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redfoxwritesstuff · 23 days ago

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AN: I don't hate color. There's more than enough color here! I don't know why someone is spreading such hateful rumors!

Summary: You believed in treating yourself and what better time to treat yourself than the holiday season? Unfortunately, thanks to your packed schedule you didn't have a lot of time to do that. And when you do, you don't pay enough attention to which card you use to pay.

Vox is in for a rather exciting surprise in the company charge history

CW: Unconsentual voyogerism, sexy toys, anal plug

Seasons struggled to be much of a thing in hell, though they tried. It was often simply a case of hot versus hotter when it came to weather. Though there were extreme shifts that would linger for a few days to a few weeks, blanketing the city in thick layers of acidic snow.

It was pretty enough when you were just looking at it from the window, sparkling in the dim red sun of hell. Each snowflake was perfectly shaped. It was so pretty when it fell, flakes dancing through the air. You would indulge in hours, sitting at your window with a book and a hot mug of tea, enjoying the snow falling.

It was frankly terrible if you had to be out in it. The acidic snow slowly ate at the buildings, sidewalks, and roads. Anything caught up in it suffered from the acid slowly corroding through it. The longer it stuck around, the worse the damage to everything it touched was.

You, like everyone else who could afford items made of acid resistant fabrics, were decked out in it as you scurried from building to building. No one wanted to be out in this stuff longer than they needed to be, even with the expensive resistant gear and that included you. If you were out in it long enough, the acid would still eat through the resistant fabrics.

Your boss paid a lot of money to ensure the upper employees of VoxTek could have the ability to move about the city with class and dignity while the lowly sinners would run through the streets, screaming as the acid burned their feet and legs while they got where they were going.

You didn’t need to be out right now, though, not really. The peace of a rare snowy day had you restless in a way your mug of tea or a good book couldn’t seem to battle. It brought an unusual peace that you were not used to dealing with.

It was quite the trip across the city to make it to a store not owned by any of the Vees. At least, you were pretty sure this little sex store was outside of Valentino’s control. Stores outside of his control were few and far between, making it hard to ever really be sure.

It lacked the purple and pink branding Valentino was so fond of. That had to be a good sign, right? It wasn’t like you could ask and expect an honest answer. Lies flowed like water in hell.

Oh well.

Stepping inside, you took your time looking around after knocking the snow from your boots. The ground just inside the door was already showing the wear from melted acid snow eating into the tiles. It had only been on the ground for two days and yet by the time it was gone, the floors around the entry likely would need to be replaced.

Dildos, vibrators and plugs lined the back wall, all on proud display. The racks of clothing were stuffed full, making it difficult to flip through the options. Either they over ordered their inventory or the shop simply didn’t move product fast enough to keep up with the change in styles.

It didn’t matter to you, even if Val owned this shop, it fell outside your scope of duties. You ran business reports on tech sales for Vox, not the sales of sex toys and porn for Valentino.

Moaning filled the air as porn played on the large TV on the wall, advertising the movie choices similar to how your boss would advertise the movies and shows he produced on the large TVs in his electronic stores. It felt weirdly out of place and yet oh so fitting in the store.

You were growing far too numb to casual pornography exposure. When was the last time you batted an eye when walking into a studio to deliver some message or file to Valentino on behalf of Vox?

You were so tired, worked to the bone as Vox prepared for the holiday season. It surprised you at first that Christmas was a thing in hell, but once you started working for Vox, it all made so much more sense. It was the same as it had been in life, a capitalistic mockery of what the holiday had once been.

“I’ll just treat myself,” you whispered, being far too used to talking to yourself as you worked alone.

You flipped through slinky outfits, bra and pantie sets as you waited for something to catch your eye. What you wanted was something bright and blue. Cyan, ideally, but you’d settle for teal. You were picky, but not too picky.

You didn’t think you’d find anything. Your color preferences were so very bright for the citizens of hell. Finding so much to choose from made you giddy. Eagerly, you snagged a lacy robe and draped it over your arm. It was nearly totally lace, silky threads making the fabric soft rather than itchy. There was no part of your body that the garment would hide, nor would it do anything to keep you warm, but it would put you on display, and that was what you wanted.

Not that you had anyone to display yourself for other than yourself. Your crush on your boss was disgustingly one sided. You knew he had his thing with Valentino and even if he liked women, and you were not so sure that he did, you couldn’t hold a candle to the towering porn moth.

You had your fantasies, though, filed away for when you were off the clock, and that was good enough. It had to be good enough. It would be good enough. You would not fuck up your job and the security it provided by outing your little or not so little crush on Vox.

What you would do was just buy yourself intimate items that would remind him of you from the other side of town. He would never know. It was as close to having your cake and eating it too as you could get.

A bright blue push-up bra snagged your attention. It delighted you when you grabbed it, finding it to be in your size. It would surely place your tits on a shelf, making them look amazing. Along with it, you added a cheeky pair of panties. Thongs were so in style, but you loved the lace backing of the pair you grabbed, how it would hide none of your ass but draw attention to everything it pretended to cover. Rhinestones dotted the waistband, sure to glitter and catch the light through the robe.

The lacy continued on the front, dipping down into the silk that would cover your pubic mound and extend between your legs, covering your core in a sharp V. It was like it was made with your employer in mind.

Maybe it was. Vox was recently voted hell’s sexiest bachelor, though you doubted that if he hadn’t won honestly, he would have had you rig the results.

With your clothing sorted for the evening, you set about looking at toys.

You were far from a blushing virgin, but you didn’t have the largest collection either. If you were going to leave here with a whole outfit to remind you of Vox, one of many you had collected over the years but surely the most blatant one so far, you should go all out.

Dildos of very shape and size lined the walls. Some thrust on their own, some squirted some simulation of jizz for the lonely sinner who couldn’t find someone to actually cum in thier holes. They came in all sorts of shapes too.

The taboo of dildos outside of the human shape was long gone in hell. It was hard to give a shit about if a dick looked like that of a dog, a cat or something else when most of the citizens were far from humanoid in the rest of their bodies.

It was just one more thing you simply had to get used to.

“What would his look like?” Again, you were talking to yourself.

You picked up different shapes and styles, each heavy in your hand. What caught your eye and stopped your breath was a thick, humanoid cock that would stretch you. Vox was tall and surely he would be gifted in size as well. He would have to be to be proportionate.

It was meant to be; you decided as you ran your fingers over the veins. The plastic was dark blue and you couldn’t think past the way it reminded you of the color of Vox’s forearms when he’d shed his coat, rolling up his white sleeves and settling into a problem.

As you made your way down the aisle, you intended to call it a day. The items in your arms would be far more than you had intended to spend, but a bright blue anal plug caught your attention. A pretty blue gem topped shiny silvery metal. It was impulsive as you grabbed it up, adding it to the stack of stuff you piled on the counter.

“Please, hurry?” You asked the cashier after checking the time on your phone. You had a late meeting to sit in on with Vox. Thankfully, it was remote and you could attend from home, but Vox would know if you didn’t make it home in time.

The clerk did everything but hurry. Each item was scanned at a relaxed pace as you stood, bouncing on your heels as you waited. It was amazing how long it could take to scan what amounted to a handful of items.

“It’ll be $425,” the clerk said slowly. “And 37 cents.”

You rushed, grabbing a card from your purse and shoving it into the hands of the clerk as soon as it was time to pay. The total didn’t really matter to you. Truth be told, you didn’t really hear to number. Everything was expensive in hell, but Vox compensated you well for your work.

You snatched up the receipt and the card, shoving them both into the bag before dashing outside. The slowly melting snow splashed under your boots, shooting burning drops of water up onto your legs. Though the pants you wore were resistant, that didn’t stop the fabric from smoking slightly as you rushed your way across the city.

Vox leaned back in his chair as an unexpected notification ran across his screen. Someone used the company card at some slinky little sex store across the city. Digital eyes scanned the data, looking for the cardholder’s name so that he knew who it was he needed to kill for being so careless as to misuse company finds, only to find it was your card.

You were never careless. At least, not typically.

Vox delved deeper into the data, searching for who owned the unfamiliar store. It wasn’t one of Valentino’s, but that wouldn’t stop Vox from finding out what you had purchased.

Sure, it was a little stalkery but really; you had spent his money. Technically, those items belonged to him. He purchased them. He deserved to know what it was he had purchased for you. The store’s systems took little effort at all to break into.

In less than ten minutes, he was searching sales records for the order tied to you.

“Ah,” His eyes flicked from one screen to another as the search pinged with a result. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Vox had always been rather fond of you, growing more so as each year passed. You seemed to be unaffected by his flirting, attempts seeming to go right over your head. Though he had tried again and again to flag your attention, he never seemed to make any headway with you.

At least, that’s what Vox had thought.

Now, as he sat as his eyes scanned the sales list, he wasn’t so sure about that. It was hard to deny what he saw. The grin on his screen spread greedily as he imagined you wearing the bra and panty set you had picked out. What a lovely color it would be on you! Would you drape the lacy robe over your shoulders, tie it together and pretend to be covered?

You were taking the meeting from home tonight. Would you be wearing your pretty little getup as you listened to his voice? Surely, you had been thinking of him while you shopped. There was no way you picked the colors out based on a sense of company loyalty.

Vox hoped so. He had already decided he would take a peek at you through the webcam. What harm could it do? A little confirmation that they were for you and not some lover you had lined up. If you were into chicks only or had someone already, that would explain why you were not taking the bait on any of his advances.

Before he did that, there was more to the list. Scrolling down, he found a sex toy he had forgotten Val had roped him into making. It was a replica, well nearly, of his own tool. The item was discontinued years ago and Vox hadn’t allowed his name to be used for the marketing directly, but it would seem there are some still on the shelves of the smaller stores.

Along with the long forgotten replica of his cock, you had purchased a plug for your ass, topped with a pretty blue gem. Would you wear it while you worked? Vox hoped you would. He’d give anything to bend you over his desk and see that pretty little gem peeking out from under your skirt.

“Fuck,” Vox groaned as he settled into his chair, letting the cables connect to the back of his screen.

On the other side of the internet connection, you walked through your apartment. In your panic, you had mis-recorded the time of the meeting and found yourself with two hours to spare.

There wasn’t as much time as you wanted, but it was more than enough time. You made a point of rocking your hips as you walked up to the full-length mirror next to your desk. The robe hugged your curves, caressing your legs as you walked.

The bra and panties were such a contrast with the bright blue robe. It made the items pop out from under the fabric. The dark blue heels you wore clicked against the wooden floors.

You wished it was Vox you were walking up to. You wished it was Vox that would be taking your news purchases off your body. It wasn’t fair, but you would make do. There was no way you were going to present yourself to Vox, to ask him to notice you. He had Valentino and you would never hope to catch his eye over him.

You ran your hands over your curves as you rocked your hips this way and that. You couldn’t have Vox, but you could pretend. Long step after long step took you to the bed. There was no audience, but that didn’t stop you from putting on a show as you wiggled out of the lacy panties.

Crawling up onto the bed, you faced the mirror as you cupped your breast through the lace and cup of the bra. Spreading your legs, you moaned as the cold air washed over your wet folds. You grabbed the plug, small but no less intimidating to your inexperienced self, and ran the cold metal over your folds.

You gathered slick on it, using it to smear slick down to your virginal asshole as you watched yourself in the mirror.

On the other side of the internet connection, Vox watched with wide eyes as you gasped, head thrown back and breasts pushed out. The shiny silver point of the plug worked into your tight asshole as Vox’s pants grew painfully tight around his waist.

“Oh,” you moaned, the laptop speaker just picking up the sound. “Fuck, Vox.”

“Oh, shit.” Vox scrambled to work his pants open, eyes never leaving the screen as the plug sank deeper into your puckered asshole. “Oh, fuck. Oh, damn.”

“I’ve never,” you gasped again as your asshole gave up the battle against the intrusion, spreading to swallow the plug and pull it deeper in one quick motion, “Fuck,” you cried out before continuing, “Done this before.”

“Oh baby,” Vox cooed from his chair as he ripped the fly of his pants open and yanking his cock out. He pumped his fist around his shaft as he watched. “First time having something in that pretty little ass of yours? Let me show you how good it can be.”

You pushed and pulled on the plug in your ass, letting your body stretch and adjust to the intrusion. Shudders ran through your body as it struggled with the unfamiliar feeling.

That didn’t stop you from running your fingers over your clit, smearing slick around as you chased pleasure. Once your trembling stilled, you picked up the intimidating dildo.

It had seemed reasonable in the store, but now that it was out of the package and in your hands, you knew it would be a task. The bubbling sound of air in the viscous liquid filled the room as you squeezed a generous glob onto the head of the artificial cock.

The silky liquid was smoothe and cold as you used your hand to spread it over the soft plastic. You were determined to spread yourself over him tonight, before your meeting.

You deserved this. You told yourself that over and over as you worked the large head into your tight opening. The shaft inched deeper and deeper as you pushed it unrelentingly inside. The thin wall separating it from the metal plug in your ass was pinched, not painfully so, but enough that you couldn’t hope to forget how full you were.

“Fuck, Vox.” It was cheesy, lame to moan the name of your crush while you fucked yourself decked out in his colors, using toys that reminded you of him on your body, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was going to ever find out, anyway.

“Fuck me,” you moaned as the dildo reached as deep inside you as you could push.

“In a heartbeat,” Vox said, fist working along his length greedily.

He zoomed in on the camera, using every bit of editing software he had to sharpen the image. His eyes ran over your body, taking in the way your cunt was spread over the poor replica of his cock.

“You’re so big,” you moaned as you wiggled the base of the cock, rocking the length inside you. “Can’t fit it all.”

“Don’t worry,” Vox’s hips twitched, humping up into his hand as he watched you pull the dark blue cock from your body just to shove it in again. “I’ll fuck you. I’ll make you take it all. You can do it,”

His rhythm was growing slopping as he chased his orgasm. With what little processing power he could spare, he reached out to Papermint- not his ideal assistant, but fuck, he would not bother you right now. You were doing far more important things for him.

He generated the email, marking it urgent and sent off his demand for the evening schedule to be cleared. You were lazy in your thrusts as he worked his fist faster and faster. His balls pulled up and as you moaned his name again.

“Fuck, Doll,” Vox was thrusting into his fist now, hand hitting his pelvis in a bruising pace. “Babydoll keep saying my name, just like that, and I’ll-”

“Vox,” you moaned as you thrust the dildo into you again and again, pace picking up. “Fuck, Vox.”

Vox’s legs kicked out as he came, hot ropes of white cream shooting through the air as he twitched. The screens all went blue, except for the one feeding the video from your camera. His hand lazily stroked his cock as he waited for more of his systems to power back on.

The blue screen that had replaced his face blinked once before Vox had regained his systems. He watched as you moved onto your knees, preparing to ride the dildo.

“Don’t worry, Dollface.” Vox said, tucking his cock back into his pants. “I’ll be right over.”

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

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legobiwan · 7 months ago

Note

For the drabble prompt list

"none of this is your fault" mario and luigi

Drabbles, they said, Ha! I answered. Anyway, I have no idea where this came from, but enjoy this barely-edited not-drabble. I am apparently incapable of concise writing right now :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“None of this is your fault, Lou.”

Luigi scoffed, pushing dampened sleeves up both arms, smearing dark, sweaty grease across his skin in wide, impressionistic lines.

“You tell that to Toadsworth in three days. I’m sure he’ll be happy to believe you,” Luigi groused, tightening a stubborn, thick bolt with a violent twist. That should keep the engine boosters from flying off at speeds exceeding thirty miles an hour. (Or as they were counted in the Mushroom Kingdom, five hundred and two mycelia per second, a measuring system so opaque - and infuriating - that Luigi had sat through an entire five-hour Toad Council meeting just so he could petition the government to introduce a bill to launch a public vote on switching to any other quantifier that made a modicum of sense. The notion, of course, was voted down in a manner of seconds. Tradition, Mister Luigi, Toadsworth had sniffed, rapping his long-handled gavel with an imperious gesture, closing off all debate on the matter).

Snobby old toad could stuff it up his spore holes.

“He’ll get over it,” Mario said. “What’s he going to do, anyway? Make us sit through another boring state dinner?”

Luigi poked at a serpentine belt that resembled some slices of old cheese he once found in the back of their fridge in Brooklyn. How these guys managed to stay competitive with equipment in this condition was a complete slap in the face to basic physics.

“You like those dinners.” Luigi crawled out from under the dented chassis, sitting back on his haunches as he gestured at his brother with a ratchet-wrench, making curly patterns in the air as if he were a Magikoopa casting a spell.

“I hate those dinners as much as you. They’re hot, stuffy, and the food is an insult to the entirety of Brooklyn. It’s not my fault I get to sit next to Peach and you’re always stuck with Lady Maitake and her hundreds of onion bulb-pup photos for two hours.”

“Don’t remind me. Did you know she’s trying to train them to do circus acts and take them on the road?” Luigi ran a finger down one of the dusty schematics strewn about the stone floor. “Hand me that spanner, will you?”

Mario shook his head, chuckling, handing off the hooked tool to Luigi, who shimmied once more underneath the maroon-and-black kart. “Look, you got hoodwinked into a bad contract. I should have looked over the fine print before you signed.”

“You’re not my keeper, Mario,” Luigi grumbled, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “And it’s not even the contract that I care about. Frankly, I’m impressed Bowser’s been able to get these things to do anything beyond cough up smoke and crash into the nearest palm tree. It’s a good challenge to get them running again.”

“So what’s the issue, then?”

Luigi stilled, his hands guts-deep in a mess of wiring and cables that looked like an earthworm graveyard. After a moment, he sighed, letting the spanner tool clatter to the floor with a bright, metallic jangle.

“The issue,” he began, staring up at the internal electronic system of one of Bowser’s so-called best racing karts. “Is that he’s probably going to win. Bowser, that is. And everyone will make nice about it at the awards ceremony and Bowser will get too drunk on elderflower wine and get kicked out of the post-race party.”

“That happens every race, Lou.”

“Yeah, but you know Bowser. He’ll let it slip that I was the one doing repairs on his karts. And then in the morning, there will be a meeting. And Toadsworth will go on about the standing of the Kingdom being compromised and it being a diplomatic catastrophe that we allowed Bowser to win and that,” Luigi adopted a whiny, pompous voice. “Mr. Luigi has once again strained his credibility within the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“Look, that stodgy old Toad has no chance of making those charges stick. You were exonerated, Weeg. Nothing that happened with Bleck - “ Mario clenched his fists, hissing through his teeth. “Nothing that happened in that place was you. That wasn’t your fault, and neither is this.”

Luigi reached towards one of the dangling battery coils, playing with the violet and yellow wires between his fingers. “Sure,” he breathed. “Not me.”

“Not you,” Mario insisted, his voice steely. “And besides,” he continued, a hint of humor creeping into his words. If you’re so concerned about Toadsworth, why don’t you sabotage Bowser’s fleet?”

Luigi pushed himself out from under the kart, snapping up to a seat in wide-eyed horror.

“And ruin my reputation as an engineer? No way, bro. I’ll risk the treason charges, thank you very much.”

Mario guffawed, ambling over to take a seat next to his brother, the two coming shoulder-to-shoulder, backs set against the passenger door of the Koopa Coupe. “I think your reputation is beyond reproach, Lou.” Mario gave a small, uncertain smile. “After all, you did build two killer robots in the span of two weeks.”

It was a huge step forward, just being able to talk about the whole incident in Flipside, no less joke about it - the ordeal with Bleck and the jester and Luigi’s brainwashing. Mario had stayed tight-lipped about the entire debacle for weeks after they had gotten back, much to Luigi’s aggravation, until things came to a head one night due to a series of ill-conceived plans on the part of the Toad Council, the most brazen of which featured a misserved cup of tea laced with a dubiously legal truth potion.

Luigi sniffed out half a chuckle, nudging his brother in the shoulder. “Well, I can’t let Bowser think I’m slipping, right?”

Mario eyed his brother carefully, his features brightening as he caught the note of mischief in Luigi’s voice. Grinning, he clapped his brother on the knee. “You’ve got an idea, don’t you? The Old Koopa King doesn’t know what he’s got coming.”

Luigi straightened, composing himself into the picture of innocence. “Dear brother, I am a man of my word. Bowser will win the race, just like the contract stipulates.”

“And?”

“Aaand,” Luigi drew out the word, schematics and thermodynamic equations taking shape in his mind. “Let’s say the engine modifications I’m making happen to engage a set of rocket boosters at a certain speed threshold. Bowser’ll like that. But then maybe the activation of those boosters, given a certain location and time input, temporarily cede control of the brakes and steering to a pre-programmed route of the engineer’s choosing.” Luigi paused for dramatic effect. “All after the race is finished, of course. No injuries. No harm. Just a little post-race joyride through the forest.”

Mario gave a joyous whoop, bringing his brother into a tight, side-hug. “They’ll hear him screaming all the way in Rogueport! Ha! You know he’ll threaten to invade during the after-party! No one will care if you worked on his kart once he shows back up breathing smoke!”

“He’ll do that regardless,” Luigi laughed, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. “But you know how these modifications are. Always a chance of overburdening your circuits.”

“And at least it’ll be a while before he tries to trick you into doing his dirty work again,” Mario added.

“I hope so.” Luigi placed a warm hand on his brother’s shoulder, smiling. “Thanks, Mario.”

Mario beamed back at his brother, playfully flicking the brim of Luigi’s hat. “Come on, Lou. Show me how to build a sentient robot race kart.”

~~~~~

Drabble writing challenge: Make me sweat!

#hello there #writing #the eternal struggle #luigi #mario #writing prompts #ask meme #no i will not tell you how the contract came about i have no idea #yes i *do* actually have a story in the works about the tea incident #LET'S FUCKING WRITE YEAH #for once only minimal angst!#still rusty still getting back in writing shape #and speaking of in shape: time to try to run again after a few day layoff

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sabrinasopposite · 14 days ago

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game-boy; resume?

pt. 2 of ,,game-boy !'' / clark kent x reader

but you took my love for granted and it took me two years to understand it

summary: a broken heart and a gameboy. y/n makes her way to smallville to fix the things that matters her, was it her desire of the happy ending or truly her heart?

It was strange, how a game could feel so much like life—full of little victories and crushing defeats, like a series of choices made in a world that offered no reset button. Y/N had tried to move past it all—the late nights, the quiet silences after Clark’s absence, the emptiness that lingered in the spaces he used to fill.

Yet, she found herself holding the Game Boy again, tracing the worn edges of its plastic casing. It was as if the world had somehow paused for a moment, waiting for her to press *Start* again.

She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for. That the game would offer something new? That it would play itself differently this time?

Maybe.

But there was something about it—the way the colors flickered on the screen, the way the music filled the air—that made her feel like she could win. Even if the game had been broken before, maybe now it could work again.

The days drifted by in a haze, a blur of routine that left her empty and wanting. The memory of Clark lingered like a half-finished puzzle, pieces scattered around her heart that she couldn’t seem to place. She would see him sometimes, in passing, his smile as easy as it had always been. But it wasn’t the same anymore. She wasn’t the same anymore.

One morning, she found herself driving without quite knowing why. The motion of the car was almost soothing, a rhythmic hum that filled her thoughts with a strange kind of quiet. It wasn’t something she planned. Sometimes life didn’t need to be planned. Sometimes it simply asked you to follow the faint trail of breadcrumbs, just to see where it would lead.

And so, she drove, westward, the road stretching before her like a never-ending line on a map. There was a place she’d seen once, a shop with peeling signs and neon lights that flickered like forgotten memories. The words "Vintage Electronics Repair" had called to her then, and when they reappeared in her mind now, she didn’t question it. She just drove.

The shop was tucked between rows of weathered buildings, a small oasis of history amid the rush of the world. Old clocks, radios, and scattered trinkets filled the window display, each one a relic of a time that seemed to stretch out like a half-remembered dream. Inside, a man was bent over his workbench, his glasses perched low on his nose as he adjusted the internals of a broken radio. He barely looked up as Y/N approached, but when she handed him the Game Boy, there was something in the way his fingers touched it—a recognition, maybe. Or understanding.

He nodded silently, taking the device from her as if he knew it held more than just circuits and plastic. It held memories, and perhaps, pieces of her heart.

Hours passed. Y/N wandered the town aimlessly, trying to avoid the thoughts that buzzed in her mind like static. Her hands felt empty without the Game Boy, and yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something important. The moment stretched out, pulling her further from the reality she’d been living in, into a strange space between wanting and needing.

When the repairman finally returned, she was almost nervous. Would it be the same? Could it be the same?

The Game Boy was different. In her hands, it felt… better. The worn edges had been smoothed, the screen clearer than before, the buttons clicking with a newfound precision. It was almost too perfect. Like someone had restored it to a version of itself that felt unfamiliar. It was… better.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tracing the contours of the newly restored device. It was no longer the one she remembered. It was something new, something polished, something she didn’t know how to approach. It had changed, but so had she.

As she stood in the shop, staring at the Game Boy, the soft sound of a familiar voice reached her ears, pulling her from the haze of her thoughts.

"Hey."

Her breath caught in her chest. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Clark stood in the doorway, his posture relaxed, but there was something different about him now. His smile was the same, but his eyes—they held something more now. Something softer. Something deeper. The lines of his face seemed both older and younger at once, as if time had moved in ways she couldn’t quite understand.

It took her a moment to find her voice, to remember how to speak in the presence of someone who had once been everything to her. “What are you doing here?”

His smile faltered, just for a second, before it returned, warmer than before. “I heard you were in town.” His voice was casual, but his eyes… they lingered on her face in a way that made her heart ache. “Smallville’s a small place. Thought I’d see how you’re doing.”

The words felt like a weight, heavy in her chest. She wasn’t sure if he was here out of politeness, or if there was something more behind his visit. Either way, it didn’t matter. It was like stepping back into a level of a game she had already lost.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N’s gaze dropped to the Game Boy in her hands, and for a split second, she wondered if this was it. Would it always be this way—trying to fix something that was already broken?

“Clark…” she began, but her voice trailed off. She didn’t know what to say. There were too many things she wanted to ask, too many things she needed to know. But instead, she held his gaze, searching for something that might give her an answer.

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “I know things ended… differently,” he said quietly. “But we don’t have to pretend it never happened.”

It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it was the one she needed. The weight of his words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, she felt as if the game had started again. But this time, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to play.

Y/N stood there, her fingers still lightly grazing the newly repaired Game Boy. Clark’s words hung in the air like a thin thread, delicate, yet weighted. She knew she should walk away—should leave the shop, the town, everything behind—but there was something in the way he was looking at her, like a flicker of the past had ignited in his eyes. It pulled her back, as if the magnetic force of their shared history had never quite released its hold on her.

For a moment, she thought she could walk away. She thought she could turn the Game Boy off, leave the old world behind and start anew. But the truth was, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to turn the screen dark again.

Clark shifted his weight, sensing her hesitation. His voice softened, pulling her out of the dizzying loop in her mind. “You look different,” he said, and there was something about the way he said it—an observation more than a compliment, like he saw past the surface and into the layers of time between them.

Y/N forced a smile, though it felt thin. “Guess time does that to people,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the words felt hollow, slipping off her tongue like they were meant to fill a void that only he could see.

But he didn’t push it. Instead, his gaze dropped to the Game Boy in her hands, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Still got that thing, huh?”

It was as if he was trying to make a joke, a way to bridge the gap between the past and the present. But it didn’t work. It only made the silence louder.

“I had it repaired,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. “It’s… different now.”

Clark nodded slowly, taking in her words. His lips parted, like he was going to say something, but he stopped himself. The space between them felt impossibly wide, yet neither of them seemed ready to cross it.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to steady her pulse. Her hands tightened around the Game Boy, feeling its weight—new, restored, like it was waiting for her to push Start again, as if the game could fix what was broken. But the truth was, she didn’t know if she could play this game anymore.

Before she could speak, Clark’s phone buzzed, breaking the silence again. He glanced at it quickly, his expression unreadable. Y/N’s stomach twisted in knots, the old feeling of being left behind creeping in, the sensation of watching him slip away even when he was standing right in front of her.

“Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at the screen before quickly tucking it back in his pocket. “Work stuff.”

Y/N nodded, though the tightness in her chest didn’t go away. There it was again. That familiar distance. It was the game she’d been losing for too long, but each time she tried to quit, each time she tried to walk away, she found herself back in the same spot. The same loop. The same unresolved question: Could she ever really stop?

The relapse started quietly, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She’d told herself she was over it—over him, over the weight of the past. But when Clark stood before her, in the same small town, with the same smile, the same pull in his gaze, it was as if nothing had ever changed. It was like being handed the controller to a game she’d promised herself she’d never play again.

But here she was.

“Clark,” she started, her voice barely a whisper. “You... You’re still with her, aren’t you?”

There was a brief silence. His eyes flickered, guilt flashing across his face before he exhaled sharply, looking away. His expression wasn’t just regret—it was the heavy weight of someone who had hurt the person they loved and didn’t know how to fix it.

“No,” he said finally, his voice low. “But… we’re trying to be friends. We’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N felt like she’d been struck. He wasn’t with Lana anymore, but they were still tethered to each other in a way she couldn’t understand. They were tangled in a history Y/N wasn’t part of, and no matter how many times she pressed Start, she would never find herself in the same level.

She had been so desperate for the game to reset, to find a way back to the beginning, when everything had been simple, and nothing had hurt. But now, with the screen so clear in her hands, it was harder to ignore the fact that some things couldn't be fixed with a button press. Some things weren't made to be replayed.

A familiar ache twisted in her chest. She felt like she was falling behind, like the game was moving faster than her fingers could follow, each press of the buttons failing to keep up with the pace of the game, her heart.

"I don't know if we can be friends," she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself. "Not after everything. We were toxic from the start.“

Clark’s face softened, the edges of his mouth curling into something like regret, like understanding. But Y/N couldn’t do it. She couldn’t keep replaying the same levels, trying to force a different outcome.

With one last glance at the Game Boy, she realized something. She hadn’t been playing to win. She’d been playing to lose, over and over again, because it was easier to lose than to walk away.

And maybe that was the hardest part—to stop. To shut off the screen. To leave the game behind.

Clark stood there for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but the words faltered, held back by the weight of everything that had passed between them. Finally, he spoke, his voice a whisper, raw and sincere.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the weight of his apology settling heavily between them. “I know I hurt you. I shouldn’t have just disappeared the way I did. It wasn’t right, and I... I regret it.”

Y/N stood frozen, the Game Boy still clutched tightly in her hands. The sincerity in his words cut through her like a blade, but it also stung with the realization that this was the first time he wasn’t just apologizing for his actions, but truly understanding the consequences of them. But was it enough? Was he enough?

Clark stepped closer, his hand hovering like he was unsure whether to reach for her. His voice was softer now, almost pleading. “You matter to me, Y/N. I— I don’t want you to think that you were just something I could walk away from or play with.”

Y/N’s heart twisted, torn between the overwhelming desire to believe him and the knowledge that she had been hurt too many times. Clark’s voice shook, but his words weren’t just a last-ditch effort. They were the admission of someone who had been through months of reflection, who was no longer just talking from a place of guilt but from a place of understanding.

For a moment, she thought about giving in, about losing herself again to the pull of the past. But even as she fought it, she knew: She had to let go.

“You don’t get to do that, Clark,” she said, her voice shaking as she fought to stay grounded. “You can’t just show up and say that like it fixes everything. You can’t just come back and expect me to fall into step with you again.”

His face tightened, like he wanted to say something—like he was fighting to explain himself, to make her understand. But then he stopped, his eyes flickering with an almost resigned pain. He knew she was right.

“I know,” he said quietly, taking a small step back, his voice soft. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. But I had to try.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. In that moment, she saw the raw truth of his words—the quiet acceptance that he may never be able to fix what he had broken. It was a growth she hadn’t seen in him before. He wasn’t asking her to forgive him. He wasn’t asking her to play along or try again. He was finally giving her the space to decide what was best for her.

There was a long silence, thick and suffocating, and for the first time, Clark didn’t try to fill it. He simply waited, as if knowing the decision was hers alone to make.

Y/N’s mind screamed for her to walk away, to shut the door on him and everything he represented. But her heart—her foolish heart—whispered for her to stay. To take the chance.

But no. The game had changed.

"I think we both know," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady, "that this—whatever this is—can't go on like this."

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes steady and unflinching. Clark’s expression faltered as if he was about to say something, but she raised a hand to stop him.

“I need something real, Clark,” she continued. “Something that doesn’t break apart every time I let my guard down. Something that doesn’t leave me wondering if I’m just an option you pick up when it's convenient.”

She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing larger as she spoke. Clark was silent, but there was no anger in his eyes—only the understanding of someone who had known what it was like to be lost, to feel like there was no way to come back.

He looked at her for a long moment, his own chest rising and falling as he fought the urge to reach out to her. He wasn’t going to stop her. He wasn’t going to plead. He just stood there, holding the space for her to make her decision.

“You’re not just an option,” he said softly, his voice almost hoarse. “I never meant to hurt you. I just... I don’t know how to fix it.”

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in months. And in that moment, she realized that she wasn’t looking for him to fix it. She wasn’t looking for any promises anymore. She didn’t need him to say the right words, or to prove himself.

"It doesn’t need fixing anymore, Clark,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I’ve learned how to fix me.”

Clark took a slow breath, and though his expression was still pained, there was a quiet respect in the way he looked at her now. He had nothing left to give, nothing left to ask. And for the first time, he understood what she needed, even if it wasn’t him.

Y/N slowly stepped back, the Game Boy still in her hands, heavier now than ever before. She could almost hear the echo of the button clicks in her mind—the same rhythm that had once drawn her in. But she had learned that no game, no matter how addicting, could define her.

“I think,” she said softly, her voice steady with finality, “it’s time for us to finally be done with this game.”

Clark didn’t argue. He didn’t try to pull her back into the cycle they had once shared. He just nodded slowly, his eyes still holding hers, as if silently acknowledging the end of this chapter.

Y/N took one last look at him, then turned and walked toward the door, her heart aching but lighter than it had been in months. She wasn’t running anymore.

“Goodbye, Clark,” she said, her voice steady.

The soft hum of the city outside felt like a lullaby, a promise of new beginnings. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N smiled—not because of a rush, but because she knew she was ready to live.

🕹️ hi everyone! I know it's not a happy ending but I wrote so many drafts of the part two.. and somehow I always end up with the version of them two being on their own. It's important to see the toxicity of them both and y/n's addiction or idea of clark's attention. just like in games, we are all focused on it and feel addicted to know what's the next step, what's the next level. 🕹️I am still thinking of writing a spin-off to clark's version of the story, or maybe a ,bonus' chapter of them in few years :) love ya ! 🕹️ taglist: @blackynsupremacy @angelsgalore @alelo23 @caliicela

#red kryptonite clark kent x reader #clark kent smallville x reader #clark kent fics #clark kent smallville #clark kent #smallville x reader #smallvilleclark #tom welling #smallville clark kent x reader #tom welling clark kent #tom welling x reader #clark kent x fem!reader #angst #gameboy

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the-shiftshop · 2 years ago

Text

Changes Happen All The Time. You're Just Aren't Aware Of It

"Here's a long transformation story to keep up with my debt." - Uncle Lee

Finally, graduation. Ron and Paul had finally finished college and it was time for the childhood friends to come back to their home town. The two were unseparable every since childhood. Until they were college, they both went to the same university, taking the same course, living in the same dorm room.

On this day, it's was time to bring all their stuff back home. Paul is already done with his, with Ron driving him back and forth, so this time, it was Paul's time to help Ron bring all his stuff back.

"Eyes on the road, man. I swear you're going off the road" Paul tapped his buddy as he continue fidgeting with his phone.

Paul is your averarage college senior. Although wanting to build muscles, his studies get in the way, making him stay on an average build. Not too skinny, yet not that fat. Although his studies matter so much, he never backs down from adventures especially when it's with Ron.

"Yeah, well. We're basically in a deserted area. No cars, no buildings, and frankly, I don't think I'll hit something either way." Ron argued, still listening to Paul and makes sure the van is on he right lane.

Ron on the other hand can be mistaken for a stereotypical jock bro if only he's not known for being one of the top notchers in the university, and also maybe because of his rectangular glasses. He is lean with muscle and he lives showing off both his brain and brawn. He has an average amount of body hair on his face, chest, arms, and legs, which most of the time were kept trimmed.

Both had been long good friend despite differences especially with preferences. A very inseparable pair.

"I'm honestly kinda thirsty. Think we can find some place to buy drinks around here?" Ron followed, eyeing for any buildings in the horizon.

"I bet not." Paul answered. "I can find you some water from the back if you want."

"Naw.. We already drank them all. Thought we only had two of our own bottles." Ron replied.

"Alright, let's see..." Paul went to his map app and scanned for any shop the map app, and sure enough one suddenly appeared.

Paul could've sworn that wasn't there before, but eh, it's probably just because we didn't zoom in enough.

"Here's one, just a few more kilometers away." Paul showed Ron.

Ron drove to the location of the said shop and lo and behold, there was one shop just along the road in the middle of nowhere.

They parked on the edge of the road in front of the shop, turned the van off and went out together. As Paul checked the condition of their van, Ron walked near the store.

"Hey, I'll go ask for some water. You can wait for me out here" Paul said.

"Yeah, sure. I'll just check if we're still good here." Ron replied, tapping on the van's hot wheels.

As Paul walked near the shop, he started to feel all tingly and weird. As if he's entering a separate dimension of some sort through a force field. A large sign is placed just above the wooden door.

"The Shift Shop" Paul read.

Without anymore hesitation, Paul proceeds and marvelled at the view of the inside.

Through he wooden door, it wasn't like anything from the outside. It felt like one of the shops you see in your favorite fantasy movies. There were areas with sparkling contraptions, a flying phoenix roaming the store, small fireworks exploding in different colors, it all looked magical.

Paul closed the door and proceeded deeper. It may seem magical, but there were shelves displaying products as if it's Walmart. Paul saw food, hygiene products, electronics, dairy, snacks, and anything you may imagine. There was even an area for clothes and accessories. Paul was too much in awe that he forgot what he came in for.

Soon, he reached the counter. A bell on top of it rang automatically to acknowledge his presence and to notify the owner that a visitor had come by, almost too automatic to look like it has a life of its own.

"Just a moment!" Paul heard a deep voice coming from behind the curtain across the other side of the counter, although he swear the voice spoke of a different language, probably Korean, yet somehow he understood it automatically.

The bell rang again, rushing the man to come out as soon as possible. "Told you, Bell, to wait for a moment! I'm... you know what nevermind." The man spoke again and Paul confirmed it was Korean, yet he understood.

The man finally walked out of the curtain, and Paul gasped at the fair skinned Asian hunk wearing a thick-framed glasses. He was topless with a messy wet hair, wearing only a long beige dress pants, buckled with a black belt.

"Apologies, but my bell is always so eager to have me come and greet my visitors. I just finished taking a bath and, yeah I guess it's evident." The man spoke, this time in English. As he finish speaking, he wears the white plain shirt he was holding, "Welcome to the Shift Shop. I'm guessing this is your first time?"

"Y-Yeah. It's honestly... amazing here." Paul managed to mutter.

"Thanks, that's centuries of good work." The man chuckled, "I'm the owner of the shop, Timotheo Lee, or you can just call me Uncle Lee."

"Uncle?" Paul chuckled. The man does not look like he's old enough to be his uncle, nor be anyone's uncle anyway. He seem to be just around 25, and those youthful muscle and smooth skin did all the talking. "Is that a pen name or something?"

"Oh, I'm not kidding about the century thing. I'm older than what you think." Uncle Lee smirked.

"Really?" Paul didn't bother lengthening the discussion about his age. The shop itself already seemed so unreal. The man could even be a older than how many centuries he guess. Instead, his eyes roamed around the room.

Uncle Lee chuckled once more and moved closer to her customer. "Seems like you're looking for something, I mean you proceeded deeper into my shop. You're thirsty for something magical, aren't you?"

Paul laughed. "I'm honestly just 'thirsty' thirsty" He replied, "But something magical doesn't seem like a bad idea."

Uncle Lee tapped on his bell "Jules!" He called out and suddenly a short nerdy suited up staff appeared from thin air.

"S-Sir!" Jules replied, stuttering.

"Guide our new visitor to some areas he might fancy" Uncle Lee winked at Jules.

Jules seemed to almost melt just by his boss's wink. He made a soft 'aww' right after the man did so. "Y-Yes, sir!" Jules gave a salute and invited Paul to some part of the shop.

---

Paul had roamed around longer than he expected. He tried a bunch of testers and witnessed different kinds of magic while in the store, all of which Jules let Paul try on him.

There were fruits that turn people older or younger. There were gadgets that help you fulfil your wishes. There were literally a lot to see, but soon enough Paul stopped by a certain product that catched his eyes.

"A jade necklace?" Paul asked.

"Oh, not just any jade necklace" Jules said in a deep rumbling voice. Throughout all the testing, Jules ended up with a body of a 40 year old body builder with dog ears and tails that matches his white hair. "It's the Necklace of Names."

"Necklace of Names?" Paul repeated.

"Necklace of Names" Jules repeated back. "It's supposed to make the wearer able to change whoever he calls in a different name, and the other person will never know the changes!" Jules exclaimed. "Let's have this for an example: I'm wearing the necklace and I called you by any name aside from your actual name, for instance, I called you 'gramps'. You'll turn into a grandpa version of yourself!" Jules explained. "Or if I call you by a name of a famous actor, or someone I know, that'll automatically change you to that person. It's honestly best if you an try it yourself."

Jules takes the necklace and brought it to Paul's hand.

"And the person I change won't notice a thing?" Paul asked for confirmation while looking at the green pendant the necklace has.

"They certainly wont and their mind and personality will also adapt," Jules answered. "And in most cases, reality also adjusts, but you still have to be careful".

"If it's magic, bet it has some sort of consequences once I started using this, no? I mean just like in the movies" Paul asked

Jules nodded "Exactly." He said, "But if you wanna try it on just like what you did to the other products, don't worry, we had the consequence feature turned off when it's just for testing. But for this specific bad boy..." Jules tapped on he necklace. "I honestly don't think you'll consider it a consequence. Bet you'll even like it. I can tell you what it is unless you like surprises."

"Surprises, huh." Paul looked at the necklce and back to Jules "Yeah, I'm up for surprises. I'll figure it out on my own"

"Great! So a keeper?" Jules smiled.

"A keeper."

Paul was convinced already and didn't even have to try it on Jules. They walked back to the counter and paid.

"Mhmm. The Necklace of Names." Uncle Lee sang. "You have a great taste." He looked at me and back at the necklace. "That would be a dollar."

A dollar? That's so cheap for this quality and he expected more. Paul brought his wallet from his pocket and pulled out 2 dollars and placed it on the counter.

"This shouldn't be just a dollar. It even looks expensive." Paul remarked.

"Oh, Paul. It's alright. It really is just a dollar." Uncle Lee nodded and adjusted his glasses. "This shop does not really run from profit. This exchange is merely just like signing a contract by barter." He continued. "I prefer to know you're enjoying the magic than earning money from the magic."

Paul stared at Uncle Lee and his eyes lit it.

"And you know, I choose my customers well. I know you'll do great with our items." Paul smiled.

"Thank you." Paul smiled by the compliment. He's starting to understand why Jules reacts all shy around him.

"Anyways, I'll keep the other dollar. You best be on your way to your trip, and you, Jules..." Uncle Lee trailed off, looking at the silver fox hunk Jules had turned into. "Let's come to the back. I have to do something with that thick ass of yours" He winked at Jules and then waved goodbye to Paul. "Take care, Paul."

---

Paul left the store with a smile. He really had paid for the necklace with just a dollar. He decided to put it on and walked back to the van.

There was Ron, now holding 2 big bottles of water he got somewhere.

"Dude, where did you go? What took you so long?" Ron has his eyebrow furrowed, all while taking a drink from his water.

"Ah! Right. I forgot to buy-"

"Already did that, man. I was looking for you inside the store and you weren't there. Where did you go?" Ron asked again.

"I was inside the sh-" Paul turned back to look at the shop, but gasped at what he saw.

The shop was different now. Gone with the big signage and the wooden door. It turned into a regular off-the-road convenience store. Paul kept his mouth shut and looked back to Ron.

"Let's get back on the road. It's getting dark." Ron commanded and they both went back in the van.

---

It has been a few minutes and they've finally reached a populated area, and Paul still couldn't stop thinking about what happened. It was obviously not any hallucination since the necklace he bought is still hanging on his neck. Nevertheless, he'd want to try the necklace out, but to whom?

"You're unusually quiet. What's up?" Ron snapped Paul back to reality. "We passed by a lot of interesting sights earlier and you didn't even reacted like how you would."

"Nothing. Just thinking." Paul excused.

"Whatever it is, I ain't the type to just let my buddy stay silent throughout the drive. Whatchu wanna do?" Ron asked.

"Nothing, really." Paul replied, "Don't worry about it."

"Naww. C'mon." Ron then chuckled. "You know I'm not that type to pretend like I ain't seeing you're out of your usual mood."

It's really hard for Ron to endure that, and as much as he can, he tends to joke around just to make Paul laugh. And as for Paul, those damn words. It always was what reminds him of things he can never let go.

Paul always had a big crush on his childhood friend. Although he never had trully opened up to Ron about it because of the fear of losing his friend. Because of that, he always had to push those thoughts away to preserve their friendship, yet it's really hard when your friend is all affectionate like this.

"You wanna jerk off?" Ron smirked.

"What? No! Where did that come from?" Paul jumped from his seat. His heart beating too fast.

"Come on~ My bestfriend just needs a little bit of release~" Ron teased. He was joking. Paul knows that. It always had been a joke. "I'll stroke that dick if I were you. It's just the two of us anyway."

"Oh, shut up, Ron!" Paul laughed.

"What? If you don't want to, I'll stroke it for you." Ron giggled, jokingly placing a hand on Paul's thigh, immitating some stereotypical dumb jock asking for some bro time with his buddy.

"Stop that, you horny dumb jock-" Paul eye's widened as he finish his sentence. He snapped his head back to Ron as Ron suddenly groaned.

The van started to slow down until they stopped on the side of the road. Paul's eyes widened as he realized what he had just done. Ron was changing. The necklace was doing its job.

"U-Urgh..." Ron groaned as he stretched his body, his hand still on Paul's thigh, which was now massaging it. "Fuck, bro..."

Bro. Ron was turning into a "Horny Dumb Jock" he just called him.

Ron's muscles started to morph itself, changing his build in one way or another. His body hair started to disappear to look like they're cleanly shaven away. Tattoos apeared around his body, and he can feel it. The muted pain of tattoo needles crawled around his body, but it wasn't really that painful to him. It was pleasurable. Ron started to move his other hand around his body, feeling every skin. Pinching his nipple through his t-shirt, then feeling his abs inside, then moving it to paw his growing hard on. All the while his other had was roaming around Paul's thigh. Ron's clothes started to change. His shirt darkened and shifted to a tanktop, loose enough to show his chest. His glasses disappeared, and a cap formed on his head. His eyebrows furrowed harder as his old memories gets replaced by new ones. He's a horny dumb jock. He spend all his day fucking, masturbating, and jocking out. All the knowledge of a top notcher disappeared. His memories with Paul did not disappear, though some parts like their dynamics, their hobbies together, changed. Soon enough, Ron finished changing, physically and mentally.

"Fuck, bro. I really..." The newly jockified Ron groaned. "I really need to bust one out. I..."

Paul was left speechless. He did it. He accidentally used the necklace on Ron. He doesn't know how to feel about this, but there he stared at his childhood friend-slash-crush.

Ron moved his hand back to his crotch, pawing at his hard on that seemed to have grown than its original size. His other hand, still on Paul's thigh, squeeze it.

Paul was turned on and don't know why. He noticed his cock also hard in his pants, and Ron, squeezing his thigh, is making it more arousing.

"I need to... urgh.... jerk off." Ron grunted, like it is very urgent for him to release. "C-Can I?" Ron looked at Paul.

They stared at each other. Paul felt his heart beat faster than ever. At some point Paul wants to join Ron, but he's trying all his best not to.

"R-Ron...nnie" Paul tried to call on Ron, but for some reason, he called him Ronnie. He never called him that, but it seems automatic.

It was the necklace's work. Each change also gives the other person a new name. This is to have it easy for the owner to turn the other person back to their original body. And for this instance, Ron had just turned into a horny jock named Ronnie.

"Y-Yeah, go on. I-I don't mind, R-Ronnie." Paul stuttered.

"Yeah... No homo, bro, alright?" Ronnie said while pulling down on his shorts, revealing his hard cock. "Fuck..."

Paul stared at Ronnie as he jerked off. Ronnie still carressing Paul's thigh as he do so. "Yeah... No homo..." Paul repeated, staring at Ronnie's cock.

It was his first time seeing Ronnie's cock after years. Although it seems like this version of Ron has a bigger dick than the original.

The van was filled with loud sensual moans. Paul watched Ronnie's pecs bounce as he stroke his cock. Ronnie looks so hot when his face contort everytime he finds his own pleasure spots. Soon enough, Ronnie was near.

"F-Fuck, bro. I'm gonna-" Ronnie stroke faster, and he gripped harder on Paul's thigh. "I'm gonna cum!"

Ronnie came loads of cum all over his shirt, some of them landing on his cap, almost making a big mess on his van.

"O-Oh... Shit.... That feels sooo good." Ronnie limps down, taking deep breaths as he chuckle and looked back to Paul. Ronnie removed his shirt and used it to wipe all his cum off his body and his cap, and Paul had a good look on his hunky body. Ronnie noticed and smirked.

"You seem like you're hard too, bro." Ronnie eyed Paul's cock, which Paul hid on cue. "Naw, bro. You know we can be this comfortable to each other." Ronnie smiled at him. "Want me to help you out?" He asked, moving one hand back to his knee, moving up to his thigh

Paul's eyes widened. "N-No. I'm alright, Ronnie."

"You sure? You can always say No Homo anyway?" Ronnie's face gave a mild frown. "I told you if anything to make my bro happy, I'll do it."

"I-It's fine."

"Aight, suit yourself."

And they continued their drive with Ronnie, shirtless, and Paul's cock, hard.

---

The rest of the drive gave Paul the opportunity to experiment on his friend. In the last 30 minutes, Paul decided to experiment more. Ron had turned into a dad, a freshman, a foreigner, and other stuff Paul managed to trigger as they converse. Satisfied and almost near their destination, Paul reverted Ron back to his original body just by calling him again in his real nickname "Ron".

Upon arriving at Ron's house, Paul could've sworn Ron had been stealing glances from him more than usual. While they we're fixing stuff, it's often for Paul to find out Ron is lost in deep thoughts. He had caught Ron staring at him, sometimes adjusting the collar of his shirt, and even his underwear.

By sunset, they are almost finished putting everything in place in Ron's room. Both Paul and Ron were left sweaty due to carrying a bunch of stuff from the van to the house.

"I gotta take a quick break." Ron said as he took his shirt off and dropped them on the side. "Could you bring the last box in?" Ron asked Paul as he sat on the chair.

"Yes, sir" Paul answered.

"Damn, that could be another trigger. " He tought to himself.

What he called him as a little vague. Ron could turn either a very well respected dad, or his professor, or someone that can dominate him in bed. As he looked back to where Ron was sitting, there he saw the new man.

Before the new Ron could speak, Paul's eyes widened and hurried himself out the room and grabbed the last remaining box. His friend, his crush, turned into one heck of a dreamboat.

Reaching the living room, Paul came to he box. It was a big box that should be carried by two people, but Paul managed to carry it himself. Although struggling, he carried it to the room.

It was hard for Paul to carry the box in while walking forward, so Paul had to turn his back and walk backwards into the door frame.

"Excuse me, this thing's heav-" Paul exclaimed as he struggled.

"Wait, lemme take care of-"

The new Ron said in a soft deep voice as he rushed to Paul's aid, but before he managed to do so, Paul tripped.

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed and ran to catch Paul, only to fall too and both of them and the box on the floor, Paul lying on top of Ron.

"You okay, kid?" Ron asked, holding onto Paul.

"Sorry, sir." Paul replied.

Paul felt something on his back, growing hard. He heard Ron clear his throat, and so he looked up to see Paul, blushing.

"S-Sir, I can feel your..."

"S-Sorry!" Ron pushed Paul off his body and slid up to sit. "I-I..."

Paul sat down to face Ron. He can see Ron's huge cock straining against his gray shorts, just enough for Paul to get hard himself too. They stared at each other's cocks then to each other's eyes. Then in one quick movement, they were kissing.

Paul broke the kiss, shying away from his indirect confession. "F-Fuck. I'm sorry." He said. "That was very impulsive."

"It's alright." Ron said, still looking at Paul's eyes. He smiled and grabbed Paul's hand and guided it to his chest.

"S-Sir..." Paul's eyes widened.

"It's fine, Paul. I want this too."

Paul melted as Ron spoke in his deep sensual voice. It was a very reassuring but sexy baritone voice coming out from the mouth of this sexy hunk his friend had turned into

"Can I?" Ron motioned to move closer.

Paul nodded and welcomed Ron. Ron slided closer to Paul and started feeling his body s he kiss him on the neck. Paul shivered as Ron finds every pleasure spots in his body. Ron took Paul's shirt off and kissed his chest, coming to a nipple. All the effort of hiding how he liked his bestfriend broke down. It was just he and him enjoying the moment.

"A-Ah!" Paul moaned. "That feels so good."

"You like that?" Ron's eyes gleamed as he ask.

"Yes, sir." Paul nodded, putting both of his hands on Ron's face.

"Call me, Russel. Paul." He requested. "I'm not your teacher anymore"

Russel. That's Ron's name in this body of a hunk. So happened that he is his professor. Former, actually. Russel was doing a great job in making Paul feel good. Both of their cocks are basically stone hard and Paul had been wanting release even before they arrived to Russel's home. Russel pulled Paul's shorts off and marveled at the cock in front of his face.

"Wow, you have a big cock..." Russel said which made Paul chuckle.

"You think? Yours is even bigger." Paul stroked Russel's cock through his shorts and made him groan.

Russel took his shorts off too, finally letting Paul see this thick hairy cock. Paul grabbed on Russel's balls and played with it before stroking his cock again.

Russel moved closer to Paul's cock. "Can I...?" Russel asked.

"Please." Paul pulled Russel's head to his cock.

Russel went straight in, sucking Paul with all his might. The room once again was filled with mostly Paul's moans. His former childhood friend, now a hunky former professor is sucking his cock so eagerly. He's almost near and he's practically begging for release.

"Sir... Russel, I'm gonna."

"Not yet." Russel stood up and carried Paul onto the bed, sitting.

Paul expected that they'll fuck. He stared at Russel's thick hard cock and shivered at the thought of how painful can it be to have that in his ass.

"W-Wait. I can't take you. You're too big!" Paul pushed on Russel.

"Who said you're the one who's gonna be fucked? Russel grinned.

Paul's eyes once again widened as Russel climed onto his cock and sat on it. Without any hesitation, Russel pushed his ass down to Paul's cock.

"A...urgh!" Both of then groaning in pleasure

"You feel so good..." Russel whimpered.

"Y-You're so tight!" Paul moaned.

Russel groaned louder as Paul pushed and hat hit his prostate. "A-Ah! Sh..." Russel then moved, riding on Paul's cock.

It was too much to handle for Paul. The hunky professor is riding his cock. He's fucking a hunk. He then motioned to kiss Russel once more as they move. Paul holds onto Russel's cock as he strokes him. Paul lied down and Russel followed. He brought his feet onto he bed and started humping Russel himself.

"I-I'm close!" Russel exclaimed.

"Y-Yeah?" Paul smirked.

"Ah... Ah! I'm gonna cum!" Russel moaned hard.

"Cum for me, Russel!"

Soon, Russel came all his load onto Paul. Some hitting his face. Paul didn't stop thrusting his cock in Russel. He went faster and soon...

"I... I'm gonna cum too..." Paul said.

Russel moved and licked Paul's nipple, driving Paul insane.

"Y-Yeah! More! I'm gonna cum!"

Paul moaned and finally, he released into Russel's ass. They moved for one more kiss, and once they broke, they chuckled at each other.

Paul pulled out. Both panting and grasping for air.

"So..." Paul trailed off

"So...?" Russel followed

Paul paused or a moment. The power he got from the Necklace of Names was great. It seemed like he almost live in every fantasy he can think of, but then again, what about his friend Ron?

He looked at Russel. This was Russel, his former professor in this new reality. He may have been his friend a moment ago, but it was all Russel who made a move on him.

It was Ron who he liked, not the dumb horny jock, Ronnie, and most certainly despite being a fantasy-brought-to-life, not this hunky professor, Russel. Paul got lost in that thought. What could even happen if he revert Ron back?

"Uhm... Wanna take a shower with me?" Russel asked, bringing his hand to Paul.

"Yeah, sure."

---

They proceeded to the shower. Russel went in first, testing the temperature, then offering his hand to Paul to guide him in. Russel washed off the cum on of their bodies, then he opened up for a big warm bear hug.

Paul stuck his face in between Russel's chests, still thinking about earlier. Trying to muster up his courage, he asked.

"Do you like me?"

Russel cleared his throat. "Well... I hope it wouldn't be weird to tell you I like you since I am your professor, no? Well... Former."

"No, I meant..." Paul stopped for a moment, then looked up to Russel's eyes, trying all his best to look for Ron in this deep brown eyes. "Do you like me, Ron?"

Russel began to shrink back down. His muscles lessening and his age going back to 22. He's back to Ron, just the regular old Ron.

"I.... I like you, Paul. I really do." Ron's cheeks flushed red, still hugging his friend. "I mean... I always had this feelings for so long... I just didn't think..."

"I like you back?" Paul continued. "I also had this for a very long time too..."

They smiled.

"Ron." Paul called out once again. "I don't know how to phrase this properly, but..."

In his mind, he had kissed Russel, but that was not trully Ron, it was just right to ask one more time, right?

"Can I kiss you?" Paul reached up to Ron's cheeks.

Ron didn't hesitate. He smiled and brought Paul into his lips.

Yet another round for Paul, but it's real this time.

#body modification #shapeshift #reality change

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zoesblogsposts · 11 months ago

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o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

#second language #language #learning #rory gilmore #smart #tips

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supalonely17 · 4 months ago

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1 DC PLAYLIST EVERY DAY

DAY 19 : TIM DRAKE

let’s talk : The year is 2012 the new 52 has begun and grimes has released Genesis. A title which describes the start of something new with lyrics that tell a story of a person experiencing emotions for the first time. A year passes and it is 2013, instant crush by daft punk releases and Tim is still inside of this new world. This electronic noise captures who Tim was back in the era of new 52.

While sounds of indie capture who he is now. Miracles by Alex g narrates Tim’s perspective in the current relationship he has with Bernard. While the place where he inserted the blade talks of Tim’s perspective from his relationship with Stephanie. Older songs like glass onion and suspended in Gafa showcase the music I believe Tim would’ve listened to when he was younger. A bright young kid who understood the complexities of the music. Finally Math rock showcases the essence of Tim. This music is not the favorite genre of Tim Drake but it is the favorite genre of Robin.

music headcanons

- Dissects his albums to their very core, if they’re good enough they get their own cork board.

- Cried when daft punk announced their breakup more than he will ever admit.

- One day a tame impala song came on and he was about to ask Jason “did you know tame impala is just one person”? But knowing Tim would say this Jason finished the sentence for him. Tim felt so deeply and personally attacked he was unsure of how to react so he simply left the room.

- Everytime there is a specific part in a song that he likes he will always learn the main instrument of said part.

- Prefers going to concerts alone so he can immerse himself into the environment more but always offers for others to come. Luckily not many in the family share his taste in music that would want to go with him.

- Organizes his playlists numerically. Meaning none of his playlists have proper names they’re all just numbered and he has to remember which playlist number he wants to listen to.

- Hasn’t listened to math rock around any of the members of the batfamily until one day on a road trip Duke asked to skip a song. Tim who was on aux said sure and a few songs later lied and said his phone was dead so somebody else could take over. With a car full of detectives everybody deduced that he felt self conscious about his taste suddenly and the rest of the ride was filled with silence. Duke and Tim prepared their apology speeches the remainder of the car ride. Both refused to listen to the others words because both believed the other was in the right.

- Has purchased a signed photo of Kate bush.

- Has a full record cleaning kit which he uses with every vinyl use.

- Visits the underground gotham music scene from time to time

- Damian pretends to dislike Tim’s music taste but has secretly added every song Tim has played around him, into his playlist. Everybody has caught on besides Tim.

- Dick always hypes up tims music taste and says that he should be a DJ even though he really shouldn’t.

- Used to go to the beach with Stephanie turn the music up in the car, get on the hood and look up at the scars.

- The members of the batfamily know he’s going through a break up whenever they can hear the album Grace by Jeff Buckley coming from his room.

- Donates to underground artists to fund their career so they don’t stop making great music.

- Believes Kon and him have the same music taste only because Kon will play Tim’s favorite music whenever he’s around just to make Tim happier.

Playlist spotlight!

#spotify #fandom playlist #spotify playlist #character playlist #dc comics #comics #dc comics playlist #dc #batfamily #tim drake #red robin #dc robin #Spotify

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emberfrostlovesloki · 5 months ago

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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.

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