#college aaron au

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Your Side of Town [Aaron x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@taybrinafavs) Center (@dilfgifs) Right (The Killers - From "Your Side of Town" music video)

Prompt: When the reader starts going to UC Riverside to get her PhD, she meets the dangerous and enigmatic Aaron Hotchner in her Tax Fraud class. She is forced to ask why she likes him, and if he is as dangerous as her friend, Emily Prentiss, says. 

Pairing: College!Aaron x Non-BAU!Reader, fem!Reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: Angst 

Word Count: 14.5K 

Content Warnings: Language, mention of drinking alcohol, beating [Aaron], mention of gangs and criminal organizations, a brief description of murder and blood. Please let me know if I missed any. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This is a long note, but hopefully, it will explain this fic better before you read it. It started this story a few months ago when The Killers released the song “Your Side of Town.” It gave me such strong Aaron vibes that I had to write a fic based on it. I decided to write a college AU where the reader is in school with Aaron who is working on his law degree. I’ve made some changes to the setting and period, but I’ve tried to keep the characters as true to the show as possible, even with the changes. Much of this chapter is setting up the future storyline and depending on if people like this chapter or not, I might work on a part two. This is something very different for me, so I hope it’s okay. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n 

y/f/c/d = Your favorite coffee (or coffee adjacent drink). 

d/b = department building 

y/l/n = your last name. 

y/f/s = your favorite subject 

The California sun beat down on y/n, as she walked toward campus She walked quickly, even if she didn’t need to. Her pace demonstrated her stress. She had barely slept even though she had intentionally gone to bed early. y/n couldn’t tell if it was worse to be in bed unable to sleep or be awake and dreaming, longing, praying for sleep. She couldn’t decide and she was too nervous to think about it at the moment. The walk from the commuter parking lot to the UC Riverside campus was pretty, but it was a hot day. As y/n dipped into her normal coffee shop, it was a bit more crowded than usual, but certainly not as bad as it would be at 10 a.m. 

Perhaps getting up and out of her apartment at 6 a.m. had paid off. As she reached the counter, y/n ordered a coffee straight and an iced y/f/c/d. She lingered by the pickup counter, looking at the mostly older patrons sitting and reading the local paper or chatting with friends who were up as early as themselves. 

These people didn’t seem like students. One or two of the twelve patrons of the shop could be seniors, but it was hard for her to tell. y/n knew she was rubbish at guessing ages. Always had been. y/n’s name was called shortly after and she made it back outside. From the coffee shop, it was only a short walk to the crosswalk that would take her onto campus proper. Because her hands were full, she leaned her hip against the crosswalk button. The electronic voice droned out, “Wait to cross, West Campus Drive.” y/n let out a sigh. She knew her anxiety was unfounded. She had graduated from undergrad, and then grad school, there was no reason she should not be able to obtain her PhD in four or five years or so. 

Even if this was the case, imposter syndrome was still a constant stalker. The crosswalk voice told her she was good to walk. y/n had zoned out, and sure thing. The walk sign was on. y/n got a move on. The road wasn't long, but cars were known to speed down the blind curve, and over the summer, when y/n had moved into her apartment, got to meetings with her advisor, gotten used to campus, and gotten to know her two roommates, she had seen many an accident on West Campus Drive. She didn’t fancy getting into an accident. Not when their life was finally coming to something. 

y/n had agreed that this was going to be the year that she stopped running from her past. She contemplated this as she made it safely onto campus and the short walk to her d/b. As she approached the door, a colleague whom she was getting to know, Ted Anderson, walked up the steps. He saw that she didn’t have a free hand and moved more quickly. He pulled the door open and flashed her a smile before saying, “Moring, y/l/n. You ready for this?” y/n gave him a small smile back and said, “As ready as I’ll ever be. I’ve got my syllabi printed, my two coffees, and Fraud in the U.S. tonight at six, so if it’s not a good day, at least it will be a busy one.” Anderson nodded as he moved behind her into the building saying, “I’m sure you’ll do great.” y/n gave him a soft smile as they diverted paths. Her office was on the third floor and his on the first. y/n wasn’t sure why she had been graced with an office with a window, but she would enjoy the sunlight streaming through the window as she worked. She had nothing to complain about there. 

The first half of the day went well. The two sophomore-level courses on _y/f/s had gone by quickly. The first day both lecture halls had been packed with around two hundred students each. The imposter syndrome seemed to melt away as a learned mask of confidence and the need to be in control took its place, even if the persona wasn’t fully formed yet for herself or the class. It was refreshing. It gave her the boost that she needed until lunchtime rolled around. y/n moved to the department office and got some copies of a reading from the student worker, got a fresh cup of much worse coffee from the shared office pot. 

The last two classes of the day were more varied than the first. One was a junior-level cross-cultural course on y/f/s and the last, at 3:30 p.m., was a freshman introductory course on y/n’s field of study. Although it already felt far too early to be behind on work on the first freaking day of the semester, that didn’t mean that there weren’t things to do. Chief of which was annotating the U.S. Fraud and Compliance course that y/n was auditing this semester. y/n’s field of study and research was primarily in equity and inequality in the United States over the last two decades. As it turned out, things like tax fraud and White-Collar crime turned out many of the policies that caused inequality and not murder or violence as the government and law enforcement liked to tout every year with new stats that “Crime was going up.” 

Sure Organized crime was a part of it, but a lot of the original crime syndicates had come out of the early 1920s because of prohibition and bootlegging. And new crime rings had popped up from the disastrous War on Drugs. The policy had only seemed to push cocaine into marginalized communities which allowed the law to continue over-policing and criminalizing those communities. Thus, the desire to audit the Fraud course. 

The elderly professor, Dr. Porter, had been kind enough to respond to y/n’s email asking if he would allow it. He had requested a meeting with her in his office in central campus. She had gone, and they made their introductions. Dr. Porter had asked, “So why do you want to take the course? It’s a pretty small class, with only twenty-two students. There’d be room for you, I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page. I’d require that you do all the work and participate in the class. It wouldn’t be fair to the other students.” y/n explained her research to the man and he listened and took some notes. When she had finished her explanation, Mr. Porter nodded and said, “That sounds very interesting. I’d be happy for you to take the course as long as you don’t think this coursework along with your teaching and research will be too much for you?” 

y/n had thought about this, labored about it even. However, she knew that it would be a lot. However, taking a course on the subject taught by an expert in the field, felt like a safer bet than trying to learn it all herself. That was just too much history and policy for her to attempt to grasp solo. With a determined look, y/n nodded and said, “Yes. It’d be an honor to Take this with you and your students. Thank you so much for making this accommodation for me. Porter smiled and said, “Well, thank you for your enthusiasm. Fraud and Tax Law isn’t something people usually get excited about. It’s bound to be an interesting semester.” The man’s words were a foretelling of the start of something much bigger than a student taking on an extra class.

         y/n turned her attention to the syllabus for the course. It was thick, with pages on pages about the class, an introduction for the materials to be covered, the four pre-class reading assignments, two pages of prerequisites, and then the grading system, required texts and materials, and lastly, The course calendar. y/n had skimmed it ounce and done all of the pre-readings which were stashed in a file folder in her suede shoulder bag. Now, she was going to sit down and thoroughly annotate the lengthy syllabus. When y/n had finished with that, she moved outside to get a quick bite to eat and another coffee before she would need to head to her office, grab her things, and head across campus to the Law Building. 

The quad was now much busier with students scurrying about to and fro. y/n moved into the crowd and moved her way upstream to the crosswalk she had been at a few hours prior. y/n had intended to pack a lunch, but in the bustle of the morning, it had slipped her mind. She wasn’t going to be too hard on herself about it. She would make sure to bring one tomorrow and all the days after. One meal out wasn’t going to ruin her budget. y/n did have to keep a pretty strict budget. Even if UC Riverside was a preeminent school in California, and even though her department had offered her a position in the program and waived her tuition costs, with rent, gas, and food prices all at a premium, the small pay she got from her lecturing always seemed to be running low by the end of the month. Thus, the need for a budget. If she worked hard enough and was dedicated to her financial plan, she would be able to start some savings. She needed that. She wasn’t going to be caught unawares like she had in the past. She wanted to settle. To stop running. And that took a different kind of work than constant escapism. 

After a light meal, y/n moved back to the coffee shop from before and got a coffee and a shot of espresso. y/n doctored her coffee the way she liked and then walked back to campus. If nothing else, her constant desire for coffee got her some daily exercise. Everyone she had spoken to had promised her that Cali would be a consistent cool temperature. However, as the five o’clock sun beat down on her, if did not feel cool. The month she had moved in with her roommates, the papers and TV kept saying that they were in a “record heat wave,” and that the heat was expected to keep rising until the first two weeks of September. y/n longed for it to be just a bit cooler. A 70-degree day would heal her and put her at ease. The heat did the opposite. 

Back in her office, y/n took off her blazer and fanned herself with some loose papers. She sat, and drained the espresso knowing this much caffeine was a bad idea so late in the day, but that was a later problem. For now, she sat down, took a few deep breaths, and gathered her things for her cross-campus commute. When everything was packed and ready to go, she checked her outfit, choosing to leave the blazer behind. She didn’t need to impress the people in this class as much as she did for her students. Entering the large lux building, y/n moved up the stairs to the fourth floor and found her class. There were still twenty minutes before the lecture would begin, but that would give her time to find a seat that was in the back so the real students could be close to Dr. Porter.

         There were four students already in the class scattered in the small space. There were tables, with two chairs at each table. They were set in two neat rows that led to the front of the room with the wooden lectern and the bulky equipment for the projector. y/n took a seat at the table on the far-left side of the room. There were three extra seats in the room to accommodate the twenty-two students and herself. Thus, she felt alright if she sat in the seat near the row and not next to the wall. It would give her a better view of the screen. y/n had an idea that she was going to be having a lot of eye strain this semester. A few more students moved into the room, and y/n got out her colored markers and notebooks, and the pre-readings along with the syllabus. 

Just as y/n was taking the first sip of her coffee, five students walked in followed by Dr. Porter who called her to the front of the class. y/n flushed slightly but waited for the man sitting across from her to get seated. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder, black Levi’s, a white shirt, and a leather jacket. He was far less professional-looking than many of the other students in the room. 

Some of the younger men even wore suits, though y/n was unsure if such gestures mattered to the law professors or not. The man was, if not professional, at least very attractive. He had smooth light skin and a sharp jaw. His dark hair contrasting his skin was short and had a little curve in the front, framing his face well. The man gave her a wicked smile, his dark brown eyes captivating as she moved past him now that he was finally seated. For a moment, y/n thought that those were the kinds of eyes she could get lost in. The thought only lasted that, though, a moment. She pulled herself together and thought, “Come on now, some pretty boy isn’t going to turn your head like a teenager, this isn’t a romance.’ Those types of feelings were uncharacteristic for y/n, and she let the idea pass quickly the man turned to who appeared to be his friend and said, “Yeah, I’d skip Constitutional with Leery. Try and see if you can get a section with Menendez. He made it fun, as strange as those sounds coming from me.”

         y/n moved down the aisle and got some looks from the other students. When she got to the older man, she smiled at him and asked, “What can I do for you, Dr. Porter?” Porter pointed to the Rolodex and said, “Do you know how to work these things? This one is frozen on a blank slide. I’ve not grown with the technology as you can see.” y/n nodded and said, “Let me see if I can get it working for you, Sir.” y/n moved behind the equipment and knelt. She made sure her skirt was at an acceptable level. Even if no one was behind her to see anything and she was wearing black tights, it was a natural teacher habit to make sure everything was covered appropriately. 

The slide deck appeared to be jammed. y/n fiddled with it with her finger for a moment and it slipped back into place with a satisfying click. y/n looked up to Dr. Porter and asked, “Do you have the deck you want to use for today?” The man nodded and looked around his desk for a second before he found the miniaturized slides and handed them to her. y/n slotted them into the space and pushed them down. She looked up at the screen and it now read the first slide: “Tax Fraud in the United States. LW5000. Fall 1991. Dr. E. L. Porter.” y/n stood up and the Doctor said, “You’re a lifesaver. I always need someone younger than me to help me with this new-fangled technology. How was your first day? Did everything go smoothly?” y/n nodded and said, “I’m happy to help anytime, and the first day was good. Busy but good.” Porter smiled and y/n moved back to her seat. Not all of the class hadn’t been paying attention to what was happening at the front, but some had been watching the two speak so causally with looks of veiled interest. 

y/n moved back to her seat, the man in the leather jacket shot her a quizzical look, one eyebrow raised higher than the other. y/n turned her face away from his gaze, trying to hide the rising blush in her face. She wished someone less attractive had decided to sit next to her. Honestly one of those pretentious suits would do fine, but she was happy with her spot and she wasn’t planning on moving. She was sure the attractive man would do something to irk her and stop whatever little infatuation she felt for him. 

The class started in earnest and because it was such a small class, the professor had everyone give a small two or three-sentence introduction with each student’s name, what year they were in, and what they hoped to do once they graduated. Dr. Porter started at the front and moved back. The answers ran the gambit from a desire to work in the FBI fraud department, to a criminal lawyer, to a CPA. y/n noted names of students who seemed particularly driven but not overconfident. She knew she was going to need help with the course given it wasn’t her area of study. When it got to the man sitting across from her, she looked at him. He raised a lazy hand and said, “Hey, I’m Aaron Hotchner. I’m in L2 and I want to be a public defender when I graduate.” At hearing his name, some gave a little gasp, and others shot him a dirty glare. This reaction didn’t seem to bother him. However, it left y/n at a bit of a loss. She had no clue why this man’s classmates had reacted this way. There was a dynamic playing out here that she was not aware of. 

The university taught around 26,000 students each semester and there was no way she could keep up with half the drama. It took half a second to realize that she was the last person who needed to speak, and she snapped back to attention. y/n gave a small smile and said, “Hi. I’m y/n y/l/n. I’m just auditing this class. I’m a PhD candidate in the y/d department. This class aligns with my research and Dr. Porter graciously is allowing me to sit in.” Porter inclined his head toward her and said, “We’re happy to have you Ms. y/l/n. Now with the introductions over, let’s cover the basics of the Criminal Tax System. It will be helpful if you pull out your readings as I will be calling on some students to answer questions.” 

Everyone shuffled to get the readings out of their bag. y/n looked as Aaron pulled the readings out of his shoulder bag and flipped to the first page of the reading. If he seemed very casual in his dress, the copious notes he had taken on the reading showed that he was at least taking this class seriously. y/n wondered if she should add his name to the list of people to try and befriend for help, but the class's response to his being here had her hesitate. She didn’t want to get involved in some bigger drama that she wasn’t aware of. She looked up from his papers only to catch his dark brown eyes. Both of them looked to the front of the class as Dr. Porter called on the first student for an answer. Neither y/n nor the enigmatic man across from her got called during the first three hours of class. The last slide on the Rolodex was the lengthy homework included a chapter from the required textbook and five separate cases for review. Dr. Porter dismissed everyone. Some students moved to the front to introduce themselves to the professor while others moved out into the hallway. It was dark as y/n moved outside. As she pulled her shoulder bag up and over her neck, someone called her name. y/n turned and found Parker, a student who seemed like a nice and cool student trying to catch up to her. y/n slowed and said, “Hey, what’s up Parker?” The girl beamed at being remembered and said, “I just wanted to hear more about your research. It sounds very cool.” y/n flushed and said, “Really? Thanks that’s nice.” The two walked in the same direction talking a bit about each other, the class, and y/n’s research. The whole walk made y/n feel like her work wasn’t for nothing, or extremely boring. The two women exchanged numbers as they headed toward different parts of campus. 

As she moved, yet again someone called her name. The voice was familiar and she whipped her head to the side to see Aaron now rambling beside her. It had become clear that he had been walking behind her and Parker, and y/n hadn’t noticed him. She chastised herself for not being more aware of her surroundings. y/n let out a breath and said, “Oh, it’s you. Is there something you want, Aaron?” Mr. Hotchner gave a sly smile indicating that he knew she knew there was more to him than he was letting on. Aaron replied to her question with, “Are you really smart or something, or really stupid?” y/n had not expected to be insulted in her first real interaction with this odd, odd, man and said, “Sorry, what?” Aaron laughed slightly and said, “Well auditing Tax Fraud with Porter? He’s like the most demanding prof in the department. He’s brutal from what I’ve heard.” 

y/n flushed, and was grateful that it was too dark for the man to see. She had heard of Dr. Porter's reputation as a strict and demanding professor. She wasn’t going to let on that she was unaware of the man’s full reputation. Instead, she said, “Well, on this subject, maybe I’m somewhere in the middle.” She hesitated and added, “And, he was the only person willing to let me audit the course. I might be a fucking idiot for agreeing to this, but I’m going to do my damn best. It’s the least I can do for Dr. Porter to let me in. The worst that can happen is that I’m the class clown and dunce. I’ll still have learned something if that’s the case.” 

It seemed that Aaron had not expected that response. He stopped in his tracks for a moment and looked at her with incredulity. He gave a very soft, “Huh,” and then kept walking next to her. y/n wondered, ‘Why was this handsome man walking with her? What he could want from her apart from a reaction was beyond her.’ Aaron looked like he was about to say something else, but another, new voice pierced the quiet atmosphere of the near-silent campus. Aaron and y/n looked over as a built man approached saying, “Hey, Hotch. How was the first day?” 

Aaron rolled his eyes and said, “Fine. Normal. How was your first day, Morgan?” The new man stepped into the light. y/n observed the new figure. He wore dark blue jeans and a loose green t-shirt had hid what y/n assumed was a built frame given the man’s strong forearms. The color of his shirt matched the deep tone of his skin well. The man looked her over for one second before saying, “Yeah it was fine. I mean I slept through my first alarm. So I skipped the rest of my classes for the day. Sunk cost ya’ know.” At hearing this, Aaron facepalmed and said, “Morgan, are you trying to buy yourself another fucking semester here?” 

It was clear to y/n that ‘Hotch’ and Morgan were friends given how casually they were addressing each other and Aaron’s use of profanity. y/n felt like she was intruding on a private conversation and was glad when she reached her turn-off. She moved to the left and Aaron called out, saying, “Good luck with all your stuff.” She looked over to the two men and said, “Yeah, thanks. See you next week.” As she moved farther away, she could overhear Morgan say, “Who was that chick man?” And Aaron’s response of, “Just a girl in my class. Now come on. Let’s go home. I’m fucking tired.” There was something so odd about Aaron, his demeanor, and his ‘friend’ to y/n. She shook off the encounter for the moment as she finally got to her car. 

When y/n got back to her shared apartment at around ten p.m., the lights were still burning downstairs. She thought, ‘Must be Emily.’ Emily was the only one that made sense. But the young attractive brunette didn’t normally stay up that late. Emily’s morning shifts required her to be up at around four a.m., so it was odd that she would be up so late. It certainly wasn’t Garcia. y/n’s most eccentric roommate, Penelope Garcia, seemed to be up all hours of the day and night. y/n had wondered if Garcia took uppers to stay up all night at the club or with her coding pals, or sometimes both at the same time. The one time Penelope had dragged her out to a rave, y/n found it miraculous that the spunky blonde with her gang of friends had elbowed their way to the back, found an empty table, and pulled out a clunky PC. The group, and Garcia in particular had a penchant for finding creepy guys online and making sure they got reported to whatever authorities seemed necessary. Pen was fantastic with finding people online, and y/n was glad she wasn’t on that woman’s bad side. Shockingly, Garcia hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, but all four of her friends took pity on y/n, clearly not in her environment with the strobe lights and deafening music in the background. Each of the friends got her a drink and a nice man asked her to dance. It had been an exciting night, but not one she planned on replicating soon. 

When y/n entered the first story she was met with Emily smiling and holding out a glass of red wine for her. y/n smiled and said, “Em this is so sweet. What’s the occasion?” y/n noticed the uncorked bottle on the counter. Prentiss grabbed her glass and said, “To celebrate your first day of course. I know you’ve been stressed about it. So, first cheers. And then tell me how it went.” y/n clinked glasses with Em and began regaling her with the events of the day. She tried to keep it short, knowing that her roommate would want to get to bed soon. Prentiss listened with rapt attention. Emily never seemed like the type of person y/n could be close friends with. y/n would like to think she was easy to get along with. She kept the shared space clean, offered food when she made it, and tried to stay pretty quiet and unobtrusive, but the more time she spent in Emily’s company, the more she liked her. Emily was so dedicated given all the crap her job threw at her, especially all the sexism and misogyny she faced. But even on top of those hurdles, she generally was just a funny and caring person. Emily was fiercely dedicated to the people she liked and it seemed that y/n was one of them. y/n wasn’t sure if she had taken pity on her when she first moved in or not, but if it was the latter, y/n wasn’t even mad about it. She had felt truly lost when she first moved to the city, and Emily, given her beat as a policewoman for the LAPD, had told her where to avoid late at night and showed her around their apartment area thoroughly. That had been a kindness.  

As y/n finished wrapping up her narrative of the evening events, she included the strange interaction with the man who sat across from her saying, “And there was this really cute guy in my class. Strange but cute. He kind of insinuated that I was stupid for auditing the class which was insulting, but damn was he cute. Everyone else in the class seemed shocked when they heard his name.” Emily raised an eyebrow and said, “Well, who is this dude? Do you remember his name?” y/n rolled her eyes and said, “Well yeah. How could I forget given the reception he got? His name’s Aaron Hotchner. Do you know him or something?” At hearing the name, Em stilled and seemed to pale. This was not the response y/n had been expecting and she said quickly, “Should I know who that is?” y/n was at a loss for this response for a seemingly hot guy in a leather jacket. Emily took a deep breath before saying, “I’d stay away from him. The Hotchner name has a, well a reputation.” y/n furrowed her brows and said, “Okay. Now you have me worried. Who is this guy?” Em let out another breath and stroked her hands through her hair saying, “Well. I can tell you this. His dad, Mr. Hotchner Sr. is the head of one of the largest gangs in this part of the city. The man and his gang are in deep with the drug trade. As for his son, well, from what I hear he’s not involved. At least not yet, but people are keeping an eye on him.” 

y/n couldn’t stop herself from letting her mouth drop open. That was a real surprise. Suddenly the response of the class made more sense. To have someone of that status, studying law was an oddity. How Aaron Hotchner had chosen this path of study was bizarre. It wasn’t her place to think about it, but even if that was the case, the idea stuck with her. Prentiss could see this look stuck on y/n’s face and warned, “Listen, y/n. Just for your sake, stay away from him. I can’t tell you what Aaron Hotchner is doing with his life, but his dad’s not a good guy. I wouldn’t want you to get tied up in some unsafe stuff.” y/n flushed and said, “Don’t worry Em. I’m not planning on it. He might be cute, but given your new information, he’s not that cute. Now, pour me another glass. And I’ll be happy to pay you back for half the bottle, given how good this stuff tastes, I’m assuming it’s not cheap.” Prentiss held out the bottle and refilled y/n’s glass saying, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. This one’s my treat.” y/n smiled at Emily. She really was the best. Once they had finished off the bottle, both women moved quickly to their rooms and headed to their separate bedrooms. Both women fell into bed bed too exhausted to think about much more than sleep. 

The semester seemed to move like those in grad school had two years before. Without concrete classes to ground her, y/n’s classes and her weekly meetings with her advisor were the only things that kept time a constant. y/n had prepped for the larger sophomore seminar class, but the smaller classes she just arranged weekly. The law class also added a level of stability, if not a whole load of extra work on top of her own research and writing time. It was a burden but also allowed her time outside of her office to make some new friends. y/n found friends with Parker and Steven. They would prep for their case assignments. After the first three weeks of the class, when all three of them had been called on, now, they had a better understanding of how the class would be. 

It was a learning curve to be in a law class. It wasn’t like any of her other classes. There had been plenty of courses centered on discussion mostly, but this type of interrogation that the class required was difficult for her. y/n and her new friends who were more adept at law than her prepped for this type of questioning. Demanding, interrogatory, personal even. The group had all worked on coming up with practice questions, some more accurate than others. After the fourth class, the friend group had each been called. It had been y/n’s first time. She had been called about the United States v. Caldwell case in 2016. Her copious notes had helped her provide a semi-succinct response. The friend group walked across campus after class each going to their respective cars. As they walked, they talked about the class, and y/n’s response, and what she might have said differently. As they moved down the quad, they rambled slowly across the campus not wanting to leave each other’s company yet. 

A new voice was added to the mix as someone left one of the many buildings on the quad. y/n looked up and smiled. It was Spencer. y/n beamed, she hadn’t seen Dr. Reid in some time. She had met him at one of those awkward faculty socials. Everyone else at the social had at least one friend there except for her and Spencer. So naturally they had made their way to each other and introduced themselves. The young and brilliant Dr. Reid was teaching an abnormal psychology class and getting a third PhD in chemistry while also teaching. 

Suddenly y/n had felt very stupid and that her schedule didn’t seem that busy at all. Dr. Reid, having done this for a long time could see the look on her face and he rushed to reassure y/n that she was taking on a lot too and that he was just a freak who literally couldn’t get his mind to slow down no matter how hard he tried. That had made her feel better, at least a little. Then Spencer had asked her about her research and his genuine interest in her field had validated her even more. Her imposter syndrome slipping away. As it turned out, Dr. Reid was a fount of knowledge about her area of interest as well, and the young slender man offered to give her information or loan her any of his slew of books if she wanted. y/n had readily agreed and the pair swapped email addresses. y/n thought that if she was less busy she might have thought Spencer was the type of man she might be attracted to. But she was too busy for an attempt at a romance and she had just moved in. Getting her feet under her was her current goal, not finding a fling. Perhaps, if she survived the semester she would think about it later, However, she would be surprised if the young man wasn’t taken already. From what she could see, he was a catch. After the mixer b, both of them had spent their social batteries and Spencer was nice enough to drive her to her car in the commuter lot. As they parted ways they vowed to meet up for a coffee and chat soon. 

They had met up once before the semester started for coffee at another place the genius liked. They had both bemoaned making syllabi and the heat and anything else they wanted to get off their chests. The conversation had been cathartic. Unfortunately, the semester had picked up at a furious pace and they hadn’t met up since then. Spencer had been kind enough to send her an email or two checking in, which she had responded to. y/n was very pleased to see him again in person. She called him over, and Dr. Reid’s long legs got him to her in a few strides. Reid was in a sweater vest and black slacks with his distinctive brown shoulder bag. The two friends checked in. After a brief conversation, y/n introduced Spencer to her friends. 

Everyone said their hello’s and the four of them now moved across the large campus. The lights on the quad seemed to be placed haphazardly, not fully or well illuminating the space. Emily had told y/n to carry pepper spray when she walked at night. y/n assumed that Preniss had multiple stories of nights gone wrong for young women on campus given her job as a policewoman, and y/n believed her. Thus, y/n always carried some pepper spray with her in the side pocket of her bag, just in reach. The group rounded a corner to see the first strong light of the night. The beam of light from a solitary lamp shone down on a large imposing figure silhouetted against the glow of the light. Suddenly the warm camaraderie of the night that had been forming between the new and old friends felt like it was cut with a knife. Something felt very wrong about the person standing in the shadow and the group of young adults stopped in their tracks. Even though all their cars were in this direction, nobody felt like moving forward. Noting the palpable tension in front of them. 

They all stood there for a minute looking to see if the figure would move, but he didn’t. The figure stood stock still, apparently unaware of the group's intimidation of him. Or, perhaps that was the goal as another, familiar voice came from behind them. The four students turned and y/n was surprised to find Aaron approaching them with a stiff gait. y/n was used to seeing him smooth and loose and what appeared as ease, but this was not that. Suddenly y/n wondered if that apathetic demeanor was all an act that Hotch put on. Aaron stepped forward and everyone in the law class they shared with him cocked a weary eyebrow. Hotch sighed and said, “I’m not joking, beat it. Find an alternative route or take thirty minutes to talk in the library or something. Just don’t be here right now.” Parker, Steven, and Spencer’s eyes all moved to the man in the shadows and then turned, but y/n kept her eyes glued on Aaron. 

After hearing Emily’s warning about him, she had withdrawn a bit in class. Hotch had spoken to her a few times, and she engaged him in light conversation about her research and job as a senior lecturer. It seemed that the conversation never steered in his direction. It was never about his life or his choice to join law school even though y/n had tried to get him to say something about himself. The man was infuriatingly hard to read. y/n wasn’t sure why she was trying to get him to speak about himself. It wasn’t like Aaron was interested in her. For the most part, when he talked to her, it seemed to fill empty silence during the breaks in the class. y/n didn’t want to be involved in any drama, certainly not anything that would get her in trouble. But the enigmatic figures of Aaron were enticing in his way. Perhaps it was just the intrigue of someone like him. She was personally familiar with more white-collar crime, but the grit and darkness of the mob, or the mafia, or whatever his father was involved in had caught her attention. y/n assumed it was like a bad case of curiosity killed the cat. y/n hadn’t turned yet as the rest moved back from the direction they had come from. She watched as Aaron turned toward the man. Aaron’s shoulders were tense beneath his jacket. She could feel that he was ill at ease. y/n caught sight of Aaron’s friend from before, Morgan, standing a few feet to the left of Aaron. She hadn’t seen him in the gloom of the night until now. It seemed that this meeting might have been planned ahead of time given the coordination. 

y/n felt someone take her hand and she looked up at Spencer. Dr. Reid didn’t say anything. He just pulled her away from the scene. The tension only seemed to grow as the group moved farther away. Spencer looked back once as he hustled y/n down the path. Whoever had joined the man who had told the group to leave gave Spencer a grateful nod before moving toward his friend. Reid chose not to look anymore, as he wrapped a protective arm around y/n’s waist and said, “I’ll drive you to your car. Mine’s in lot B anyway. Not far from the commuter lot.” y/n looked up at him again, and gave a small smile, saying, “Yeah, thanks that’d be nice.” y/n resisted the urge to say, ‘You’re a terrible liar, Spence. We both know that lot B and the commuter lot are on opposite ends of the campus’ but she kept that to herself. y/n was grateful to have a colleague like Spencer to give her rides at all. y/n quickly said goodbye to her other friends and joined Reid at the stairs that led down to the parking area with his car. y/n’s head was filled with thoughts about Aaron and what was happening back at the quad. If Aaron was going to be okay. If he had expected to be meeting that man tonight or if it was as much of a surprise to him as it had been to all of them. Given his tone, she assumed that it was a surprise to him too, but she may never be sure. 

Back in the quad, Aaron scowled. How many times had he told his father, and his father’s men over and over again to not find him in public? If he had to be dragged into some sordid affair that his dad had caused. Morgan stepped a few feet toward Aaron but Hotch raised a hand and said, “Don’t get involved Derek. I don’t expect this to be anything but some intimidation crap.” Morgan nodded and took a step back, but the built man still slipped a hand to the back pocket of his pants fingering the cool metal of his diamond back gun. Derek kept his eyes on Jeffries, one of Mr. Hotchner Sr.’s largest enforcers. Derek thought it was stupid to send Jeffries, if Mr. Hotchner wanted his son’s attention, that would not be the man he would send. 

Hotch stepped forward and said, “I don’t have anything to say to my father. He knows that so what the hell does he want with me.” Aaron was standing right next to the man. Even though Aaron was tall, he was nothing compared to Jeffries. Jeffries was a mountain of a man. Hotch was not intimidated. This man was here to threaten him physically. He was here to impose a different kind of demand on the son of the Boss. After an unsettling moment of silence, in a deep voice, one laced with the stress of a chain smoker, Jeffries said, “Mr. Hotchner Sr. wants to meet with you on Saturday at the Mercado Club. His treat.” Aaron scoffed and replied, “You think I’m going on his turf on a meeting night? God the man needs more of a grip than I thought. Jesus.” Hotch took a breath; he took a moment to look to the side, and he saw Morgan uncomfortably shuffling from one foot to the other. Aaron turned back to Jeffries and said, “You can tell my father that’s not happening. I’m out, and I don’t know how many more times I can keep telling him that.” The large man replied, “Tell him yourself on Saturday at the club. I’m not a messenger pigeon, and Aaron, this is the third time you’ve blown off your father. He’s not pleased and you know how he gets, so this isn’t a meeting I’d push off.” 

Hotch let out a big breath and gave a small nod. He wasn’t looking forward to a meeting with his old man, but whatever fuckery his dad could impose on his life wasn’t worth a half hour of animosity and argumentation about his life goals. Jeffries sensing a concession from Aaron, gave a tiny nod and moved out of the solitary spotlight and back into the darkness. As large and imposing a man as Jeffries was, he easily and quickly slipped back and away into the darkness of the campus. Aaron was so angry at having been contacted against his direct wishes. Not only had his father contacted him in public, putting his image in question, but he had done it in front of… Aaron considered what to call the people in his class. They weren’t his friends precisely, but colleagues and classmates felt a bit too dismissive. Aaron thought especially of the woman who was auditing the class. From their first meeting, he had assumed that she had no idea who he was. That rarely happened to him, though he assumed someone had filled her in after the fact. Even if that was the case, she had remained respectful and friendly toward him. Every time she or he entered the class, she would ask how he was doing with an interest that didn’t seem forced or faked. It was the first real interaction he felt like he had had in the department in years. 

Aaron thought it was rather pathetic, but looked forward to the beginning of each class just to have a few words with y/n. Hotch’s mind switched back to the present as Morgan approached him. Aaron looked over to his friend and saint, “Did you know this was going to happen?” His voice came out harsher than he intended, but Derek’s demeanor told him that his friend and pseudo-bodyguard had been more aware than he’d been. Hotch let out a scoff and said, “Unfucking believable. You should have told me and I could have walked fifteen thousand other ways back to my car.” Morgan put his hands up and said, “Listen, Hotch. I couldn’t have stopped it. And I know I stick with you more than your old man, but technically he’s still paying me to look out for you. And there are some things that even I’m not going to argue with.” Aaron could understand where Derek was coming from and he lifted a hand saying, “I get it. I’m just pissed. Now, let’s go home. I need to get wasted or something after tonight.” The pair moved together into the darkness with a sense of their friendship slightly strained. Aaron’s life was taking a turn he had desperately tried to avoid, but it seemed his family, and his past was haunting him like a ghost who just would not quit. 

y/n got home safely. She quietly moved into her room. She took a hot shower, letting the warm water steam up her small bathroom. Even though the rent was outrageous, there was the perk that each of the women had their own bathroom and shower. Her mind swelled with images of Aaron standing in front of the large man. She thought about what Emily had said about his father being the head of some sort of gang. y/n hadn’t had the time time to look into it at all. Her interactions with Aaron had all seemed pleasant and if she didn’t know about his shadowy past, she might have just thought he was some cocky young man trying to look cool with his rings and classic leather jacket. These thoughts persisted until she was in bed and eventually asleep. In the morning, y/n got dressed for a meeting with her advisor and office hours. y/n started a big pot of coffee. She knew that Em would be down in a minute because the shower upstairs had just turned off. True to form, Prentiss was down the stairs just as the coffee was finished. y/n poured her roomie a mugful, and Emily gave her a gentle smile. The brunette in her police uniform with cuffs, and gun and all. As the woman drank their liquid breakfast, y/n’s brain flashed to last night and she asked, “Hey Emily. What kind of gang is Aaron’s father the leader of? There was some threatening guy on campus last night. It seems he was there to talk to Aaron or something.” 

Hearing this, Em’s ears perked up. She had been trying for two years to impress her supervisor. She had gone above and beyond in terms of the effort and hours she put in on the street. She picked up shifts and did the jobs no one wanted. And all her efforts had been for naught. She was still in her entry-level position and had crappy entry-level pay. At this point, Emily was looking at anything to try and get a step ahead of all the other men in the department. She had started looking at stalled cases or those that were backlogged at the department. One of those cases was the Hotchner crime ring. The thought of a new lead had Emily on her toes. Prentiss was excited but also realized that y/n could have also been in a degree of danger. Emily thought about her words before she said, “Well, from my research and knowledge of the gang activity in the area, I can tell you this, Mr. Hotchner Sr. isn’t running some West Side Story turf gang. The man is in deep. His gang is a criminal organization. I’d say that it was closer to the mafia than a gang, but he doesn’t have quite that much influence yet. If the department would only spend a few more dollars looking into that group, they’d easily find more than they have now. Honestly, it’s infuriating.” 

This was all news to y/n. She wasn’t versed in any of the things that Emily was talking about. There was a moment of silence before Prentiss said, “So the guy you saw, the one that spoke to Aaron, did you hear any of that conversation? Did you see the man at all?” y/n shook her head no and replied, “Not really. Aaron told us to leave another way. I can tell you the guy was big, but I couldn’t see him very well. He was weathering a suit, but that’s about it.” Em nodded and took another thoughtful sip of her coffee. When she set the cup down, she said, not to anyone in particular, “I swear gangs and drugs are ruining this city and the cops aren’t doing a thing about it.” 

Just as Emily said this, Garcia entered the room. She was dressed in her normal eccentric style. She had star decals on her face and wore a bubble gum pink lip. From the blonde's energy, it was hard to tell if she was just coming back from an all-nighter or just heading out for brunch. y/n asked the clarifying question, “Pen, you just getting in or going out?” Garcia beamed and said, “I just had a lovely night out. Club, club, another club, and then my friend JJ’s house. You’d both like her I think. Now what did I hear about gangs and drugs? You’re not planning on locking me up, are you Emily?” Prentiss laughed at this and said, “Garcia, you’re forgetting that Lexaporo and Adderal are prescription medications. Unless you’re selling your pills on the side of the road, you’re scott-free in my book.” 

That had all of them laughing. Penelope, after getting a cup of coffee, did ask genuinely, “But really what gangs are you talking about?” Emily looked over to y/n and said, “Well Aaron, the ‘bad boy’ in y/n’s class had a run-in with one of his father’s associates on campus last night. Tense affair.” Garcia’s eyes went wide and she said, “From what I’ve heard about the Hotchner group from my friends and fellow hackers they aren’t to be trifled with. Let’s hope Aaron’s father doesn’t want anything serious with his son.” y/n frowned at hearing this. She had never assumed that Aaron’s circumstances were easy. Clearly, from the class's perception of him, they weren’t, but an actual threat of harm or violence to her classmate set her nerves on edge in a way she had not anticipated. However, the time on the clock on the wall caught y/n’s attention. She needed to leave to make her appointment with a student struggling with grades. y/n burned her mouth as she chugged her coffee and said, “Sorry, gotta run ladies. See you both tonight!” With that, she grabbed her backpack and purse and dashed out the door and toward her car. For the rest of the busy day, y/n forgot about Aaron Hotchner, but she would be reminded of him again soon enough. For now, there were the problems of today to solve. 

For Aaron the week went by both shockingly fast and maddeningly long. Time felt like it was playing a sick prank on him as he waited for Saturday night. Hotch went to his normal classes and studied as much as he could given the circumstances. He did shockingly well given the circumstances. Finally, Saturday arrived and Aaron and Morgan drove toward the Mercado Club on the far East side of town. The club was packed. Saturday nights were disco nights with drinks half off. This ensured that the large space was always packed for meeting nights in the more private backroom of the establishment. Morgan had a designated spot on the street and parallel parked between two of the gang member's cars. As Morgan stopped the car, he grabbed Aaron’s shoulder and said, “Listen, man, don’t make this hard on yourself. How many times has Richard done this to you? Know know what he’s gonna do to you if you say no again, so just… just think about it before you say no. If you make me wash blood out of these leather seats again, I’m making you pay for it this time.” 

Derek said this out of a genuine concern for his friend. Morgan had seen this song and dance before and the look in Aaron’s eyes told him that it would be the same old result. After all, money didn’t matter to Hotch. He had more money than he needed, even if he didn’t want to admit it. The fifty dollars it cost to clean or even redetail Morgan’s car didn’t matter to the older Hotchner sibling. Derek wished it did, for his friend's sake. But he had said his peace, and he couldn’t stop Aaron from walking out of the car with a determined stride. Derek followed quickly after Aaron. 

Aaron, clad in his normal leather jacket moved into the club. He had access to the service entry which led to quieter corridors and direct access to the gang's private meeting room. Aaron, however, refused to use his key and elbowed his way through the thick crowd of dancers and revelers. After about five minutes, he made it to the back corridors and toward the club room. Unceremoniously Aaron, and shortly after, Derek, moved into the crowded room. All eyes of the gang members moved to the two new additions to the room. Richard Hotchner, seated at the center of the room raised a hand and quieted the room. Mr. Hotchner Sr. said, “Good of you to join us, gentlemen. Take a seat and we’ll continue the meeting. There were only two extra chairs open in the room. One was in the back and the room. It was clear that Aaron was to take the seat next to his father. Hotch did as expected and sat next to his father. The young man could have laughed at the scene. It felt like something out of The Godfather, except he knew what was coming once the meeting was over. The meeting which covered Hotchern Sr.’s continued plan to spread drugs and gain ground throughout the East and West sides of town seemed to go on forever. Aaron listened as each sector spoke and gave updates with half interest. His father’s criminal activities and need for power and control were the juxtaposition of the life that Aaron hoped to build for himself. He had seen the real pain that his father had not only inflicted on his men, but on the community the gang encompassed as a whole. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to escape his father's control. 

After another hour and a half, the meeting adjourned as Richard raised a hand. Everyone, including Derek, stood and left the room; that was, except for Aaron. Once the whole gang was out, two large men entered the room. One was Jeffries, the other was another security man just as big and intimidating as Jeffries. Richard looked at his son and said, “You know what I’m going to say already.” Hotch sighed and replied, “And you know my response, Dad.” Richard sighed and said, “Every time we have one of these meetings I pray for a Prodigal Son, but I get a Cain instead. But either way, this is in your blood boy and you can’t fight it forever.” By ‘In your blood’ Aaron knew that his father meant, ‘You will take responsibility for my criminal organization. To take the reigns and make it bigger and better than ever before.’ \

At this comment, Aaron said, “Fuck my blood, and fuck you too.” Almost instantaneously after this remark, Hotch’s face was thrown to the side due to a harsh slap to the side of his face. Aaron leveled a glare at his father and managed to say, “Have me beaten black and blue again Dad. It’s not gonna change my mind. I’m never joining you.” Richard shook his head and replied, “You asked for it. And one day, one day it’s gonna work son. Just you wait.” With that, Richard stood and motioned for the two security guards to do as Mr. Hotchner Sr. wanted. Outside the room, Derek stood and listened to the sounds of violence and brutality that were happening inside the space he had just been sitting in. Morgan cringed as the rhythmic sound of fist against flesh continued. The occasional grunt from Aaron cut through the sound of violence. 

After around a half hour, the two large men dragged the barely conscious body of Aaron from the room. Morgan did nothing to stop them. He just followed after them as they dragged Hotch’s body down the quiet hallway. Aaron was unceremoniously dropped down the two concrete stairs to the back entrance of the club. Morgan flushed his body to the railing as Jeffries and the other man moved back inside. Once the security detail was inside, Derek rushed forward toward Aaron’s prone figure. Hotch muttered incoherently against the concrete as Morgan lifted his friend up and toward his car. Derek thought, ‘Yup, it’s gonna be another interior cleaning job tomorrow,’ as he hauled Aaron’s bloodied body toward his parked car. 

Morgan lifted Aaron into the passenger seat and buckled him in. Hotch made a whimpering sound as he was jostled for a moment. Derek, though he was paid by Richard, cared more for his employer's son than he would like to admit. They had built up a pretty strong friendship over the years they had known each other. It had been tense at first because Aaron didn’t want and resented having a bodyguard. This was when he was still in high school and Richard was in some hot water with both the FBI and another gang that was trying to recruit some of his men. Morgan was already a member of the gang and was a loyal member given how young he was. It was only natural that he guard Aaron from any unwanted attention and keep the Boss’s son out of trouble. 

Aaron was, at the time full of anger from recently losing his mother and was making reckless choices for himself and the gang. He had hated Morgan, but the man had pulled him out of some bad situations numerous times over the years. The more time they spent together, the more Hotch sympathized with Morgan. Not in the awkward pitying type of way that many had when Derek was asked to open up, like in counseling centers or at one disastrous youth program he had been sent to. No. Aaron understood why Morgan had turned to a gang for security, and community too. Even if it was a bad community. One rooted in violence and illegality. Derek had to chalk it up to the fact that Aaron’s father was the leader. Aaron had to have seen to full spectrum of reasons for people to join a gang. And a full spectrum of violence as well. The beating Aaron had received tonight was no different than any other except that Richard hadn’t joined in. This was another thing he and Hotch had in common. The first time Aaron had taken his shirt off in front of Morgan, it had been after a workout or something, Derek had been shocked to see a smearing of dark purple and yellow bruises mottling the man’s skin. Morgan had asked if a group and jumped him, but Aaron’s response of, “I only got jumped by someone I know. Don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t until weeks later that Morgan saw Richard strike his son, and suddenly it all made more sense. Then Morgan felt sympathy for Aaron as well. After they came to more of an understanding, Hotch had stood up for Morgan against his father a few times and that had sealed their friendship. Morgan rode as smoothly as he could back to their apartment, with just the radio playing some rap on a low level and Aaron’s labored breathing for company. 

The next Monday, y/n arrived at class just on time. She was surprised to see that Aaron wasn’t in his normal seat. She did shoot Parker and Steven a smile as she pulled out her notes as the lecturer began. During the break, y/n moved to the ladies room. Midterms were fast approaching and almost everyone in the class was huddled up making study plans. y/n had already made her study plan with her friends in the class. As she washed her hands she heard a pained sound coming from the men’s room which was just a wall away from the women’s restrooms. y/n quickly wiped her hands free of water and moved outside. There was no one in the hallway and she got close to the door of the men's room and called out, “Hey, um… are you okay in there?” There was a pause and then a little grunt as someone from inside said, “I'm fine.” The voice was familiar, but there was a lisp in it which was making it hard to pinpoint. There were still another twenty minutes to the break, and y/n was interested to see who was suffering in the bathroom and stood leaning against the wall. After around five minutes the door opened and she looked up. Aaron Hotchner was the last person she expected to see limp out of the bathroom. y/n’s eyes widened as she looked at his face which was bruised on the left side. His lips were also split on the top and the bottom. Without thinking much y/n said, “Jesus Christ. What happened to you?” Hotch’s eyes snapped to her. He hadn’t thought anyone was outside. He had been stranding himself in the bathroom for longer than he had thought. He wasn’t sure why he had even come to campus in the first place. It wasn’t like he could go to class like this. Or perhaps he was toying with the idea he would go to class. To make his life harder, or to give his classmates something to talk about, or because he just couldn’t care anymore he wasn’t sure, but y/n had caught him off guard. Her use of expletives for one and the genuine concern on her face as she looked him over with an intense stare. 

Aaron thought of fleeing for a moment. Of running, or limping down the hall as fast as he could, but he realized that he needed help. Help from someone not so invested in him as the son of a gangster and criminal. If that was anyone in the class, it was y/n. As the sound of the lecture room door opened, Aaron moved quickly. He grabbed y/n’s wrist and pulled her into a hallway and then left into another hallway. This one was less lit. Half of the fluorescent bulbs in the hallway seemed to be out and those that were functioning flickered rather ominously. The turn of events had happened so quickly that y/n didn’t say anything until they were stopped in the hallway when y/n said, “Aaron, what’s going on? What happened to you?” 

The original concern was still in her voice, but there was an added edge including a hint of fear for herself. She looked around the space as if expecting something or someone to pop out of a doorway or darkened corner. Aaron took a deep breath and said, “Listen. Sorry for being so abrupt. I don’t even know why I’m here really and I’m sure I’m going to get an earful from Dr. Porter when I come back next week, but I saw you and I thought… well I thought I’d ask a favor, even if I don’t deserve one.” Hotch’s left eyebrow was cocked and y/n listened for him for a minute as if he was speaking a foreign language. She snapped back to herself as her watch beeped the five minutes before class started again. y/n asked, “What’s the favor?” Aaron seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and said, “Can I get your notes from today’s class before next week?” You could fax them to me or I could get them from your tomorrow in your office or something? I’d understood if you said no. It’s just that I really can’t fall behind in this class.” 

There was a very short silence as y/n considered. She didn’t have a lot of time to think because she needed to get back to class, like, now. Two thoughts ran through her head. The first was from the more rational and logical part of her brain. The part that Emily would agree with. It said, ‘Ma’am, look at him right now. Something bad happened here and I don’t think he just tripped on the library stairs. It probably has to do with his family or gang involvement or something. Don’t. Be. Stupid.’ But the other part of her brain said, ‘Look at him. That’s gotta hurt and those cuts and bruises were a few days old which meant they had hurt more back then.’ Going against her logical brain she said, “Yeah. I’ll give you my notes. She rummaged around in her purse pulled out an old receipt and pen and jotted down her home number. She handed him the slip of paper and said, “Here’s my number. Call me later and we can coordinate a meeting time.” 

She had just seen the contents of her bag and she noticed that there was an ibuprofen in there along with an assortment of random stuff. She asked, “Have you had any painkillers recently?” Aaron’s eyes snapped back to her. He looked surprised that she was still talking to him. He looked back to the ground and said, “It’s been like three hours now or something.” y/n pulled out the bottle and undid the cap quickly. She really needed to get back to class and she rushed to tip two tablets into her hand. She closed the bottle and half-pressed the pills into Aaron’s hand. She said, “Call me later,” and then ran back to the lecture. The lecture was in full swing when she got back and y/n noticed that she was about five minutes late. She tried her best to slip into the room. At least she sat at the very back, but her tardy return had a few of the guys in suits and one or two girls in the class giving her the stink eye. 

Dr. Porter also glanced at her, but it was brief before he returned to talking. The rest of the class, y/n had conflicting emotions. The first of which was that she felt bad for being late. Dr. Porter had taken a risk on her, and she was probably letting him down. The other thought she had was if she had made a catastrophic mistake in waiting to see who had been in the men’s restroom. She knew that Em would say she was stupid for getting involved, and part of her agreed, but when she had seen the normally cocky and confidant Aaron Hotchner in such a state, she had let her emotions get the best of her. She pondered if that was her fatal flaw or not. y/n did her best to push away these thoughts and focus on the lecture. If all else failed, she could just ignore Aaron’s call. Little did y/n know that getting involved with Hotch would do much more than cause her stress in Tax Fraud. 

The class progressed as it normally would with just a hint of awkwardness. Dr. Porteer did call her, but her response was coherent and she defended her point about the verdict in the U.S. v Ofshe case and how the drugs that had been obtained and the oversimplification of the government violated the defendant's Fifth Amendment rights. After she had spoken a ghost of a smile graced Dr. Porter’s face. He was happy with her response. If y/n was anything, it was thorough. 

When the class ended everyone filed out of the room, and y/n approached Porter. Parker finished asking a 1uqtion quickly and moved out of the room, patting y/n on the shoulder as they left. y/n and Dr. Porter were alone and y/n said, “I’m sorry for being late after the break. Something, personal, came up. I didn’t expect it to take that long.” Dr. Porter looked at her, a hint of concern in the crinkles at the corner of his eyes. He asked, “Is everything alright, y/l/n?” y/n let out a sigh realizing that saying anything was opening avenues to conversations that she might not want to elaborate on. To keep Aaron’s situation private, she simply said, “Well it’s not me that’s having the problems, It’s a friend of mine. They’ve gotten themself into some trouble and I just needed to check in to make sure they were okay. Porter nodded but didn’t look convinced,  and said, “Alright. Well if you ever need anything, or feel overwhelmed with all that you’re juggling this semester, you can always email me or see me during office hours.” y/n smiled warmly and said, “Thanks. Dr. Porter. That means a lot to me.” The older man gave her arm an affectionate squeeze before letting her go for the night. 

The drive home was peaceful,  serene even. It juxtaposed the earlier moment of tension from that evening. y/n hoped to stay relaxed for the rest of the night. Just do some reading, have a glass of wine, a very hot shower, and hit the bed. Her hopes for calm and quietude were crushed when she got into the apartment and Emily was leaning against the kitchen counter with a deep frown on her face. Before y/n even had the chance to ask, “What’s wrong, Prentiss?” The strong-minded brunette said, “You’re ‘friend’ called about five minutes ago.” This stopped y/n in her tracks. y/n knew that Emily was talking about Aaron, and she was about to get an earful. She steadied herself as her roommate started saying, “y/n, Aaron Hotchner is not the type of guy you want to get tangled up with, okay? I might sound nice and charming and play-act as a ‘bad boy,’ but there is nothing good about him or his family. Promise me you’re not going to be so stupid as to meet up with him and give him your notes. What if he starts expecting things from you? Have you ever thought about that scary moment on campus last week?” 

y/n while taking the verbal reprimand hadn’t thought about the fact that Aaron’s injuries could be related to that event on campus. Had something bad happened to him after Spencer had dragged her away? Although y/n realized that Aaron might have been in a serious and dangerous situation, that didn’t stop her from still being concerned for him. In some small way, y/n was annoyed that Em was so tied into her personal life. So what if she wanted to give Aaron her notes? But the logical part of her brain stopped her from snapping back. y/n took a deep breath and said, “I see where you’re coming from Em. But, he looked so hurt tonight. Desperate. If giving him my notes in a public place, like the coffee shop is a crime, then so be it. I told him I would, and I’m one to keep my promises.” y/n expected some sort of reprimand, but instead, Em sighed and said, “Fine. Call him back. I left his number on the pad on the fridge. But for the love of god, either have me. Garcia, or Spence come with you whenever you meet him?” y/n smiled and said, “Thanks Em. I knew you were a softie under that hard shell of yours.” 

Em scoffed and said, “Well I might be a softie for you. Aaron Hotchner is another matter entirely. At least with you knowing him, I can snoop in on his life. You never know, maybe he’ll give you a hint about his dad and you can pass that info over to me.” y/n rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever you say Em. Now let me call him back. Buffy’s coming on in a half hour and I don’t plan on missing another episode. Do you wanna join? There’s a bottle of red in the fridge we can share?” Emily nodded and said, “You bet. I’ll get the channel pulled up while you talk to your boyfriend.” That comment had y/n rolling her eyes again, but she didn’t say anything as she moved into the kitchen. 

As Prentiss had said, there was a note on the notepad stuck to the fridge that read ‘A.H.’s Number,’ and then a list of seven digits. The phone hung to the left of the fridge. It was egg yolk yellow, a design choice that y/n still didn’t understand as the rest of the kitchen was a pale blue with white accents. Ignoring the contrasting colors of the kitchen, y/n tapped on the phone number and held the receiver to her ear as the dial tone beeped. After the second ring someone answered, but it wasn’t Aaron. The low, husky voice said, “This is Morgan. Who is it?” y/n paused for a second before replying, “Um, this is y/n. y/l/n. I’m calling for Aaron. I’m in his Tax Fraud class, and he wanted my notes from today? I was just trying to arrange a meeting.” y/n stopped talking. She felt like she had said too much, or maybe not enough. The silence was awkward and lingered. Finally, Derek who had mercifully pulled the phone away from his mouth called out, “Hotch, a girl’s on the phone for you.” After a moment, Derek  said, “He’ll be here in a minute.” Then there was silence again. y/n tried to think about where she knew Morgan from. The voice wasn’t wholly new. She had scant few encounters with Aaron and she tried to pinpoint each of them in her mind. The night last week came to mind and she thought of the other man that had been with Aaron as Spencer had pulled her away. She assumed this was the same guy. She pinned the name, Morgan in her head in case she ever needed it. 

She had no clue why she would ever need it, but it couldn’t hurt. After another minute there was more sound, a muffled conversation, and a small grunt before the phone clicked a bit and Aaron’s familiar voice tapped in on the line. He said, “Hey, y/n. Sorry I was out back. Thanks for doing this by the way.” y/n nodded and said, “Yeah. No problem. So my schedule is pretty full this week but I can do Wednesday morning, Thursday in the evening, or Saturday morning. Does one of those times work for you?” Aaron replied, “Saturday works for me. Any place work for you? I can come over or we can meet anywhere that works for you really.” y/n didn’t hesitate as she said, “Let’s do the coffee shop near West campus. You can come and copy my stuff while I grade or read or something.” 

There was a softy, nearly inaudible breath before Hotch said, “It’s a date. Is 9:00 a.m. too early for you?” y/n replied, “Nope. Nine is good. See you then.” Hotch replied, “Right on. See ya then.” Then he disconnected the call. y/n did the same. y/n sighed, again questioning why exactly she was doing what she was. Was it care, curiosity, or a little of both? She couldn’t pinpoint it in her mind. There was also the fact that Aaron had said, “‘It’s a date’” in an infuriating manner. Like he knew that was going to spark some kind of response. Of course, it was a joke, but even so, it irked her because it was working. 

y/n let out a sigh of frustration. She looked up at the clock and realized that she needed to grab the glasses and wine as Buffy would be starting soon. Just as the new episode started. Emily and y/n settled in and just like clockwork, Garcia came down from her room. The charming Pen shuffled into the room and sat down on the couch. y/n knew her third roommate would be down once the show started and had already poured a glass for her. Em was looking at y/n as if asking, ‘So, when are you meeting him?’ And Garcia was looking at Emily as if asking, ‘What’s going on? Why do you have that look on your face?’ Thankfully Buffy was the silencing buffer. None of them dared talk during the episode. It was that important to them. The group's shared love of the campy monster of the week show drew them together in a funny way. In the beginning, y/n thought she was too much of a nerd for Prentiss, but it turned out even the dedicated policewoman couldn’t be turned down by Angel and Spike's charm. They would have to debrief once the commercials started in ten minutes or so, but for now, there was a calm as they all sat in front of the TV. 

The week went by quickly. y/n’s advisor got sick on Wednesday night and emailed her saying that he wouldn’t be able to make it to their Thursday morning meeting. This opened up her morning and she planned to sleep in. That was the plan at least. However, at 7:30 a.m. a knock on her door woke her. y/n was groggy as she made her way to her door. A sharp crack of thunder and lightning had her come more to her senses. It was pouring cats and dogs. y/n rubbed her eyes as she opened the door to the hall light. Emily was standing outside in her uniform. y/n asked sleepily, “What is it Em?” Prentiss bit her bottom lip and said, “My car won’t start. Engine problems. Can I borrow your keys or can you give me a ride to the station? The brunette looked embarrassed to ask, but y/n understood her predicament and said, “Yeah I got you. Let me put on a bra and some pants.” In under ten minutes, the duo were out the door. y/n drove slowly and carefully. The rain continued to pour down. y/n felt a small feeling of dread in the air. As they got to the station, y/n said, “Just give me or Garcia a call when you need to be picked up if you don’t get a ride from your co-workers, okay?” Em nodded and said, “Thanks a million. y/n you’re a lifesaver.” y/n got back into her car and drove to campus. Even though she didn’t have an umbrella, she got half-soaked walking to her office, and Mary Janes squeaked awfully on the floor. In her office, y/n sat down in front of a stack of papers, half of them her students and the other half her own. There was a loud crash of thunder and y/n looked out the window when she saw a dark hooded figure standing outside her office in the downpour. She couldn’t see the person's face in the beating rain. A sound in the hallway caught her attention for a moment. Another pair of noisy shoes. By the time she looked back out of the window, the figure was gone. She shook her head wondering if she’d made up the man. She let the thought pass as she kept working late into the night. 

Emily did end up calling y/n and letting her know that Penelope had picked her up already. y/n was grateful for this. She was exhausted from her day and early morning. She quickly packed up the work that she was taking home with her and switched off the lights and lamps in her office. The rain had stopped hours ago, but it left the ground damp and mist and humidity rose off the earth like a dense fog. y/n got into her car and drove toward home. She took a shortcut to avoid a traffic light that was out. As her headlight illuminated a dark back alleyway behind a store, y/n saw for a moment the same figure from earlier that day. They were leaning over something else. ‘Is that a body?’ y/n stalled, startled like a dear in headlights, even though it was the reverse scenario. For a second y/n made eye contact with the person, and she distinctly saw blood on their mouth, staining their chin a gruesome red. y/n’s heart stopped beating and a moment later a loud honk from behind her shocked her. y/n was blinded by the bright lights behind her. She had not seen the sedan pull up behind her car. In a panicked state, she hit the accelerator and finished her drive home terrified of what she’d just seen. 

y/n rushed into the house and found Emily at the stove. Prentiss turned and her, “Welcome home” died on her lips as she saw her friend. Em turned off the fire under her boiling potatoes and asked, “y/n, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” y/n swallowed trying to get some saliva back into her mouth and throat. She raised her and said in a hoarse voice, “I think I just saw a murder.” Emily’s jaw went slack for a second before she moved forward, police-like, and said, “Okay, y/n. You could have seen anything. It’s dark and gloomy out there.” y/n shook her head and said, “No, Em. Whatever I saw it was bad. I could feel it in my core.” Prentiss nodded, taking y/n seriously, the only one who would for a few days at least. She said, “Okay, y/n. Tell me everything. Think about things as clearly as possible. Don’t try and fill in any gaps, just tell me what you saw.” 

An hour later with Em trying to jog y/n’s memory to get the best information and writing down all the little and big details in her police pad, Prentiss said, “I’ll leave early tomorrow morning and check it out, y/n. Before I head to the station.” y/n’s eyes widened and she protested, “Shouldn’t we look now? There could be someone dying out there.” Emily dropped her eyes and sighed replying, “No, y/n. If what you say is true, then there’s nothing I can do tonight. I’d need more men, dogs, a whole setup.” After a pause Prentiss added, “And, y/n. There is no we in this. It’s dangerous. It’s safest for you to pretend you didn’t see anything tonight. Forget about it and don’t tell anyone.” y/n was frustrated by this response. However, she knew Em was correct. What could she do? Before y/n had a chance to say she was going to bed, Emily said, “Who are you bringing with you to meet Hotchner again?” 

y/n said in an almost deadpan voice, “Reid.” Emily frowned and said, “y/n, I’m going with you for that. I don’t trust Hotchner.” y/n’s head whipped up and she said, “Emily, it’s not like you can just stroll in there with Spence, and I. If Aaron and his family are as smart and powerful as you say, then he’ll know you’re a cop. I don’t think he’ll love that and I do still have to show up to a class with him, and sit across from him for the rest of the semester.” Prentiss could see y/n’s discomfort and replied, “I get it, y/n. And I know you’re trying to be nice, but I don’t want you going alone, and no, I don’t count Reid. I won’t walk in with you, and I won’t talk to you at all, but I will go and just keep an eye out.” y/n rubbed her tired eyes, saying, “Okay, Prentiss. We can talk about it tomorrow. I just want to go to bed now.” Em didn’t try and stop y/n as she moved past her and upstairs. y/n stripped out of her clothes from the day and fell into bed. She’d try and convince Em that she was a big girl tomorrow and didn’t need a bodyguard, but she was asleep before she could think of what she would say. y/n tossed and turned as she dreamed of the man outside her window and the person she’d seen with blood on their mouth, looking into her soul.

Text Break Banne by @cafekitsune

Tag list: @silk-spun @geminitapestry @alicewonderao3 @potatovoyager @samaldonado5 @princessjax @looking1016

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[kevinsdsy]

next part >

kevaaron (crack) socmed au (pt. 1): when i said this was gonna be an ooc and a crack fic i did not lie. sooo originally i didn’t even want to include exy, but it’s just weird having kevin obsess over another sport and i want there to be a reason why the trojans know the foxes so yeah but yeah the rest? not as canon compliant. seth is alive, neil wasn’t on the run he just travelled a lot (as does derek so they ran into each other in europe once), the whole escaping the nest thing didn’t happen jean and kevin are just childhood friends and went separate ways. we’ll get enough pain and tragical plots next week, i’m here to heal us and keep things silly

tag list: @kevindavidday @minyard-05 @afidiofobia @aceadoxography

[ziggystqrdust]

h&m // zero to heroes & baddies who break their hearts by being a great actress n actor (that megara betrayal reveal was so iwajag)

how rich do u have to be to have that much purple on ur clothes in 21 bce

anyways i love how most fish out of water stories for boys is because theyre sons of god or smth but when it comes to girls it’s because theyre actually the spawn of the devil like😭

[ticifics]

Paint Me Yours

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: You would be the death of Dave, and honestly, he’d die happy. It was a little embarrassing how often he caught himself thinking about you—the way you smiled, brighter than the fucking Sun itself, or how you always smelled like a field of flowers. He knew he was doomed the moment he laid eyes on you.

Warnings: fluffy, language, veteran!reader/freshman!Dave(two years difference), suggestive, college au, first kiss, no use of y/n

A/N: I know that each uni has its own hazing, but here is what happened at mine - a paint bath to celebrate approval

My dear love @gingerteafairy, thank you very much for giving me this idea, I hope you like it <333

You would be the death of Dave, and honestly, he’d die happy. It was a little embarrassing how often he caught himself thinking about you—the way you smiled, brighter than the fucking Sun itself, or how you always smelled like a field of flowers. He knew he was doomed the moment he laid eyes on you.

It was the first day of university, and he was a little lost—okay, very lost, actually. The campus was huge, and there were so many people that the place looked like an anthill. That’s when you appeared, dazzling, and asked if he was one of the freshmen. Dave needed a second or two before he stammered out a yes, watching your smile widen before you started guiding him.

During the welcome party organized by the upperclassmen, Dave could barely take his eyes off you—off your pretty mouth. The way you smiled while answering other freshmen’s questions. At some point, your gaze landed on him—maybe you’d felt his eyes boring into you—and your lips curved into a smile. Dave looked around, unsure if that smile was actually meant for him, but then you laughed, saying goodbye to the people around you before walking toward him.

“Hi,” you greeted, that smile still wrapped around your lips. “Dave, right?”

He nodded, feeling his heart stumble, not trusting his own voice to respond. He barely noticed he’d been holding his breath when you bit your lip, and God, what wouldn’t he give to be the one to do that? They looked so soft and plump—he suspected they were sweet, too.

“Are you enjoying the party?”

Dave blinked, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of your words. “Uh… yeah, sure. Everything looks great.” He wanted to slap himself. Damn it, fighting criminals was fine, but talking to a pretty girl? Impossible.

You didn’t seem to mind his lack of tact, though. In fact, you looked amused. “I’m glad,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Was it too soon to reveal that he wouldn’t shut up when it came to something he liked? Probably, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. “Depends. I can be exhausting sometimes.”

A laugh bubbled from your lips, and he knew he could start rambling if it meant hearing that laugh again. “That’s a little hard to believe.”

Dave stared at you, lips parted in surprise. No, that definitely wasn’t flirting. Absolutely not. Or was it?

Before he could respond, you quickly changed the subject. “You should grab one of the donuts before they’re gone, you know? You’ve barely moved from that corner since you got here.”

“You, uh… noticed me?”

You paused for a moment, as if only now realizing what you’d said. But the surprise on your face was quickly replaced with a relaxed expression.

“I kind of have to. It’s part of my job as an upperclassman, you know—guiding freshmen and all that. So, have you tried one yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we need to fix that right now. Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the table where the donuts were. You handed him one with pink frosting and colorful sprinkles, your eyes shining with anticipation. “Try it.”

He raised his hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the donut. Maybe he blushed under the intensity of your gaze—just maybe. When he took a bite, he closed his eyes, letting out a hum of approval. The dough was soft, and the frosting was perfect.

Your smile widened, if that was even possible. “So?”

Dave opened his eyes, finding you leaning closer to him. He drank in your image—the way the light illuminated your eyes, the soft curve of your mouth, how painfully beautiful you were. He wondered if you could hear his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

“I think it’s pretty girl—” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. “Good! Pretty good. I think it’s pretty good.”

He didn’t dare look up. What the hell was wrong with him? Christ, why couldn’t he act like a normal person?

Hearing the soft sound of your laughter, he exhaled deeply, lifting his gaze hesitantly, only to find a playful smile dancing on your pretty mouth. The weight on his shoulders lifted slightly at your reaction. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t ruined everything just yet.

“Dave,” you said, shaking your head slightly as you tried to stifle your laughter, “you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Almost reflexively, a sheepish smile curved his lips. “Sometimes.”

From that first encounter, Dave Lizewski knew he was screwed.

The weeks that followed were a blur. He kept himself busy trying to adapt to his new reality, but every time he crossed paths with you on campus, it was like being struck by lightning.

You always smiled at him, asking one question or another, which Dave took forever to answer because he was too distracted admiring you. He became especially distracted when you wore those spaghetti-strap tops that highlighted your bust. Marty once jokingly told him to wipe the drool off his face while he watched you from across the hallway.

Today had been surprisingly light. There were still a few hours until sunset, and classes had ended a few minutes ago. Dave was walking among the other students in his class, heading out of the building, when he noticed the murmurs around him. He pulled out one of his earbuds, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Did you hear? There's a stash of paint in the lockers," someone said, and it didn’t take long for the other person to reply with a smirk, “I think today’s the day. I mean, it’s been almost a month since classes started.”

But it wasn’t until Dave reached the entrance of the building that he realized what was about to happen. The upperclassmen were gathered, and there was a dizzying amount of tempera paint in sight.

However, that wasn’t what caught his attention. You were there, radiant as always, but today you looked like you were ready to give him a heart attack. The only things covering your body were shorts and a thin top. He swallowed hard as his eyes lingered on your legs, on how soft they looked. It wasn’t hard to imagine how it would feel to settle between them. The image popped into his mind as clear as the waters of a pristine lake. You riding him, your face clouded with pleasure, the sounds you would make. The intensity of the thought made him blush, and he quickly buried his indecent ideas before they caused trouble in his pants.

You, oblivious to his thoughts, continued organizing some of the paint. The memory of your own hazing was still fresh in your mind. It had been epic—there was no other word for it. You didn’t have to think twice before agreeing to do the same for the freshmen.

Hearing the commotion, your eyes lifted just in time to catch sight of Dave. A small smile curved your lips without your permission. That was the effect he had on you, one you were definitely fighting against. He was a freshman, probably two years younger than you, and you had never been with a younger guy before.

The very thought brought a feeling of unease.

But it would be a lie to say he hadn’t been occupying your thoughts more frequently. It was hard—impossible—not to be drawn to those eyes, as bright as sapphires, and those dark curls that constantly fell over his forehead. They were adorable. How many times had your fingers itched with the urge to push them back from his handsome face?

And it wasn’t as though you didn’t know you had some effect on him. It wasn’t arrogance—Dave just wasn’t very discreet. He always blushed and seemed to struggle to find the right words. It was genuinely cute.

Without thinking, you headed toward him.

Dave didn’t notice you approaching right away. He was too busy trying to act casual, which only made him look even more awkward, staring at the ground, his earbuds now hanging around his neck. But when he finally sensed your presence, his whole body tensed, as if the air around him had turned into static electricity.

“Hi, Dave.” Your voice was soft but carried something he couldn’t quite place—a warmth that made his stomach flip with nerves—and something else he didn’t want to name.

He looked up, and seeing you so close rendered him momentarily speechless. The late afternoon sun lit up your face, highlighting every detail—the curve of your lashes, the soft shape of your lips, the delicate line of your jaw. It was impossible not to be captivated.

“Hi,” he finally managed to mumble, his voice rougher than he would’ve liked.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes locked on his with a playful glint. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He tried to smile but ended up with something awkward instead. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I mean, you just showed up out of nowhere.”

“Did I?” You laughed, and the sound seemed to echo inside him. “Or maybe you were just distracted.” Your voice lowered slightly on the last word, almost as if you were teasing him. And it worked. Dave felt his face heat up instantly.

Without hurry, you took a step closer, invading his personal space. “Are you staying for the hazing?”

He blinked, surprised, his eyebrows rising. “Hazing? Uh… I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning into something that looked like a challenge. “Oh, come on, are you really going to tell me you’re not joining? It’s nothing scary, I promise.” Your voice was persuasive, carrying something that made him want to say “yes” to anything you asked.

He hesitated for a moment, but something in the way you looked at him—like you were challenging him, but with a sweetness that made him want to impress you—made him nod. “Alright. What do I have to do?”

“First,” you started, pointing to the small group of freshmen gathered a little ahead, “leave your backpack over there with the others. You won’t need it right now.”

Dave followed your gaze and saw the other freshmen dropping their bags near a makeshift bench, some already with their arms and faces painted in bright colors. They were laughing, exchanging jokes, their energy light and full of the excitement of new beginnings. Dave sighed, adjusting the strap on his shoulder before finally moving to do the same. He placed his backpack down carefully, as if the act itself carried more significance than it seemed—a small gesture of belonging.

When he came back to you, he seemed more relaxed, but you couldn’t ignore his posture. It was hard not to notice—the way his shoulders stayed square, his arms defined even without him trying to show them off. He was fit, very fit, and you found the words a little harder to get out as you tried not to make it too obvious. Still, the idea of touching him, even under the innocent pretense of the prank, made your heart beat a little faster.

“You’re going to need to take off your jacket,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart pounded in your chest.

Dave hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, unzipping it slowly, the sound of the metal seeming louder than necessary in the silence between you. He shrugged the jacket off his shoulders with a natural ease that felt almost rehearsed, folding it carefully before setting it on a nearby bench. The white shirt underneath seemed simple at first glance, but now, with him more exposed, you noticed how perfectly it fit him—highlighting his chest and arms in a way that made it impossible to look away.

“Do I need to roll up the sleeves too?” he asked, already pulling one sleeve up to his elbow before you could respond.

You only managed to nod, pretending to be deeply focused on grabbing the paint. But it was impossible not to notice his movements—the firm way his fingers gripped the fabric, the casual way he folded each side, leaving his forearms exposed. And oh, those forearms. The muscles flexed slightly with each fold. Heat rose to your face, and you quickly lowered your eyes, forcing yourself to focus, clearing your throat.

“Green,” you blurted out suddenly, as if the words slipped out without thinking. He stopped, looking at you with a curious expression.

“What?”

“Green suits you,” you explained, gesturing toward the row of paints. Your voice came out firmer than you expected, but the truth was that having him so close was starting to mess with your ability to form complete sentences.

Dave raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “Does it? Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “It just does. I’d guess you belong in Slytherin.”

He frowned, feigning indignation. “Slytherin? Are you serious?”

You laughed, enjoying the playful tone in his voice. “Yes.”

“I’m definitely a Gryffindor, for your information,” he replied, crossing his arms, though the amused curve of his lips remained. “Lions are better than snakes.”

“Oh, I see.” You laughed again, grabbing the pot of green paint and carefully opening it. “But today, you’re going to be a Slytherin, sweetheart.”

He smiled, but you could see the faint flush creeping up his ears, something that made him look even more endearing. Would he mind if his cheeks were bitten? You blinked, forcing that thought away.

“Now stay still,” you said, dipping your fingers into the cool paint. “I’ll start with your arms.”

Dave obeyed, keeping still, but you could feel his full attention on you. Your fingers touched his skin, sliding carefully as you began drawing soft lines and delicate strokes along his forearm. The warm texture of his skin contrasted with the fresh paint, and you lost yourself for a moment in the simple act of tracing each curve.

He was quiet, but you could feel his breathing change—slightly heavier, as if he was aware of every touch. When you glanced up to check if he was okay, you realized he was looking too. Not at his arm, but at you.

His gaze was intense, his blue eyes fixed on your face for a few seconds before dropping, almost accidentally, to the neckline of your shirt. The movement was so quick that he blinked, shifting his focus back to his arm, but the blush rising to his cheeks was impossible to miss.

“I... uh, you’re pretty detail-oriented, huh?” he tried, his voice slightly lower than before.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your face too. “I like to do things properly. Now your forehead.”

He blinked, surprised. “My forehead?”

“It’s a prank, Dave,” you replied, laughing. “The arms are just the beginning. Come here.”

He tilted his head hesitantly, letting you get closer. Your fingers were covered in paint, and as you began to glide the tip along the contours of his forehead, you realized just how close you were—so close you could catch the subtle scent of his cologne, something warm and woodsy.

The silence between you grew heavy, charged with something that felt electric. Each breath seemed synchronized, every move you made met with his gaze. When you finished the drawing, your fingers lingered, still lightly brushing against his skin. It was Dave who broke the silence, laughing softly.

“Now that you're officially painted, I think you're ready to be a proper freshman,” you joked, trying to ease the tension hanging between you.

You stepped back, tilting your head to evaluate your work. He already had some green marks scattered across his arms and forehead, but somehow, he still looked surprisingly... neat. That wouldn’t last long, of course.

“Time for a picture,” you said, raising your phone. “We need to capture this ‘tidy’ phase,” you explained, stifling a laugh. “Because soon, my friend, you’ll be unrecognizable.”

He chuckled, a bit shyly, and nodded. “Alright.”

You winked, adjusting the angle of your phone. He stood there with a small, reserved smile, proudly displaying the name of his course and the university's initials, but with an ease so natural that you didn’t need to ask for anything else. “Look here,” you directed, snapping the photo. “This one’s good. Now, give me a serious face or something.”

He attempted a more serious pose, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow, but the effect was ruined when he started laughing—soft and full of life.

“You’re terrible at this, you know that?” you teased, laughing along. “Alright, last one. Just smile this time.”

He complied, and this time his smile was brighter, more carefree—something so genuine you already knew it would be your favorite. “Done. Immortalized.”

“Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” he said, still smiling.

Before you could respond, one of the upperclassmen clapped loudly to grab everyone’s attention. “Alright, freshmen! Everyone, listen up!”

Dave turned toward the voice, and you used the moment to pocket your phone, staying close as the upperclassman explained what would happen next.

“Now that you’ve all been properly christened, it’s time for the fun part of initiation. Everyone is going to form a line, holding hands, and we’re going to walk from here to the main engineering building over there,” he pointed to a building about a 15-minute walk away, “leaving a trail of paint behind us. Along the way, we’re going to throw paint at you. A lot of paint. And just so you know: if any of you freshmen try to fight back, you’ll get an extra soaking. Got it?”

The freshmen murmured their agreement, some chuckling nervously. Beside you, Dave seemed amused, his easy smile firmly in place. That was when you realized your role was about to begin: as an upperclassman, your job wasn’t just to watch—it was to dive into the colorful chaos and make sure no one got out unscathed.

You turned to him, a playful glint in your eye. “You know, Dave, I think you should take your glasses off.”

He blinked, surprised. “Take my glasses off? Why?”

“Trust me,” you said, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “The paint will get everywhere, and you don’t want to ruin the lenses.”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced. Then, with a sigh, he slowly removed his glasses and handed them to you. “Fine. But if I trip over someone, it’s your fault.”

You laughed, holding the glasses carefully. “I’ll guide you, don’t worry. Can you still see anything?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost with genuine concern.

Dave tilted his head, that small smile appearing again. “I think I can... enough to know you’re still there.”

Your laugh was a bit nervous, but you covered it by glancing away. “Well, that’s enough.”

He laughed too, that light sound contagious. And before you could respond, the upperclassmen started moving, organizing the freshmen into a line. “Take good care of those,” he said, pointing to his glasses. “I’m trusting you.”

“You can trust me,” you replied, waving the glasses before stepping away.

Dave joined the line of freshmen, falling into place among them. You watched as he took the hands of two other students, looking both relaxed and a little eager. The upperclassmen began circling the group, armed with bottles and squirt guns filled with colorful paint.

“Alright, everyone!” one of the upperclassmen yelled, a mischievous grin on his face. “No mercy!”

You grabbed your improvised weapon—a bottle filled with vibrant blue paint—and walked alongside the freshmen, your eyes inevitably searching for him in the crowd. It wasn’t hard to find him; it was as if your eyes were drawn to him naturally. His smile was still there, as if he was genuinely enjoying the impending chaos.

Music started playing—something upbeat and lively from a portable speaker someone had brought. It was the perfect soundtrack for the moment, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the energetic rhythm set the tone.

As the group began to move, the upperclassmen launched their attack. Paint flew in every direction, splattering onto laughing freshmen who tried—and failed—to dodge the colorful assault. You aimed for Dave, squeezing your bottle and hitting him square on the shoulder. He stopped, pretending to look offended as he laughed.

“You did that on purpose!” he accused, pointing at you, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Of course I did!” you shot back, unable to stop laughing. “What, you thought I’d spare you?”

He shook his head, still grinning, and kept walking. But you weren’t done yet. At every opportunity, you squirted more paint at him, streaking blue and green across his arms and back. Other upperclassmen joined in, but you got the sense that he was far more aware of your attacks than anyone else’s.

The soundtrack kept playing as the group moved forward slowly, everyone fully immersed in the fun. Dave, now almost unrecognizable with the amount of paint covering his hair and clothes, still seemed to be having more fun than anyone else. But amidst the chaos of colors and laughter, something glimmered in his eyes—a kind of challenge. Before you could prepare yourself, he took two quick steps toward you, his paint-covered hand reaching straight for your arm.

"Dave!" you exclaimed, trying to step back, but it was already too late.

His fingers left a streak of green paint across the light fabric of your shirt, staining it mercilessly. You froze, staring at the mark with a skeptical expression, then at him, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide his mischievous grin.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you said, disbelief dripping from your voice. "I loved this shirt."

"Oops," he replied, with the most insincere tone of regret you’d ever heard, raising his hands in a gesture that didn’t convince anyone. "But hey, I think green suits you, too."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms as you glared at him. "Are you serious, Dave?"

Before he could answer, a nearby upperclassman noticed what had happened and raised their voice, laughing. "Hey, everyone! Looks like we’ve got a bold one here!"

That was enough to grab the attention of all the other upperclassmen around. In seconds, it seemed like everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at Dave, who now seemed a little less confident—but surprisingly, no less amused.

"Retaliation, huh?" someone shouted, already starting to fill a bucket with a deadly mix of paints. "This won’t go unpunished!"

You took a step back, watching the scene unfold. Dave opened his mouth to protest but didn’t have time. The first splash of paint came from the left, hitting him square on the shoulder. Then, it was as if the heavens had opened, but instead of rain, there were buckets, bottles, and tubes of paint being thrown at him from every direction. Red, blue, yellow, pink, green, purple—a whirlwind of colors determined to turn him into a walking masterpiece.

You stood there with your arms crossed, watching as the upperclassmen laughed and shouted, the background music amplifying the chaos. Dave, however, seemed… completely unfazed. He raised his hands in surrender, but the grin was still there—a wide, bright smile as if he was having way too much fun.

When an entire bucket of blue paint was dumped straight over his head, he shook his hair, sending splatters everywhere—including onto you. "Seriously, Dave?!" you complained, but the laughter in your voice betrayed the fact that you weren’t really upset.

He wiped the excess paint dripping down his forehead and looked at you through the chaos. His smile was different now, a little softer but just as captivating as before. "Worth it," he said simply, as if the storm of paint had been a small price to pay.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that slipped through. "You’re impossible."

He shrugged, finally extending his hands to the sides, as if accepting defeat with dignity. "Maybe. But at least I’m not the only one covered in paint now."

The group, a walking rainbow, finally reached the other building, still laughing and making comments about their utterly destroyed—but hilarious—appearances. Clothes that had once been normal were now completely unrecognizable, and many people’s hair dripped paint like oversized brushes. You couldn’t help but laugh as you noticed how Dave seemed to lead the pack of the most wrecked ones, completely covered from head to toe.

"I look like an exploded paint can," someone commented, eliciting even more laughter from the group.

The upperclassmen began organizing everyone for a group photo. "Come on, everyone! I want to see everyone squeezed in here!" one of them shouted, waving a red paint tube like a microphone.

Dave laughed beside you, leaning in to whisper, "I think there’s still time to escape."

"You’re the last person who can say that," you shot back, glancing sideways at him. He was drenched in paint, but his eyes sparkled brighter than ever, and something about the way he smiled made your stomach flip in that uncomfortable—but addicting—way.

The freshmen started lining up, bumping into each other and trying to find space in the tight group. You ended up being pushed to the front, practically pressed against Dave as he positioned himself behind you. "Looks like this is going to be pretty snug," he remarked.

"That’s the spirit of teamwork," you replied, trying to maintain your composure, though you were very aware of how close he was.

"Teamwork, huh?" he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

Just as the photographer positioned themselves, you felt movement right behind you, and before you could process it, Dave’s arm slid around your waist. It was a gentle touch, almost casual, but the way he did it—firm yet hesitant, as if waiting for your reaction—made your heart race.

You looked at him, surprised. “Dave…” you began, but your voice got lost amidst the chaos around you. He looked back at you, the smile still on his face, but now there was something different—an intensity in his eyes, a glimmer that seemed to say more than any words could.

“Just to make room for everyone,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. You weren’t sure if it was because of the noise or the way he seemed to look directly at you, ignoring the rest of the world entirely.

You tried to think of anything relevant to say, but your mind was a complete blur, the words tangling together as he stayed so close. The touch of his arm around your waist was a constant reminder, a warm pressure that sent shivers through your skin, even under the layer of paint covering you both.

Someone shouted, “Smile!” and you forced a grin for the camera, even though your thoughts were far from where they should be. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dave lean slightly forward, and his closeness was overwhelming. He smelled faintly of paint mixed with something uniquely him, and it was ridiculous that you were noticing that at such a moment.

When the photo was finally taken, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Dave, still with his arm around your waist, looked at you with a satisfied smile. “I think this will be a photo to remember,” he said, his voice low, and the way he looked at you almost made your knees buckle.

“I hope you’re right,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the weakness in your voice gave everything away.

As the photo group began to break apart, the laughter faded. A few freshmen tried unsuccessfully to scrub the paint out of their hair and clothes, while others seemed resigned to heading home in their messy state. You watched the scene unfold, the sound of footsteps and chatter echoing through the space. The energetic buzz of the event still lingered, but exhaustion was beginning to creep in.

Dave stood near you, a mix of tiredness and contentment on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, now stiff from the paint, and let out a soft laugh. “I think it’s going to take me two weeks in the shower to get all of this off.”

You laughed, reaching for your bag and unzipping it. “I think you’ll need more than that. But luckily, I came prepared.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as you pulled out a small packet of wet wipes. “It’s not going to fix this entire disaster,” you said, holding it up for him, “but it’ll help with the basics. Here.”

He looked at you, his smile widening. “Are you always this prepared, or is this just for me?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re full of jokes today, huh?”

He chuckled but didn’t take the wipes from your hand. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if challenging you. “So, are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there holding that?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing at the way he was looking at you—direct, playful, but with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Fine, but stay still and cooperate.”

He took a small step closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. Dave lowered his head slightly, making it easier for you to reach his face. Your hands were steady as you pulled out a wipe, but the same couldn’t be said for your heartbeat, which pounded wildly as you leaned in.

The first touch was light, almost hesitant, but soon you were carefully wiping away the streaks of paint from his forehead. His skin was warm under the wipe, and you could feel every tiny movement as he stayed still, his eyes fixed on you.

“Does this hurt?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“No,” he replied, his tone rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “If anything, it’s the opposite.”

You tried to ignore the weight of his words, but it was impossible. Each second seemed to stretch the space between you. Your fingers, holding the wipe, brushed lightly against the side of his face, and he took a deep breath, as if steadying himself.

His eyes never left yours, and there was something about the vibrant blue that made you feel lost, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. “You’re all cleaned up now,” you murmured, but you didn’t step away.

“Am I?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips, as if he knew more than he was letting on. “Because I think there’s a spot here…” He pointed to his cheek, though it felt more like an excuse to keep you close.

You laughed softly but obliged, wiping the spot he indicated. “There. Happy?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and when you finally found the courage to look at him again, the smile had disappeared, replaced by something deeper. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was filled with everything that wasn’t being said.

His hand rose for a moment, almost as if it were going to touch yours, but then stopped halfway, falling back to his side. “I am. Quite a bit.”

You felt the weight of his words, the raw honesty hanging in the air like a thick, tangible cloud. That I am seemed to hold more than he was willing to say out loud. His breath was heavy, not from the physical effort of the day, but from the tension that seemed to pulse between you like a rope about to snap.

Without thinking much, as if your fingers had a life of their own, you brought a hand to his face again. His hair was messy and still wet with paint, some strands stuck to his forehead, others falling to the side, blocking your view of his eyes. “Stay still,” you murmured, almost apologetically, as you brushed the wet strands back carefully.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the simple touch of your fingers was enough to disarm him. When he opened his eyes again, there was something different in them, something more intense, more vulnerable.

You took a deep breath, and before you could hesitate, you began to clean the paint still staining his jawline, your fingers gliding along the strong line of his jaw. The texture of his skin under the wet wipe, warm and slightly rough, made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t control.

“Do you have any idea how much you got dirty today?” you tried to say, but your voice came out weaker than you intended.

“Maybe,” he replied, and the hoarseness in his voice made you feel the impact in your chest, like a muffled thunder. “But you seemed to be having fun.”

You chuckled softly, trying to relieve the growing tension, but it was a useless effort. Your fingers slid from his jaw to near his lips, and you hesitated for a fraction of a second before gently passing the wipe over the corner of his lips.

His eyes followed every movement of yours, and when you looked back, his gaze seemed to beg for something he didn’t have the courage to ask for. His mouth was slightly open, and his breath brushed against your fingers so tangibly that you almost felt the heat on your own skin.

“All done,” you said, but your voice sounded different now, as if it carried everything you didn’t want to admit.

“You’re not done yet,” he murmured, and the smile that played on his lips was as soft as it was dangerous.

“I am,” you replied, but your hand didn’t move. It was still there, dangerously close to his mouth, as if it were impossible to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he teased, his tone barely audible, and you knew he wasn’t talking about the paint anymore.

The silence that followed was deafening. The proximity between you was almost painful now, each inch filled with electricity that had your whole body on high alert. His eyes dropped for a moment to your mouth, and when they returned to yours, there was something there that made your heart beat so fast you thought he could hear it.

Your hand, still near his mouth, wavered for a second, and it was all he needed to take a step forward, closing the distance between you even more. His breath mixed with yours, and you knew, you knew you were on the edge of completely losing yourselves.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his voice a little firmer now, but still low enough for only you to hear. “And I’m tired of pretending I can.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with raw honesty that seemed to steal all the air around you. Your throat went dry, and you could feel the conflict building inside you, fighting against what already seemed inevitable.

He was younger. A freshman. And you knew you should have some sense here, some logic screaming for you to pull back, to remember the differences, the line that separated you two. But your hands were still on him, your fingers still brushing the paint-stained skin of his warm face, and you just couldn’t let go.

“Dave…” Your voice came out in a trembling whisper, carrying all that you were trying to hold back — the hesitation, the disbelief, and above all, the desire you had been trying to bury since the moment he looked at you that way, completely enchanted, for the first time.

He leaned in imperceptibly closer, his eyebrows furrowed, the intensity in his blue gaze fixed on you. “Tell me what’s holding you back,” he asked, almost pleading, but his tone was still soft, patient, as if he was trying to find his way to you.

You opened your mouth, but the words seemed to dissolve before you could even form a sentence. He waited, his proximity a temptation, and you felt as if you were being pulled toward him, against all the logic you thought you had.

“You’re…” you started, but hesitated, then took a deep breath. “You’re younger. A freshman. That…”

He laughed, low and hoarse, and shook his head slightly. "You think that matters to me?" He tilted his head, his eyes darkening with the intensity of his gaze. "I don’t care if you're older. Do you think when I look at you, that’s what I see? Because I don’t. I only see you. You, with that habit of looking at me like you’re trying to push me away, but you can’t."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He looked so vulnerable and so certain at the same time, and that made something inside you tremble.

"I don’t know if I can do this..." you murmured, the hesitation weighing heavily in each word.

"I know you can," he shot back, his voice firmer now, but still low, almost reverent. "Because if you didn’t want to, you would have already walked away. And you’re still here."

His words hit you like a punch, because he was right. You were still here. Your hands were still on him, and the closeness between you was so small that any movement could close it.

His fingers slowly moved until they lightly brushed your wrist. It was such a subtle touch, but it electrified everything around you, as if the world had stopped to observe that moment.

"Tell me you don’t want this," he said, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking any louder would be dangerous. "Tell me you don’t feel this too, and I’ll stop now."

But you couldn’t say it. You couldn’t pull your hands away, couldn’t ignore the way he looked at you, as if you were something he didn’t know he needed until the moment he saw you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking, Dave," you murmured, but your voice came out weak, with no conviction.

"I know exactly what I’m asking," he retorted, his eyes fixed on yours, as if each word was a promise. "I’m asking for you. And I know you’re trying to find a reason for this not to happen, but there isn’t one."

And in that moment, you knew he was right. That it didn’t matter the logic, or the differences, or the doubts you were trying to hold on to. He was here, and you wanted him. God, how you wanted him.

Your gaze fell to his lips, then rose back to his eyes. He was so close that you could feel his breath, and there was something so vulnerable in his expression, so open, so surrendered, that you simply couldn’t hold back.

Without thinking any further, you closed the distance between you, your hands moving to his face as your lips met his. He responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you as if he’d been waiting for this since the moment he saw you. And maybe he had. Maybe you had too.

His lips were warm against yours, firm yet hesitant, as if he feared that it could all disappear in the blink of an eye. You felt his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressed to yours in a way that made the whole world disappear.

His touch was both reverent and desperate, as if he didn’t know if it was real, but was determined to imprint every detail in his memory. His hands slid over the curve of your back, stopping at the base of your waist, before moving up again, his fingers brushing the exposed skin that the light fabric of your blouse didn’t protect. It was electrifying, each touch, each movement, and you felt your heart beating so hard it seemed to echo in every cell of your body.

He pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his eyes meeting yours as if searching for some kind of certainty. "Is this... real?" he murmured, his voice hoarse, cut off. He seemed lost, his blue eyes shining amidst the remnants of lilac and green paint on his face, as if you were the only thing he could see.

You laughed softly, breathless, but didn’t pull away an inch. "Yes," you answered, your voice soft but full of something you couldn’t hide anymore. "It’s real, Dave."

He let out a shaky laugh, a mixture of relief and disbelief, and then his lips were on yours again, this time more certain, hungrier. His hands moved up to your shoulders, then slowly slid down your arms, his fingers tracing the path as if he wanted to memorize every detail, every curve, every inch of skin.

"You have no idea..." he murmured against your lips, his breath hot on your face. He stopped, just enough to find your eyes again. "How much I’ve dreamed of this. Of you."

You felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze, and something inside you broke and rebuilt itself all at once. "Dave..." you started, but he shook his head, interrupting.

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I need you to know. From the first day. From the moment you spoke to me, from the moment you smiled at me… I knew. I knew it was you.”

Your breath faltered, and you felt his hands rise again, this time stopping at the sides of your face, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw until they brushed the corner of your lips. He seemed so sure, so lost in you, and at the same time so fragile, as if this moment could be taken from him at any second.

“Dave…” you repeated, his name coming out as a whisper, almost a secret. You held his wrists, your fingers gently tightening against his skin. “You have no idea…”

“Tell me,” he insisted, his voice still hoarse, but laden with something so raw, so real, that it made the air around you feel heavier.

You swallowed hard but didn’t look away. “That I thought about it too. That I wanted this too. You. From the beginning.”

The words hit him like a blow, and he let out a short laugh, almost disbelieving, as he pressed his forehead against yours. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he needed that instant to collect himself, then whispered, “You’re messing with me, right?”

“You think I’d do that now?” you replied, the teasing in your voice mixed with the weight of the truth.

He opened his eyes, and there was something almost glowing in them, something that made you lose yourself completely. “God, you’re gonna kill me,” he murmured before pulling you in again, the kiss more intense, more urgent this time.

His hands slid down your back, tracing the curve of your hips before stopping at their base, as if he needed to hold you there, as if he feared you might slip away. You pressed even closer to him, feeling his heat, the smell of paint mixed with his scent, and nothing had ever felt so right.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he gave a small smile, his lips still red from the kiss. “So… is this it?” he asked, his voice soft but playful. “Can I stop torturing myself now?”

You laughed, your fingers still tangled in his shirt, and shook your head. “I don’t know. Maybe I like seeing you like this,” you replied, the teasing clear, but your eyes still filled with everything you were feeling.

He tilted his head to the side, a crooked, utterly charming smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. “If that means I can kiss you again, then torture me as much as you want.”

You laughed, short, still breathless, and pushed lightly against his chest, but not enough to create any real distance. His hands stayed firmly on your waist, and it was impossible to ignore the streaks of paint he’d left there—a deep blue staining the pale pink of your blouse. His fingers had drawn an impromptu map on your skin and the fabric, and you knew that, even without a mirror, it was visible.

“Look at what you’ve done,” you commented, trying to sound indignant as you looked down at your blouse, but it was impossible not to smile. “My blouse is ruined.”

Dave laughed softly, his thumbs sliding along the curve of your waist before tracing their way back, as if he wanted to emphasize the mess. “You should’ve walked away while you could.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sure, because you would’ve let me go, right?”

He smiled wider now, his face still covered in paint, but somehow it only made him more irresistible. “Not for a second,” he confessed, with a tone that was both light and serious, like everything he did.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help the laugh, even as you tugged at the fabric of your blouse to examine the stains more closely. “And what do I do with this now? This is beyond saving, you know?”

Dave let out a dramatic sigh, pulling away just enough to look at you properly, but his hands remained firmly on your waist, as if he couldn’t help it. “Okay, I’ll admit it was a fashion crime,” he began, his eyes dropping to the stained fabric before rising back to your face. He looked so carefree and yet so intensely focused on you at the same time, it was almost unsettling. “But, look, you could… I don’t know, keep it as a keepsake.”

You raised an eyebrow again, his mischievous look signaling he had more to say. “A keepsake?”

“Yeah,” he continued, his smile growing. He raised one of his hands, covered in paint, and his thumb lightly brushed against the strap of your blouse, where a small paint stain was already printed. The touch was casual, but you felt a shiver run through you as if he had done it on purpose. “Every time you look at it, you’ll remember today. Me.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but it was impossible to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh, sure, because I’d want a ruined blouse to remember you by,” you teased, but your voice came out quieter than expected.

He tilted his face a little closer, his fingers still idly playing with the strap of your blouse, as if he were testing his own limits. “You will,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but with that sweet tone that made your heart race. “Because I know you won’t forget me, with or without the blouse.”

You let out a short laugh, trying to hide the effect his words had on you, but it was useless. “You’re really confident for a guy who’s covered in paint,” you commented, pointing to his face.

Dave laughed again, tilting his head to the side as he ran one hand across his own face, spreading even more paint without realizing. “Oh, seriously?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And who was it that left me like this, huh?”

“You weren’t exactly trying to avoid it,” you replied, crossing your arms, but it was impossible to keep up the defensive posture with him so close, so absurdly adorable.

He took a step back, pretending to examine himself, before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, it’s pretty bad,” he admitted, pointing to the stains on his face, neck, and arms. But then he looked at you, a mischievous smile returning to his lips. “But, you know what? Totally worth it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the smile on your face betrayed any attempt to seem serious. “Really worth it?”

“Totally,” he said, giving that half-smile that seemed dangerous and irresistible at the same time. He took a step forward again, closing the distance, tilting his face until it was only inches from yours. “Wanna know why?”

You barely had time to respond before he continued, his voice low and heavy with something that made your breath falter. “Because now, I know what it’s like to kiss you.”

And with that, he smiled, so completely satisfied, so completely in love, that it was impossible to say anything. And you knew he was right: you’d never forget this. Or him.

[strawburry01]

We're Going to Be Friends

Summary: How Y/N and Aaron first start talking during their time in college (Aaron shouldn't be let into a lab)(also yeah, listen to the song when you read if you want)

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: I don't think anyone really noticed but I'm sorry this took a second longer than normal to get out. I just had a really weirdly abrupt and messy break up (?) and when I usually write I've just been sleeping but we are doing better now that that's been resolved but like- guys what the fuck? Anyway, this was nice to write to kinda get out of my head. Cheers xoxo

It was your first day in the forensics chemistry lab after waiting two years to even be let into the lab space. You held your bound lab notebook to your chest as you walked in alongside the rest of the class and took your places at the lab benches, silently picking your lab partners. You were with a wiry girl with big blonde curly hair and thick-rimmed glasses. Hey at least she looked smart- it meant you wouldn’t have to carry the two of you to an A grade. As the class waited for the professor to come in you couldn’t help but overhear the laughter from across the classroom. Your head looked up to the source of the noise only to see the grinning Aaron Hotchner looking at his lab partner. Aaron and you had been in many of the same classes but had never really interacted beyond the polite head nod when bumping into each other. Sure there was nothing wrong with him, in fact, there was a lot that was right with him. He was handsome, in a bit of a nerdy Clark Kent sort of way, always looking like he rolled out of bed effortlessly and threw him glasses on before running to class. He was also fairly nice when it came to the general population. The Criminal Justice pathway in uni was highly competitive so it often meant everyone was insanely cutthroat, but he was always offering hints and help to others you’d notice. He was smart, very smart, but was very humble about it, in a way that only someone watching him could really realize how much he knew, and unfortunately, you did. Not even purposefully, but your eyes always had a way of falling onto the back of his head in class. Perhaps it was because he was the most attractive man in the cohort, or perhaps it was because you were just so intrigued at his charm. 

The lab started and you were drawn from your thoughts as you tied your hair back and slipped on the snug safety goggles, glad that they even made everyone, even him, look a little bit dorkier. You and your lab partner (who you found out went by Jen), started setting up the titration and you pulled out your lab notebook to start writing the results down. The two of you small-talked about classes and movies as she slowly let the base solution drip into the acid, waiting for it to eventually turn pink. After running through a round you two switched positions and you leaned over as you tried to line up the new beaker under the buret. 

Swiftly there was a new figure besides you. At first you assumed it was the professor, about to harass you about some incorrect technique or form, but you were surprised to see it was Aaron. He grinned as he looked down at you, and you suddenly felt very self conscious about leaning over so far in front of the buret. You quickly snapped up, standing straight, focusing on the buret with a reddening face.

“You’re Y/N right?” he asked. How he knew your name was beyond you, you’d never really talked to him before beyond a few yes or no’s. 

“Yeah,” you answered, trying to maintain a calm demeanor, still intently focusing on the meniscus in the buret.

“Do you know where the sodium hydroxide is? I need some more,” he asked. 

“Um, it’s just over there, you should just have to pipette it into your beaker,” you said, pointing to the dark brown container kept under the chemistry hood. His mouth formed an ‘o’ as he slowly nodded looking over.

“I see, thank you!” he said in a chipper demeanor as he walked over. 

“What the hell was that about?” Jen asked, jumping onto anything other than the mundane topics. Your face reddened again as you didn’t even know what the hell that was about. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning to face her, but before she could elaborate Aaron was back.

“Hey Y/N have you used one of those automatic pipettes before?” he asked sheepishly, holding a still empty beaker. You finally turned to face him and looked up. God he really was tall, or were you just short…nevermind that all.

“Have you not?” you asked, a bit shocked he’d gotten this far without having been subjected to one in high school or the general labs. He grinned again shrugged,

“Think you can help a poor guy out?”. You felt your stomach do a bit of a flip as you mumbled some sort of an agreement under your breath. He handed you the beaker once you were at the sodium hydroxide and you tried to explain the process and how to use the pipette. He made sure to make a dramatic show of nodding before you handed him back his beaker. You handed him back the beaker and stared at him a second before rolling your eyes,

“You know how to do this you little-” you started going off at him before he grinned mischievously,

“You do it so good though!” he exclaimed and nudged your arm which did shut you up, “You always just seem like you know what you’re doing,” he added. 

“I don’t know about- ah- thanks,” you mumbled as you looked around the room, trying to avoid eye contact, not knowing where any of this was coming from. Has he really been paying attention to you this whole time? He thought you were smart? He thought you knew what you were doing? Was he complimenting you? He laughed and walked back to his lab bench as you went back to yours and apologized to Jen.

“You still don’t know what that’s all about?” she laughed under her breath as she pointed her pencil at you. Going back to the buret you shook your head.

“Honest to god I didn’t even think he knew my name,” you said, with a small smile, “he just wanted me to do his damn work for him though,”. 

Another hour later once the lab was about halfway done your feet started hurting from standing for so long. You regretted not wearing better ones, but how were you supposed to know… As you were stretching your back and trying to get comfortable you made eye contact with Aaron from across the lab. The goofball had a thing of sodium hydroxide right next to him on his side of the lab this whole time. He never needed to come to your side. Instead of looking away he smiled and waved. You snorted to yourself and bit your bottom lip as you quickly waved back before looking back to your experiment. 

After the tortuous three hour lab was finally done you let down your hair and threw your lab goggles into your backpack, catching yourself in a mirror on the way out and realizing just how bad the marks left behind on your face were. 

“Raccoon eyes!” Jen laughed as she appeared by you in the mirror, finding herself in a similar situation.

“How the hell are we supposed to be taken seriously on campus like this?” you laughed as you tried to see if pulling on your skin helped at all, but much to your chagrin it did nothing.

“I mean they’ll just be jealous we get to do labs instead of just lecture all day,” Jen hummed as she waved goodbye. You smiled and waved back as you threw your backpack over your shoulder and moved to follow.

“Y/N!” Aaron yelled from behind you, getting you to look over your shoulder, “Look we’re twins,” he laughed as he pointed to his face, also having deep marks from the goggles around his glasses on his forehead and cheeks. You couldn’t help but laugh not only at his comment but also how absurd it was that he was now treating you like a close friend.

“I think we all learned our lesson today with the goggles,” you said as you started walking out, with him falling into step beside you. 

“You heard the professor: goggles on, risk gone,” he recited, doing an excellent impression of your professor which garnered another laugh from you. “Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while, but um, do you want to study together? You’ve always been getting the top grades in our classes and you don’t seem like a total nerd…” he said, trailing off as he tried to think of a way to finish the sentence.

“A total nerd?” you asked, faking shock at his accusation.

“See- you can take a joke,” he defended himself and holding his hands up, holding the door open for you with his hip, “I’m trying to get into the FBI, y’know, and I know I heard you are too, so I was thinking of proposing a sort of pact?” he continued to explain, glancing down to see your reaction. You met his eyes before quickly darting back down. It’s true, you did want to be a part of the FBI, as stupid a dream it sounded some days. At the beginning of the year one of your classes had you all go around and discuss what you wanted to do in the long-run, mostly just so then the professor could guilt you into remembering you saying that when students were struggling. 

“I’ll bite,” you say simply with a nod, “you’re really stand out in the psychology classes,” you added.

“And you’re a genius at the science stuff!” he said, turning to walk backwards in front of you, keeping his pace right ahead of yours as he talked facing you, “you’re seeing the vision!”. You couldn’t help but laugh again as you looked at him getting giddy.

“Okay okay, don’t trip,” you said as you pulled his wrist so he was back in step with you, both of you smiling like idiots at this point, knowing that this would be the start of a special friendship.

A/N yeah I'll stand by Aaron being a total college himbo (/endearing) and I'll probably write whatever big event causes him to get serious near the end of his time in college and turn into the daddy hotch we know and love.

[the-inner-musings-of-a-worm]

aftg back to the future au where the second gen of the monsters travel back in time to neil’s freshman year and majorly mess things up. they don’t know how long it took for neil and andrew to get together so when they act cold to each other they freak out and assume they ruined the timeline. shenanigans ensue

aaron’s future daughter: so neil, what do you think of andrew? do you like him

neil, freshly out of his first edens trip: no

aaron’s future daughter: … okay, well do you think he’s cute?

neil: isn’t he your uncle?

kevins daughter after interacting with the monsters: why are you all acting like white trailer trash? stop it.

aaron’s son meeting medicated andrew for the first time: um… why is he like that… is he supposed to be like that… why is he smiling… someone… help… he won’t stop throwing salt at me

they meet riko at some point and it goes like this

riko: being an evil dick

kevin and aaron’s daughter: giggling and looking at him

riko: why are you laughing

them: no reason *start laughing even harder*

and boom riko is defeated by the power of bitchy teenage girls

[mostlyvoid-partiallyflowers]

WIP Wednesday 1/15/25

Hey y'all! Here's the menu for this week's WIP Wednesday! Can't wait to work on these!

KevAaron College Theater au (masterpost)

Kevin Day Angst (masterpost)

When Harry Met Sally KevAaron au

Andreil 5+1 Competency Kink

Andreil Cowboy au

[cissyenthusiast010155]

BAU Team Drabble ~College!au (S3-6)

Request by @commanderh2022 —College!au where Emily, Morgan & Reid are siblings. Hotch adopted them, Rossi is his cop partner, dads. Jj and Penelope are sisters who just moved to town. Will and jj start going out but then she realizes she has a thing for bad girl Emily but keeps it to herself. Morgan is an athlete, player and him and Penelope have a flirty friendship. Reid secretly pines over Jj, knows he can't be with her so…

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: fluff, unreciprocated pining, implied mutual pining…?, teasing, flirting, playful flirting, etc.

Enjoy (:

Reid gets to the college scene, a green freshman, already pretty young. He’s doing a double major, linguistics and criminology. He drops his bags off in his dorm and is about to sit down to a moment of peace…

Morgan, Reid’s older brother, immediately bombards Reid with all the info he needs to know and make sure he gets settled.

Hotch and Rossi stop by to make sure Reid is settling in well.

Hotch makes an effort to be a present adoptive dad, and all his practically-kids love Rossi, so he brings Rossi along.

They’re all together in Reid’s new dorm, except Emily, who’s off somewhere, most likely getting in some sort of trouble…

Morgan makes a joke about Emily’s non-existent presence, making Hotch roll his eyes.

Hotch & Rossi work at the local towns PD next to the college.

They work with Will, a young and new cop, whose grown up in the town.

Penelope & Jj, sisters, recently moved to town. Penelope starts up and runs her cat play/ pottery studio, she’s an upcoming artist. Jj works at the local coffee shop as a barista.

One day at the coffee shop, Will finally bucks up the courage to ask Jj out on a date while ordering his regular. Jj accepts out of impulse and Penelope’s voice reminding her to ‘get out of her comfort zone’, but also because Will seems like a genuinely nice guy.

Penelope likes to chat with the art professor at the college, and then ends up running into Morgan. They instantly click. She likes his athletic, flirty nature, and he likes her playful, quirky personality.

Will talked to Hotch & Rossi about Jj, Rossi blabbed about Will and Jj to Reid at one point— Reid got curious about Jj and went to the coffee shop.

Reid now goes to the shop daily, only to talk to and see Jj.

On any random day at the shop, Jj has served Reid, who now sat in a booth, slowly sipping his drink.

Then Emily came in, making Reid look up, smiling and wave at his sister, Emily gives him a light smile.

Jj’s eyes widened and she gulped as the resident bad girl approached the counter. Jj made Emily her coffee, and she then sat on the other side of the coffee shop from Reid.

Minutes later, Will comes in at 9 o’clock on the dot, as always. But Jj couldn’t pay any attention whatsoever to him. Only Emily existed in her eyes now. She tried to snap out of it, trying to act normal. Will left, leaving Jj with a pit in her stomache and a knowing, sinking feeling.

Reid leaves a couple minutes after Will in a huff. He can’t stand the sight of the two as a couple. But he would never confront either one of them…

Emily comes back for seconds, making Jj blush, as she winks and thanks her for the second drink, going back to her previous spot.

God, Jj was screwed…

Thankfully, Pen and Morgan come in to distract the blonde. They have witty, loud banter across the entire shop, until they come up to the counter to order, where they only get louder.

By the time Penelope and Morgan have gone, Emily had slipped out from the shop. Jj feels a happiness slip away from her when she realizes that Emily is gone.

Jj now looks forward to anytime that Emily comes into the shop. It always makes her day. But she doesn’t dare tell a soul.

Jj and Pen make it a habit to meet at Pen’s studio, often making art, cleaning up, or playing with the cats while chatting away. They are quite close and tell each other almost everything.

Penelope ends up catching onto Jj’s little crush and she relentlessly teased the blonde about it. Jj made Penny swear to never speak a word about it to anyone else.

Obviously Penelope couldn’t keep to that, because she had to tell Morgan. Morgan loves the tea.

At a later ‘Family’ Dinner— Hotch, Rossi, Emily, Morgan, and Reid— Morgan blabs about Emily and Jj obviously having a thing for each other. Emily chuckled and does not deny it. But this pisses Reid off, as that makes another person that Jj apparently likes. He excused himself quickly to go be alone and cry his fragile heart out.

Emily then playfully confronts Jj the next time she’s at the coffee shop. She catches the blonde off guard with her sultry, flirtatious tone. Jj feels conflicted and torn afterward, between Will and Emily.

~~~

Part 2, Continuing the Story…? 😏

Emily Prentiss Masterlist

Jennifer Jareau (Jj) Masterlist

Penelope Garcia Masterlist

[vndiess]

UHM HELLO???? COLLEGE AU?!?? I'M IN LOVEEEE, trying new style btw😋😋😋

I saw @anotherria art and got inspired \/\/

Thanks for the inspiration ig

[themetaphorgirl]

Blakery

Okay question, since Spence is likely spending the summer w the Blake’s is gonna go through a growth spurt and get stronger helping out in the bakery?

--------

oh this is a GREAT question

I have it in my head that Spencer’s growth is super delayed and he doesn’t really hit his first major growth spurt until he’s around 15 or so. He grows some in the meantime (enough to get out of his booster seat!) but he stays small and skinny until all of a sudden he’s NOT.

but! that summer is the first time that he gets to experience a normal little kid summer. he plays outside and they take him to the library and the zoo and the park, he has his twins there to love him and take care of him but he also has Ned and Charlie (and Jeff, who I really haven’t introduced yet but I love him). so it’s a really really good summer for him, and he’s a lot happier and healthier when he goes back to school in the fall.

[timaeusterrored]

Also Mike kinda got slotted into my category of Blake Skovron (the Raven cycle, you can go look at my old trc blog @prokopenkokavinsky for more on him) and Aaron Minyard where I think he’d like stuff like Tyler the Creator but also really like Paramore there is no in between with this man

[laertesrevenge]

In which Aaron Hotchner is a sexy professor, and Rebecca is his infatuated student. College is expensive, and it's certainly not helpful if Rebecca isn't learning anything because of her hot teacher, so she figures she's got to drop the class entirely. Hotchner disagrees..

New chapters out soon!!!

It's all on Ao3 under the same user.

[ourtalechara]

So usually whenever I see Hamilton it triggers this deep existential fear in me that I'm not doing good enough (don't ask)(actually please do I need to vent about it). But this? I just straight up love this. The art style is great and so is the characters' style.

hamilton but college au :D

[pencil-n-pen]

masterlist ⋆ ‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮🧸⋆˙₊📀 ⊹

requests: closed!

request guidelines

fics linked in white are drabbles!

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

──────────────────────

leon kennedy ⋆౨ৎ₊˚⊹

princess : burn out comfort, college au, slight rivals to lovers, eldest daughter! reader- Leon, your rival, just wants you to take care of yourself

overworked : sequel to Princess, enjoying have boyfriend brain with Leon, Leon shows you when to take a break

not so messy : depression/overwhelm comfort, in the princess universe, Leon being a good boyfriend, the magic of cleaning your room (with a hot man)

study or date: a study date with Leon goes awry when an old friend shows up. Luckily, things work out in the end :)

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eddie munson .・。.・゜✭

spill your guts : anxiety comfort, love confessions, fake/practice dating au- Eddie gets upset, and fear responses die hard

music boyfriend i’m your yum-yum: post highschool! eddie x weird girl! reader, weirdos to lovers- coming soon!

──────────────────────

spencer reid ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

all i do is try, try, try : post prison! spencer x new to the team genius! reader, you’ve always been second best, the second choice- he shows you what it’s like to be first

i’m still trying everything : post prison! spencer x fem reader, in the mirrorball universe (the above fic) now that you and spencer started dating, insecurities start to rear their head- spencer knows just what help you need

buzz : spencer x autistic! reader, having a meltdown isn’t fun, but spencer knows how to help :)

suddenly i had a valentine: spencer x hopeless romantic! reader, you’re not sure you have a chance with the hot guy who frequents your cafe, but he shows you otherwise

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aaron hotchner ˙⋆✮

handle with care: aaron x fem! reader, when breaking a mug leads to a flashback, aaron is there to bring you back.

──────────────────────

joel miller (hbo) 𓂃⋆.˚

tongues and teeth : jackson! joel is a protector in his heart. too bad you’re having a hard time letting him after everything you’ve gone through, you’re having a hard time letting him. no ellie au (I’M SORRY)

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tasm! peter parker ･:*࿔.ೃ⋆

coming soon!

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rafe cameron ₊˚⊹ .

youngblood: rafe x black cat! pogue! reader, rafe wants to give the stubborn pogue no guy has ever dated the princess treatment, but she won’t stand for it.

eye to eye, thigh to thigh: sequel to youngblood- you’re having a hard time adjusting to having Rafe of a boyfriend, but thankfully Rafe (and his wallet) are happy to help

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ghost (COD) ── .✦

coming soon!

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evan buckley ๋࣭ ⋆｡ °✩

reduced to skin and bone: buck x fem! coworker! reader- you’re a people pleaser, too good at what you do. It’s a shame Evan “Buck” Buckley sees right through you.

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robert chase ᝰ.ᐟ

coming soon!

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daryl dixon . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

coming soon!

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rick grimes .☘︎ ݁˖

i want an innocent love : alexandria leader! rick x fawn (not literally) reader- you’re a soft, sweet little thing- and Rick can’t figure out why he wants you so bad.

plush: rick x fem! reader- since arriving to alexandria, you’ve put on some weight. rick happens to like it very much

──────────────────────

benedict bridgerton ✧˖°.

you bewitch me- benedict x eldest daughter! reader (NOT INCEST)- You’re a spinster in the making, and really, have no business entertaining the likes of Benedict Bridgerton. It’s a shame you both find arguing so invigorating.

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˗ˏˋ★‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[strawburry01]

Enjoy the Silence

Summary: (college) Aaron and Y/N at a halloween party where someone gets a little drunk. Still a little conflicted angsty. Don't need to have read the other stuff leading up to this but it helps!

Word Count: 3k

AN: Guys, why do things keep happening to me? I sprained my ankle so bad running after this exchange student I met like, two nights ago, and he just laughed! SMH. Forgive me for how terribly this may read near the end- I'm just trying to get something out. I'll edit it later (maybe) (probably not) (oopsies!)

It had been about half a year of you and Aaron studying tirelessly in the library, but it wasn’t for nothing. Both of you were getting the highest scores on the exams in class and had, by the grace of god, made it onto the Dean’s list last year. It left both of you more determined than ever, but also more inseparable than ever. At this point you were both either at the library, class, or at each other’s place, much to the dismay of your roommates who would like some peace and quiet some nights. Luckily for them, this was one of the nights you were both out of the house, as it was Halloween. Well, the Friday before Halloween. Nobody really wanted to party on a Monday night.

Aaron and you had fought about matching costumes for a while because you refused to dress as Sandra from Grease because you thought she was such a pushover and gave up all her morals for Danny, even thought it would’ve made for a really good costume. He eventually gave up and just admitted he wanted to wear his leather jacket and didn’t care what you dressed as.

Well that is until you met him at his house in a matching leather jacket. He shut the door on your face before you could open your mouth.

“We are NOT showing up to a costume party MATCHING,” he shouted from the other side of the door.

“Aaron you said you wanted to match though!” you shouted back, trying to hide back your laughs.

“You know what I meant Y/N and it wasn’t this!”. 

“Oh come on you kill joy everyone is going to be so jealous of how cute we look!” you laughed as you shoved your fists in your pockets, thinking you looked damn good. You heard him shuffle around on the other side of the door before finally opening it with a dramatic sigh and eye roll.

“You kill me,” he sighed as he started down the porch, letting you catch up to him. You smiled as you stepped into pace besides him. You were heading to one of his friend’s party’s for the night. Aaron insisted it would be fun, but he’d brought it up enough you were getting a little suspicious. Aaron started talking about his roommates' failed cooking attempts as you lit a cigarette between your lips. 

“You’re smoking?” he asked, stopping his story and turning to you as you puffed out a cloud of smoke. You turned away trying to hide it from him.

“So what? You worried about me?” you hummed, trying to diffuse his anger as you ashed the cigarette end. He rolled his eyes and focused back onto the sidewalk.

“That’s bad for you y’know?” he stated matter-of-factly.

“I do know Aaron,” you responded in the same tone as you tapped his shoulder with your free hand. He always hated when you started smoking. It was a cycle you’d gotten yourself into at the beginning of this year starting every few weeks and then quitting whenever Aaron would start stealing and hiding your packs. You smushed your cigarette into the ground once you were finished right outside the house. Aaron had put on some sunglasses to add to his costume which you giggled at. 

“Stop it, you know I look good,” he said as he threw his arm around your shoulders lazily leaning onto you as you both stood in front of the door. You laughed more and patted his chest as you snaked an arm behind his waist to steady him. His friend whips open the door and the noise of the party booms onto the porch. 

“Aaron! Y/N!” he shouted, the scent of alcohol already emanating off of him, “you made it!”. Aaron hugged his friend and started talking as you nodded your hello and slipped into the thumping house, letting the two catch up. It was already packed somehow even though it had just begun, that’s what they’d get for inviting a bunch of nerds. There were several black cats of varying authenticity, a few Gene Simmon’s look-alikes, a smattering of half-assed Jedi, and a fair amount of suspect Spidermen and other superheros. You smiled peacefully to yourself, despite the chaos around you, taking in the moment and what all led to you even getting invited to such an event. You slipped a hand into the cooler to grab a beer and cracked it open to start sipping on it as you watched the crowd. You’d always been a bit of a wallflower, while Aaron was the chatty one. Sure enough, he was still chatting with his friend, just as energetic as he was before. Your old lab partner Jen spotted you at the party and danced her way through the crowed until she was by you.

“Ohmygod Y/N, so great to see you!” she shouted over the speaker. You stifle a smile seeing how out of it she was.

“Jen, how are you?” you asked, trying to be sincere, swishing your drink. She nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m so great Y/N. Who do you know here?!” she said back. 

“Uhm, I’m here with Aaron,” you admitted bashfully. Sure enough Jen responded with raised eyebrows and a shoulder nudge.

“You guys are still talking? That’s going gooood?” she said, leaning closer and waggling her eyebrows. You playfully scoffed and pushed her away.

“You know it’s not like that Jen, we’re just…friends,” you said, glancing behind  her at Aaron still gesticulating a story to his friend. She moved her head to block your view.

“Sure and is that why you guys are wearing matching costumes?” she accused. You rolled your eyes and sipped the beer.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” you said under your breath. 

“You’re blushing!” Jen giggled obnoxiously as she shook you by the shoulders, to which you swatted her away and tried to shush her even though he was across the room. She aww-ed at your shyness and eventually calmed down. “Okay okay, but still-” she said, “you two are cute together,”.

“Thanks,” you mutter under your breath, looking around the room for Aaron again only to see he had finally moved away from his friend. Where did he go? 

“Hello Jen,” he suddenly chirped, appearing besides you, double fisting two red Solo cups. “Ah cheers,” he said quickly clinking his cups to your beer. 

“Hello Aaron!” she smiles back with a toothy grin, “Ugh you two look so good,” she said looking at both of you. Aaron smiled and looked down at his own outfit before looking at you and nodding, confirming her compliment.

“Thank you Jen, you look good too,” he said back, eyes glancing over her and her fairy costume. 

“You’re too sweet Aaron,” she said, “Okay okay okay I’ll leave you two alone, say bye before you leave!!!” she said in an airy tone grabbing both of your forearms before wandering back into the crowd. Aaron silently took a sip of one of his drinks and smacked his lips before looking back down at you.

“She’s- something!” he remarked. You nodded and matched him with your own sip. 

“She’s nice, just a bit of a party animal,” you agreed, “like someone else I know” you chuckled, elbowing Aaron.

“Pfft as if, I just like talking to people. Unlike soooome,” he retorted, elbowing you back.

“Let me catch up to you then I’ll get social” you jokingly grumbled, taking another sip. He snorted.

The party continued and Aaron and you split again. Sure enough, you do warm up to chat with your classmates and friends as you keep another beer in hand. You feel a buzz starting as you laugh loudly at someone’s joke as you attempt to land a ping pong ball into a solo cup across the table. You miss and loudly shout ‘SHIT!’, only to quickly feel a body pressed against your back, a hand holding onto your hip.

“Let me try for a redemption shot,” Aaron laughed, reverberating in your ear as someone hands him a ping pong ball. He completely misses and you both burst out laughing, and you take the opportunity to lean back on his chest, only to have his grip tighten on your hip. “I didn’t say I was going to be good,” he defended himself as you watched the opposing team try to make their shots. You reach behind yourself and pat his cheek.

“Sure you are,” you tease back, feeling his warm cheek under your hand before you go to grab another fumbled ball. It’s crazy how bad hand eye coordination gets when you’re drunk. You weren’t complaining though. Having Aaron this close was…nice, but you would never really admit it. The game continues and you two end up losing, but just barely. Aaron happily finishes the drinks as you insist you can’t handle any more, mostly because you’ve seen how long it’d been sitting out. Aaron’s fraternity brother tendencies came out whenever he was trying to impress people with these games. 

You expect him to step away once the game is done, but instead he stays right where he is, moving his arms up they’re wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you close. He sets his head on your shoulder blade and sighs.

“You alright?” you ask, tilting your head to look at him. You felt him nod onto your shoulder.

“I’m doing just swell Y/N,” he says, knowing he doesn’t need to shout, which makes a chill run up your spine. He tightens his grip for a second before changing his mind, “can we go to the couch actually,” he mumbles to you. You obliged and started to weave your way through the partygoers back to the living room where you know there’s a few couches. Aaron doesn’t let go, despite stumbling a few times into your back. You throw some coats left on a couch onto the arms of it and sit down, Aaron finally releasing his hold. He flops down, laying his head on your lap, leaving his legs dangling off the end of the couch. He grumbles and groans as he throws his sunglasses off into the void of people dancing. “Y/N…I’m getting the spins,” he groans as he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Oh shit, Aaron’s actually drunk.

You can’t help but gently place a hand on his hair and run your fingers through it.

“Poor Aaron drank too much?” you asked in a sing songy voice.

“Don’t baby talk me,” he whined as he lowered his hands and kept his eyes firmly shut, “can’t you just make me feel better,”.

“What would make you feel better?” you ask, raising your eyebrows to yourself. His eyes flashed open and he opened his mouth to say something, but instead of words he shoots up and promptly throws up over the side of the couch onto the ground. Yeah, good thing you didn’t drink that shit. 

You make him lay down on the couch as you tie up your hair and start trying to clean up the mess. Aaron’s friend finds you trying and grabs your attention.

“Y/N, yeah? Don’t worry about it-” he said, not seeming stressed, “I got this if you just uh, promise to get him home,” he said, tilting his chin in the direction of the still groaning Aaron. You nodded dutifully, you would much rather take this deal. After a few minutes of convincing you’re able to coax Aaron to his feet, leading him out before he can throw up on the floor again.

He does throw up again in the lawn and you try to pat his back to make him feel better, although you’ve never really seen him get sick from drinking so you’re not sure if you’re helping or harming. The two of you are able to make it back to his house, in only twice the normal time due to his drunken ramblings requiring perfect stillness in the middle of the street. 

“Y/N, you know I love you right?” he says bluntly the moment you pull the key to his house out of his jacket pocket. You froze. You know he doesn’t mean it like that, unless he does. You can’t really trust him with how half-shut his eyes are right now.

“I uh, love you too Aaron,” you say, forcing a bit of a smile into the corner of your mouth as you open the door to the dark house. Dammit, he’s not shuffling back into his room without a tumble or waking up the whole house. “We’re getting you to bed okay?” you say to him, as you hold an arm around his waist to steady him.

“Can you spend the night? I love you,” he said through his mumbles as the two of you stepped into the house. He leans his head down so he’s just speaking into your hair. 

“Aaron I don’t know I-” you try to interject.

“But I love youuuu and you never spend the night,” he whines like a teenager as you kicked open the bottom of his door to try and avoid a clatter. You sigh as you navigate him to his bed and let him fall onto it.

“Take off your shoes ya drunk,” you say as you cross your arms and flick on the lights. He hisses at the bright lights, but does kick off his boots before trying to get under the blankets. He eventually opens his eyes again and looks at you.

“Please spend the night Y/N,” he says softly, opening the blankets, “I just want you here,”. You’d spent the night before with him, but usually just on the couch after falling asleep on his shoulder during a movie. Did he actually mean this? Or was he just that drunk? “Please?”.

You can’t say no to this guy’s face. You sighed  and kicked off your own shoes and hit the lights before crawling into the area under the blanket. You can hear Aaron trying to form a sentence but he just mumbles words as he pulls you closer by the small of your back. You give in and rest your head on his chest, hearing just how fast his heart is beating, glad it isn’t just your own. 

“Y/N?” he finally gets out, breaking the silence of just the two of your breaths. 

“Yes Aaron?”

“Don’t leave me,”.

“I won’t,”.

You feel him slowly rubbing your back before eventually falling into a loud snore. He’s lucky he was handsome, otherwise you’d be smothering him with a pillow. Eventually you’re able to fall asleep into the darkness, trying to not overthink things.

You wake up to sunlight hitting you directly in the eyes through the window across the room. You groaned and turned to try and hide your face, remembering at the same time you were in a bed that was not your own. You groaned as you realize Aaron isn’t in bed anymore with you. Shit. You sit up in the bed, rubbing your head groggily. As if on command, Aaron swings the door open with two cups of coffee. His face brightens as he sees you’re awake.

“Good morning Y/N,” he says, his morning voice making your stomach do a flip. Well, either that or the residual alcohol. 

“How are you feeling?” you ask him, as you gratefully take the cup. 

“Not the best, I can’t lie,” he admits as he sits at the foot of the bed. You wished he’d just come back under the covers though, “I don’t really remember coming back home,” he says as he takes a sip of the coffee.

“Do you remember any of last night?” you asked. He shrugs, still facing the door.

“I remember doing really bad at beer pong with you,” he offered, rubbing the back of his head, “was I embarrassing? Oh Christ what did I say-”.

“Nothing! You just threw up on the floor, and then I uh- took you home,” you nodded, agreeing to yourself on this story.

“Mmm,” he hummed, before silence took over the room again. He didn’t ask what you were doing in his bed. He didn’t admit that he did remember some of the drunken haze. It wasn’t lying that he didn’t remember the walk home- he really didn’t- but he did remember you unlocking the door. And he vaguely remembered admitting he loved you.

For now though, the silence was welcome. The two of you sipped your coffee. 

“We didn’t fuck right?” he asked, only to be met with a pillow to the cheek.

[emry-stars-art]

@neilimfinejosten said coffee shop au last month so you’ll never guess what I’ve been thinking about

A few thoughts under the cut!

Andrew works at a coffee shop in a college town, so far with all the foxes except Aaron, and Neil’s been far away on the run. I’ve been putting Robin in this one and I bet Seth hangs around the shop for Allison. Aaron will pick up a shift or two but mostly he’s focusing on school.

Anyway one day in a cold winter a new guy comes into the shop looking to warm up, and Andrew just happens to be working the register (rare). It’s hard to tell with the mask, but this guy doesn’t seem to be much older than him or the team, and Andrew can catch glances of bandages and band-aids under his clothes.

He becomes a regular through winter, but none of the baristas can decide on his name because he gives a different one every time he comes in.