.

But anger still bubbled up inside of him. She could have gotten herself killed and for what? She should have left him there and ran to get help. She should have….

“You better be damn sure you’re worth it.” Rosalie’s words were venom and Hotch could feel their sting deep in his blood.

Hotch shut the door, leaving Rosalie to her silence and grief. He turned to look at the ambulance, just as Morgan was stepping into the back. The paramedic shut the door, closing Hotch off from Evelyn. The siren started to blare, and the ambulance rolled out of the driveway.

“They’re taking her to the hospital,” Prentiss said, walking over to him. Hotch nodded his head. “Lost too much blood to just let her come back with us.”

“She kept antagonizing him,” Hotch said as he placed his hands on his hips. “If she had just let me go with him-“

“Caro was protecting you, sir,” Prentiss said. He looked at her, scowl deepening. “She knew that as soon as Lions had you, he would kill you. She had to make sure that didn’t happen.”

Hotch watched the ambulance as it drove away, the sirens ringing.

He never got the chance to ask if she was okay.

___

Evelyn lay back in her bed at the hotel, staring at the ceiling. A bandage wrapped around her leg and it itched, making it impossible for her to sleep. There was something else keeping her awake. Her mind reeled, the last few days playing over and over in her head. Trapped in a room with Hotch for days on end was the perfect time to talk to him about all the things that were bothering her, but even then, she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t even know where to begin because she didn’t even know what she was feeling anyway.

Sitting up with a huff, Evelyn glowered into the darkness. She threw off her blankets that were making her too hot, lowering herself onto the ground and landing on her good leg. She hobbled over to her discarded clothes and threw them back on.

Air was what she needed. A breath of fresh air. And then she’d be okay. She could go back to pretending that everything was fine and normal, like she always did.

As she pulled a coat onto her shoulders, she opened the door and froze.

Hotch was standing there, wearing a broken down version of his usual suit. His tie and jacket were discarded, his shirt buttoned up sloppily. She wondered if he had ever even gone to bed. And he was standing in front of her door, his hand not even raised to knock. He was just standing there.

He looked at her with wide eyes, shocked to find her there.

“Um, hi,” Evelyn said, dropping her hand from the doorknob.

“I just wanted to check to see how you were doing,” Hotch said.

“Hotch, it’s like three in the morning.”

He looked down at his hands. He was actually fidgeting. Something had made him motivated enough to come here, but nervous enough not to knock.

“I know. I can go-“

“No, wait.” He froze. “I never got to ask if you were okay.”

Hotch nodded his head.

“I’m okay.”

“Good.”

They stood there in silence. Evelyn felt her throat tighten every time she wanted to say something. Hotch wouldn’t look at her. The silence seemed to drag on for eternity before Hotch finally broke it.

“I talked to Rosalie, after everything, and she said something,” Hotch said. Evelyn finally put her eyes on him.

“What…what did she say?”

There were a thousand terrible things that Evelyn could think of that the woman could have possibly said to land her standing in front of her boss at three in the morning.

“She said that you had a chance to leave that house and you came back,” he told her. Evelyn straightened her back. This was going to be a lecture, she could just feel it coming. She just didn’t know why it couldn’t wait until morning. “Why?”

Evelyn scowled and looked at the ground, her hand still on the door.

“Why?” She repeated. “Because I couldn’t leave you there.”

“You should have.”

Evelyn felt her temper begin to rise. What was it with this man?

“A ‘thank you for saving my life’ would suffice,” she said, her tone harsh. “If I hadn’t come back, Lions would have killed you. From where I’m standing, I made the right decision.”

“And got yourself hurt in the process.”

“I’ll survive.” Hotch fell quiet again. “Listen, Aaron, if you’ve come to pick a fight, I think it can wait until morning.”

Evelyn took a step back and started to close the door, but Hotch lifted his hand and stopped it from closing. She looked over at him, jaw tightened, and found him staring back at her.

“I’m not here to pick a fight with you,” he said.

“Then why did you come?”

She could see the question rattling around in his brain, as if he had been asking himself that very same question ever since he left his room.

“I’m sick of this, Aaron,” she said finally, when he didn’t answer. “I’m sick of neither of us being able to say what we really mean. I’m sick of running in circles around each other. Just tell me why you came here.”

“I came to make sure you’re okay.”

“Mission accomplished then. I’m fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She started to close the door again and this time he didn’t stop her.

“Rosalie also said you loved me.”

Evelyn froze, the door almost shut so she couldn’t see his face anymore. Which was good because it meant that he also couldn’t see hers and the fear that was etched into every feature. Her breathing became heavy, like every breath took so much more work. She closed her eyes, and slowly started to open the door again.

“Rosalie said that?” Hotch nodded his head once. “Did you believe her?”

He was quiet for a moment, letting out a long but quiet sigh.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re a profiler. Tell me, what do you think?”

He took a while to answer.

“I think you’re a deeply compassionate person who cares for the team. I think you would give your life for any one of us in a heartbeat.” Evelyn looked down at her feet and Hotch tried to follow her eyes with his. “I know that you would never do anything to jeopardize the dynamics of this team because we’ve become your family.”

“Okay.”

“So, I don’t know how much of what you say and do is because the team is your family and how much is because-“

“-I love you.”

The words came from her mouth like any other fact would. She had known it for so long, never said it, not even to herself, but she knew it. And she managed to say it so casually. She was just completing his sentence after all.

Hotch stood still, as if trying to decide whether or not she was finishing what he was saying or confessing. He searched her eyes, but she stayed motionless. It was time he figured things out for himself, she decided. They’d both spent so long trying to figure the other out, it was high time someone just made the first move.

“When you were at Ralph Bennet’s house,” he said finally, “I had these horrible dreams about finding you there already dead. I was too late to save you.”

Evelyn could have sworn there were tears glimmering in his eyes.

“You did though, Aaron. You did save me.”

“But was I too late?” He asked. “Did I wait too long for…everything else?”

“What do you want, Aaron?” Her voice was just at a whisper, her hand still on the door.

It was the last time she would ask. This was the last time and then she’d let it go, let him go. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life, however short that might be, pining after one man.

Hotch surprised her then. He didn’t say anything else, he didn’t try to talk. Talking was clearly getting him nowhere. Everything he said somehow came out wrong. Instead, he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. Putting a hand to her cheek, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

His answer was clear. It took her a few moments to over come her shock, but when she did, she reached out to grab hold of his shirt collar, pulling him in closer.

She pulled him into her room and shut the door, leaving the hallway empty and quiet.

Her room was still dark as he moved her backward, his hands never leaving her. He thought he had lost her. But here she was, with him, and that’s all he needed.

“You,” he whispered against her skin. “Just you.”

Every raging fire that made up Evelyn Caro met the calm seas that built Aaron Hotchner, burning and boiling and soothing in every possible way.

He kissed her lips, her bruised cheek bone, her jaw. His hands rested against the side of her neck, gently though, so as not to irritate her wound. She tugged at his wrinkled shirt, trying to pull him closer.

Hotch knew this was breaking protocol. But he left behind every rule in the book when he left his room two hours ago. Every inch of contact with her made his stomach twist, every time her teeth grazed his lip made his heart pound. For so long he had wanted her and for so long he had pretended otherwise. He was so, so tired of pretending.

He was pulling off her shirt and she didn’t stop him and he didn’t stop himself, but he couldn’t. He just needed all of her.

Evelyn gasped, her intake of breath so sharp that Hotch pulled away. She breathed raggedly, her chest rising and falling.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his eyes moving to her neck.

Consumed by her, he had forgotten the shape she was in. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her.

“I’m not that fragile,” she told him. There was a smug look on her face, her lips twitched up into a smile.

Hotch leaned forward to kiss that smile, soft and gentle. His hands dropped to her waist and he kissed her again. He intended to pull away, leave her be for the night, but every time he tried, he came back to her like a magnet.

Evelyn had just as hard as a time keeping away from him. His calloused hands were grazing over her sides, her waist, her stomach, her back. Her hands were trembling as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Her heart pounded like a drum beat in her chest, so hard that she could hear it in her ears and it made her hands shake.

She expected him to stop her, to realize what he was doing and take her hands a politely decline, but when the last button came undone, he pulled away from just long enough to take the shirt off himself.

Hotch put his lips back on hers as soon as he could. Evelyn smiled against his kiss.

As if she had burned him, he suddenly stepped away, leaving Evelyn leaning against the wall, heaving for breath. He stared at her, his own breath ragged, his dark eyes smoldering.

“Is something…did I…?”

Shame pooled in Evelyn’s cheeks, making them burn. There she was, completely and utterly exposed, barely able to stand well enough on her own to scurry away.

“You’ve had a very hard year, Evelyn,” he said.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at the ground, locking her jaw.

“Hotch….”

“And I can’t take advantage of-“

“Aaron!” She said with a laugh, forcing him to look at her. “I’m fine. This is fine, more than fine.”

“Is it what you want?” he asked.

She gave a small smile and heaved out a sigh.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she said. “Have I ever done anything I haven’t wanted to?”

Lifting a hand, she curled her finger, beckoning for him. He stepped toward her until he was just a breath away.

“I’ll tell you if I need to stop,” she said to him, just above a whisper.

Evelyn reached up and kissed him again. It took him a few moments to respond, but once he accepted what she said, he leaned into her.

He placed a hand on her chest, right over her heart.

And for once, in a very, very long time, that wound in her soul didn’t feel so gaping.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #ssa hotchner #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #hurt/comfort #tw: abuse #tw: violence #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #idk what else to tag this so that more people see it #because it took me three weeks to write #this is literally a quarter of a novel what am i doing with my life #anyway #i hope you guys enjoy

[bruhlsbees]

sweet disposition: 1/? || femaleprofessor!reader x modern!alex kerner

hi bestie hehe i’d like to request a little series for you, sub! a little jealous modern alex keener (of age) x professor! f reader (late 20’s) - shes an english romantic lit professor & her “love interest” is a film professor who is one of alex’s shared teacher. alex has a little crush on her, and knows the film teacher is after her. super fluffy, smut maybe??? u decide baby, im just so excited eeeeek!!!

summary: alex kerner is a senior film student and develops a crush for his friend, denis, english professor

pairing: modern!alex kerner and professor!reader

warnings: age gap (alex is 22 and reader is 32), wet dream, sweet sweet pathetic boy, nsfw, 18+, minors dni

word count: 4,387

a/n: thank you for the request @gotmadison ily sweet gal!! this will be a short fic series i write and will post probably throughout the coming weekend! :) please enjoy and if you have any requests or asks please send them in!!!

For Alex Kerner, a senior film student, nothing bored him more than the first day of a new unit. He knew what to expect - twenty plus slides about some dead, or borderline dead, director while connecting their life to the style of films they did and how it related to whatever political controversy was going down at the time. Alex knew that there was a reason for going into so much history to better understand the meaning of the films, but jesus did it have to drag for so long?

The auditorium that Alex’s class was held in was larger, although the class was rather small. There were maybe, at most, thirty students in his class, including him, which felt empty as the auditorium they were in was meant to hold almost double that. Alex didn’t mind though, of all the rows, he was the only one in the back, taking the middle seat - of course, the best view to see a film. He recognized a lot of the faces in his class, as it was a senior level class, but he didn’t bother to converse with many.

It wasn’t that he was shy, not overly at least, he just didn’t care to make friends. It was an afternoon class, he was just getting out of work to rush to his class, and far too exhausted to try and fake being friendly…hence him sitting in the back, all alone. 

The ‘Authorship in Cinema’ course he was currently in was held twice a week - both two hours long. The first class of the week was held for lectures and the second class was held for the film screening. The university was just getting back from winter break, continuing into the last half of the semester. In Alex’s class they had finished their unit on Roman Polanski before the break and they came into the next covering Krzysztof Kieślowski. Alex was thrilled to say the least about not having to listen to his film professor rave on Polanski. Even after discussing Polanski’s case, his professor still seemed to idolize the man.

Alex was not fond of his film professor. He was a younger professor, maybe in his late thirties, early forties, and he seemed to praise the worst directors he could find. His name was Jaxon Thorne and was the staple image of a douche. He always wore faded jeans that were tight in the crotch, scuffed up sneakers that he always tried to pass as being cool, and a sweater with a scarf - even though they were inside. He truly didn’t get how girls liked the man. Alex wouldn’t lie though, some of his opinions were interesting, but the guy loved to hear himself talk, that much was obvious. 

They weren’t even at the tenth slide yet when Alex felt himself beginning to doze off. Work had been busy today, fixing satellites and dealing with prissy wives and their drunk husbands. He was almost late getting to class with all the traffic that was on the highway. The last thing he wanted to do was attend class. It took everything in him not to put his head down and go to sleep right there. He had done it before, and that was a mistake he would never make again. Waking up to everyone staring and snickering while the teacher was hovering over you meant for a lasting effect.

But Alex just couldn’t take it, he was so bored with Kieślowski’s early work. The documentaries of everyday lives for city dwellers, workers, and soldiers could not keep his attention even if he wasn’t tired. He sunk down into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, before craning his head to the side on his shoulder. His blinking became slow, desperately trying to stay awake and pay attention, but his eyes grew heavy, and before he knew it, his mouth was gaped open, drool slipping out of the corner of his lips.

He didn’t know how long he had dozed off for, but when he woke up he heard the projector screen zip up and the lights click on. Jumping slightly, Alex sat back up, feeling the stickiness of his drool on his face. With a groan, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jean jacket before beginning to pack his things up into his bag.

“On Wednesday we will dive into his documentary, Workers, and discuss the censorship aspect of it. Come prepared to watch the screening and discuss afterwards. If anyone has any questions or comments, I’ll be staying after for a few minutes.” 

Rolling his eyes, Alex pushed himself out of his chair, swinging his bag over his shoulder before rushing out the back door at the top of the auditorium. He couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough to avoid his teacher from going off on an ‘intellectual conversation’ on their new unit. Barf.

Alex was happy though to finally be out of class and to enjoy his hour and a half break before his next class. He knew he should have been finalizing what project he wanted to submit for critique in his senior portfolio, but he needed something to wake him up. 

As he turned the hallway, going to leave the building, he stopped by the vending machine and pulled out a crinkled bill from his pocket, pushing it into the machine before pressing the buttons to get a bottle of Coke. To his luck, however, the machine stalled, the bottle retriever getting stuck in front of the row and producing an obnoxious ‘whirring’ noise. 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Gripping the side of the vending machine, Alex shook the machine roughly, rocking the broken vending machine back and forth until setting it back, sending a punch to the front of it.

“Woah, woah! Jesus man what did that vending machine do to you?”

Turning his head, Alex’s glare softened at the sight of his friend, Denis, approaching him. Denis, with his books still in his hands, tucked them under his arm as he stood in front of the machine, watching as the machine stalled with Alex’s bottle of Coke.

“The stupid thing got stuck! Is it too much to ask for a bottle of co-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the machine began to work again, grabbing the bottle and dispensing it below. Staring blankly at the bottom, his lips pulled into a tight line, Alex could only feel the embarrassment settling in - and it didn’t help to hear Denis laugh at how ridiculous he reacted.

“Oh my god, dude, you seriously need to take it easy. Did work kill you that bad?” Denis asked, watching as Alex bent down to pull out the bottle, standing back up as he began unscrewing the cap, guzzling the pop down. 

Nodding his head, Alex screwed the cap back on before tucking the bottle in his bag, hiccuping at the carbonation before sighing, “Yeah, and it doesn’t help that I gotta go to Professor Dick’s class right after.” 

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Denis nodded, listening to Alex as he vented, “Yeah, Thorne’s a real piece of work. But hey! Only gotta deal with him for another semester after this. Who knows, maybe he will knock a student up and ditch down?”

The fantasy would have been nice to come true, but Alex knew that it would stay just that - a fantasy. Thorne was a questionable guy, with interesting ideas and made borderline inappropriate comments towards the female students in all his classes…but that was just it, he could charm anyone he wanted, and that’s how he stayed around.

“Yeah, maybe when dogs walk on two legs…” Alex mumbled, pressing his knuckles to his eyes and rubbing the sleep out of them, a yawn escaping his lips. 

As he dropped his hands down to his side, he felt Denis nudge him in the arm, groaning at the contact as he was too tired to have any contact, “You got class at seven right?”

Nodding, Alex blinked, a tired smile on his face as he smacked his lips, “Yeah…seven to nine, best time of day to have a senior portfolio workshop.” 

Denis laughed at the sarcastic comment, mentioning that it could’ve been worse and be at seven in the morning than at night. Alex, however, couldn’t see how anything could be worse than an evening class after a long day of work.

“Listen, I got my ‘Romanticism in Literature’ class in a few…why don’t you come with me? My teacher’s pretty cool and I’m sure she won’t mind if you sit in. I’m in the back anyways so she probably won’t even realize. She’s got pretty bad vision I’ve realized. I think she said that her glasses don’t got the right prescription or somethin. She’s always runnin late and claims she never has time to put her contacts in.” 

The detailed explanation of the professor’s vision made Alex laugh, shaking his head as Denis looked at him confused, cheeks red, “What? It’s what she’s told us! She’s always coming in late. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came in late this time around. She’s got office hours before class, so she probably gets held up with a student.”

“Sounds like you’re in love with her, is that right, Denny Boy? Someone’s gotta crush on the teacher? Ain’t that every high school kid’s fantasy? Get the hots for the teacher?” 

Scoffing, Denis rolled his eyes at Alex’s teasing and shoved him in the arm, “No man, come on now, it ain’t like that. Look if you don’t wanna come I don’t care, but I gotta go before I’m late.”

Holding his hands up in defense, Alex trailed behind Denis, going back in the direction he originally came from, “Hey, hey, I was only kidding, don’t gotta get defensive. I’ll take along, hopefully I won’t fall asleep in this class. Why you even taking this class anyways?”

Following Denis into the class, the auditorium setup similar to the one he just came out of, except smaller, Alex sat beside Denis in the back row, watching as the class filled up, only a few seats not filled. 

“I guess I gotta earn some more credits outside my degree, this was the only one that wasn’t completely filled up yet and it worked with my schedule. It ain’t too bad, she gives us a lot of free time to work.” 

Watching as Denis set his bag down beside him, opening his textbook to where they left off the other day, Alex watched Denis prep for the class, the teacher not in sight. Alex figured that the teacher must have been running late, like Denis said she always did, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long it’d be before she even showed up.

Fifteen minutes after class was supposed to begin the front door ripped open, slamming shut seconds after while heels frantically clicked towards the desk in the front of class.

“Sorry I’m late! I got caught up with another professor. I hope you all enjoyed your winter breaks and are happy to be back. I know I’m thrilled to be back!” 

The sweet voice caught Alex’s attention, his eyes pulling from his cell phone and to the front of the class where the professor had just walked in. He felt his mouth fall open slightly, catching it before Denis noticed his reaction.

He was expecting an old lady for Denis’ class, someone who was on the edge of death and smelled of cats. What he found, however, was someone the complete opposite. Younger, curvier, and the scent that filled the room when she entered was warm - like she just finished drinking a cup of coffee.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, bangs hanging low over her eyes, covering the tops of her crooked frames. She couldn’t have been all that older than him, maybe mid-thirties at max. He didn’t notice what she was wearing below, but the shirt she wore clung to her so well, the outline of her fuller chest displayed with her necklace dipping into her cleavage. 

‘Good God, Alex, get a hold of yourself.’

Alex watched the professor, noticing her speaking although his lusted thoughts deafened his ears. He assumed she was asking how the break went and if anyone did anything fun because a few people raised their hands, a kind smile on her face as she listened to her students.

“That’s great to hear, Polly! You’ll have to show me the photos you took sometime. I have never been to that side of the country before,” Her head shifted towards the other side of the room, looking up at the higher rows. “Did anyone else have anything to share about their break?”

Denis’ professor sat patiently and listened to everyone who wanted to share, giving everyone the opportunity to discuss their breaks before she opened up her laptop to get started with class. Alex watched as she picked up the remote and pointed it to the projector box, the screen coming down beside her with her computer screen displayed.

Her home screen featured what he assumed to be her and some friends. He recognized a few of the people in the photo as they were also professors at the university - what made Alex turn his nose, however, was right beside her - in all his douchebag glory, Jaxon Thorne. Before he could make a cohesive thought, the photo went away and a slideshow on Mary Shelley appeared…and maybe for the better.

“Okay everyone! As mentioned in the email, we are gonna be diving into Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein for this part of the semester,” She began, her warm smile still ignited, chuckling lightly as some of the students up front became uneasy in their seats, excited for the novel, “I’m glad to hear we have some fans. Now, I promised that I wouldn’t give you any reading over break, but because of that we will be reading quite a bit over the next few weeks.”

The slide shifted to the reading guide and what chapters were due when. Alex watched as some students scribbled the due dates down while others pulled out their cell phones, snapping a photo before stuffing their phones away. 

“For Wednesday I would like you all to have read the preface and letters one through four. Come prepared to discuss your analyses of the text and any questions you may have. Of course, I’ll have my office hours open tomorrow and Wednesday before class, but if there are any questions, you can send me an email and I’ll try to get back with you in a timely manner.” 

The rest of class seemed to lull by, Alex’s gaze fixed on the professor that continued to go over what the last half of the semester would look like, answering the occasional question, before finally it was time to pack up and go. Frowning, Alex shifted in his seat, looking at Denis who was packing things up in his bag. 

“It’s over?” Alex asked, eyebrows furrowed, a pathetic frown on his face.

Looking up from his bag, Denis smiled, nodding, “Yeah man, it is. Why? You fall in love with Mary Shelley?” Standing up, Denis pushed his seat under the table and shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, if it works for your schedule and you’re interested, maybe go up and ask if you can enroll. I don’t know if you’ll be able to with it being so late in the semester, but it’s worth a shot,” Glancing down at his watch, Denis sighed, “Look, I gotta run, but let me know how it goes, okay?” Patting Alex’s back, Denis rushed up the stairs and out the back door, fleeing the auditorium to get to his next class on time.

Meanwhile, Alex kept seated, watching as the professor talked with some students who approached her desk after class, laughing and admiring the editions of Frankenstein that students presented. Was this how professors could be with their students? Actually caring and involved? It seemed like Alex had poor luck with his own professors - either they were old as a bat and didn’t know how to work the computer, or they were a presumptuous dick.

When the students began to flock out, already discussing how they were looking forward to Wednesday’s class, Alex finally stood up, pulling his bag over his shoulder and making his way down the auditorium steps. She hadn’t noticed him as he walked, writing something down in her planner. As he stood now in front of her, he cleared his throat awkwardly, gaining her attention as she looked up, squinting before taking her glasses off.

“Hello,” he began shyly, adjusting the strap of his bag, “I’m Alex. My friend, Denis, he’s in your class.” 

At the mention of Denis, she smiled and nodded, “Yes! Denis, nice boy he is,” She adjusted her position in her seat, leaning back slightly, “I-I’m sorry, are you in my class? I don’t believe I’ve ever see-”

“No! I mean, no, no I’m not in your class. I have a free hour before my next class and Denis invited me to sit in for this one,” He rushed, cheeks red as he realized how abruptly he had interrupted her, “I’m sorry, um, yeah I just came down because I really enjoyed your lecture today. I was curious if there was any way I could maybe enroll? I know it’s late in the semester, but I did enjoy today.” 

The cheeky smile faded into a sadder, smaller smile. She chewed on her bottom lip before leaning forward again, crossing her arms over chest, accentuating her cleavage that Alex desperately tried not to stare at.

“Oh, I’m sorry Alex, but I don’t think I can convince the department to let you in this late in the semester. I love your enthusiasm with the course and would love to have you in my class, but I don’t think I can make that happen.” Her smile dropped to a frown when she saw the visible disappointment in Alex’s face before bending over to open her bag, pulling out a copy of Frankenstein, handing it to Alex.

Looking down at the copy, Alex opened the cover, reading what he assumed to be her name in the cover, before flipping through the pages, a weak smile on his face, trying his best to not look so pathetic in front of her.

“How about this? I probably shouldn’t, but if you want to sit in on the days you’re free, you’re more than welcome to. I’ll forward you the reading guide so you can keep up with us, but you won’t earn any credit in this class. Is that okay?” 

His frown turned into a grin, looking up from the book, Alex nodded, his cheeks pink as his toothy crooked grin spread across his face, “Yeah, yes. Thank you,” Tugging down the front of his striped blue shirt, he cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at the book before back up at her, “Um, so when are your office hours? Just in case I have any questions?”

Letting out a faint ‘ah’, she opened her notebook and scribbled some notes down, tearing off the paper and handing it to Alex, “You’re more than welcome to shoot me an email though if you need help outside of my office hours. Or you can call my office number, sometimes I answer it.” She admitted, her own cheeks going pink at the confession.

Smiling, Alex looked down at the paper and made a mental note to remember all that she had given him.

My email,

My office number,

Office hours are M&W: 3-5:15 and T&R: 1-2

Class takes place on M&W from 5:30-6:30

:)

The smile she left on the page made Alex’s stomach flutter. His thumb ran along the smiley face before he looked up, thanking her quietly for the note. She was sweet, almost too sweet for Alex to absorb, like he was in a sugar coma and begging for more. 

“Of course, it was nice to meet you Alex. I’m looking forward to seeing you in class. I don’t mean to run off, but I’m to meet another professor here in a couple minutes and don’t need to be lectured on being late.”

When she stood up, Alex’s face went hot. The flowy flower blouse that showed more cleavage than he had seen on a professor before was tucked into a tight jean skirt, clinging to her hips in all the right places, a thick black belt holding it all together. If it weren’t for the fact that he was right in front of her, he probably would have started drooling. 

Packing up her desk, she stuffed her things in her bag, throwing her sweater over her shoulder before throwing her bag around her, moving around the desk to stand beside it now, looking up at Alex. He noted how she was shorter, the heels helping her with height, and how good her legs looked in them. Clearing his throat, he shifted his bag around him to sit in front of his pants, attempting to hide any possible pop-up in his jeans.

“If you’re free tomorrow, stop by my office hours. I’ll even buy you a coffee if it’s too early for you. I know you college boys stay up far too late. I can only imagine what your mothers think.” She teased, shaking her head and she turned and began to head out of the room, hearing Alex keep tight on her trail. 

Turning off the lights and letting him leave first, she shut the door behind her and stood beside Alex, motioning towards the English department office, “I’ll see you tomorrow, or Wednesday, my office is the last one on the right. I’ll be sure to leave my door open!” 

Nodding, Alex smiled and waved goodbye as she waved back, rushing down the hall and weaving through the students to get into the office. Letting out a sigh, Alex leaned against the doorway, processing his first encounter with the professor, the boyish lust grin stuck on his face.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Panting hard, Alex gripped her hips tight, his fingers digging into her plush figure, grunting as he snapped his hips into her from behind, her pillowed ass meeting him with each thrust. The sweat that built up on him was beginning to fall down face, trailing down his neck and chest. 

Tangling his right hand into her hair, his left still placed on her hips, Alex pulled her locks gently, smiling at the sound of her wanton moan, her eyes rolling back into her head. 

“A-Alex! Oh god, Alex, I don’t think I’m going to last. F-Fuck!” 

Feeling his own climax build, Alex let out a shaky breath as he bent down craning his neck to kiss her lips as he continued to rut inside of her, his thrusts becoming sloppy and quicker.

The sensation became too much too quickly, his legs shaking as he kneeled behind her befo-

Jolting awake, the obnoxious phone alarm woke Alex from his dream, resulting in a now completely frustrated mood. While still on his back, Alex reached behind him on the shelf that rested behind his bed frame, pulling his phone up and looking at the screen, squinting to gain his vision from waking up, the bright screen burning his eyes.

When he unlocked his phone and opened it, prompting him to his email, his frown lit up and turned into a smile, seeing her name in his inbox.

Good evening, Alex!

I’m sorry this is so late, I’m finally getting back to my apartment and wanted to send this your way before I forgot. Here is the reading guide for the rest of the semester and that information I shared with you earlier in case you lost it.

I look forward to seeing you in my office tomorrow or Wednesday. I hope you have a good night! :)

Best!

Alex’s mood quickly shifted after reading the email. While he was disappointed that the wet dream he was having with her ended so soon, he was more than pleased to see that he had an email from her. Clicking his phone off, Alex tossed his phone onto his bed, sitting up with his hand behind him to keep him up.

His room illuminated a red/orange hue from the lava lamp that sat on his dresser in the corner of his room. Turning his attention towards the window, he looked behind the blinds to see the city life outside his apartment lit up, the sound of music coming from the club down the road and laughs from those partying. 

Letting out a yawn, Alex shook his head and rubbed his face, shifting his legs before stopping quickly, feeling the mess in his boxers. Looking down, Alex groaned seeing the stain in his boxers, pressing his hand to feel the wet spot before sighing, standing up. He pulled his boxers carefully off, tossing them into his laundry basket before making his way into the bathroom to clean up. 

When he entered the small bathroom that was connected to his room, he hissed at the bright light as it came on, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair was tangled up, sticking out on the sides and his eyes were squinted, too tired to open them fully. Shaking his head, Alex climbed into the shower and started the water, the cold water hitting him both waking him up and cooling himself down.

He was absolutely and pathetically smitten over her. There was no doubt about it. Since leaving her class, the only thoughts that occupied his mind were of her. He had already planned out what he would wear tomorrow when he went to her office hours. It was pathetic, truly, with how quickly he was letting the woman ruin him. It was ridiculous to say, no doubt, because what would happen between them? Nothing. Not a single thing would come between the two other than a conversation about Frankenstein, maybe a personal question here and there.

Or so he thought.

#submissions #submission #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl #daniel brühl imagine #daniel bruhl imagine #goodbye lenin #good bye lenin #alex kerner #alex kerner imagine #alex kerner smut #alex kerner x reader #au #college au #modern au #sweet disposition

[chewiedon]

HOME | SHINAZUGAWA S.

im still trying to find a consistent layout, I’m still working on requests from wattpad and Tumblr, but there's good shit on the way so stay tuned >:) ALSO TYSM FOR ALL THE SUPPORT!!

request: “(y/n) is really close to sanemi, and during a hashira get together he gets drunk and in a fight with giyuu. (y/n) breaks up the fight and calms sanemi down, shinobu teases her the next morning.”

“Waa! Drinks for everyone, it’s all on me!” The sound hashira’s voice was booming throughout the bar, following a very loud laugh and cheering from his intoxicated coworkers.

“My! Do you even have enough money, Uzui?” A sweet voice piped up once the clamoring had died down, an empty smile on her face.

“Obviously I do, Kocho darling you doubt me too much!” The large man had insisted, his smile turning into a playful scowl as he slapped her on the back.

She let off a small “Oof,” before giving up.

Another sweet voice had been heard, “Speaking of darling, where is (Y/N)? I was so sure she’d be here, she was so excited about this get together too,” She put a finger to her chin in some kind of ponder.

“What the fuck do you mean (Y/N) isn’t here? Speak the fuck up Kanroji!” A much rougher voice interrupted the atmosphere, the Wind Hashira wore a viscous scowl across his face. His aggression seemed to have risen with the amount of alcohol in his body.

“I saw her when we got here, but I don’t think I’ve seen her since,” The water hashira, Giyuu had commented, making Sanemi’s blood boil even more.

“The fuck you watching (Y/N) for? She can take care of herself just damn fine without your fucking help, you’re useless be your damn self anyways!” His body looked as if he was on fire, the unnecessary aggression only seemed to rise more and more.

With a click of his tongue, Sanemi sat back down and continued to sip the beverage that he had as the ruckus continued around him. (Y/N) was the only person in the entire Demon Slayer Corps, maybe the population of humanity itself he trusted. She was a beauty no doubt, but that wasn’t what captured the hothead’s eyes. It might’ve been her soft voice or the way her hands would run through his hair, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of the girl. The only thing that got in the way of him embracing those feelings was his wall of pride, and his past experiences with other people. He couldn’t rely on anybody, he refused to rely on (Y/N) too, but he promised to enjoy her company as long as he could. Until God took her away from him. An entire hour passed, and things began to get quieter. And a certain man’s fuse only became shorter and shorter.

Chatter was around the table, but one particular sentence sent him ablaze, “Hey, you don’t think some nasty people got a hold of (Y/N), right? That would be really bad,” A snap could almost be heard from the way Sanemi’s fist almost crushed the lip of the low table they sat at.

“Keep her name of your filthy fucking mouths! Who do you guys think you are, talking about her like she’s some kind of object?!” He didn’t stand up, but he slammed his hand on to the table, voice booming throughout the entire place. The fact that Giyuu piped up next didn’t calm his intense rage.

“Nobody said she was an object, we just hoped she didn’t have a bad run in with anybody.” He said, brows furrowed at the aggression that was directed towards him.

A smirk contorted on to Sanemi’s face, his cheeks glowing with red. “You seem real confident today, Tomioka. Are you trying to start something?” His words were slurred, but not too much it wasn’t able to understand.

Giyuu’s patience and tolerance was running short, but he managed to control his anger, “Nobody wants to fight you, small dogs shouldn’t yap so loud.”

That last comment completely changed the table, literally. Giyuu’s face was smashed into the wooden low table by Sanemi, leaving the table's center in bits and pieces. Everyone around them were dead silent, nobody even bothered lifting a finger to say anything.

“The fuck did you say? Say it again, I dare you,” Sanemi’s ego was through the sky.

Giyuu raised himself from where his face was busted into the table, a trail of blood coming out of his nose. He stood up, positioning himself on his shaky legs.

“I said,” He started, “Small dogs shouldn’t yap so loud.”

From a logical standpoint, Giyuu’s comment didn’t make any sense. Sanemi was one of the tallest people in the room, taller than Giyuu. However, both of these men were emotional and intoxicated as shit. So the things they say don’t make sense, and they don’t have to. Sanemi’s fist was thrown into the air, but it didn’t even reach the man he wanted to hit. Giyuu took the opportunity to strike the hothead right in the stomach, making him stagger backwards while his insides began to tremble. A drunken crowd around them cheered and egged the two on.

“What the hell is going on?” A feminine voice sounded throughout the room, both men ignored it. The light chatter that filled the room seemed to outrule her voice.

Uzui tensed up, “Oh, (Y/N) where have you been-”

“Shut your trap,” Her voice was harsh, which was something rare.

Sanemi stood up quick, his stun pushed aside as he made way to tackle Giyuu entirely. His blood boiled with rage, but his entire body seemed to be stopped midair as soon as a certain girl came into view. He tripped over himself entirely, his nose at (Y/N)’s feet.

“(Y/N)!” Giyuu exclaimed, Sanemi was left completely speechless as he peered up at her form.

She put her hands on her hips while turning towards the ravenette with fierce ice behind her gaze, “You out of all people, were the least person I’d expect to act so childish. Last time I checked you weren’t a hormonal teenager, please act your age,” Her voice was chilling.

All of the chatter among the restaurant ceased completely, all eyes were on the trio. (Y/N)’s gaze then drifted to the man that laid at the bottom of her feet, Sanemi sat upwards while his face was flushed with embarrassment. He embarrassed himself in front of a whole crowd of people, not to mention he embarrassed himself in front of her. Sanemi did nothing but admire (Y/N), you could almost hear his pride swan diving off a cliff. She did nothing but gaze softly at the poor man and headed outside.

“Someone clean this shit up,” Her chilling voice froze the room up before she officially exited.

The sound of the front door slamming made everyone flinch, before most of the bystanders started continuing as they usually did. The waitresses had helped the hashira’s cleaned, while Sanemi remained in the same position on the floor. Should he try to defend himself, or should he let it be? He’s drunk, so that’s a reasonable excuse, right? The snow haired man managed on his feet, running outside with adrenaline coursing through his body while he was completely driven by impulse. And it all pulled to her. (Y/N). The only name that was going through his head, her figure was visible as it walked into the street.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled, but what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to ‘redeem himself’ in front of the person he admired the most?

She let out a small hum, signalling that he had her attention. “Can we talk (Y/N)? Please,” Sanemi’s voice was higher than normal, as if it was cracked and hoarse.

Why was he so stressed in the first place? His head began to pound as his stomach twisted at all the sudden movement. The contents of his stomach spilled onto the street, soft grunts came from him as he vomited his lunch. He spent the next few moments hung over his knees, panting like hell. (Y/N) had put a hand on his back.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry if I seemed a little scary back there, I lost my cool,” As soon as their gazes had met, the same warm feeling flooded inside the hot head’s chest. His eyes felt glossy.

“Beautiful,” He muttered, reaching out to touch the girl’s cheek, “You’re so beautiful.”

It might’ve been that alcohol still flowing within his veins, but he’ll never forget the feeling he felt with her that night, that nostalgic feeling he hasn’t felt since his family died. The feeling of home.

The rest of that night was a blur, but (Y/N) had spent the next day at the Butterfly Estate, laughing at all the hashira’s who were cursed with nasty hangover’s. Shinobu almost joined in on the fun, making fun of Giyuu for getting in a fight despite him hardly remembering it.

“I got in a fight?” Giyuu said, pointing to himself in disbelief.

“Yes, and (Y/N) had to tame the Shinazugawa beast and save you, she’s the reason you don’t have a broken nose you know,” Shinobu said matter of factly.

“Why are you saying that as if I’m some fantasy heroine? All I did was shit talk him and lure Sanemi outside,” (Y/N) stated, her cheeks beginning to heat up at the mention of the occasion.

“Yeah, and what happened after that?” Shinobu asked, innocently teasing her.

“Nothing!”

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer angst #demon slayer #x reader #kny x reader #kny #anime x reader #reader insert #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi x reader #demon slayer sanemi #shinaguzawa sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #these tags are getting out of hand

[sytco]

common blessings [joochan]

pairing: childhood friend!hong joochan x reader

word count: 3.5k (!)

requested: "toothrotting fluff ft. joochan"

dedicated to @sahiflowers.

a/n: im SO SO sorry this took so long and i hope u like it even a little and that it makes u smile thank u for being so patient ily!! ily!!! reminder im always here for u!!

In which you find that time is meaningless when Joochan is not by your side.

~

wonderboy.

-

Sometimes, you speculate whether Joochan has some kind of genius for finding you as soon as the school bell rings, signalling the end of another day.

Today, he surprises you behind the auditorium where you lean against a maple tree, hugging your bag to your chest, because you’ve skipped your last period (Introduction to Psychology) in favor of lying on the grass so you can watch the clouds in peace. And Joochan smiles a fond, fond smile because you have that look on your face again that you only get when you’re lost in thought.

“Missed me?”

You tense from shock before relaxing at the sight of your boyfriend who widens his arms so you can walk right into them.

“How’d you find me?” Your voice is muffled in the fabric of his vest and Joochan reaches up so he can play with the back of your collar.

“Just had a little hunch you might be here.” And this is the answer he always gives, accompanied with the same smug smile each time.

You pout even if Joochan can’t see it. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“Well now,” he says in an affected voice that sounds like the narrator from that National Geographic documentary on penguins the two of you watched last week, “I can’t afford to have you getting your hands on all my secrets, can I? I’ve got to keep some things to myself so that in ten year's time, you’ll still think I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe.”

It’s ridiculous, you think, how it’s nearly winter but the way you can feel the laughter that starts in his chest and electrifies you to your fingertips is more than capable of keeping you warm and making you feel like you’re really alive.

“Doesn’t matter if I find out all your secrets or not,” you mumble, “you’ll always be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe to me.”

From the courtyard around the corner, you can hear Jaehyun shouting a loud “Oi Joochan!”.

Joochan ignores him and instead casually pecks your cheek with a kiss that feels like a blessing. “Always?”

You tilt your head as though unsure. "Well… for at least fifty years, probably.”

“Fifty?!” Joochan echoes in mock outrage, and you playfully poke his side to which he flinches slightly.

“I was lying. I meant for all of time ever.”

And despite him doing his best to hide it, your boyfriend melts instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck where he’s probably smiling his brilliant smile that feels like the sun against your skin.

Jaehyun’s voice interrupts the peace and quiet once again with a noticeably louder and more panicked tone.

“Hong Joochan! We’re going to be late for soccer practice!”

Joochan groans exaggeratedly and you can’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “Wish I didn’t have to go to stupid practice,” he grumbles.

“You know, I’ll wait for you in the library until you’re done,” you offer and Joochan perks up - if only slightly because your arms still feel like heaven after years of loving you, and two hours of kicking a ball around (while Donghyun and Jibeom brainstorm inventive ways to trip each other up, much to Coach Lee’s chagrin) just can’t compete. He tells you as much in the way his arms tighten around you.

“You’re the best,” Joochan declares suddenly, “I might be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe, but you’re the best.”

You snort. “Go to practice already before Jaehyun starts going spare, wonderboy.”

Joochan kisses your forehead one last time before he detaches himself from you with a dejected sigh and picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder despite your protests. “Walk with me to the oval?”

You slip your hand into his hand only to find it a perfect fit and wonder briefly if there is anywhere in this world you would not walk to with Hong Joochan, the boy who has a smile like sunlight and a personality like a billion shooting stars.

“Of course.”

*

fm.

-

There is the occasional moment in which you wish that your boyfriend wasn’t so exceedingly talented in nearly every field he tries his hand at, because the various extracurriculars that Joochan (being the naturally energetic and enthusiastic person he is) involves himself with have an awful way of making tremendous demands on his time towards the end of the semester.

Right now is one of those moments when Joochan trudges into your room and dives face first onto your bed without even bothering to shake his coat off. “So what was it today?” you ask in a voice that betrays your concern and Joochan can’t help but smile at it.

“Theatre rehearsal,” he yawns, “then string quartet practice. Also an hour of soccer drills with some of the boys. Even though it’s a Saturday.”

You get up from your chair at the desk so you can sit on the bed where Joochan immediately moves his head onto your lap, lifting your hand and resting it on his hair. You absentmindedly start stroking it, staring out the window at a soft grey sky.

“Did you eat?”

Joochan shakes his head. “No time. My dumb E string broke again so I barely managed to have half an apple before we went straight into a new Mozart piece today. Think we might perform it at the next concert. You’d come, right?” And he asks that in a self-assured tone, because he already knows what your answer is going to be.

You give it to him anyway because there’s no point in hiding your blatant admiration for all that he does. “No matter what.”

“And just to see me, right?”

You fake a pause that has Joochan peering up at you suspiciously.

“You do know I have friends who aren’t you that are participating in the concert, right? Like Jangjun and Sungyoon?”

Joochan scowls. “But none of those hooligans are your boyfriend, who - in case you forgot but I do know you’d never - is me.”

“That’s quite true,” you concede before leaning down to kiss his cheek with a smile that makes Joochan’s stomach fill with butterflies which are probably colored pink and green and blue. It never gets old, he thinks: your talent for turning his world upside down in a look or a word or an action. And you don’t even know you’re doing it most of the time.

“Mean,” he accuses but in a half-hearted manner and your smile only widens because you know that Joochan is supremely happy despite his exhaustion, if the way his brow has smoothed completely and he has started drawing little stars on your knee is anything to go by.

There’s a gentle lull in the conversation while you continue to run your fingers through Joochan’s hair, and especially his fringe. It’s almost as though time has passed you by, leaving you together in your own little reality where things like hazy futures and big concerts and broken violin strings do not dare draw near.

“Wanna order something later on for dinner?” you ask quietly.

“Maybe,” he grins through closed eyes, “but nap first.”

Your radio continues to run, and you drift in and out of listening to the DJ duo while watching the rain finally fall outside.

“It’s been pretty cold recently, hasn’t it?” one of the DJs opens the conversation after a small stream of ads.

“Sure has, pal. And speaking of the cold, apparently our first snow of the season is scheduled for next week Friday!”

“So do you have any plans lined up with a special someone?”

“Just had to remind me of how single I am, didn’t you”- rambunctious peals of laughter crackle from the speakers - “but maybe some of our lovely listeners will send in their plans for next Friday.”

“I sure did - and wow, they’re already pouring in! Do you wanna read one out?”

“Let’s see… Listener ha_miii_ran says: ‘I’m planning on confessing to my crush of two years. I’m pretty nervous about this so I’m hoping the two of you will wish me luck!’ All the best of luck to you, Ha Miran-nim, from the both of us. I don’t know how you’re planning on it, but hopefully the first snow will act as a good luck charm for you!”

“Yeah, good luck Ha Miran-nim!” the other DJ chimes in. “Be sure to update us on how it goes!”

“Well, we’ll be back with some more stories after this excerpt from a famous piano concerto - maybe some of our more classically-inclined audience will recognise its globally renowned composer.”

A beautiful melody begins to play and you’re on the cusp of losing yourself in the music when you are most abruptly interrupted by a sleepy, but decisive, “Gershwin.”

You blink down at Joochan. “What?”

“It’s Gershwin. The composer. Don't you think your boyfriend's clever for knowing that?"

“I thought my boyfriend was asleep, actually,” and you narrow your eyes.

“I was,” Joochan protests, “I only woke up when they were talking about the snow or something. And then they talked about that person who’s confessing to their crush of two years - got me thinking about how I can relate because I vividly remember having a crush on you for at least three before I could muster up the courage to confess. Which ended up working out for the best, you know,” he adds in a thoughtful tone, “but sometimes I’d get so nervous just thinking about it that I couldn’t sleep at all. Anyways, I’m really hungry now, so can we order something soon please?”

Maybe it’s the way he so nonchalantly wears his heart for you on his sleeve, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you as though you have strung the Milky Way itself together and made a gift of it to him. Maybe it’s the way you simply realize that you might not be able to live with yourself if you were to lose your boyfriend, ever. But for whatever reason it is, a thousand smiles bloom in your heart and you lean down to give Joochan a kiss that hopefully tastes like everything you cannot possibly put into words.

“Anything you want,” you whisper, and Joochan draws a heart on your knee in response.

*

enchanted.

-

You’re outside the auditorium again but in front of it, this time, and not behind. The post-concert hubbub has died down, mostly owing to the fact that much of the audience has left already whether it’s to a late congratulatory supper or down to the boardwalk where fireworks are scheduled to go off at midnight. The bouquet of lily of the valleys in your hand trembles slightly as you use your other hand to fumble around for your ringing phone.

“Hello?”

“You’re waiting outside, right?” Joochan asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“See, Donghyun, I told you I was right about - wait. Wait! Don't move!”

And then you have less than two seconds to process exactly what is happening before your boyfriend catches you up in a running embrace that sends the world spinning in a flurry of snow and stars and kisses that Joochan plants all over your cheeks. He remains blissfully unaware that somewhere in the vicinity, Donghyun has started making gagging sounds at your very public display of affection, punctuated by Jaehyun’s giggling. (You pay them no mind.)

“Did you enjoy the concert?” he asks, fond expectation twinkling in his eyes.

You nod too much. “You were incredible,” you tell him honestly, and Joochan beams.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he says in a satisfied voice as he pulls you closer. “Guess all those hours of practice paid off.”

“It’s almost like that’s the whole point of practicing,” you tease.

“It’s lucky you’re cute and I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Joochan crinkles his nose in contrived distaste for your little jab before hugging you again so he can hear you whisper just how proud you are of him, right into his ear.

And the two of you stay like that for a little before you remember the gift you brought with you.

“For me?” And the look in his eyes reminds you of how he looked at you when you first told him that you loved him too - or maybe of every time you’ve told him that you love him too.

“Who else?”

He snaps up the bouquet, pressing it against his nose and inhaling deeply with a smile. "This is a nice surprise."

"They mean 'return to happiness'," you say, gently touching a little white bloom that looks like a star against the backdrop of Joochan's black school blazer. "Thought it was cute. And the florist was sold out of roses anyway."

Joochan laughs with the warmth of a thousand sunbeams and puts your hand in his so he can start gently tugging you away.

“But your violin”- you begin protesting.

“But nothing,” he shushes you as the school gets smaller and smaller behind you in the distance. “I don’t even want to see that thing for a week. Hey, and guess what - I found a secret place for just you and me so we can watch the fireworks without being pressed up against everyone else like sardines in a tin can.”

“You and I are going to watch the fireworks?” you echo, surprise colouring your voice.

Joochan’s exhale turns into a giggle. “Who else?” And you dig an elbow into his side, hiding a smile at his antics.

The two of you stroll down quiet streets and you lean into your boyfriend’s comforting warmth. Most shops are closed with the exception of some fast food chains and convenience stores, but you notice almost none of them now as Joochan picks up the pace, his excitement bleeding into the quiet song he sings that floats up in the air and is lost somewhere in the stars above.

“Here we are,” says Joochan proudly and he helps you up into the little gazebo at the top of the hill you hadn’t realized you were climbing. “Take this,” he adds as he tosses you a torch that brightly illuminates the space you’re in as soon as you switch it on. You turn to the rustling sounds on your left, finally seeing the wooden bench that Joochan is busy spreading a rug over.

“You planned this beforehand?” And there’s a note of wonder in your voice - the same kind that only Joochan ever seems to be able to evoke. “I thought we were going straight home.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him with a charming smile and you do so immediately. “Told you I can’t give up all the secrecy. Not yet.” Or, he thinks privately to himself, not when you look at him like that.

The golden light from the torch casts long shadows over the grass and gives Joochan’s face a nearly ethereal glow that reminds you of summer sunsets despite the cold. You slip into a soft and easy silence - one that comes from memories built upon memories, resulting in a code made up of gazes and touch that only the two of you will ever understand. And so when he squeezes your hand gently, you instantly open your arms for him to sink right into.

There’s only a few minutes left until midnight when you finally speak.

“Joochan,” you murmur.

“Mm?”

“You ever think about where we’ll be this time next year?”

Joochan shifts his posture slightly. “Often, actually. Especially when I go to sleep at night and think about tomorrow - then I’ll wonder if it’ll even remotely go the way I want it to.”

“And how do you usually want it to go?” you ask.

“Someone has a lot of questions today,” Joochan remarks with a droll look on his face that makes you laugh briefly before his expression sobers. “But usually I want it to go safely. You know? Everything in its proper place and things like that. And more importantly, I want to know all the time that I’ll be able to see you.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking out over the view of the city. If you squint, you can just make out the boardwalk by the beach and the crowds of people who have gathered there, young and old alike. “I’m scared sometimes.”

Joochan frowns. “Scared of what? I’ll fight it off for you,” and he waves a threatening fist at nothing in particular.

“The future, I guess. It sounds silly but… sometimes I don’t know if we’ll always be okay. Like this, the way things are right now. Whether it’s tomorrow or next year or even after that.” Your voice fades in volume until it’s nearly lost against the threads of your scarf, and Joochan’s heart breaks a little when he hears it: the genuine uncertainty and timid fear that seeps past the smile you give him in an effort to hide it.

“Why do you think we might not be okay?”

You look down at your feet, almost embarrassed by your own honesty. “Well, people… change, Joo. They move places, and have goals to achieve and dreams to chase down. And we’re not immune to that either.”

It’s Joochan’s turn to be silent for a bit as he mulls over your words before he straightens in your hold, turning his face towards you so he can affectionately bump his nose against yours. “You’re right,” he says in a voice that mirrors your sadness, “and it would be a lie to say I don’t think about the same things you do. But”- and he leans in to give you a quick kiss that’s shaped like a smile - “it’d also be a lie to say that every dream doesn’t feature you in it. Because every dream of mine that I’ve ever had places you centre stage.”

He kisses you again, a little longer - a little more wistfully.

“You see, the real problem here is that you have me perpetually thinking that I can’t do any of this without you,” he says simply. “Whether it’s late night phone calls or early morning messages; or maybe we’ll find ourselves having to book flights for each other, holding bags full of gifts that remind us of us. And maybe it’ll be hard and maybe I’ll wake up some days, knowing I won’t be able to see you. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be okay.”

You swallow and Joochan watches you carefully, the urgency in his eyes prompting him to lift your chin so you can see it too.

“Even if we change,” he continues in a whisper, hoping you will understand the heart in his words. “And we should. And we will, and we’ll still be okay. You believe me, don’t you? Seeing as I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe?”

Somewhere, midnight comes and goes and the fireworks start, dousing you and Joochan in bursts of coloured light.

“Of course I do,” you smile with eyes that glitter with tears of relief and he pulls you into a tight hug, so tight you can feel every movement of his rib cage as he breathes in and out.

For once, you do not feel that fear deep down that threatens to taint your time with the only boy you think you cannot live without. And so you unreservedly hold him in return, fingers running through his hair as he tells you that he loves you, over and over again.

*

up, up and away.

-

There had been a time during your childhood when your one greatest wish had been to go see the stars.

So your friend Joochan, in all his clumsy sincerity, had done his best to make you a rocket out of a box he’d found at home. He’d then brought it to your house after he’d finished it, blue marker staining his fingertips and glitter shaped like stars lost in his thick fringe.

The two of you had sat in it together and looked up at the moon, holding hands from childish innocence and recounting thrilling tales of adventures you’d never had. And before having to go home to bed that day, he’d made you a promise that present-day Joochan complains about not being able to fulfill.

“I know I said I’d take you to the stars,” Joochan sighs in displeasure from where he lies on your bed, right next to you, “but while your boyfriend is exceptionally talented, you do know I’m no astronaut, right?”

You hold his hand in response and look into his eyes that sparkle with mirth and deeper in, shine with a love that always gives you peace.

It may be that Joochan will never be able to keep his promise of taking you to space in a real, functioning rocket. But, as you drop a kiss on his mouth that soon widens into a brilliant smile, you can’t find it in yourself to really care.

After all, it’s hard to miss the stars when for you, they all start with Joochan and end with him.

-

if u liked this please consider dropping a like and reblogging with ur thoughts because feedback is!! always appreciated thank you!!!

#SCREAMS IT'S FINALLY DONE WITH I'M FINALLY FINISHED #golden child #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #hong joochan #golden child hong joochan #golden child joochan #joochan #ju writes #gncd #golcha #im now off to go cry. or nap. both

[dapandapod]

Hollow pt 4

It is finally here. After a year, the last chapter of Hollow is here. Prompted by my darling shiny @chaotic-fae-queen and a careful beta read by wonderful @kuripon (both are amazing writers, go check them out!) and Im so happy for them both!

Thank you all for following me through this. I hope you like this last chapter 💖

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Ao3

He is anger and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness.

It trembles through him, when Jaskier looks at him with no recognition. Geralt knew, he knew it would happen and still it hurts. It was wise to let Yennefer approach first as he is not sure he would have been able to do it again. If the bard feels any fear, the wind has swept the scent of it away.

Jaskier leads them towards a little hut a short walk from the beach. It is a nice hut, walls tightly fitted and barely letting any of the raging wind inside. The inside is as modest as the outside; there is a bed, a fireplace and a small bookcase. The lute is leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room, seemingly untouched. A table stands in the middle of the room with two chairs. Of course.

Yennefer sits down while Jaskier bustles around to start a pot of tea, and Geralt leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“May I offer you anything? I didn’t bring much but I'm sure I still have biscuits somewhere.”

Geralt ignores him, eyes locking on a familiar notebook on the bed. It is a bit worse for wear than last he saw it, the pages worn with use. Jaskier always brought that with him, and that seems to be true still.

“So, Gerald was it?” Jaskier says, looking through cabinets and drawers in his hunt for biscuits. “Have you been around these parts before?” Smalltalk. Jaskier is making smalltalk.

Geralt nods silently, still avoiding to look at the bard. He can hear the bard turn to look for a reply, so he nods again, staring holes into the notes.

“Jaskier, would you please sit down with me for a moment?” Yennefer finally asks, snapping Jaskier out of his hosting duties. When Yennefer asks like that, it is better to listen.

“There is something I need to tell you, and I need you to listen and tell me if you recall anything.”

Geralt chances a look at Jaskier, who is swallowing hard and darts a look back at Geralt. Fuck. He aches inside, and he looks away again with a frown.

“What do you remember from before you came to Oxenfurt?” Yennefer asks.

“I- uh…” Jaskier frowns, looking down at the table. “I'm not sure. I remember I hired someone to bring me there, but I can’t recall his name anymore. I think I was attacked on the road, because I have a scar on my side.” As Jaskier talks, he idly touches the side where the scar hides.

Yennefer nods and then looks pointedly at Geralt.

“I took you to Oxenfurt,” Geralt grumbles out. “And it was because of me you were hurt.”

“Geralt!” Yennefer protests, but it’s the truth. Geralt's truth.

“You did? But I don’t recognize you at all!” Jaskier says and Geralt just wants to leave.

“Alright, we will do this another way.” Yennefer sighs, clearly done with Geralt already. “Jaskier, memories were taken from you. Are being taken from you. You and Geralt spent years together, and something is making you forget him.” Jaskier frowns at that, then puts his face in his hands.

A soft moan comes from him, as if he were in pain.

“Do you know what you have forgotten, good and bad, or do you wish to carry on? I need to know if you want to remember.” She asks, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t force it on you. You have a choice.” Yennefer shoots Geralt a glare as she says this.

The seconds tick by, and Geralt is all nerves.

On one hand, he desperately wants Jaskier safe. On the other hand, he desperately wishes to have him close. They don’t go well together, sadly.

“I think I need to know.” Jaskier finally says, and Geralt feels like someone has punched him in the chest. “But I don’t think I can do it today. It is a lot to take in.”

~

Yennefer and Geralt return to the hut in the morning. The skies have cleared up and the gulls are circling high above them and diving into the wild sea. Jaskier sits outside his door, leaning back against the dirt wall, chewing on a piece of straw. His eyes are closed, head tilted up towards the sun. The breeze is warm and brings a salty tang with it. When they come closer, Jaskier startles.

“Yennefer! I'm so glad to see you! It’s been so long!” He bounces up, arms wide like he is going in for a hug. He doesn’t, thankfully, so Yennefer doesn’t have to do something cruel. It doesn’t bode well that he doesn’t remember yesterday, but at least they are about to do something about it.

Then Jaskier's eyes snag on the witcher behind her, and his eyes widen comically.

“Bringing a bodyguard while visiting little ol' me?” His eyes rake Geralt up and down. Not a modest bone in that one.

“He will be staying outside,” She says with a smirk over her shoulder and Geralt scowls. “Do you have chamomile tea?”

She stalks into his hut without waiting, sitting down in the same chair as yesterday. Jaskier comes inside after her, giving one last look at Geralt before he closes the door, and then he starts the same routine as yesterday, looking for herbs and kettles.

“It really is such a great coincidence to meet you today, Yennefer,” He tells her, banging the same cabinets and drawers. “There is something I need to ask you.”

He puts the water on, takes out mugs for them and finally, finally sits down. There is a short silence, only disturbed by the sound of waves and seabirds from the outside. Yennefer is sure Geralt is listening to every word they say through the door.

“I think,.” Jaskier begins, clutching his empty cup in his hands,” I think there is something wrong with me.” He looks absolutely miserable, twirling the cup back and forth.

“What makes you think that?” She asks, knowing full well.

“I have a notebook,” Jaskier says quietly, like a confession. “It is filled with my handwriting, but I don’t remember a thing.”

Oh.

“Yennefer. I think I was in love.”

Oh fuck.

“May I see it?” She asks. She doesn’t know why she asks, but it is too late now. Jaskier hesitates for a moment, then he stands up, checks on the pot above the fire, and fetches a collection of notes that Geralt was trying to stare to death yesterday.

That explains a thing or two.

“I can’t for the life of me figure out why I don’t remember them. And everything in here is just hints, the shapes of secrets,” he says as Yennefer looks through the worn pages. It’s beautiful and rough, and just as he said, shapes. But Yennefer sees Geralt in them, and he sees the feelings Jaskier talks about.

“I might know what is wrong with you,” she says, closing the book and pushing it over the table. Jaskier takes it and strokes it’s cover lovingly. “But I need to do something to be certain. Jaskier, are you sure you want to know? Because there is so much pain in your past.”

Jaskier takes a moment, thinking it over. When he looks at her again, he looks troubled.

“It feels like someone is raking through my mind, and there are so many things I just can’t wrap my head around.” Jaskier says, looking down at the table. “It is eating me up inside, carving and emptying me out. I need to know.”

The same reply as yesterday then. Good. She can work with that.

~

Yennefer is strong. Incredibly powerful. Julian can’t wield magic, but he feels the vibrations of it in his chest, in his mind.

“You have a powerful curse on you,” she tells him, sweat forming on her forehead. She makes no attempt to wipe it away, only trying to force her breathing into a more steady rhythm. “It is going to be a bit tricky undo. I need to find what it is centered around.”

The vibrations stop, and he feels strangely empty when it’s gone.

“How?” Julian asks, and Yennefer smirks. She is indeed terrifying when she does that.

“I'm going to ask intrusive questions and you are going to answer them honestly.”

And she does. She asks about everything and nothing. When she asks him about his lute, he is surprised. He has a lute? Since when? Then he looks around the small hut and sees it standing in a corner. Not for the first time, he feels fear’s icy fingers grip around him.

Then she asks him about the songs, the poems, if he remembers where it all comes from. He finds he cannot answer.

“I have a theory,” Yennefer finally says, sipping her tea. “It is a little insulting if it is true, but nonetheless.”

“Let's hear it,” Julian replies, will he finally, finally know what’s happening to him.

“I think the curse makes you forget what you love most.”

Julian gapes. A million things run through his mind. A million things, his minds fingers grasping after them as they slip away.

“I can break it, but it will take some work. Do you want that?” She looks at him, he feels her in his head. He knows she has found his answer, but he says it anyway.

“Yes.”

~

Geralt hears bits and pieces from the conversation going on inside. He has taken the chair that Jaskier vacated, the sun warming his face in the breeze. Geralt tries not to listen in. Nothing good would come from hearing their conversation.

He focuses on the sea instead. On the gulls cry, on the roar of the waves, on the familiar lull of Jaskiers voice. It is peaceful. Quiet. If it wasn’t for the storm inside him, he would have been content.

Jaskier's eyes on him today, assessing him like he would a stranger in a tavern, it was… sad. Geralt misses his friend. And fears for him too. The scar that already mars his body, the curse, just being with Geralt puts him in danger.

What will happen next? When Jaskier remembers? What if he can’t remember, if Yennefer can’t break it? Geralt is not sure which is worse, but being forgotten hurts. There are many ways to lose a friend. But it stings even now, as he knows that the word friend is not enough. Not near enough.

Geralt has many friends. Many people he cherishes. But with Jaskier, it’s bigger. What he feels when he looks at him, it’s… frightening. He knows the word for it. It is waiting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind firmly shut lips. The reason he needs to protect Jaskier.

Geralt falls into meditation easily. Their voices through the wall become a backdrop, his mind following the clouds instead of the raging sea. It soothes him to hear Jaskier again. Yennefer is right. It is not his decision to make.

Shame and fear drove him to this.

Geralt is selfish, he knows.

His medallion vibrates, a flash of light and the smell of sulfur breaks him out of meditation.

In the blink of an eye, Geralt is on his feet, sword in hand and heart in his throat. He sees no threat, senses no one else in the area, and slowly straightens again. Right.

So it’s done then.

This is when Jaskier leaves him, memories intact.

Silence reins inside the hut. Geralt doesn’t dare break it. He sits back down, leaning his head back against the wall. He closes his eyes and feels every emotion that rushes through him. All the what-ifs, all the if-nots.

Maybe Geralt should leave. He could leave, right now, and Jaskier wouldn’t get hurt because of him again.

Jaskier comes out of the hut, Yennefer close behind him. Geralt turns his head and looks at them, but says nothing.

Yennefer puts a hand on Jaskier's arm, squeezing it and smiling. Jaskier stands with his back turned, but Geralt thinks he is smiling too.

“I’ll be in town if you need me,” Yennefer says quietly. She turns, opens a portal, and then she is gone.

Once again silence sits between them, thick and heavy.

When Jaskier turns, he is frowning.

For a long moment, they just look at each other. Geralt feels locked in place, the roar of his emotions keeping him firmly stuck.

“Why?” Jaskier asks finally. He looks angry, hurt, disappointed.

“Because I can’t lose you,” Geralt says before he can stop himself. It is the truth anyway.

“So you let me forget?”

“To keep you safe.”

“Geralt. Do you know what the curse was?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt shakes his head. Jaskier presses his lips together into a thin line, another flash of anger behind those blue eyes.

“It made me forget what I love the most. Who I love the most.”

Geralt did….not expect that.

“Vital parts of me, gone. Do you know what it’s like to feel hollow inside, Geralt? To have a piece of yourself so thoroughly missing?” Jaskier's voice is calm, and Geralt can’t stand it.

Geralt swallows thickly and stands up, walking closer to Jaskier.

With one hand he grips Jaskier's chin and angles it up so that they look at each other.

“I do.” Geralt confesses. He is pain and fear and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness.

It tears through him, and he lets himself feel it, show it, and Jaskier watches it all.

Jaskier loves him.

Jaskier forgot him.

Geralt let him.

“Why did you let me go?” Jaskier whispers, his own hurt and sadness and shuddering breaths falling from his lips. His hand comes up to wrap around Geralt's wrist, his eyes searching for the something hiding on the tip of Geralt's tongue.

“Because I… Because I love you,” Geralt says quietly, and the something builds. Builds and builds in his chest, so big that he can barely breathe. Geralt lets his other hand come up and cup Jaskier's cheek.

They are standing close together, the wind tearing at their clothes, but they are holding on to each other so tightly.

“Because I can’t stand to see you hurt, not because of someone like me.”

“Geralt-”

“Please let me say this. I think I need to tell you this.”

Jaskier nods and shuts his mouth, his hand on Geralt's wrist warm and grounding, keeping him steady.

“I am selfish, Jaskier.” It feels so good to say his name again. “The only way for me to let you go, I-”

He falters. It is hard to speak. Once again he admires Jaskiers ability to express himself.

“To forget me, to let you go this way was the safest way I knew how. It hurt me, but I could live with that pain if it meant that you are safe.”

Anger and hurt flashes in his eyes again.

“Geralt. She tooks my memories, yes, she made me forget all I love, all that brings me joy. Not just you. I forgot my name. My lute. My songs. My friends. One after another, they all faded away. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

With his words, Geralt grows cold. He didn’t realize it was so bad.

Let it hurt you like it hurt me.

It made perfect sense now. The spell was aimed at him, not Jaskier. And Jaskier has so much love in him.

“And I kept you from those things.” Geralt realizes with a shaky whisper. “I thought I could keep you safe, but I hurt you. Again. I don’t know how to keep you safe.” Jaskier smiles sadly at him and pushes their foreheads together.

“Idiot witcher,” He says, and Geralt closes his eyes. “Life isn’t safe. I am very angry with you for leaving me, Geralt. But I am incredibly happy you came back for me.”

“I almost didn’t.” Geralt confesses with a whisper, because he can’t seem to stop himself from hurting either of them. “I was so convinced that you were safer without me.”

“I probably would be,” Jaskier agrees, and the confirmation rips through him, sharper than any blade. “And you will never stop believing that. But you don’t get to make that choice for me. That choice is mine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I think that is only the third time in my life I have heard you apologise,” Jaskier says, and Geralt can hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“I have something I need to say too, but I think you already know by now.”

Geralt swallows hard again, a roaring need rising in his chest.

“Would you look at me, Geralt?” Jaskier whispers, and he does. Their eyes lock, inches from each other, and Jaskier's grip on his wrist tightens. His eyes are so incredibly blue.

“I love you,” Jaskier tells him, smiling sadly again.

No, that sad smile is not allowed.

Geralt leans forward that last inch, tilting his head, closing that terrible distance.

It is soft and a little awkward. Jaskier kisses him back, lips dry and clinging to each other, but Geralt wants nothing else.

“Don’t ever let me forget again.” Jaskier whispers against his lips.

Geralt can do nothing but promise.

#memory loss #geraskier #light angst #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #dapanda writes #jaskier the bard #yennefer of vengerberg #getting together #difficult conversations

[kingofhearts709]

Prompt: bill and ted give each other haircuts

hello yes im sorry this is late but this is adorable and im happy to write this excellent prompt ❤️

A/N: SO! this came out SO MUCH LONGER than i expected. like i was just gonna cute-drabble it but then my brain was like "NO PERFECT CONCEPT MUST EAT IT." snd I'm very happy to have written it all. im setting this at like pre-excellent adventure.

anyways i hope you have a lovely day and to please enjoy this little thing 💓"

---

Ted blew his bangs out of his face for the fifth time since he'd sat down on Bill's bed, trying to focus on his comic and finding the ultimate difficulty in reading between the long strands. His hair almost reached past his shoulders, and Missy's abandoned scrunchies were starting to look most intriguing.

Bill was no better. Every time he ran his fingers through his hair, they wound up tangled. There was no way he'd be able to handle brushing it every single morning, but the habit of messing with his hair was too ingrained.

"Dude, we need haircuts," Bill grumbled as his forefinger caught on a twisty piece of fringe. "I'm gonna look like a seventies disco dude." Ted snickered at that, and Bill thwacked his chest lightly. "Shut up, Ted, I'm serious."

"Well, my dad won't even pay for a good haircut," Ted huffed, dropping his comic book and blowing his bangs away once more. "If he did, it'd be a buzz." He paused for a moment before suggesting, "You don't suppose Missy could cut our hair?" Bill let out a laugh.

"I would be most doubtful of her skills."

"Okay, well... How much do haircuts cost?"

"More than we can afford." Ted frowned and looked down. "My dad would probably just tell me to cut my hair myself if I asked." It went silent for a moment before a lightbulb lit up in Ted's brain, and he bounced on the bed with enthusiasm.

"...Well, why don't we?"

"Why don't we what, dude?"

"Cut our own hair!"

The idea thrown out to the wind sounded more than insane. Neither of them knew the first thing about cutting each other's hair, let alone their own.

But the thing about Bill and Ted was that, as long as they did it together, it was more than enough reason to say why not?

"Ted, my friend, your idea is definitely most forward-thinking!" Bill complimented, jumping up. "We both know what each other's hair looks like, so we'll totally be able to replicate it!"

The wide grin on Ted's face was enough to break it, jumping up with Bill and looking around.

"I'll go get hair stuff," Bill said as he rushed towards the door. "You get a chair set up." Ted nodded as Bill bolted from the room, going to the corner to grab an old twisty chair that they never used. It still twisted, and was just about the right height for cutting hair, it seemed.

Ted was testing the chair by spinning in fast circles when Bill came back in with a pair of kitchen scissors and two huge towels. He swayed a little as he regained his normal vision from spinning, seeing that Bill was also carrying a spray bottle filled with water, a brush and comb, and a tube of hair product.

"I grabbed some other stuff from Missy's counter, too," Bill said as he dropped it all down on the bed. He picked up the tube and read it, "Something called...'Gar-near Fruck-tiss.' The instructions say it makes your hair smooth." Ted gave an intrigued head tilt before giving a nod and a smile.

"Well, dude, smooth me!" Ted joked, and Bill gave him a look before they found themselves air-guitaring.

Bill wrapped one of the towels around Ted's neck and shoulders, making sure he pulled his hair out from underneath. Bill leant down to assess it, squinting to see if it would help him decide on a course of correct action.

"How short should I cut it, dude?" Bill finally asked. Ted brought up a hand and hovered it palm down before holding it right where his chin ended as reference, and Bill nodded, picking up the spray bottle and spraying Ted's entire head all over until his hair went damp through.

"Bill, you are most concentrated," Ted hummed as Bill ran the comb through his hair to measure it down. It was already frayed from whenever his last haircut had been, it seemed. "Do you actually know what you're doing?"

"Uh...," Bill hummed, shrugging. "I used to watch my mom get her hair cut before when I was a little kid, I guess. They always wet your hair and then do this trippy snippy thing."

Ted snorted as Bill snipped the scissors a couple of times in the air before diving into Ted's hair, holding the length to cut off between his fingers and slowly scissoring away.

It was quiet while Bill worked on his hair, Ted doing his best to keep still, even if he really wanted to turn his head and see exactly what was happening. The only sounds filling the room were Bill walking around him and the snip of the scissors.

As soon as Bill cut off the last edge of Ted's hair, he stepped back and studied his work, furrowing his brows before grinning.

"Dude, I totally nailed you!" he exclaimed, and the redness to Ted's cheeks caused him to add on, "Uh- Your hair, I mean. It looks most bodacious." Ted looked around the room frantically for any reflection, and jumped when Bill held up a mirror in front of his face.

Bill really had done an excellent job. His hair was back to its regular length, hanging right around his chin. His bangs were still a problem, though, and he looked over at Bill and gestured to them.

"Oh, dude, yeah," Bill huffed as he dropped the mirror back where he'd grabbed it and picked up the scissors again. "Sorry, Ted, I forgot your main problem is your egregiously long bangs."

"They're like curtains for my face, duder," Ted hummed as Bill began to separate the bangs from the rest of his hair. He cursed when he grabbed too much of Ted's already-trimmed sections before Ted spoke up, "Oh, dude, grab one of Missy's scrunchies!" Bill raised a brow before following Ted's gaze to the bedside table, where about four of Missy's scrunchies were sitting. How they got there, Bill personally didn't want to think about it. Regardless, he went over to grab one and handed it over to Ted so he could pull his hair back and let Bill have full reign on his bangs.

"Where do they usually end?" he asked as he eyeballed possible measurements with his fingers. His face wasn't unreasonably close to Ted's, considering the circumstances, but it still made Ted nervous.

"Just, like, enough so I can see okay, I guess," Ted said, and Bill nodded as he took the comb and brushed his bangs even before sticking the handle in between his teeth and bringing the scissors up.

At this angle, Ted could see Bill's entire process as he watched his hair being snipped off. The way his face was scrunched in concentration, his gentle movements to make sure he wasn't tugging Ted's head any direction.

He didn't realise Bill was finished until he saw his reflection in the mirror when it was held up.

He looked good, if not better than before, with Bill's handiwork.

"How'd I do, dude?" Bill asked, and Ted reached up to touch his already drying hair. "Want me to put the Fruck-tiss in it?"

"Uh- Yeah, dude, sure." Ted looked over to see Bill grabbing the tube and opening it up, squirting a generous amount into his palm. "Do I have to wash it out?"

"Uh...," Bill turned the tube in his hand and scrunched his nose, shaking his head. "It says to leave in for fifteen minutes and your hair will be, 'smooth and sleek.'" He looked up. "Ready?"

"Yeah, Bill."

After a moment, Ted felt Bill's hands and fingers running right through his hair, keeping away from his scalp as per the instructions on the tube. It was smooth and gentle and overall intimate the way Bill paid careful attention to Ted's hair, running his fingers through. He might've put too much product in, but they could always wash it out if needed.

"Alright!" Bill said when the product was more or less incorporated. "You have been fully transformed into your most authentic self, my friend!"

"Dude, excellent!" Ted said as Bill took the towel off of him, trying not to get the hair everywhere (it already was, but that was beside the point). "My turn, Bill!" Ted stood up and took an exaggerated bow towards the twisty chair, gesturing for Bill to take a seat. Bill bowed back before dropping down and smiling.

Ted mimicked his actions from earlier, draping the towel around his neck and grabbing the spray bottle. However, Bill's hair was curly and almost like a jewfro, and he briefly wondered how he was going to cut it down.

"Dude, I don't think water is going to help," Ted said as he looked around at Bill's head. "You do have one stellar mullet now, but the rest is growing up." Hesitantly, he ran his fingers gently through Bill's curly hair, feeling just how insanely tangled it was. Bill briefly shivered at the motion, telling himself internally to just relax.

He'd already cut Ted's hair, so he should know what to expect, but still, the shock of actually feeling Ted's hands and fingers gave him the most unusual of feelings in his chest. He wasn't necessarily sure if they were nerves or emotions, but either way, it sent a shiver down his spine every time Ted's skin connected to him.

Bill bit the inside of his cheek as Ted stuck his tongue out and tested a single lock of hair, snipping off the end before grinning, nodding as he started to continue.

"Dude, it's like trimming a bush!" he laughed as he went all around, mimicking Bill once more by holding each lock between his fingers. Bill's blond hair fell and separated with each snip that the scissors gave. Ted's movements were slow and calculated, his genuine care for making sure he cut Bill's hair in the most correct way making Bill feel a little more than special.

It took Ted longer than it took Bill to finish up, giving a lock one last cut before jumping back and grinning as he crossed his arms.

"Dude, how is it?" Bill asked, gesturing. "Gimme that mirror!" Ted straightened up as he remembered, turning in a couple of circles before picking it up off the the bed and holding it up.

Ted hadn't done a terrible job, he had to admit. He turned his head back and forth, his smile growing as he saw Ted show up behind him in the reflection. He took a hand and ran it through his hair front to back.

It took Bill a second before he concluded that Ted forgot to cut off his mullet, and he grinned with a scoff.

"Dude, you totally missed the back," Bill said, his hand flipping the hair in Ted's view. Ted frowned as he stood up straight and tilted his head.

"Did I, dude?" he raised his eyebrows, reaching down to move Bill's away and examine it. "Bill, if I might be totally honest, you have always had this mullet, though I will admit it's much longer than normal..."

"No way, dude," Bill rolled his eyes in response. "Gimme those scissors." He reached back to grab the utensil from Bill's hand, a most dangerous risk. Ted, however, held back the pair with a grin.

"Dude, you'll be a total mullet-head!" Ted laughed as he turned and jumped up on the bed, knocking a couple of the items onto the floor. Bill spun around in his seat and looked at the scissors clasped wrong-way-up in Ted's fist.

Bill eyed him for a long moment before bolting up from the chair in a lunge, a total disregard for all those 'safety with scissors' rules from grade school. Ted leaped off the bed for the corner, Bill chasing him there. They could only run around in the small confines of Bill's room, so there weren't many places for Ted to go, nor space to make between himself and Bill.

It became apparent when Ted got onto the bed again and Bill fully tackled him so he had him trapped underneath.

Ted was still laughing even when Bill had him pinned by the wrists and was currently looking down on him with the most fondest of looks, a huge smile gracing his entire face.

"Dude," Ted said through chuckles as he flipped his newly cut bangs away from his eyes, "you look definitively bodacious with your mullet. I think you should keep it." Bill tilted his head.

"Ted, my friend, there is nothing in your head that could ever convince me." Ted let out a laugh before he looked at it over Bill's shoulder, comtemplating.

"I like it on you, dude."

It didn't take long for Bill's brain to immediately agree with that statement.

"You think so, dude?" Bill found himself asking, and Ted looked back to Bill's face, smiling with a nod.

"Most triumphantly." The words put a smile on his own lips, and the warm, butterfly-feeling in his chest was new but most definitely welcome as he squeezed Ted's wrists.

"Well, then, Ted, my most excellent and esteemed partner, I suppose I must keep it just for you."

#the king speaks #bill and ted #bill s. preston esq. #ted theodore logan #bnt #im so so so sorrh this took so long #ily 🎸 #bill and ted's excellent adventure #bill and teds bogus journey #bill and ted face the music

[cyclesprefectpress]

[image description: a proof of a font of handset type for letterpress printing, displaying every letter, symbol, and special character in the font. it's called "Sixteenth Century Roman," 24 pt., and is a rough-edged serif font with a deliberately worn look. end description.]

hello hello i am return from a deep dive into several reference materials that assumed a little bit more knowledge about how Medieval Latin works than i actually have, but, it was all exTREMEly inch resting to me. i am absolutely not a historian but here we are, a speedrun of my pinballing around trying to ensure that I know what the fuck im storing in my type corridor:

so 16th Cent. Roman, i already knew, was a font Paul Duensing designed based on this incomplete set of old Italian punches he acquired (punches, the first step of old school typecasting, where you carve the relief letter shape into the end of a stick of steel, and you uuuh punch that into the copper matrix, which is then the negative mould-shape you use to cast multiple copies of the lead sorts with hot metal; surviving punches are precious artifacts not the least because they are. they’re hand-carved!! often by the type designer themselves. historical and also wildly cool craftsmanship). these punches were all beat up and probably water damaged, fucky and rough-edged, so he re-did and filled in the gaps in the alphabet with similarly styled letters of his own. very cool. an extremely nerdy lil passion project of a typecaster in the 1960s, very typical of type people. we all find a Thing to obsess over, and sometimes it's reviving an incomplete set of punches from the 1500s that you found in, idk, it's usually a bucket in somebody's basement.

anyway it's got a bunch of ligatures and the long s, sure sure sure, but WHAT are all these gibberish characters with tildas and lines thru the stems of ps and qs and such—

Duensing's full font is in Mac McGrew's specimen book, great, i have that, except McGrew's book has complete proofs and a little bit of history for each font but doesn't always cover what each symbol in a unique alphabet is for, and i knew just enough about Latin to guess that they were abbreviations but not what each of them stood for. a little bit of searching got me this far, which is to say, "Abbreviation in Medieval Latin Paleography," a translation of an Italian essay on the subject from 1929. It is prefaced by the translators with gems like: "Take a foreign language, write it in an unfamiliar script, abbreviating every third word, and you have the compound puzzle that is the medieval Latin manuscript." Scribes writing in medieval Latin just tossed out letters they didn't care to deal with, constantly, and had stand-in special characters and abbreviations for syllables/words/particles and there were intuitive rules but way too many variations in time and place and person to make a reasonably-sized, static lexicon. amazing. hope all u paleographers are having fun over there.

the essay has a great big glossary of truncations and abbreviations and so on which clearly cover most of the figures in Duensing's font:

[image description: screenshots of the essay, with various symbols and the Latin syllables they abbreviated. an m with a bar over it, ex., stood in for men or mun. end description.]

ok! BUT this q with a little swoop off the end kept bugging me!! for all these dead-use symbols this essay is using handwritten samples, obviously, and there's clearly variation in execution and also typographers take liberties, and i just thought, sure my piece of type looks a lot like the quod here but it does link the staff to the swoop where the handwritten sample doesn't, and it could just as well be a fanciful ligature for qn which apparently can stand in for quando, and i have no idea which is a more common-use syllable likely to be cast in the font if you're only going to pick your top 14, and i just like to be sure about things.

SO. i went to double-check with Johnson’s Typographia. Johnson made like a thousand pages of printing manuals set in tiny tiny type in the 1820s which are rad as hell and tell you all sorts of things about how to run a shop and build your own press and cast type and going rates for work and employment and also, the alphabets/type case layout for whatever language or symbol set you might have to set type in, when handsetting type was mostly the only way to get stuff printed—English, Arabic, Chinese, Hebrew, musical notation, astronomical signs, aaaand it’s got a section for "Marks & characters used in the Domesday Book & other ancient records.”

[image description: a photo of a page of the manual, with similar but not always identical symbols for abbreviated use. many of these abbreviations are described as "a Domesday contraction." end description.]

and WHAT is a Domesday contraction, WELL, it's a contraction specifically from/prevalent in the Domesday book, a deeply boring and historically important tome about property distribution in England. It’s literally a survey. who owned what, in 1086. presumably mind-numbing. enormous, handwritten in Medieval Latin, EXTREMELY cool, go look at some images of it at least, very important to historians, economists, linguists, and a complete pain in the ass to set in type when that technology became available, having to cast any significant proportion of these variant characters in an alphabet. Johnson says, (in 1824) “It is an improvement of latter years only*, to have type cast to resemble the abbreviations used in the more ancient manuscripts; they being formerly rudely imitated, either from a common fount, or else were cut in wood for the purposes of any particular work.” wow that sucks. but in 1773 the government really wanted to be able to reproduce the Domesday Book in type, so a couple people tried to cut a set of punches for Domesday abbreviations and Joseph Jackson got it done and it only took 10 years to print an edited version of the manuscript. and then apparently all the type was destroyed in a fire in 1808. WOW that sucks.

but the point is, Johnson has a great big glossary of characters as they were translated into type in the making of the printed Domesday Book, and the Domesday punches were used or refrenced in the printing of other medieval latin works, which consequences a degree of standardization in the abbreviations used in those versions of the text that handwritten manuscripts never had or needed.

notably the Domesday quod looks even more different from my piece of type here which was pretty annoying, so what are the chances this thing is a quando, and anyway that's when my sister texted me back with better computer skills and a different search engine and found me a perfect match on the first try. it’s a quod. this National Diet Library digital exhibition has several different sample fonts, both black letter and roman, with quite consistent letter forms, if not choices about which abbreviations to bother casting.

*I don’t……exactly know what he means by this, since Gutenberg and contemporaries absolutely did cast many Medieval Latin abbreviations for their fonts nearly 400 years before this. His dismissal of “from a common fount” might be fair, since i think what he means by it is that you’d have a generic set of abbreviation characters which you would have to use in conjunction with whatever font was the main body of your text, and it’s messy to mix things that weren’t designed specifically to match. he may just mean that it’s new for his contemporary foundries to be casting all these expanded alphabets of abbreviations; Gutenberg didn’t have foundries to buy from and made his own type. he could include as many characters as he had the patience for. maybe Johnson is just a guy from the 1800s that didn’t have the internet and i shouldn’t jump down his throat for not knowing something. idk!! i have homework.

anyway that was my Friday!! feel free to correct me and/or suggest further reading if early typecasting is your Thing or. again. you just have better googling than me.

#letterpress #letterpress printing #handset type #lead type #typography #long post #:(( sorry #omitted: Johnson's scathing opinions on Almanacks and the people who read them #and ask you to typeset them #'''''the credulity of the vulgar''''''' alRIGHT bud #i guess if he was willing to set that whole paragraph in 8 pt. #or pay for it #it was at least an opinion he believed in very strongly.

[icharchivist]

cries think I made my ask too long so like half of it got deleted bc I typed it right into the askbox. anyways. I come bearing a3 thoughts! at first i was gonna watch the spring/summer and autumn/winter ones and then give my thoughts on both but. turns out i had too many thoughts lol? which i shouldve expected but i actually kind of... got bored by the first two chapters of this event! so i skipped and went to the stranger. and then went back. (1/?)

and then i got to like "tsuzuru and kazunari are having a fight?" and jumped on that like a starving wolf bc helllll yeah! i rly adored kazunari in sardine search, i think he was great! hes just so nice and has good vibes. he and taichi are kind of similar i feel? but i think their respective ages contribute to a lot of difference in their characters. why does it feel like this askbox limit personally wants me dead. (2/?)

anyways! i rly enjoyed the improv scene devolving to a real fight. admittedly i was kinda surprised that the content of that improv wasnt rly too similar to their actual fight? like normally a3 has the story of the play run parallel to like the actual real character drama so i thought the improv might function as the play in this event... it was still good tho. the scene i mean. (3/?)

also i rly liked tenma ragging on them afterwards. like he was mean but. first i adore tenma. second he just felt like. a different meddling type to muku lol? like the vibes he gave me were always like... im going to be a considerate leader and watch out for the ppl under me! therefore im gonna make sure theyre doing fine! aggressively. i think tenmas also just like a friendly person who likes to take care of others in general? like im not saying hes omi or anything but just like. (4/?)

that time he offers his car ride to juza so they can go to school together like hes surprisingly open compared to his initial prickliness. also ive got thoughts abt the tenma juza SSR conversation thing i read. one day ill make a tenma and juza fic and complete a trifecta haha... but thats something for another day! back to the actual story. the way tsuzuru dives right in after kazunari! that was so nice. like its easy to see how much they care abt each other. (5/?)

to the point where like even while theyre fighting theyre like angry but still like fairly quiet bc i think theyre both at least trying to be considerate of each other. ah the moment kazunari didnt respond to tsuzuru trying to talk to him i KNEW he was sick tho. felt proud of myself for calling that one but also the reason i knew is bc i have used the "character being sick during an argument causing them both to make up with each other" trope myself before so uh. like recognizes like haha. (6/?)

anyways the cg there was fuckin beautiful like kazunari looks so sad in the middle bit but then u see his shy smile? like hes sick but hes also like. happy to be there. idk. lovely. i adore kazu i think hes just deeply sweet to other people. tsuzuru telling him "you make everyone around you feel as bright and cheery as the things you design” is so wonderful too (7/?)

now im thinking. ah tsuzuru probably feels quite drained after a script and such (i know i am when i finish any piece--its like the emotions just rush out of me) so i like to think that like yknow. kazunari dropping by his room or whatever helps him set himself back to normal! but also when tsuzurus like oh u left ur magazines here! i suddenly remembered. wait shit kazunari and tsuzuru arent even roommates. wonder how much they bother masumi lmaooo. anyways overall very good story! (8/?)

some more thoughts: itaru and citron were so cute in this event! just like. citron saying itaru winking makes his heart skip a beat and itaru quoting citrons wrong sayings (which. i am also guilty of today i told my brother "we'll jump that bridge when we cross it" so) also i love how yuki is like "thank god i wasnt partnered with that hack" but like. yuki. u could literally just not talk about him. like its so funny to me yuki is like wow i hate tenma but he wont shut up abt him haha (9/?)

i also was a lil taken aback at hearing itaru go "for the lulz" tbh... like it fits him. but im mad it fits him? anywaysss thats all i had for this one! im gonna watch autumn/winter and go say my thoughts on that soon. sorry the ask was so broken up, idk what happened!

OLA FRIEND! Glad to see your thoughts again omg :3c

tho omg the fact tumblr deleted it all + the ask limit was all so evil D: poor friend.

I'm putting my answer under a read more because. Well. *waves hand* it got long.

The non-play events can be perhaps a little harder to get into because unlike the plays events that you start with a clear idea of at least the main plot (re: "they are preparing a play, i know the leads so i know who it will focus on"), non-plays events take a little longer to first set up what event they're participating in, how to prepare for it, and then bring up the conflict and which characters are going to have something to do with said conflict. So i can understand that they're a little harder to get into when we know the plays awaits.

On top of that, the first few events still were a bit tame because since it was early when the app released, i think they didn't go too heavy at once in case some people were still stuck on earlier chapters (esp since especially Winter is hard to unlock)

ANYWAY glad that it sucked you in on the second read :3c

So glad you were invested in that conflict!

Totally agreeing with you about Kazunari, and very good point about Taichi as well! they aren't the Puppy Pair for nothing :'D (Yuki took one look at both of them together and just Knew. His suffering knows no end (lovingly)). But yeah i think they have a lot in common, they both are the really bright and friendly figure, both also started in overcompensating a bit because both wanted to be popular in some ways.

But we do have, on one hand, Kazunari who wanted that rather late in his life while Taichi always thrived for that, the fact Kazunari made friends easily and it's just that he was scared of getting to the next level, while Taichi always struggled with this quest for popularity. In a way too both of them were at least scared to share a part of them, Kazunari worrying to show his thoughts, and Taichi being a spy and all of that... which impacts them really differently considering the guilt it puts on Taichi. And then you add their age into the mix, especially the fact Kazu is the oldest of his troupe and Taichi the youngest of his, it makes them fairly similar all while being fairly different.

both are so interesting to me and i love them bothhh, so it's always nice to see them have focus.

admittedly i was kinda surprised that the content of that improv wasnt rly too similar to their actual fight? like normally a3 has the story of the play run parallel to like the actual real character drama so i thought the improv might function as the play in this event

i love how you are seeing the patterns a3 tends to do it's so neat!

It's true the fight isn't really similar to their actual fight, though i do love that they had "swapped" their personality for the act and ended up insulting each other for theirr swapped personality. Like, Kazunari insulted part of himself in Tsuzuru's character and Tsuzuru did the same?? and then the fight escalated and the way Kazunari broke character hurts bc it's really that Tsuzuru hit where it hurts. But yeah it still wasn't too relevent to their actual fight, though i think the thing is that their fight was as such mostly because they tend to clash often due to their personalities rather than just this singular reason why, so to have the play go more "it's their personalities the problem" kinda hurt lol. But yeah still agreed that it didn't reflect much on the plot itself

I was rereading the improv bit to answer correctly and man since we're going to talk about Tenma next, i just. Love that when Kazunari, breaking character, his eyes sad, tells Tsuzuru "you have no rights talking to me like that..." it then cuts on Tenma being upset. Bc like. Exactly like you say, he wants to look out for the people under him. and like. Kazunari is his friend. A friend he also snapped at once and insulted for being who he was, so he probably could have relived a bit of his fight with Kazunari seeing those two fights; Except that now Kazunari is one of his closest friend and he doesn't like that.

Also like. It was also because he could still hide under the plot of the improv but it's so rare, and it never happened before that point, that Kazunari stands for himself in a "the way you treat me is unfair"? Like again re: his fight with Tenma, when Tenma snapped at him, while Tenma was unfair with him, Kazunari took the blame, called himself annoying and all yaknow?

The fact Kazunari is starting to accept that he can take more place for himself is something the whole Summer Troupe have been trying to help him work on, but especially Tenma. Tenma is always there trying to push Kazunari to say what he means, to express his feelings, to stop hiding.

And for once, Kazunari does that in front of everyone... and it's because he's breaking because of his fight with Tsuzuru.

I think Tenma probably felt it was even more of a reason to get involved like, this is the thing he's been working on with Kazunari about, and now he's being all hurt about it, not on Tenma's watch!

And i totally agree with your take on Tenma! (and would LOVE to read the Tenma and Juza fic once you get to it :3c). I think, Tenma is really caring and is trying to take a place as a caretaker and all, but unlike Omi, he has absolutely no reference for it.

Omi is the eldest of multiple brothers and everything indicates his parents have always been lovely to him. Add to it how he ended up leader of a delinquent crew he was clearly looking after, Omi has a history of taking care of people, of nurturing them, and he knows what he's doing. Meanwhile Tenma grew up on TV sets, mostly surrounded by adults and not by people his age, mostly getting advice from being ordered around by directors i think. And his parents are distant, hyperfocused on their job, not really nursing with him. So Tenma meanwhile really didn't have a family emotional support and was in situation where he couldn't befriend other kids his age. His only reference was probably Igawa (his agent) and i think for a long time he didn't exactly see it, and Igawa remained mostly professional so there was probably the idea of it not being sincere? That Tenma had to grow out of.

So like, they're both extremely nurturing and caring, but my point is that Omi has experiences in it and is at ease with it, while Tenma has been so alone and in places were he had no support system that even if he wants to support others, he still struggles with how to do it because he has no set exemple. And that's his development in the main story arc, to learn from how Izumi shows she cares in order to care back at them all.

Like i mean the way Tenma yelled at them about their mistakes at first feel like he would have picked it up from some directors on TV set yaknow? Probably hearing them say that with no consequences on others actors, seeing it worked, didn't think "that's an abuse of power and the actors probably all think badly of their director for that" but "wow that works", tried it on his troupesmates and realized this is... not how that works. And it's spending time watching how Izumi encourages them that have him fix his way to approach it.

So yeah i got lost too into it but like. I feel you on Tenma i love him so much and i love his development so to see him get pissed and involved there? was really nice. even if he was aggressive about it. He's still learning.

ANYWAY back to Tsuzuru and Kazunari, totally agree with what you say next. They still care a lot about each other and yeah they're at a point where this consideration they have for each other make their anger more quiet than trying to attack one another (Banri could NEVER-). so yeah totally agree with you!

DLKFJDLKF i LOVE the reasoning on "recognizing that Kazunari was sick". Your writer's powers making you see through... *coughs* unlike Tsuzuru....

AND YEAH ALL YOU SAY ABOUT THE CG.. YEAH. Kinda crying thinking about it again now LDKJFLKDJF It's just. Everything about it is so soft and tender. The things Tsuzuru tells Kazunari are soo so sweet sobs. They're just adorable i love those kids. and also i feel you for Kazu he's just that great huh?

The whole set up about Kazu dropping by his room is so so cute! I love it! Like probably the very first time Tsuzuru braces himself because "oh no i'm not in the mood to stand mister hyperenergy himself" but Kazunari quickly adjust his energy so that Tsuzuru can just recharge without being overwhelmed. Yes it would drive Masumi completely nuts. Which i think is a plus for Tsuzuru like, hey, if Masumi gets annoyed once in a while it's a win. But yeah also i think that Tsuzuru and Kazunari should really have the Artistic Soldiarity of Students in Art school Probably Working Until Very Late To Complete Their Projects. Would love if at the end Tsuzuru gave it back yaknow?

but yeah their story was really nice i'm so glad you liked it! :D

oh god yeah Itaru and Citron were SO cute in it too, i also love the comments Citron makes about Itaru's winks. Just there flirting in front of everyone like those two embarrassing friends huh. (probably with Muku being all starry eyes considering he greatly admires both Itaru and Citron and, well, Romance.). And yeah i love how Itaru ends up so much into Citron's rhythm (and this idiom you said? is glorious actually, 10 points for you)

DLKFJDLKF what a call out toward Yuki. "yes i hate Tenma,no i won't shut up about him, also if YOU say you hate Tenma i'm going to stab you with my needles, have a nice fucking day.". I love their dynamics so much aha

And yeah Itaru is there cursing us the whole time with the fact he's the greatest nerd ever and it fits him perfectly. It makes me laugh so hard.

Thank you so much for having shared your thoughts there! it's always a blast to read through them and i dearly enjoyed it! (+ it makes me relive the event a little and it makes me soft!)

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! So glad you had so many thoughts about all of this, what a blast.

thank you for sharing, and looking forward the Autumn/Winter reactions :3c

Take care!

#ichareply #ichafantalks a3 #sonnets of beauty

[burnedbyshoto]

Believe in Me

todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff? angst? ha, find out ;)

word count: 2,610

a/n: this was... the hardest thing I’ve had to write... ask my friends, i asked for many ideas!!!! i think because momo is my hc lesbian im like “why is reader jealous? what an idiot!” so i made it more... insecure than jealous! but still i hope you enjoy my love :D

Shouto and Momo had an unbreakable bond.

They were the two students who got in through recommendation. A testament to not only their quirks but to their connections to the Hero Society. They shared their levels of fame, wealth, were from the same circle of society. Most importantly, they have always clicked.

You sometimes wondered why they never dated. It was unfair of you to think that way, after all, Shouto was your boyfriend! Yet, when you were in situations like this… your thoughts took a dive into insecurity.

Jealousy, insecurity, and bitter feelings.

You were good at keeping them down! It was because you didn’t want to be that kind of girlfriend, but they were often insufferable together. It was most often hard studying with them. Shouto always seemed to ask for her help, and you got why he did! Momo, of course, had a higher ranking than you did in the class, but you still outranked him! Why did he never ask you?

Or the way they always paired up together during hero basics training when given the option. The two of them often getting the highest marks in the lesson.

Or even the way Shouto talked about Momo. Pure respect and admiration laced his tone. He was proud of the lengths of which she had grown since her meltdown during your first semester here at U.A.

But right now, you were in a situation that made it hard for you to speak. The two of them were analyzing the situation before them with intensive whispering. The three of you were in a group together for mid-terms your final year here, and you were feeling neglected. They stood analyzing how to get the best success from this test. A simple task that required them to save the “civilian” from a building crawling with “villains.”

Momo was a strategist, you knew that. She had a very capable quirk, but always acted more of a support than the actual hero. Shouto was also a strategist in his own way, but he usually decided to overpower others with his quirk. You weren’t much of a strategist. You were an excellent combat fighter; your strategies involved decisions at the moment. It was never meticulous or planned ahead of time. It worked for you! You were great at it, but most were not. Real-life was different from theory, that’s what you always believed at least.

You felt awkward as you stood behind them, taking in the information of what they wanted you to do. You did not feel included in this strategy whatsoever. You didn’t agree on some parts of the strategy. You had even voiced your thoughts! You had stated that even though it was indoors, doesn’t mean that all the villains would be smart. But the two of them ignored your concerns. Ruling out it out as none of your lessons gave you chaotic villains indoors.

“I don’t like the strategy…” You whisper to Shouto again, as Momo is doing one last mental recital of the game plan. “Why would the last floor not have guards? Plus, the entire no making noise thing is bull! Momo is a great strategist, but you can’t expect us to not make any noises!”

“I know you don’t like that part,” Shouto sighs. Shouto knows the mass majority of what they’re asking of you goes against most things you have always done. You were a fighter. You weren't a capturer! Yet they wanted you to have the stealth of someone like Hagakure by the sounds of it. “But it does make sense and Yaoyorozu’s plan... it’s the best one we got.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” You try again. “It's that I don’t see our teachers—“

“Todoroki-san, I have one final concern!” Yaoyorozu exclaims, and Shouto squeezes your shoulders before he turns around.

Your heart fell as they arranged the last details. They re-explained everything to you, and you nodded even so. Momo flashed a thumbs-up to wherever your teachers would be watching. You guys were the last ones to wrap up your plan after all. The siren blared and you followed behind Momo as the three of you took off.

The beginning position was a straight line. Using Shouto’s ice to your advantage, he would first freeze any of the villains on the same floor they were on. So not to alert the villains of them coming.

Momo was in the middle. She would provide any changes of action and anything the two of you may need to make sure this was a smooth run.

You made up the back. You would take down anyone else who may have been successful in getting trapped. So far things had worked out fine, the three of you continued clearing floors with little to no issue. Begrudgingly, you had to admit Momo had been right. Still, there was something about all this that made you uneasy.

As you continue climbing, you couldn’t help the guilt that soaked through your bones. Because so far, Momo had been correct at every call. It was the twentieth floor and you hadn’t been needed once, and to be honest, you were zoning out. Momo had been assisting Shouto for the most part. Creating loud noises as diversions for Shouto to capture them. Shouto would then use his fire as you climbed the staircases.

Soon, all you did was follow behind them, you hadn’t been needed once.

It isn’t until floor twenty-seven when something happens. A sudden yell from Momo alerts you and a large piece of concrete is hurtling towards you. With no time to dodge, you tense your body as it crashes into you. You’re sent flying, and you gasp as it hurts to breathe. You get up to your feet as you peer at the villain in front of you. A clone of Cementoss but with an anger issue that made Bakugou seem like Miss Japan.

You look at Momo and Shouto who are halfway towards the stairwell. Their bodies ready to fight and you wave them off. You had this covered. They needed to save up their quirks anyways. They nod as they turn and leave. You could feel the discontent in Shouto as he disappears into the stairwell.

The battle between you and Cementoss is loud and ugly. You try your best at keeping this quiet and secretive, but he continues to rip concrete from the walls. Hurtling it towards you without breaking a sweat.

It takes a while, but you finally manage to reduce the Cementoss into a rag doll. Someone could make copies of people as long as they made a doll that looked like them. So that was what the villains were in this. But your eyes focused in on the damage around you, smart villains your ass. You took off running after your team, and you winced at the feeling of the bruise that was sure to form on your ribcage.

The next two floors have been cleared in the time it took you to catch up. Currently. Momo and Shouto were facing off every single teacher at U.A., their backs towards you.

“I thought we agreed to make battles silent!” Shouto yelled as you enter the twenty-ninth floor. There’s an annoyance on his face as his quirk deletes and he’s forced to dodge a wave of attacks. Your eyes are on Momo who is trying to get herself out of harm's way. But as you said before, she wasn’t quite the best on spot fighter.

So with a tight throat, you raced in to help.

It took another five minutes of intensive fighting. Finally, the three of you panted at the sight of the lifeless dolls now scattered before you. Momo had an injury though. She had taken a rather nasty punch from the All Might doll that you had overwhelmed earlier. You thought you had it defeated, but you were wrong on that assumption.

Shouto has her arm around his shoulder. He was silent as he went to the staircase, and you followed afterward your head low.

At the top floor, Present Mic stood bound to the chair, alone, and excited to see the three of you. You sighed as Momo untied him, but something didn’t feel right. You couldn’t understand why there was no alarm for your victory.

You may not be a strategist, but your damn instincts were fantastic. Something was moving in the shadows... your skin crawled as you heard something whiz through the air.

It seemed that both Momo and Shouto had finally caught up to where your thoughts were. Yet you were the only one to react to the knife that was coming towards Momo. You intercepted the knife with your body as you topple over from the hit. Why was U.A. so merciless?

Damn, having Recovery Girl made these matches brutal sometimes.

Your eyes scanned the darkness of the room. Present Mic’s yapping makes it hard for you to focus but you suppress his voice. The voices of Momo and Shouto now silent in your ears. Nothing they could say was going to fix the fact that they had been wrong, and you had been right. You moreover wanted to be the team that won.

Then you hear it, the slight clicking that made your skin crawl the first time. Sending your energy to your hand, you used your quirk, sending it out. Your energy materialized, glowing as it held a Principal Nezu doll by its throat, a machine in his hand.

The alarm sounds.

“Team G has passed.”

You don’t turn around to your team members who are most likely concerned for you. It’s too much. So you walk away, knife still embedded in your side, bruises scattering your body, and pride hurt.

You ignore their calls as you head to the stairwell. You knew that Shouto was going to help Momo down anyways, as he always did, as he always will.

*•*•*•*

You flinch as Recovery Girl slams her shot onto your head. “You need to find a better way of stopping knives that isn’t with your body!” She huffs, her face red and angry as she stares at you. “Between you and Midoriya, I’m going to break out in the hives while watching you two fight!”

You laugh as you try to downplay her rightful worries. You have been known to stop flying projectiles with your body. “It makes me feel superheroic!” You tease as her hands tighten the bandage around your torso, the force of it making you flinch.

“Heroic? More like idiotic! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Well, they weren’t listening to me anyway… and Yaomomo was hurt! I didn’t have the energy to use my quirk at the moment, and I couldn’t let her get hurt…!” You sigh as you shift your costume back into place.

Recovery Girl sighs, her fingers pinching her nose as she shakes her head. “You’re going to make an excellent hero, y/l/n, but you need to have faith in your own judgment to other people. You can’t let others drown you out when you have caused to worries about your own.”

You nod your head, you knew that. But it wasn’t fun trying to interrupt when it was Momo’s master plan.

You eventually leave her office, your body sore, but no longer in pain. You enter the hallway to see Shouto waiting for you, no longer in costume, but in his uniform.

“Are you okay?” Shouto asks as he walks over to you, concern in his face. His fingers graze your face, but you turn your head. You didn’t want this from him right now. A short sigh escapes his mouth as his hands drop to his sides again. “I’m sorry.”

You blink away tears as you stare at him, “For what, Shouto?”

“For a lot of things,” Shouto has a sad smile as he runs a hand through his locks. “First, for yelling at you today, that was unacceptable of me. There weren’t that many dolls there when we first entered. Then you shook the building and they multiplied, and I wrongly blamed you.”

You scoff as you rub away your tears, “Yeah, that one hurt.”

“I’m also sorry for not taking your own thoughts about the strategy into consideration.” Shouto continues and you let yourself succumb to your need of being held. Shouto wraps his arms around you tightly, his hands rubbing your back.

“It hurts, y-you know…” Your voice cracks as you shake your head against his warm chest. “You’re my fucking boyfriend, but sometimes you don’t care about anything I have to contribute! You believe Yaomomo, so, so, much… and I don’t blame you! It’s just so… shitty when y-you don’t believe in me the same way!”

“I’m sorry…”

“But are you? Are you saying this to make me feel better right now? Or do you genuinely mean it? Shouto, I know you love me, and that’s not what my issue is here! It’s just... when I see the way you treat her opinions in comparison to my own… it really sucks! I get that you trust her, but would it hurt you to trust me too?!”

You can’t keep the sobs in you anymore as you cry in his chest, the bleeding wound in your heart no longer able to be withheld. You’re tired of feeling insecure to a girl you knew Shouto didn’t love. You're tired of being bitter because he did love you! Shouto loves you so much but you think that it should make him more lenient towards your ideas.

The sobs become spluttered cries as Shouto presses soft kisses against your face. Everywhere and anywhere. Apologizes on his tongue as he lets you cry.

“I never wished to make you feel insecure about your ability as an individual.” Shouto states as your sobs become gasping breathes as you try to keep calm. “I love you more than anything, y/n. You’ve always been such a strong, capable individual. I never expected you needed my approval. Yaoyorozu still worries me from our finals from our first year, and so most of my support is a habit. My love, you’re amazing, and I’m sorry I haven’t been telling you that enough or showing you that enough.”

You let out a shaky groan as you’re feeling slightly better, but you still don’t wish to let go. “…you should tell me that more often, but I’m sorry for everything I did today…”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“It didn’t seem like that...”

“Well your boyfriend is a fucking idiot when he’s stressed, he is the worst.”

“Don’t give him a hard time,” You giggle slightly and blush at the sound of his heartbeat picking up from your laughter. “He was being an amazing friend.”

You let his hands cup your cheeks and your eyes closed as his lips touch yours. It’s soft, sweet, loving, and laced with a million apologies. You want more out of it. Your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouth is ready to drop in opening for him. But gasp from Momo interrupts the two of you.

You look to see Momo and Jirou standing together, and there’s a blush on Momo’s cheeks. “I came to see how you were doing, y/l/n-chan, but you’re both busy! We’re sorry!” Momo gasps as she tugs Jirou away who’s giving the two of you a thumbs up.

You laugh at they round about the corner and Shouto sighs. “Now where were we?” He asks, a smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes as you bunch his shirt into your hands, and tug him down for a kiss.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto imagine #todoroki scenario #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #mha #mha x reader #mha todoroki #todoroki fluff #todoroki angst

[bedtimebrain]

EXO KAI: Detective Gone Wrong P3

You can find the masterlist to the other parts on my bio/description!

Characters: JonginxYou

You came to know Jongin by accident, but have no clue he’s EXO’s Kai. And when you found out....

You walked away blankly, remaining in a daze until your phone started vibrating in your pocket.

It was your boss who called and anxiously asked if you could cover her shift from the afternoon as she forgot about her wedding anniversary dinner.

You gladly agreed, thinking it might be better to have something to occupy yourself with today. Otherwise you’re just going to be spending the day thinking about you and jongki.

Still sane enough to be in need for breakfast, you went by the convenience store to pick up a sandwich. Standing in front of the fridge, you paused to think

What does jongki want? Does he... like me ?

And he KISSED ME TOO?! That’s definitely something only couples do right?!

How did everything escalate so fast overnight ?!

‘Excuse me, are you getting anything? You’re standing in the way’

You must have stood there for quite a while, looking at the irritated face of the customer. Apologising, you just grabbed whatever sandwich there was on the shelf and left after paying.

Falling deep in thought and replaying what happened last night again, you opened your sandwich packaging and bit down on your sandwich  

EW! Egg Mayo!

You sighed. Feeling a little more miserable with wrong sandwich choice, you continued feeding on your thoughts on the way home.

You dive straight into your bed and hugged your big Coney plush the first thing you got back. You screamed into Coney like a lunatic and kicked the air violently with your legs.

Stupid jongki, who does he think he is. Ah yes, I secretly gave you a kiss, so what. IT WAS JUST A FRIENDLY KISS CAUSE YOU WERE CUTE.

BUT WHATS WITH KISSING ME ON THE LIPS AND WAKING UP TOGETHER LIKE ITS ABSOLUTELY NORMAL

What a flirt!! See y/n you were right. Rich, handsome guys, tsk. Bound to be bad.

You threw coney to the side and your phone came crashing down with it from your side table.

Groaning, you bend over your bed to pick it up, only to see a message from the dear boy you wanted out of your mind right now.

J:I’m heading out for work soon~ have a good day today😙

Is that a kissy face?!

Oh goodness, you were so annoyed.

Kim Jongki, are you playing with me right now?? WE ARE NOT ATTACHED

.....

at least not yet (?)

Tossing the phone aside, you decided to take a shower. Afterall showers always work best for any occasion. You got up and spent a peaceful 20minutes running under hot water, clearing your thoughts. 

Though still feeling bothered, you were definitely more refreshed. Time check , it was about time for you to get changed and pick up lunch on the way to the store.

Dusting on some light make up, bunning up your hair, you changed into your working clothes. In 30 minutes you were out of the house.

On the bus ride to your working area, you were so torn between checking your phone and not to. You wanted to know if jongki texted you again, but you didn’t really want to deal with this situation.

Fiddling with your phone, you almost dropped it when it beeped to announce a message had arrived.

That’s a sign, I should look at it! Since it rang when I’m thinking whether I should

Excitedly you unlocked your phone and checked your notification, only to find that it was just a reminder message from your landlord to pay your rent.

Your heart literally dropped because you actually really wanted to receive a message from him. Just then your phone beeped again and this time it was from jongki!

J: y/n ah what’s for lunch today? I’m having kimchi stew. Texting because I thought about you who might be board having an off day today :p

Sigh, you can’t deny that boy is so cute and lovable. But you still weren’t ready to reply him. You wanted things to be clearer between both of you. While uncertainty in relationships can be the most heart fluttering period, you didn’t like being in that phase.

It wasn’t long before you reached your stop to alight. Not feeling particularly hungry yet, you stopped by street stalls along the way instead.

You arrived at your shop, feeling satisfied with the pajeon you just had. You almost forgot how therapeutic the scent of flowers were until you stepped in. The mixed floral scent of dew and freshness instantly released you from the troubled thoughts bugging you at the back of your head.

‘Unnie! I’m here! How could you forget your wedding anniversary , hahah. Have you bought a gift or something yet?’

‘Ah, y/n ah! My life saviour. No I haven’t bought anything! There’s just too many activities and occasions this month that I forgot about my own. Gosh’ she face palmed herself making you laugh

‘Then you better leave soon to get your gift! I’m here already anyway! I’ll just continue wrapping this bouquet you’re currently working on’

‘I’ll buy u a meal another day, sorry for calling you back on your off day~ oh right I’ve a parcel coming later, just open and let me know what’s inside. I ordered so many I can’t even remember what’s coming anymore.’ Removing her apron, she rushed off after saying googbye. 

Looking at the tasklist, it was going to be a busy day. 5 bouquets to finish and lots of prep for the workshop tomorrow. You immersed yourself in the wrapping right away. 

A few minutes later, your phone lighted up. It was a message from jongki.

J:yaaa, are you ignoring me deliberatelyy? do you want to come over again on sunday? 

You scoffed when you saw the message because your detective mind came to a conclusion that the latter question was just bait to get the answer to his first question. He was tempting you with a chance at his place that was a hit or miss if you don’t reply him. 

You put down the stalks of flowers you were still holding in your hands, you paused to form an appropriate reply. 

Text:

my lunch was great, and i cant go over on sunday, im going to my parent’s place 

You typed then deleted it, doesn’t sound about right, you remember telling him yesterday that you got a half day shift on sunday which you really hated.

Trying again,

i got called back at work 

Sounds fine? Should you send it like this? 

‘Delivery!’

Reacting in shock , you pressed the send button by accident at the voice of delivery man

ah shucks! 

You closed your eyes and hit yourself on the head imaginatively. Smiling at the delivery guy, you received the parcels and signed them off. 

One of it came in a tube, while the other was in a box.

What in the world did unnie order that would come in a tube? Wallpapers? Drawings??

The tube really piqued your curiosity, so you decided to check that first. opened it first.

Opening the tube, you pulled out a rolled piece of paper. Unrolling it, you noticed at the top right was a black and white logo that writes EXO Obsession. 

Ohhhh EXO!! Unnie likes exo?

Ever since you watched 100 days my prince, you had a positive inclination towards EXO. Which also reminded you of jongki who seems to like EXO Kai.

You wondered who was going to be in this poster. Not like you would recognise them though, you thought, unless its do kyungsoo ssi. 

A little excited, you pulled the poster open to full length.

Looking at the poster that stared back at you. Your smile faded away. Your jaw dropped.

‘Jongki oppa?’ you muttered under your breath

There was an uncanny resemblance between the man in the poster and jongki. 

 No way, who the hell is this from EXO? 

You turned the poster to the back hoping to find a name of the man in the picture. But there was no information.

Flipping back over, you looked closer at the other small details on the logo, you found this 3 lettered word staring back at you — ‘KAI’.

EXO KAI? Jongki watches his dance videos... or rather, Jongki also can dance ..

There were only two logical possibilities to this , either jongki has a twin or... kai is jongki..

You had to know the answer to this incredulous situation.

Making a grab for your phone, you saw jongki had already replied you , but you weren’t even going to read it

Madly typing away

Y: Oppa, do you have a twin ?

You could feel blood pumping through your veins as you sent it.

How could this be possible ? He mustn’t be exo right?

Although you weren’t interested in boy groups, there’s no one that hasn’t heard of EXO in the whole of korea. And that’s how popular EXO is.

Even though you have never checked them out to find out how they looked like, but you still knew a few names. Names like Baekhyun , chanyeol and.. kai..

Thinking of it now, it seems to all make sense that he could dance, he has abs, he’s rich, works till late, doesn’t reply all the time....

As you waited for his text to come back in, you googled EXO Kai.

Birth name: Kim Jong In

Birthday: 14 Jan 1994

Height: 1.82m

1994 was his birth year, that’s right. Kim Jong in, difference of 1 word. 1.82m, yes, obviously describes him. Google images ? 100% similarity.

If it’s not a twin....

Ding!

His msg came in

J: uh, no.. that was so random though, why? Saw someone looking like me?

You didn’t want to believe this. The friend you’ve been hanging with and even sleeping at his place.. is kai?

In the past, when you watched those cliche dramas you never understood why people made such a huge fuss when they found out their dating partner has a hidden identity.

Like isn’t it totally exciting and fun! Especially if the person turns out to be some rich CEO. Wow, your rags to riches story would come true over night.

That’s how you thought you would react.

But honestly, all you felt was some sense of betrayal right now.

Y: oppa, I think I just found out what you do...

you sent

Just in a few seconds, he replied

J:really?! What’s your wild Guess this time ?

Your hands were shaking as you prepared to type this. The moment you send this and he confirms it... what are you going to do ?

But still, this has to be done

Y: EXO Kai. Kim Jong In.

Again, he replied instantaneously

J:omg, took you long enough!! How did you find out though??!

Clearly not being able to sense the tension over the phone, he was, as usual, cheery about everything.

Y:so it’s true ? Why did you lie your name to me?

You had no idea why you felt so emotional to the brink of tears about this truth.

J: ah, I’m sorry for lying about that.. I was worried initially if I told you my real name you might make a connection and recognise me at the start.

He double texted as soon as you received that msg, saying

J: y/n, are you ok?

You typed

no I’m not. I don’t even know how I should be feeling now, or what I should be doing about our friendship.

But.. you didn’t send it. You switched your phone to do not disturb and kept it in your bag.

You stared blankly at the poster for a while before putting it back in the tube. You’re still in disbelief. This situation was ridiculous. But it was logical.

In a state of mental breakdown, you couldn’t even wrap your bouquets right. You switched over to prepping for the workshop tomorrow instead. But your mind was so preoccupied with the whole fiasco that you kept missing things out. You just wanted work to end and have the time to yourself.

The entire day went by in a mess, but at least it finally ended. Back at home, you scroll through the multiple texts he sent you

J: hmm, seems like you’re pretty shocked about this right?

J: I wanted to tell you but you said you preferred if I didn’t though..

Then there was also a missed call from him

J: Call me back?

You swiped away all his notifications. There is something you really want to do, but not really ready to. You contemplated

Should I? Search kai up ?

Typing into Google, you searched kai. It was strange, just 24 hours ago you guys were so close, almost like lovers. But right now, you’re searching him up and getting to know him like an unreachable stranger.

You tapped into one of those webpages that told fans his entire life story. From his blood type to who he has ever dated and all that small little things people conclude from what he has said.

Again, you felt a stab in your heart and sour inside. These were things you never knew about , but surely, everyone else but you knew. It was like... jongki wasnt jongki, this him is different, it feels so far and distant from the one you knew...

Pondering on that thought, you let out a bitter laugh. Jongki really wasnt jongki. He was never jongki.

Switching to YouTube , you click on ‘mmmh’ the first result when you searched kai. No matter how you tried to keep an open mind, you didn’t like it. His costume made him strange and the song really wasn’t your type.

Deciding that’s enough for the day, you put your phone aside and tried your best to fall asleep.

—-

Back at work the next day, you decided to get some ‘intel’ from your boss about kai.

‘Unnie, you like EXO Kai?’

‘Ne!!! Wae? Isn’t his visuals to die for???’ She reacted so excitedly upon hearing his name

‘Why don’t I remember you liking EXO though?’

‘I recently just got into them because of my friend who kept playing their songs on repeat in her car’ she laughed as she fixed the flowers

‘Why did you ask though? Since when were you interested in boy groups?’ She continued asking

‘Ah... When I checked the poster yesterday I thought kai was really good looking, so I’m just asking haha. So what’s so nice about kai you bought a poster?’ Finally asking what you really wanted to .

‘Oh gawd, you really wanna know? I could go on a whole day about jongin. Though he is sooooo fierce on stage , killer looks and everything, but he has such a cute personality!! You know when they ........’

And she went on and on about it, even showing you clips of kai on variety shows, interviews, etc. In these the sense of familiarity was back, you felt like this was the Jongki you knew. Oh well, it’s Jongin now, you really got to change it out.

You laughed along with your boss and you understood why he had so many fan girls. Introducing you to some EXO songs, you had to admit you really liked them!

Knowing more about kai now, you went back home that night and sat infront of your laptop, making a search for EXO’s variety shows, music videos and the likes.

You searched up ‘kai cute moments’ and you wanted to sqush him because he was just so cute like how he was normally. At the same time you can’t help but feel a little jealous that you’re sharing these sides of him with other people too.

You watched his dance videos and he was literally a dancing king. Thinking back to when he danced for you, you suddenly realised just how many girls would die to be in your place.

It was already 1am by the time you finished your search. A msg came in just as you were about to crash

J: are you up? I’m going to the convenience store to grab some food. Are you hungry? Want to come along?

Seeing his msg, you felt a little bad about ignoring him for the 2nd day now. How should you reply him now that the situation is a little awkward ?

Nicely, your phone died as you were thinking.

Alright, just a sign I should go to bed, oppa I’ll reply you after I get my phone charged up tmr.

——

You woke up to an absolutely crisis that you overslept. Considering how you didn’t sleep well for the past 2 nights over jongin, this was bound to come. You quickly washed up and left for work.

Plugging your phone into the portable battery, you phone came back to live. Again, jongin was persistent in his texts. 

J:y/n ah don’t ignore me please

J:Come over on sunday? 

J: I’m waiting for your reply. 

It was 1.30am when he asked you to come over on sunday, but his last message was past 3am. He must have been thinking about what happened with you.. You felt bad for being so absorbed in how you felt and failed to consider his feelings  when it really wasn’t his fault.

All this started out because of your dumb self who wanted to play detective. But then again, if you had found out who he was from the start, would you have gotten this close with him? Possibly not. You replied him without delay

 Y: i’ll come over on sunday

The shop gets really busy on saturdays, packed with workshops, tons of deliveries and online orders. You didn’t have time to check your phone till the end of the day, at which you saw you missed jongin’s call and texts again.

J: omg, you finally replied! is there anything you want to eat on tomorrow? i could get it if you’re coming over from work

J: we are all ok now right? 

Should you call him back? It wasn’t like you were completely okay yet, you couldn’t imagine how it would like seeing him tomorrow. He was surely still that jongki you knew, but he was also kai.

Thinking to leave the rest for tomorrow to think about, you just replied 

Y: there’s nothing i really want, just get whatever you like:)

Back at home, for the 3rd night in a row, you stayed up like a fan girl again, watching all of EXO ladders, their concert videos. You squealed and fangirled over them like a teenage girl. The more you watched, the more you started falling harder for them.

---

A halfday shift always makes your day go by real fast. You were standing outside jongin’s door. You were suddenly reminded of the times you watched 100 days my prince with him and talked about D.O. who he probably knows 1000x better than you do. And how you asked if he was a kai fan. Oh gawd, you wanted to jump into a hole. Feeling a little nervous and a little awkward and hella embarrassed, you didn’t want to press the door bell.

Finally pressing the door bell, you waited for barely half a minute, which felt like eternity before he opened the door. You could even feel your palms sweating. 

‘Annyeong Y/N! Come in quickly!’

You didn’t reply him immediately, neither did you move an inch yet.  The smile on his face slowly faded and he just looked at you, starting to chew on his lips. 

Seeing his face once again, in real life, your heart skipped a beat. You knew it wasn’t because he was kai, but because he was still jongki, that someone special to you.

You quickly smiled back at him the moment you got out of your thoughts. He let out the breath that he has been holding, making you laugh. 

‘Annyeong, jong..’ you paused there, about to call him jongki 

‘annyeong jongin oppa’ it sounds weird to you, not to be calling him the name you were used to

You guess he must have been feeling a little awkward when you called him by his real name too, he scratched his head and chuckled.

‘I ordered pizza, are you hungry? let’s eat’ he gestured for you to go to the dining area and was ready to walk away

But you felt you had to talk to him first about this, 

‘oppa, can we talk?’ 

He turned around to face you, he nodded slowly

‘sure..’

You walked over to him, leaving a comfortable space between the both of you. 

He avoided your eye contact as you started

‘so... EXO Kai huh?’

‘...y/n, i.. you should know i have no intentions to hide anything from you deliberately, i was ready to tell you anytime. but i also thought you would react in a ‘pleasant surprise’ way rather than a ‘nasty shock’ received, so i just let it be’

He looked at you with sincerity in his beautiful eyes which showed how bad he felt. But you honestly just wanted to clear the air and lighten up the mood

‘actually, I just wanted to tell you that... I became an EXOL!’

You exclaimed and laughed. His eyes widened and stared at you like you were out of your mind, before bursting into laughter too.

But his laughter soon turned to sobs, and he rubbed his eyes profusely, which got you stunned

‘I... I thought I messed up our friendship, our relationship. And I really missed you, I didn’t want our us to end like this.....’ he said in between sobs and almost sounded like he was wailing

‘We haven’t even started...! Y/N, you scared me when you didn’t even reply at all! I thought you didn’t want to contact me anymore!’ He give you a light push on your shoulder as he emotionally spilled out all his thoughts

Though you were really confused, it was heart wrenching to see him cry so hard. You quickly put your arms around his waist and have him a hug.

‘Oppa, I’m sorry for the past few days I ignored you. I was just trying to figure how to handle the weight of the truth that you’re EXO Kai. Hahah, I’m so confused at your reaction right now you know.’

Calming down, but still sounding nasal he said

‘I’m going to make you stay here today until I’m convinced that you don’t hate me for being kai.

Oh and that you won’t go MIA on me again if you found out some other kai stuff’

Breaking away from the hug, he grabbed onto your shoulders

‘Y/N I like you, I really like you, so don’t leave my life please’

His impromptu confession got you feeling shy, you didn’t know what to do , but merely nodded in response.

Feeling all bright again he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the house.

You were glad it was as if nothing has changed, except that you probably became the luckiest fangirl alive just like this.

———

This fic went through so many content changes, I’m so glad I finished writing this! For those that waited for this part, I hope it wasn’t too underwhelming:,) feel like there’s definitely still a lot for me to work on as a new writer.

Also just dropping a note to say this would most probably be my last fic tell after may! Please check out of my other fics in the meantime too:) Hopefully I’ll be back with better writings !

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