#independent y/n

[anothermeforcompany]

This is so good ! I'm screeeeching in excitement !! Teen y/n taking no shit from anyone !!!

I can imagine that the other lords are furious that their y/n got taken away by Ethan.

We haven't seen Ethan in a while how is he like when his is with them?

(Going to make another ask)

Will do a Platonic Yandere Ethan Winters Headcanons later, for now, I'm gonna throw this out here:

Okay, so I have 2 different plots in my mind for platonic yandere RE8 characters. One is for baby/child reader, the other is for teenage/adult reader.

In the child reader plot, Y/n is the only child of Ethan and Mia. Rose doesn't exist. Just a whole lot of fluff.

In the teen reader plot, Y/n is their first child. She has been neglected since childhood because of all the weird shit Ethan and Mia were a part of. Say, the parents were in the RE 7 game, and you know the story. While they're trying to escape from there, you were being taken care of by some family relative. After they come back, Mia's mentally affected and Ethan's trying to care of her, so they're both kind of absent parents. Few years later, when Rose is born, things start returning to normal for them. But they're both so busy with Rose, they completely ignored their first born. So, you had to raise yourself pretty much. Mia thinks you don't need her anymore since you're all grown up. Ethan tries, he really tries to be there for you but he missed your childhood years and he doesn't want to miss any of that with Rose. He's proud that you're so independent, not understanding that you didn't really have any other choice. They don't understand that just because you don't complain, doesn't mean you don't have problems. They think it's good that you're so "mature", so "reliable", so "sensible". They're just very negligent parents. So, in this plot, Rose gets kidnapped and all. Now, it's upto Ethan and Y/n to save her. And then everything happens the same as in the game, except Y/n gets separated from Ethan during the search. Y/n ends up at the Dimitrescu Castle, and almost gets killed by the vampires when they take a liking to you. Lady Dimitrescu hides you somewhere in the Castle, and then after all the Lords die, and Ethan saves Rose and also dies, that's when the fic gets interesting.

In this fic, none of them actually die, they're just... incapacitated for sometime. Now, the Lords start becoming yanderes for Y/n, who feels so betrayed that her father actually left without her.

Meanwhile, Ethan wakes up and realises that he's not dead, and also finds out through Duke that Rose is saved, but you're captured by the monsters. Now, Ethan's yandereness slowly gets to him the more he tries to find you. And when he does, he feels like the shittiest person alive when you don't run into his arms. The years of negligence hits him in the face. He finds out that you plan to move away from him as soon as you get out of the village. And he can't accept that. No, he needs all 3 of you (Rose, Mia and Y/n) to feel like a normal family again. So, now dad Ethan is not only fighting monsters to save you, he also has to stop you from running away from him. And the Lords and Mother Miranda will simply not let you go, not after they've become so attached to you.

So... yeah. That's kind of the things that's been tumbling around in my mind.

Oh and Yandere Uncle/Godfather Chris may also make an appearance.

Thoughts?

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

[1d1195]

Independent

~10.6k words

From me: I know it's a long one, but it's a one-shot.

Warnings: angst, fluff. I've got about a thousand tropes in this one. Coworker Harry, Roommate Harry, love at first sight, he falls first and harder, one bed if you squint.

Summary: “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

Harry was tall, with soft brown locks that begged to have fingers run through them, and cool green eyes that reminded her of the sage green bridesmaid’s dress she wore to one of her friends’ weddings the year before. He wore a dark purple button down with sleeves rolled up revealing a bunch of tattoos on his left arm but only a few on the right. His voice was melodic. Smooth, like he was going to sing her a lullaby and warm like it could toast a marshmallow.

Her group chat with a couple of her office friends had been buzzing the moment Harry took residence at the desk across the aisle and one row ahead of her.

Holy fuck. Val texted. Office eye candy 😍

Do you hear that thundering sound? That’s my heart 😍 Rachel continued.

She smirked at the desks, shaking her head.

Don’t shake your head. Say something! At least you’re single, you have a chance! Val sent the messages in quick succession, making her desk partner, Hunter, look at her curiously each time it vibrated.

“Do you have an emergency?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “Nope,” she smiled. “Not at all.”

*

Harry met her and asked her out on the very first day he started his new job. They both worked in an office. Their desks only a short distance apart while they worked together. He assumed there were no rules against dating as there were several married couples within the office as he quickly found out from the shared last names and wedding photos of his coworkers lining one another’s desks.

It seemed, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work, there was no issue.

Which was fine by Harry.

He was happy to ogle her all day long and he would spoil her rotten outside of work. “Hi, m’Harry,” Harry took his opportunity to introduce himself when everyone else left for their lunch hour and she was finishing something up. Leaving them alone in the office. Harry analyzed her desk as quickly as he could.

Their office was wide open with desks back-to-back nearly identical on either side with a long aisle leading to the office of their boss at the back of the room. Her desk faced the front of the room while Harry’s faced his boss’ office. He was on the opposite side of the room, and he had a great view all day long to watch her profile as she worked. Her hair was half up, her beautiful eyes hidden behind glasses, and her mouth set in concentration as she focused on her tasks. He couldn’t see her whole body, but he watched her pull her sandy colored cardigan around her white shirt multiple times that morning, like she was chilled by the air conditioner. His eyes were drawn to her. Like she was a lighthouse, and he was out at sea. All he wanted to do was watch her, keep an eye on her, and admire how stunning she was.

She had a little plant near her window—a bunch of red poppies wrapped up in a burlap vase, tied with a red bow. He couldn’t tell if it was fake or not, but he suspected it was. There was a picture of a large group of friends right by her monitor where she was off to the side in it, one of her girlfriends had an arm around her. Her stationery was cool tones of blues, greens, and purples. Her handwriting was scribbled on a calendar in front of her and he thought the way she curved her L’s was loopy and pretty beyond belief and he wished he had one in his name just to see how it looked. But it made him want to know how she would write his name anyway. There was a date at the end of September that was marked with a heart and he wondered why. Was it an anniversary? A birthday? Or the day her favorite movie came out?

A book sat on the windowsill, and he wondered when she had the time to read it during the day or maybe it was a security blanket kind of thing. There were two paper trays stacked on top of one another to organize her work and sticky notes all over her monitor and desk with ideas, reminders, and even a couple that said things like, “we love you” and “you’re so sweet.”

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled up at him to introduce herself. “Welcome to the team, are you having a good first day?”

He nodded, smiled a little brighter and dove right in. “I think m’in love with you,” she released a laugh that was so unbelievably beautiful Harry thought it sealed the deal. “I wouldn’t laugh, kitten. M’serious,” he frowned with faux sadness. He knew he was being a tad bit ridiculous. Maybe it wasn’t right to say it while they were alone, but he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone either. Hopefully he could convince her he was harmless, even if what he said was true.

Her cheeks reddened and she smiled. “That’s... very forward,” she reminded him. “And you don’t know me.”

“I know,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I was going t’hold off on saying it until tomorrow, but m’unable t’contain it. You’re very beautiful and everyone seems t’go t’you when they need help, so I imagine you’re a lovely person,” he pointed at the sticky note that said we love you once more. She snickered again and looked away covering one cheek with her hand. “M’going t’go t’lunch before I embarrass myself further, but I jus’ wanted to tell you,” he shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the exit.

“Nice meeting you Harry,” she called after him a smile on her lips.

He grinned and turned briefly to wave before he exited. “Don’t forget t’eat, kitten,” he called.

*

But now that Harry admitted he was in love with her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched while she worked. Her eyes darted to his side of the room often trying to see if he was staring at her. He wasn’t each time which only made her feel guilty and worse. Maybe her standoffish disposition deterred him rapidly. It was probably for the best, anyway. For a lot of reasons.

Was it disappointment she was feeling from his lack of attention? That didn’t seem right.

“Harry!” Val called from behind her. “Are you enjoying your first day?”

“Immensely,” did his eyes drift over to her and her desk? She stared at her screen pretending to work while she listened.

“Did you just move to town?” Rachel was much further towards the front of the room. He turned to give her his full attention. It made her heart skip a beat with how kind it was. His politeness was a massive turn on.

Even if she wasn’t going to let herself admire Harry from across the way just because they worked together.

“I did, m’actually looking for a place t’live if y’know of any places. M’at a hotel until m’on m’feet.”

Her heart started beating about two hundred times a minute because she knew what was going to happen before it did. She could feel the bubbling excitement from her friends on either end of the room. “Mary Poppins has a room!” Rachel shouted.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

“Her roommate just moved in with her boyfriend like last week! How perfect is that, Mary? You were all worried about finding a normal roommate. I even did his background check, so I know he’s good to go!”

Harry chuckled. “Um... who’s Mary Poppins?”

The whole office giggled. “Miss Poppins, did you not introduce yourself?” Someone else called. Hunter snickered across from her and she glared at him.

This was mortifying. Wasn’t this supposed to be a mortifying day for Harry? His first day and all? How come she was being teased? She took a deep breath and turned from her monitor to make direct eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. Like he knew exactly who Mary Poppins was without his coworkers needing to tell him. “It’s a two-bedroom apartment. One bath. There’s a nice kitchen, all new appliances.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as she spoke. Like he was surprised it really was her. “Val looks like she’s going to bounce out of her seat,” Hunter smirked as he whispered under his breath to her while she tried not to panic at the thought of living with someone so unbelievably attractive and just admitted he was in love with her.

“Tell him about your living room!” Val sounded like she was bouncing.

“Water’s included.”

“She’s the cutest interior designer. It’s so homey it feels like a warm hug when you walk in. Like living with a rom-com character,” Rachel continued.

“Rent would be about twelve hundred,” she ignored her so-called friends.

“She bakes something once a week too, so it always smells like sugar and Christmas. It’s seriously the coziest place I’ve ever been,” Val kept going.

“In-unit washer and dryer.”

“Then she brings whatever she makes for all of us here to devour. It’s incredible,” Rachel’s sentiment was answered with a hum of agreement from the rest of her coworkers. She even heard someone say remember her apple turnover pastries?

“You get your own parking spot,” she tilted her head and looked at the ceiling to see if there was anything else she had forgotten. “I think that’s it,” she met Harry’s eyes once more, holding his gaze briefly before she turned back to her monitor.

“Harry you should totally move in, you will fall in love with the place.”

“M’sure I would,” he chuckled. “Could I see it sometime?” He asked. His attention never strayed from her face. She could sense his gaze on the side of her cheek the whole time her friends embarrassed the crap out of her. “Whenever you’re free. Doesn’t have t’be today.”

“Today’s fine!” Rachel assured him. “She doesn’t do anything on Mondays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Today is fine,” she repeated and smiled sweetly. She scribbled on a sticky note and headed to his desk to drop the address off with him. Then she made her way toward the restroom because she needed to get out of the room. Needed away from everyone teasing her good-naturedly.

But mostly so she could keep herself from telling Harry that she was quite, very possibly, in love with him as well.

*

True to her friends’ words, the place was cozy as hell. There was a basket of throw blankets next to a sofa that looked like it was comfier than his bed currently in his storage unit. Artwork dotted the walls, board games stowed below her TV, and curtains pulled back from the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight. It felt like a home.

There were three boxes in the middle of the living room between the coffee table and the TV, but it was otherwise spotless. “You’re very clean.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “Y’don’t need t’apologize,” he put his hands in his pockets, so he didn’t do something crazy like hold her hand.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, is all. You can be... messy... I won’t have a freak out or anything. Unless you leave food in the sink then we get bugs. Then I’ll be kind of freaked out.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. I like t’think m’pretty clean myself,” he assured her. “I also...” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. “Y’friends kinda put y’on the spot. I know what I admitted at lunch was kinda out of... out of the blue,” he bit his lip. “Y’don’t have t’feel obligated t’house me.”

“I don’t,” she promised. “I need a roommate and like Val said,” she shrugged. “She did your background check so I assume you won’t kill me, probably. At least not because you’re a serial killer. Maybe because I’m too clean.”

He shook his head with a smile on his lips making the most adorable dimple dent his cheek. She wanted to stick her tongue in it. “Thank you, m’really appreciative.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Harry. Sorry we’ll be around each other a lot.”

That didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. “I think it’ll be okay. We didn’t really talk much today,” he shrugged. “If y’get sick of me, m’sure I can find another place t’live,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. “Won’t be necessary. But okay,” she sighed. “You can move in whenever,” she grabbed her keys from the breakfast bar where she ate most of her meals and pulled a key off the ring and handed it to him. “I have a second job some nights, but if you give me a heads up, I can help you move your stuff.”

“S’very kind of you, kitten, but y’don’t need t’do that. M’not going t’have all that much stuff. M’friend Louis lives not too far from here. He’ll come help me.”

“Offer stands,” she assured him.

Harry’s eyes scanned the room again and landed on the three boxes once more. “Are those your old roommate’s boxes?” He asked.

She nodded. “Two of them. I’m supposed to bring them to her, but they’re super heavy so I’m like... working up my mental and physical strength to bring them to my car. It’s going to be two trips and I’m just being a little lazy about it.”

“I can bring them down,” he grabbed one. It was definitely heavy. It was evident Harry had defined biceps and triceps practically outlined by the pretty purple button down, but it was manageable for him while a struggle for her. “Still probably two trips,” he nodded.

“Oh, I can take—”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “Don’t want you t’hurt yourself. Let me,” he offered and snagged her car keys off the counter.

“Oh, thank you that’s... thank you,” she swallowed, feeling grateful.

“Not a problem,” he assured her and left immediately.

When he returned after putting the second box in her car to return her keys, she had opened the third box and begun laying out a bunch of fall items to decorate their place. “Do you mind decorations?”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Can I help?”

She blinked at him and tilted her head. “Um... I can handle it. If you need to pack or go... get dinner or something.”

“M’fine,” he smiled, setting her keys on the counter and glanced around the room. He noted there were hooks screwed into the wall at various points. “Can I hang something for you? M’good for height.”

Harry wasn’t that much taller than her, she was definitely taller than the average woman, but it still meant she needed to drag out a stepstool when she wanted to put up her art and decorations. “That would be awesome,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, kitten,” he smiled.

*

Harry had a dreamy smile on his face as they talked and got to know one another. He hadn’t brought up that he was in love with her. Nor did he make her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Like it had never happened.

Why did it feel like she was disappointed about the prospect of that?

Maybe he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe the initial reaction of seeing someone roughly the same age as him at work made his senses a bit wild for a moment.

No. She wasn’t disappointed. Everything about Harry being in love with her would be a recipe for disaster and it was for the best that he didn’t fall in love with her.

It was just something a little bit out of the blue to say to the only person who was single in the office. Everyone had a significant other they had met within the office or elsewhere. She was the last single person. The same was true with her friend group as well. Everyone in her life had been paired off except for her.

He was her coworker. He was going to be her roommate.

But right as he left, he sent her heart into a frenzy. They were by the door. She wanted to make sure he got to his car safely even though it was a safe neighborhood. It was just the way she was. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asked.

She stared at him in shock, her lips parting like she was mid-sentence, and he had interrupted. “Seriously?” She giggled reflexively, but her cheeks felt hot. They had a lovely evening together getting to know each other. Harry helped with all the decorations and yes, in its own way it was a bit intimate. But he couldn’t possibly think that it was a good idea to date his roommate.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Harry, I can’t date my roommate.”

“Pretty sure s’how most rom-coms start,” he smiled. “S’okay. I’ll ask again later. Have a nice night,” he grinned with a wave and walked toward his car. Leaving her jaw slack, as she watched her roommate head off into the night.

*

Harry moved in later that week. He asked her to come with him to his storage unit to see if there was anything she would want in the apartment, but she had pretty much everything. It seemed silly to bring a double of everything when she owned all of it already.

But Harry would forever be grateful and indebted to his sister for her kindness as he watched her examine some of his belongings. One in particular caught her eye making him think that he had won the lottery with how excited she was.

She couldn’t believe Harry had a stand mixer and she was nearly in awe of all the attachments to help bake and cook easier. “I’ve always wanted one of these. They’re so expensive,” she blinked. “How do you have one?”

“M'sister got one when she got married,” he explained. “But she doesn’t bake and said it was taking up space in her kitchen.”

“Can we bring it to the apartment? Do you mind?”

The way her eyes lit up at the sight of it? Pure joy and happiness? Yeah. It was going to the apartment. If he ever moved out, he would probably leave it with her too just so she could always look that happy. “Course. Anything else?”

She looked around the organized storage room sifting through the items in different bins while Harry searched for some of his own trinkets that he thought he would want after his initial move. His room and bathroom items had already been moved in with the help of Louis. “This is stunning,” her voice full of awe once more, grabbing a print from behind a shelf. Harry wasn’t sure where it was from. He thought his mum purchased it to make his old place feel like home. “This would look amazing in the living room.”

“Bring it,” he smiled. She tucked it under her arm and continued searching. Harry grabbed a few more odds and ends and she plucked out a few more things she thought would work with the apartment’s décor and mainly helpful kitchen tools.

“It’s your place too, Harry,” she reminded him. “Is there anything you want there?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Y’seem t’have everything, kitten. M’not picky.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a guest,” she pouted. “Like you should bring these,” she gestured to pictures of his friends and family in a bin. “I can move some of mine to my room so you can put them up.”

He grinned. “Sure,” he shrugged. “If y’think s’what I should do.”

“Alright, could we come back in a few weeks and see if there’s anything else you want once you’re settled a bit?”

“Course.”

They gathered as much as they could, Harry would have to come back for the stand mixer. Harry closed the trunk and moved to open the passenger door for her before her hand fully pulled it out of the way. He waited until she was tucked into the seat safely and he handed her the car keys. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled.

“Hey kitten,” he said leaning against the door before he left. “Will y’go on a date with me?”

“Harry,” she laughed the same way she did the last time he asked her. The same way she laughed when he told her he was in love with her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” he smiled at the delight on her face. The pretty pink color rising to her cheeks. “Will you?”

“I can’t go on a date with you, Harry,” she looked at him with a bit of sympathetic pity. Like he was ridiculous for asking. Again. Which he was.

“Then I’ll ask again another time,” he shrugged, closed her car door, and headed to get the stand mixer that made her happy.

*

“Hey Poppy, did y’want t’go get lunch with me?” Her eyes didn’t move from her screen. “Poppy,” he repeated. “Poppy,” he sang. She glanced around and realized she was the only one in the room.

“Me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Why did you call me Poppy?”

“Well, m’assuming s’your favorite flower,” it was a safe bet since there was a small bouquet right beside her. “Also, everyone else calls y’Mary, Poppins, or Miss Poppins. Which I still don’t know why, but I wanted t’be different. Want you t’know s’me when y’hear me talking t’you.”

Her heart raced. Harry was utterly adorable. “I see. Sorry,” she smirked.

“Anyway,” he came over to stand by her desk. “Do y’want t’get lunch?”

“Harry, I told you I don’t date.”

“M’not asking as a date. M’asking as your coworker who has never seen y’eat a bite of food while you’re at work. M’asking as your concerned roommate who worries y’don’t eat until y’get home for dinner. And I don’t even want t’think ‘bout how long y’go without eating when you’re at your second job.”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I don’t go out to lunch with everyone,” she explained. “I don’t know if you noticed, but people always seem to need me while I’m here,” she gestured to her desk. “Lunch is the only time I get a minute to myself. And I can get caught up a bit before the afternoon and everyone comes back.”

“Well do you bring lunch?” He asked, his frown deepening still worried she wasn’t eating.

“I do, it’s in the breakroom. I’ll get it in a minute,” she promises. “Go, you’re wasting your lunch hour.”

“Okay,” he sighed. He stopped in the doorway of the entrance to the office. “Hey Poppy,” he smiled.

“Yeah?” She asked without looking up from her screen.

“Now that y’mention it though, will y’go out with me?”

*

At home, Harry took the trash out because he said it was a boy-job and she shouldn’t be out in the dark by a dumpster. It made his skin crawl just to think about it. He made her promise that she wouldn’t take out the trash and he didn’t mind if he had to go out twice in one day. She thought it was ridiculous. But she agreed.

He cleaned up after himself checking with her to see if it was up to her standard. Even though she assured him he didn’t have to meet her standard. His cologne overtook their bathroom, and it was so comforting she took long hot showers at night just to amplify the scent filling her nose. Harry stretched across the sofa and scrolled through various show options but often didn’t find something that piqued his interest. Instead, he would put on some background noise and read on an eReader. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

Harry bought groceries and didn’t ask for any money from them. “M’sure you’ll buy stuff too,” he shrugged. Plus, she already had all the cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher pods, and the like. Harry hardly had anything useful so buying groceries was the least he could do.

Except the stand mixer. People moaned about her cookies. Harry got to see her make them firsthand and the very scene with an apron around her body, her smile bright as she tested various stages of the dough, it did wonders for Harry. Some kind of nearly pornographic idea that only Harry would think was pornographic. “Will you try one?” She asked, hope in her voice.

Was he supposed to say no to her? Absolutely not. So, he tried one. “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

He frowned, faking his disappointment (although he was the slightest bit disappointed). “I’ll try again,” he shrugged and took three more cookies from her cooling rack before returning to the sofa to read.

*

“Mary!” Val sang. “Do you have the stain stick?” She called from behind. She opened a drawer, eyes unmoving from her screen and held it out behind her for it to be passed back by her other coworkers. Harry chuckled.

It killed her that she knew his chuckle without looking. “S’impressive,” he murmured quietly. But she could hear it from across the way.

“That’s nothing,” Rachel said from the other end of the room. “Miss Poppins,” she smiled delightedly. “I have a missing button,” she told her.

That was the other drawer, a small little sewing kit to fix a button.

“Hair tie!” Someone called from the other side of the room.

“Lint roller!”

They all called out items and she had every single one.

“Do you have anything stronger to put in this coffee?” Their boss was walking up the aisle and paused at her desk. She smirked, opened the bottom drawer and placed a mini bottle of liquid on the edge of the desk. The whole office laughed as he snatched it and headed to his office. “You’re getting a raise, Poppins,” he called.

Hunter turned to look at Harry. “I gave her the nickname,” he explained.

“I get it,” he chuckled.

“If you need it, chances are she has it.”

“If she doesn’t, she adds it,” Val explained.

Her smile was soft. Harry thought it was sweet how her coworkers adored her. It was clear she was loved by them. Her thoughtfulness was admirable. Harry wondered how he was supposed to top that. No wonder she didn’t want to go out with him. Why would she want to go out with anyone when she was ten times sweeter than anyone she knew?

*

Her best friend Josephine (Joey) was helping her in the bathroom when Harry got home from the gym one Friday evening. “Holy hell you said he was cute, not hot,” she gaped.

“Aw, y’think m’cute, Poppy?” He asked winking at her. Her cheeks flushed red, making it so she didn’t need any of the blush she was putting on her cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed over his chest. He was sweaty and really wanted to get in the shower, but he didn't mind a bit of time to stare at his sweet roommate.

“I should have known. Only a man that uses such high-end cologne would be this hot.”

“Didn’t you buy Matt high-end cologne?”

“Hence why I think he’s so hot,” Joey beamed. Her friend laughed quietly, shaking her head as she finished with her makeup.

“Sorry Harry, we’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

“Take y’time. M’not in a rush.”

“Oh, you should come out!” Joey squealed. “Harry, please! She’s always by herself keeping an eye on us it would be nice to have someone keep her company!”

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter,” she rolled her eyes. “No offense, Harry.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “I don’t want t’impose. Plus m’in need of a shower.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Joey smiled widely gesturing to the shower.

“Can you not?” She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry with apologetic eyes.

He laughed again and shook his head. “Y’can call if y’need something,” he assured her.

“Harry, please come out! You can meet us there!” Joey said again.

She looked at him with a soft smile. A look in her eyes said he wasn’t going to get out of it. Not if he didn’t have a really good reason. But truthfully? He didn’t need a reason to get out of it. Spending time with her outside of work, outside of the apartment, and errands like the grocery store and running to the post office had him excited to see her in another frame of light. Did she let loose? He would love to dance with her. Even if it was only as friends, roommates, fuck as coworkers even. How did she act around her friends versus her coworkers? God, he was obsessed.

“I can wait for you,” she suggested, her voice soft. Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Poppy.”

*

Her eyes scanned for her friends as she sat on a stool at a high top beside Harry. It was like watching a teacher on a field trip counting heads to make sure everyone was still present. The table was littered with drinks all of which she minded just as intently.

Harry just gazed at her as he sipped his drink. He helped as needed pushing drinks toward her friends as they came back from dancing. “Y’don’t dance?”

“Oh...maybe later. I’m not very good,” she admitted. “I like dancing with Joey because she’s worse than me.”

She caught the eye of one of her friends, Hailey, approaching and she reached into her purse strapped around the front of her for something. Harry watched as Hailey made it to her. “Thanks Mary,” she gushed taking the bandage from her and made her way for the bathroom. It was pretty wild she could anticipate whatever her friends needed. It was like at work. Harry was a bit awestruck and looked at her with a surprised expression. She shrugged and continued sipping her drink.

Jaylen was next. Joey’s twin brother; they had the same facial expressions--mainly the smile that Joey had on her face when she suggested Harry shower in front of her and his favorite person.

The same smile appeared on his face and told Harry he was going to say something just as delightful as Joey had said of Harry. Sure enough, Jaylen draped an arm around her and leaned into her ear to whisper something over the sound of the music. She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. His face turned serious and he whispered something again.

She frowned. Then reached into her purse again. Out came a tampon which he slid discreetly into his pocket and then she glanced at his outfit twisting her lips to the side in disappointment.

After a brief thought, she pulled her purse over her body and laid it on the table. The long cardigan she wore came off next, leaving her in a black tank top that tucked into her jeans. It hugged her curves like a glove making Harry’s mouth water and he glanced away worried he would look like a creep. He finished his beer before Jaylen grinned and thanked her profusely and walked away. She took a deep breath and put her purse back into position before wrapping one arm in front of he protectively, gripping the front of her shoulder.

“Are y’cold?” He asked.

She shook her head.

But Harry was sitting beside her. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. She selflessly gave her sweater to her friend for whatever reason (Harry wasn’t totally sure, but he suspected it was menstrual related). But she was going to pretend like she wasn’t cold? Harry was definitely in love. In case it wasn’t obvious by the moment he met her. Boldly, Harry reached below her bar stool and tugged it toward him. She jostled a bit but he maintained her balance. Then he draped his arm around her body pulling her toward him further and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a sound and her facial expression didn’t change.

But Harry felt her body relax into his side, her head dipping ever so slightly toward his shoulder. He smiled softly and brought his lips closer to her ear so she could hear. “Y’don’t have t’lie t’me, Poppy. M’your roommate and all. I know y’like the apartment a toasty temperature.”

She smirked and tilted her head up. Their eyes connected, their mouths only two inches apart. “Thank you,” she said kindly.

Harry really enjoyed holding her.

*

At the end of the night, she rounded up her friends ensuring those who said they could drive actually could and if they couldn’t she called for Ubers until everyone was safely on their way home. Jaylen’s girlfriend, Maya, had her green sweater wrapped around her white pants. She thanked her profusely, drunkenly.

Joey and Matt waved goodbye. “Bye Hot Roommate,” Joey called waving to Harry specifically.

“Jesus, Joey,” Matt rolled his eyes. “Nice meeting you Harry,” he called.

Once everyone was gone, she rubbed her hands on her arms to keep the blood flowing and warming her skin. Harry wrapped his arm over her shoulders again and tucked her into his side as they headed for her parked car a couple blocks away. “Go on a date with me," he spoke straight forward. Hoping if he didn't look, it wouldn't seem like as a massive deal--almost like he would trick her into a date.

She elbowed him. “I can’t go out with a coworker, Harry. Or my roommate for that matter.”

He shrugged. “I’ll ask later,” he boldly kissed the top of her head. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure to keep that in his head for future reference. He would most definitely be kissing her again. “You’re an extremely sweet girl, Poppy. Selfless, lovely, kind,” he listed. “Whoever y’end up with, m’going t’be very jealous,” he assured her.

She snorted and laughed quietly under her breath. “Thank you, Harry.”

*

For months it continued with similar routines, feelings, and questions. They grew closer as friends. At work he admired her from his desk from across the office. When she didn’t go to lunch, he reminded her to eat and not work too hard. At home, he grumbled that her loophole of taking the trash out in the daytime was not the point of his promise. He still bought groceries each week trying to figure out all the things she enjoyed eating.  

He helped her clean the apartment and when it was getting cooler outside, she asked to join him at the gym. Her outfits were cute and made guys stare at her as she worked out, unbeknownst to her. She asked for help from Harry which made him feel like he won an Olympic medal. His face was smug as the men in the gym finally stopped looking at her. Thinking Harry was lucky enough to be hers.

It made him happy to help her figure out new machines and with her sets of weightlifting (even though she didn’t like it).

Everywhere they went, people ogled her. She was so kind. Little kids would smile at her in grocery store lines and wave like it was a game of peekaboo. Dogs tugged on their leashes hoping to get a pet from her around the loop she ran in the neighborhood. Their elderly next door neighbor tried telling her a hundred times that she had a grandson her age and he would love to date her (that one drove Harry the most crazy).

She had her head leaning in her palm as she watched the stand mixer beat the brownie ingredients like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But Harry was watching her; so he was, in fact, watching the most interesting thing in the world.

He leaned against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. “Poppy?” He asked. She looked up at him. “Go on a date with me, please," his expression soft.

She was finally getting used to it. She gave herself a lot of credit. It was pretty crazy she hadn’t caved yet. Harry was so lovely. Not to mention attractive. At the gym, his muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. The outline of every abdominal muscle was sinful. It was a miracle she didn’t drop her own weights or fall on the treadmill when she caught sight of him. It drove her crazy that the women there gazed at him longingly; like he was something to eat. But was she really any better?

She smiled, the blush on her cheeks still prominent, but not as deep. She was used to her heart skipping a beat, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he asked. “That's very sweet, Harry. But I don’t date.”

It was six months since he met her when he finally asked. “Why not?”

She shrugged. He thought she wasn’t going to say anything more, so he frowned, sighed, and headed for the living room to get back to his book. “I just don’t date, Harry. I like being friends,” she told him.

He grumbled something about still being friends even if they dated but she either didn’t hear or pretended not to hear. Either way, it was quiet for a few beats. “If I hadn’t told you I was in love with you that first day, would that have changed your answer?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. Ever determined. He smiled widely at her. “I’ll keep asking then.”

*

When she got dressed up for a family wedding and clicked down the hall in heels and a dress that flowed over her like she was the bride (only wearing green of course, not white). Her hair was curled and pinned so prettily Harry thought he was seeing a real angel in the flesh. “Oh, come on, Poppy,” he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand dramatically. “S’not fighting fair,” he frowned.

She grinned, her cheeks warming more than they had in a while. “I look okay?”

“Stunning,” he grumbled. “M’so jealous I won’t get t’dance with you,” he pouted.

She shook her head. “I don’t usually dance at weddings when I go alone,” she explained.

“Well, y’should’ve told me. I would’ve been your date.”

“Harry—”

“Platonic date,” he rolled his eyes. “This is worse than when y’wore that pencil skirt t’work,” he reminded her. She snickered and shook her head while she looked at her phone. She sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed wincing slightly and then turned to her room again. After several minutes she returned in a different dress. She was equally stunning, but she looked a little forlorn. “An outfit change?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “My sister is wearing green.”

Harry frowned. “So?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just...” she shrugged. “It’s alright. I like this dress just fine.”

But it wasn’t green. She looked so pretty in green. It complimented her skin tone so perfectly. She looked stunning. Like she was a queen. “But—”

“Seriously, Harry. It’s fine.”

The muted purple dress looked lovely on her as well. But Harry thought the green made her look otherworldly. He wanted the happiness back in her eye. The light that sparked when he complimented her. “Well when can y’wear it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Season’s almost over for a wintergreen like that,” she shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

Harry frowned. But then he had a wonderful idea to help both her dress and himself. “Go on a date with me, Poppy.”

The smile reappeared on her face, and she shook her head. “I can’t, Harry.”

“Please? Do it for the sake of that dress,” he pleaded. “We don’t even have t’call it a date. An outing. An adventure. Whatever y’want. Y’jus’ need t’wear it before y’can’t.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Harry. But I can’t.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome, Poppy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll steal you a cupcake. I heard they come from this bakery that I love and if it doesn’t make it home to you, then we’re going to have to go there anyway.”

It didn’t replace a date. But he liked the way she smiled. And going to a bakery together was inherently a couple-y thing to do. So he would take what he could get.

“Sure, Poppy. I’d love to.”

*

She didn’t need people. Needing people had only ever broken her heart. She never asked for help ever. Well...only when they were at the gym but that was a safety thing more than anything.

Even when she should have asked.

Harry didn’t notice until he drove her to a house party that her friends didn’t invite her too. She was sleepy, it was obvious. Leggings, oversized sweater. Her hair was braided loosely and falling apart because she had woken in the middle of the night to answer a message. Harry was in the middle of a good book. Unable to put it down when she ventured into the living room. A yawn falling from her lips. Her eyes barely open. It took several questions and repeated convincing to let him drive her since he was awake, and it looked like she was going to pass out while standing.

Harry insisted on coming in even as she told him to stay in the car, but he refused. She found her friends, her voice was soft as she encouraged Jaylen to leave. A little over his limit and Joey and Maya were about just as gone and unable to convince Jaylen to go with them. A guy from across the room made a joke about Mommy coming to save him. As her pugnacious friend made a turn to deal with the offensive person, she stopped him. She was quick, grabbed his arm, and held tight.

When they returned to the apartment she corralled her friends into their sleeping arrangements. Maya and Jaylen in her bed, Joey on the sofa. “Sorry I took your reading spot,” she whispered as she tucked a blanket around Joey. She snagged another blanket and curled into the only other chair in the living room. “Thank you for driving,” she smiled, closing her sleepy eyes.

“You’re gonna sleep there?” He asked. She nodded, barely moving. Like she was already half-way to dreaming. Harry snagged her out of the chair, cradling her and bringing her to his room.

“Harry,” she protested.

“We’re grown adults,” he reminded her. “We can share a bed without it being weird. S’like a hotel room.”

“Harry,” she repeated, her objection evident in her tone. “I can’t—”

“M’not letting y’sleep in a chair or on the floor. So, it’s m’bed or y’aren’t sleeping,” he shrugged.

She sighed. Too tired to oppose any further, thankfully. Harry laid her atop the covers and draped another blanket over her. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and slid beneath his sheets and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. He smiled. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked the way she seemed comfortable and sleepy beside him. His bed felt warm with her beside him. Even though she wasn’t touching him. She smelled good in his room too.

“Night, Harry,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Poppy,” he answered, reached out, squeezed her hand before releasing it so she wouldn’t break a piece of his heart by telling him they shouldn’t.

It was easy to fall asleep with her beside him.

It was even easier to dream of her with her intoxicating presence in his room as well.

*

Harry noticed how drained she seemed when the weather continued to get warmer. Her friends all had birthdays around the same time, and she was a mess of scheduling and reserving birthday dinners and planning things for all of them. Did Harry miss her birthday? He would have to ask. He hoped he didn’t. He hoped her friends would take the time to plan for her the way she did for them.

Work was approaching a busy season, and everyone kept coming to her more and more throughout the day. He could see the anxiety on her face as her growing to-do list looked nearly unmanageable. Harry tried to go to others if he had issues. But every time he asked someone else a question, they called out for Mary Poppins, and she would glance up and look at Harry with a sad smile asking how she could help.

Harry was worried she wasn’t eating her lunch. When everyone else left, her eyes were hidden behind those glasses, her face concentrating and relieved for the reprieve from people calling her name for help with work or needing something like a pen or a screwdriver. Sometimes Harry hated his job. Not because it was difficult. But it seemed like everyone in the office was incompetent. Or weaponizing their incompetence and foisting their tasks onto the lovely woman who would never say no to them.

Her friends did it too. With all the planning and such.

The poor thing looked exhausted. She didn’t join Harry at the gym and her second job seemed like the only time she got to herself. “I miss reading,” she grumbled when she got home late from her shift. She kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. “My eyes are exhausted though,” she rubbed them for good measure. “I think I would fall asleep if I tried to read. I think I need to wake up earlier and read.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t burn yourself out, Poppy,” he rolled his eyes. “What are y’reading?”

“I’ve been trying t’read this book for months,” she pulled it from the shelf below the coffee table. He had seen it tucked there for a while. He grabbed it from her, skimmed the back of the book, and opened to the first chapter.

Then, he started reading.

Out loud.

“Harry,” she whispered her eyes wide.

“Yeah?” He asked, pointing at the sentence where he stopped and looked at her curiously. “M’starting over, because I want t’know what’s happening,” he smiled. Her face looked so shocked and confused. Sad even. Like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to feel.

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, and continued reading before she could finish her sentence.

Harry read three chapters before he carried her sleeping self to bed.

*

Something changed in Harry. He almost turned into a stalker. He tracked her movements and routines for a week. He knew most of them. But he really tracked them. The daily ones were easiest. She went for a run in the morning, he followed her lead and didn’t say a word. He went to her favorite coffee shop and paid for her favorite drink for a week’s worth of drinks in advance.

He wished they carpooled, but she was so busy. So he timed his arrival so that he was at the entrance door holding it open for her. When everyone left to get lunch, he heated up her food and brought it to her desk before leaving silently.

One day, there was a note on her dashboard saying she had a full tank of gas. When she arrived home after her second job, she noted her spare car key was on Harry’s key ring. At home, her laundry was in the wash. The shirts she didn’t like to put in the dryer were hung in the bathroom.

Harry could see it. She was cracking. It was the first time someone had done something for her it seemed. The first time someone so selflessly did things for her, anticipated her needs the way she anticipated everyone else’s.

Her throat felt tight as she looked at Harry in the kitchen, making her favorite dinner—a soup that took hours and hours to make.

He didn’t even know it was her birthday that day which made her heart feel sicker than ever.

“Poppy,” he smiled sweetly placing a bowl in front of her exhausted figure.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

If she wasn't so in awe, she would have realized where his tone was. What was coming next. “Go on a date with me, kitten.”

“I can’t.”

“S’not so hard,” he assured her. “You sit across from me and be yourself because m’already in love with you,” he reminded her sweetly. An impish grin on his pretty pink lips. That dimple she wanted to sink her tongue into on display. “I tell y’how stunning y’look, I pay for you t’eat. I feed you a dessert of your choosing that you’re probably too full t’eat and then I can kiss you wherever y’want. Lips, cheek, forehead,” he shrugged. “Then we come home, and I’ll read a chapter of your book. Y’can decide if y’want t’go on a second date.”

She giggled, her cheeks red. “I can’t, Harry,” she looked at him apologetically, but she felt herself melting as much as the soup warmed her insides. It was ridiculous to eat soup in the middle of the summer. But Harry made it for her anyway.

His heart deflated a little. He wasn't kidding. He was definitely in love. He had to be because there was no other way he could explain the feelings he had for her. Someone so thoughtful, so pretty, sweet, and funny.

Harry had asked her out at least a hundred times. Around Christmas, she got her hair cut and he always found her beautiful, but he asked her almost every day following her new hair style for a month straight. Each time she said she couldn't. She didn't date.

For the first time in the near year since he had first asked her, first met her, he realized she said she can’t go on a date with him. She didn’t date. That he was crazy.

Not that she didn’t want to. She didn’t say no.

Hope bloomed inside him.

*

She didn’t need anything. She didn’t need anybody. It was clear someone or maybe many had let her down so many times. He watched her doing everything she could to make this party as nice as humanly possible for Hailey. Not that Hailey didn’t deserve it, but no one had done anything like this for her. Harry only found out it was her birthday after the fact, and he felt like shit for it. Even though she assured him that was one of the best birthdays she ever had.

All he did was make her soup.

She deserved so much more.

It almost seemed too obvious that they hadn’t done anything for her remotely as lovely as she did.

“You’re staring, Styles,” she murmured without looking up from the chair while he lounged on the sofa.

“Go on a date with me,” he smiled.

She blushed, shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“You haven’t said no.”

"I've said no about a hundred thousand times, Harry," she rolled her eyes.

Why was it now? Why did he want to tell her what he was thinking about the whole situation now? But it was in his chest. He had to say it. Had to tell her.

“No, you’ve never said no,” he shook his head and looked at her head on, while she continued looking at her to do list, her planner. Her poor neglected book waiting to be read by Harry because her tired eyes couldn’t. She looked up at him and smirked. Ready to protest once more, but Harry shook his head again. “I remember everything you've said t'me. I would remember a 'no,' it would probably kill me t’hear y’say, no kitten. Y'call me crazy, y'say y'can’t or that y'don’t date. Never, not once, have y'ever said y'don’t want t'go on a date with me. Nor a flat out no. So m'going t’keep asking until y'say y'don’t want to. Because I think you do want t'go out with me but for some reason y'don't want t'allow yourself t'be happy. T'let someone else in. M'not going t'stop asking. Not until I hear y'say "Harry Styles I would rather die than go on a date with you. I never want to go out with you." Maybe that makes me conceited or creepy. M’sure it does make me crazy. But I don’t care. I want t'go on a date with you. I want t'go on a million dates with you, actually. So m'not giving up until y'call me creepy or y'say y'don’t want to.”

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. Her eyes didn't move from her lap.

"Kitten," he murmured. She didn’t look up. “Poppy,” he whispered. She finally met his green-eyed gaze again. His expression soft, pleading. “Go on a date with me,” his voice was soft. Harry swore his heart stopped beating because if he was wrong, if she really was saying no all those times, he wasn't sure he could ever stop asking her. The idea he would never get to take her out to eat and order her favorite dessert. He wouldn't see a movie and wrap his arm around her shoulders and that was completely unfair. He wanted to offer his jacket to her when it rained and hold her hand while walking through a museum. "Poppy," he repeated.

She bit her lip, her lips opening and closing like she wasn't sure which word was going to pop out. “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes looking at him in a way that he could read right through her. They screamed at him, please don’t stop asking me.

As if he could ever. Harry smiled. "Okay," he shrugged, hope and adoration for her flooding him. "I'll ask again tomorrow."

A sad smile graced her face. "You're crazy," she whispered again.

"Only 'bout you, Poppy.”

*

Harry felt like he was getting sick. Probably due to the sweet girl in his apartment who had worn herself so thin and weary that she had inadvertently brought illness home to him. His head was killing him. His pillow was calling for him the way he wished his favorite stubborn woman would call him.

He didn't even know if she was home. But honestly, he was glad. If she knew he was sick, she would dote on him. Even if she was starting to fell unwell. The thoughts of her were never too far from his mind. He would never be too sick, too lost, too far away from her that she could leave his thoughts.

Sleeping was one of his favorite hobbies because he loved to see her in his dreams. Loved to see the unaffected, carefree, beautiful, stubborn woman. The angel that enjoyed affection both giving and receiving.

It was his nightly dream. The one where she snuggled with him, and it was like they had been together twenty years and not zero. The one where he could taste her lips (even if in his dream she tasted like nothing) he knew it was wrong. She probably tasted like chocolate or caramel or something deliriously sweet.

Unfortunately, his phone vibrated below his pillow pulling him from his perfect beautiful dream.

“Harry?”

He squinted at his phone. Head aching, throat sore. Curious as to why he didn’t have the number saved. “Speaking.”

“Oh, thank god,” the voice sighed. “It’s Joey,” she said. “Harry. Something’s wrong. She won’t stop crying and she won’t say anything but your name.”

He leapt out of bed. Illness forgotten even if he was dizzy. His heart thudded like a chorus of drums, and he didn’t even grab shoes as he raced out of his room, snagging his wallet and keys off the counter as he exited the apartment.

He listened to Joey say a few more things. Something about being out at a club. She never left the bar area. There was no way someone had hurt her. But Harry drove through the night with his heart in his throat like someone had hurt her. He wasn’t sure seeing her would even calm him. He knew where Joey lived, fortunately, so he sped as quickly as he could. The ache in his head and his throat was lost behind him along the drive.

He didn’t knock as he hurried barefoot into Joey’s apartment. Matt was coming from the kitchen and making his way down the hall. He looked at Harry sadly as he approached the main room.

“Poppy?” he whispered as he entered the room, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. "Kitten," he frowned and knelt in front of her. He picked her face up between his and he scanned her looking for signs of injury. Anxiety was in every inch of his body. But she fell into his arms before he could look any longer. Sobbing harder than when he entered. “M'here. M'here, baby. It’s okay. M'here," he kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other arm winding around her and squeezing her tight to his body. “Oh kitten,” he sighed, sadness coating his voice. His heart ached. Like it was going to snap in half if she cried any longer. “M’sorry, baby. M'here. S’okay. Tell me. Please. I’ll make it better,” he promised.

Her sobs continued, like she was unable to speak. "Harry," she whimpered.

"M'here, Poppy, s'okay," he assured her even if it wasn't. "Baby," he frowned pulling away to look at her her tearful eyes. He tugged her back to his embrace and continued to soothe her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back hoping it was comforting as he hoped it was.

Harry caught Joey's eye, who looked over from the entryway and smiled weakly.

"You good?" She mouthed. Harry nodded and when he glanced back, her friend was gone.

*

Harry kissed the top of her head for the hundredth time. He continued rubbing his hand down her spine. His head was still screaming.

But she was well worth it. Her cheeks were streaked with salt lines. Her eyes puffy and red around the edges. He had pulled her to him so they could snuggle into the corner of the couch. Her body tucked between the back cushion and Harry's body. Like he didn't want anyone to see her if they entered the room.

“Harry?” Her voice was raw.

“Hmm?” He tucked her hair behind her ear and skimmed his fingertip along the same path repeatedly.

“Will you go on a date with me?” She whispered.

He smiled lazily. His heart exploding in his ribcage. “God, Poppy, I don't know. I have t'check m'schedule.” She smacked his chest with no weight behind it. He kissed the top of her head. “I’d take y’right now. Whenever y’want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing t’be sorry for.”

"I have issues."

"We can work on them together."

"I don't know if you'll..." She trailed off.

"If I'll what?" He brushed his thumb on her cheek.

She took a deep breath. "I love love, Harry. I love watching people get married. I love when people have babies and grow a family. I want to have babies. I love reading romance novels and watching silly rom-coms where you can predict the ending before the movie even starts."

"Sounds pretty romantic and easy, Poppy," he murmured.

She swallowed continuing. "I will do a lot for you because I believe that's the way love is supposed to be. I want to make your life easier, and I want to do things that make you happy because I think happiness and love are in short supply and I want those books and rom-coms to be real."

Harry nodded. "Well—"

"I've never had that. I had a boyfriend for four years and..." she sniffled. "When we broke up, I said that I wouldn't do that again. I wouldn’t devote myself so completely to someone that wouldn't give me half as much. Then I met my next boyfriend and at first, I thought it was right, finally. It was equal. He loved me the right way, I mean. The way I thought I wanted, deserved... But then it was like he got tired of doing things. I don't know. Maybe my love language is acts of service. I don't know. I’m not making sense, I'm sorry. But..." she swallowed. "I broke it off after only two years that time. I just don't think I can be loved the right way... not forever. I don't know. I sound so selfish, don’t I? I don’t know why you want to go out with me so badly. I want someone to love me the way I love them, and I don’t think that’s...fair."

It was why she always had everything. Why she planned and hosted parties. Why she never drank and always took care of her friends. She loved everyone that was lucky to cross paths with her, with her whole, big, beautiful heart.

Harry tilted her chin up. "M’going to love you the right way,” he promised. “M’going to love you the way y’want because that's what y’deserve. If I love you anything less than you deserve then... well... I don't know what, Poppy. If that’s the case m’probably dead because s’the only possible explanation,” she snorted and tears dripped down her cheeks again but not like the night before. “But it's not going to be a problem, kitten. M’going to love you the way your books love. The way a rom-com loves. M’going to love you the way you love everyone that walks into your life. The way you so selflessly devote your kindness to them. M’going to love you the way you love," he promised. “Because s’an honor to love you,” he assured her. “S’an honor to be loved by you.”

She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. His throat was aching again. He was really tired, but he would suffer her wrath and frustration of going on about this later. He knew that she would be beside herself knowing he was sick and dealing with her anyway. But where else would he be? "Harry," she whispered finally. He met her eyes the back of his fingers skimming her cheek.

"What, Poppy?"

"Do you love me already?"

"Of course I do."

She sniffled, her face crumpling with relief. Like all of it had been a trick up until then. "Okay," she whispered. “Can we go home?”

“Course, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head and moved slowly to get up from the sofa. All of his muscles ached from sickness and from the awkward but perfect position of holding her all night in the cramped little space.

He held his hand out for her to take as she stood next. “Harry,” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed and looked at her with a soft expression that made her stomach flip, her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, Poppy?"

“I’m in love with you too.”

--

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[crabsnpersimmons]

Happy Halloween from the "Rain or Shine" Chibis!

happy halloween! you may have seen these silly little guys running about trick or treating! if they missed you, they got tuckered out 😅 little bodies have little batteries after all!

they had a lot of fun today! and I had a lot of fun these past couple of days too!

i'll catch up with some more of you tomorrow, i just have... another day out of my cave tomorrow 🫠 so i gotta go sleep now!

🎃 Happy Halloween everyone! 🎃

[emberfrostlovesloki]

The Crucible [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@roting) Center (@dudeitiskarev) Right (@moodboard-d)

Prompt: Aaron finds himself alone with a homegrown terrorist group whose leader he put away a year ago. He gets beaten, shot, and dumped in the woods where the reader finds him and attempts to keep him alive long enough for the paramedics to get to him. 

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, gender-neutral!reader. The reader uses they/them pronouns 

Category: angst/hurt/comfort [happy ending] 

Word Count: 14.9K 

Content Warnings: Food is mentioned, alcohol is consumed, there is a hate group [the bad guys], severe beating [glass broken on a body, unwanted touch, forced drinking, punching, hitting, groping (Aaron)], shooting [Aaron], death by gunshot [a bad guy], gore,  mention of past abuse [Aaron], arguing, near death, hospitals, deep concern and coping mechanisms, language. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! It has been a while, but I am back now thanks to the end of the semester. I hope you are all doing very well! As always, I return with a novel of a Hotch story. I’ve had this idea for months now, and I am happy with how it turned out. I do want to encourage you to read the Content Warnings as this is angsty (though it has a happy ending). If you like this concept and would like to see a part two, let me know. I have many fluffy ideas for Aaron too, and those are coming, pinky promise. I am so happy to be writing again and hope to do a lot of it during the summer. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

P.S. Special shoutout to @criminalskies for sharing emergency medicine with me for this fic! If I got things wrong, I'm sorry pookie.

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

_c/t_ = coffee or tea

y/l/n = your last name 

y/a =  your age

Aaron drove down the lonely highway. He’d passed briefly through Shenandoah National Park. The peacefulness of the trees had calmed his mind for the hour that he was in the park, but as he got back onto the main road, the conversation that was bothering him started to edge its way back into his consciousness. Hotch wanted to close his eyes and potentially scream, but he settled for rubbing his hand angrily over his brow and then his eye bags that seemed to get heavier each day. 

Sean had reached out last week saying that he was going to be in New York meeting someone and had asked if his older brother had wanted to get a drink and catch up. To Hotch, this was last-minute planning according to him and his packed schedule. But he’d managed to drag himself out of bed and on the road on Saturday morning. When he got into the city, he and Sean met up at a swanky restaurant that suited Aaron’s taste a bit more than Sean’s. That at least he had to give his little brother credit for. 

In their adult lives, the Hotchner brothers had never seen eye to eye. It had only gotten worse when their mom had passed leaving the last real reason for them to be civil behind. Not that they were outwardly hostile, at least they hadn’t been until this afternoon, just that Aaron carried a lot of guilt and Sean had never seen to be able to step past his anger about what life had thrown at him. Neither could be blamed for their responses. But when Aaron arrived at the restaurant, Sean moved forward and shook his hand, and even gave him a hug with his other hand. Hotch returned the hug, realizing just how many years it had been since Sean and he had seen each other. 

They pulled back and looked at each other for a moment before moving inside and being seated. They both decided to just have a drink. Aaron got a mezcal mule and Sean opted for a margarita on the rocks. They both did a bit of catching up on their first drink, but things started to get rocky when Sean said, “So, I’m seeing someone new. Her name is Jennifer and she’s got three kids from a past relationship. I’m going to visit her and her family over the weekend. If things look good I’m thinking of moving from Nashville. Or I’ll invite her to move down with me.” Hearing this, Hotch took a sharp breath in. Sean had always been impulsive, but this was a lot, even for him. Aaron had hoped that with time, his brother would have grown out of this lifestyle. 

Hotch furrowed his brow and asked, “How long have you known her?” Sean sipped his drink but didn’t love Aaron’s tone. He replied a bit defensively, “A month and a half, but I don’t see why that’s a big deal. I’m just feeling it out, Aaron.” Hotch couldn’t help but scoff and say, “It sounds like a bit more than that.” Aaron’s reply only solidified Sean’s defensive nature, and he replied hotly, “Well what do you mean by that? You don’t even know Jennifer.” Aaron took a steadying breath. He didn’t want to come off as creating a narrative, or not trusting Sean, but Aaron had seen the same thing play out with his brother again and again, and each time Sean got hurt. Hotch looked at Sean and said, “I shouldn’t have said it like that. But what I’m trying to say is that you jump into things. You and I have both seen it before. You say that I don’t know Jennifer well, but from what I’m hearing I don’t know if you know her that well either, and you’re already talking about you or her moving across the country. Does that sound logical or well throughout to you?” 

Sean was already heated. Something about Aaron’s attitude made him feel judged. His older, well-put-together brother always had something to say about his life. Sean set down his empty glass and said, “Well maybe you’d know more about me and my life if you called me sometimes. Or unlocked yourself from the chain connecting you to your desk and came down and saw me sometimes.” Aaron sighed and tried to defend himself even though he knew Sean was right saying, “Sean, I have Jack. And my work doesn’t just let me have off time like yours does. Plane tickets go both ways. And you never answered my question.” 

Aaron pinched the bridge of this nose.  He just once wanted Sean to think through his actions. Sean responded, “You’ve always thought you were better than me. And I think you really stopped caring about me when Mom died. But let’s be honest, you stopped caring when dad passed.” The mention of their family so quickly broke Hotch’s facade of composure and he said, “Don’t bring family into this Sean. You know I don’t talk about that. I care about you and I want you to make good choices.” Sean let out a sharp breath and said, “You don’t talk about it because you refuse to admit how fucked up it left you emotionally, Aaron. At least I can connect with women. And don’t start acting like dad on me now.” Sean’s latest comment landed like a slap on the face to Aaron and he said, “You better not be comparing me to him, Sean. You had better not be doing that right now.” After all the beatings Aaron had taken for his mom and for Sean who always seemed to be getting into trouble during his younger years, the comparison made Aaron feel sick. Before Aaron had a chance to reply or defend himself for making a comment he already regretted, Sean continued, “And I don’t think you're qualified to comment on my relationships or how I’ve hurt people before. Haley dumped you and then died because of you. So I can think of at least one woman who’s been treated worse because of a Hotchner and it wasn’t me.” 

What Sean said made Aaron see red for a second. He stood, towering over Sean who was still sitting. It was one thing to have Sean bring up their parents, it was one thing to call him a workaholic and be emotionally unavailable. He knew these faults already. It didn’t really hurt him to hear them again, but the comment about Haley ate at him like acid on flesh. He had tried. He had tried so hard with Haley. He had loved her. He’d loved her with everything there was in him, and yes, it wasn’t enough, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. That her brutal death hadn’t torn him open sinew by sinew. Aaron felt his heart pumping in his ears. He was biting his tongue so hard that he tasted iron in his mouth. His fingernails dug into the calloused skin of his palms. If Sean was anyone else but his family, he would hit him. However, after all the abuse Aaron had seen, he made a promise to himself that he would never be violent with his family. It took everything in Hotch to uphold that promise. When Aaron came back to his senses, he realized he was standing. It was a good thing as Aaron grabbed his jacket and moved away from the table. He looked at Sean like he didn’t know him as he said, “Don’t ever call me again,” and walked out the door. 

The first hour of the drive back to Quantico was filled with a silence so oppressive that Aaron felt it weighing him down like an iron vest. The next hour all Aaron could think about was what Sean had said, and how he had responded. It wasn’t a good feeling. The way he’d ended things, but he wasn’t sure what else he would or could have done at such a cruel statement. If Sean could say something like that to him, to his face, then he felt justified with his final words of their conversation, even if Aaron had seen shame slowly creep up Sean’s face as he realized what he’d said. What Aaron ended up feeling for the rest of the hour was grief. Grief not only for missing Haley but for what felt like a death in his and Sean’s relationship. 

Hotch would have liked to drive all the way home, get another stiff drink, take a hot shower, and sleep, but the fact that he had a drink and it was still a long way off from home made that an impossibility. Aaron checked his gas tank. He did need a top-up and he hadn’t seen a station for miles, however, he approached what looked like a small bar nestled in the middle of nowhere. He slowed slightly and looked at the exterior of the old wooden building with a wrap-around porch. The Coors Light and Miller Light neon signs fighting to be seen in the bright daylight gave away that it was a bar and not some old building with a few cars parked outside. Hotch knew he needed a bathroom and this was going to have to do. It would be in and out. He’d grab a beer so he didn’t look like he was just there to relieve himself; even if that was the case. 

Aaron pulled into the parking lot. His hands tapped the wheel restlessly as he picked one of the many empty spaces. Something in his gut felt off, but he blamed it on the argument. As good as he was with dealing with stress, this was different. Hotch dropped his head for a second and tried to get his bearings. When he’d taken a deep breath, he raised his head and unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his door, and swung his feet out onto the gravel of the parking lot. The stones crunched under his tread. Hotch stepped up the three stairs onto the wooden porch. He could tell the building had seen much better days. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was rot in the wooden beams that smelled of pine sap. Hotch opened the door which creaked on rusty hinges, as soon as he stepped into the dim, ill-lit room, Aaron knew that he had made a mistake. There there were five patrons and the bartender scattered around the small space. Three of the big burly men were sitting at the bar, and before they turned around to look at who had entered their space, Hotch could see the symbols of hate on their leather vests The antiquated flag of the South that rested above the bar solidified that this was the hangout for a very particular group of people. If he could, Aaron would have walked right back out the door. Even his more casual slacks and button-down were a far departure from the denim jeans, stained baseball caps, and leather, but it was too late, the men sitting at the bar had turned in their seats and eyed him suspiciously. 

It was too late to turn around now and just walk out the door. It would look strange and there was something inside gnawing of him to investigate this space further. Call the FBI with evidence of the type of activity happening here. Not only that, but his bladder protested as well. He quickly cleared his throat and moved into the space and toward the restroom sign on the far wall. He strode with a false confidence toward the bathroom, the men turned back to their conversation but with lower voices. After Aaron relieved himself, he moved from the poorly lit room that smelled like piss. He rinsed off his hands and realized that there weren’t any paper towels, so he opted to wipe his damp palms and fingers on his pants. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. 

Moving back into the bar, Aaron stepped up to the wooden countertop next to one of the men who continued to eye him with distaste. The man behind the bar turned his gaze at the tall, broody man standing in front of him, sizing Aaron up. After an awkward moment, the barkeep asked, “What can I get you?” It was clear from the way everyone was acting that he was not welcome here. At this point, Hotch didn’t want to be here either. After letting out a low breath, Hotch replied steadily, “Just a Budlight.” The bartender nodded and grabbed a clean glass from the cups stacked up on the back side of the bar. He moved to the draft beers and filled the glass to the brim, the frothy head spilling just the smallest bit over. The man didn’t bother wiping the side of the glass dry as he added a lime to the rim. As the red-faced man sat the glass down in front of Aaron he said, “That’ll be five dollars.” Hotch nodded and pulled out his wallet. He made sure to keep his FBI ID hidden as he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Aaron’s eye flicked up the flag on the wall, and he regretted giving this place any money. But he’d just drink his beer as fast as he could without it looking conspicuous and then get the hell out of there. He handed the man the cash who grunted and pulled out a slightly wet five-dollar bill from the tip jar. Hotch took a few sips from the drink trying to drain the glass as quickly as possible. There was no chance of taking a picture without it being obvious, but he’d call the FBI as soon as he was back in his car. In fact, as soon as he was out the door.  As he was drinking, one of the men from the tables near the window moved to the bar next to Hotch. 

“Another Coors Steve.” The man who had just ordered was so close to Hotch that he could smell his sweat and very clearly see his hateful tattoo. The fact that the man had that visible in this place only solidified that Aaron would never take this road again. This place seemed more than just a spot for the locals to hang out and chat over a cheap beer. Hotch was halfway through his beer and making good time when the door opened again. Aaron couldn’t help like the rest of the patrons to turn his head slightly at the entryway. Hotch felt his stomach clench as he saw who was walking in the door. All other thoughts left his mind, and his work side kicked in. Aaron knew the man walking in the door well. He’d arrested him one year ago for a litany of hate crimes. The memory of the two young men who had been killed by the man stepping up to the bar with a familiar smile made Aaron’s stomach turn. Roman Invictus LeBrant, formerly Hayden Jude LeBrant before he fell down the alt-right pipeline and joined a hate group was a hard person to forget. 

Roman noticed Aaron too. He was the man who had put him away for a year and two months of hell. Half of his time in prison had been spent in isolation for his protection as he kept picking fights with the inmates. Thanks to the fact that Roman had no spine and didn’t want to spend any time in jail, he had ratted out all of his co-conspirators and so-called ‘friends.’ Due to this, he had gotten off with a lighter sentence. The very sight of Agent Hotchner shot a bolt of rage through him. Roman’s face broke into a malicious smile. This time the tall and sauve FBI agent was on his turf, with his people. He didn’t have all of his friends to back him up. The man moved up to the bar with confidence. Everyone in the room's attitude shifted as their chosen leader entered their space. The man sitting next to Aaron quickly got up and made room for the man. Everyone also stood at the sheer presence of the man that they so revered. He stepped between Aaron and his friend. Roman looked at Steve and then to his left saying, “Steve, Dan. How are you motherfuckers?” The felon was so close to Aaron that he was brushing his thigh. The lack of personal space was meant to disturb Hotch, but it wasn’t working. Aaron had set down his glass, his eyes facing forward with a determined gaze. The fact was, as quickly as Roman had gotten out of prison, he had began his normal campaign of terror again. After that the man had made himself very hard to find, and to the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. So Hotch had a responsibility to make sure Roman got put back where he belonged. Unfortunately, Aaron couldn’t just whip you his phone and get the FBI here in an instant, and Roman knew this and was enjoying it. 

The bartender could sense the tension between Hotch and his friend but chose not to speak. Roman looked straight ahead as well saying, “Hotchner.” Aaron replied, “LeBrant” in greeting. Aaron could feel his gut clench with worry. There was little he could do right now. Roman had come in the front door and was well aware that he was alone, so Hotch was left with not much more than his wits. He had his small pistol on his left ankle, but reaching for that would do little good as everyone in the bar was probably armed. Roman finally addressed the bartender saying, “Steve, I’ll take a shot of whiskey and one for my agent friend too.” At the word agent, the whole room's attitude shifted again. It was tense before, but now that they knew a fed was in their midst, the tension turned to simmering anger and fear. 

Aaron knew that there wasn’t much worse than to be in a room full of people like LeBrant who were angry and afraid. Steve let out a chuckle and poured two generous double shots and placed one in front of Aaron and one in front of LeBrant. Aaron wearily looked at the drink and Roman took him with a single swig before turning to Hotch for the first time saying, “Aaron, I don’t think that drink is poisoned as I just had one myself, so drink up. I think you’re going to need it for what’s coming next.” Aaron met Roman’s hateful gaze, raised his shot glass, and said sarcastically, “To your health,” before downing the shot. The dark liquor burned down his throat and he stopped himself from coughing. As Hotch kept his face straight LeBrant asked, “So, have you liked my recent work? I’d think this is a sting operation on the FBI’s part, but you’re looking pretty alone from where you’re sitting right now.” The large man’s words were true as the group of men in the bar had all slowly started surrounding Aaron and cutting off any escape plans he might try and make. 

Aaron was racking his brains for a way out of this situation but the repetition of the question, “Didn’t you like my stunt at that church, Agent? Didn’t it get your blood flowing? It certainly had me, excited.” Hotch cringed at the implication and replied, “I find little to be excited about to send a sixteen-year-old suicide bomber into a church filled with people, mostly women and children.” Roman scoffed and nodded at Steve for a beer bottle. Aaron shifted in his chair slightly which had an impact as everyone, including Steve, pulled guns on him. Everyone, except LeBrant that was. He was the king of his castle and he knew he would be protected no matter what. Roman raised his hands and said, “Easy boys. Take it easy. We don’t want things to get messy, just yet at least.” Hotch swallowed thickly and Roman grabbed the bottle off of the bar, looking at the label before quickly whipping it above his head and over the back of Aaron’s skull. 

The sound and feeling of the ice-cold beer and the shards of glass colliding with Hotch’s head was so intense that it knocked him off his chair. Aaron took in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes as the alcohol streamed down his head and wetted his hair and the collar of his shirt. Closing his eyes didn’t help Aaron much with keeping a handle on the situation as he leaned heavily forward against the bar before being wrenched back by serval hands on his body to the center of the room. 

Aaron stumbled as he was led away from any support. He could hear a few low laughs at his condition but was more worried about what was going to happen next. Hotch opened his eyes to see the floor swimming in front of his eyes. Before he could even get his feet under him, a knee met painfully with his groin. The pain of the glass tearing open his scalp and the feeling of warm blood flowing from his head was surpassed by the acute pain emanating from his nether regions up his body. Aaron grunted with pain and screwed his eyes shut again. The hot, large hands fondling a sensitive area of Hotch’s body had him open his eyes again. 

He wasn’t surprised that it was Roman doing the fondling, thankfully at this point over his clothes. LeBrant spat in Aaron’s face as they made eye contact and Roman’s hand slowed as he said, “How do you like that Hotchner? How does it make you feel?” Aaron’s gaze hardened and he refused to reply to LeBrant’s taunts and demeaning actions. The gruff man gave Aaron’s groin a hard squeeze before stepping back. Hotch had just started to catch his bearings, when he realized he was being supported on either side of his body by two men with the rest of the gang stepping in front of him. His eye caught that his only gun had been taken. Roman, like a shark circling a bleeding victim in the ocean, hoping to get some sort of fearful response. When the man didn’t get one he snarled and pulled out a jack-knife and moved back to Aaron’s face flashing the point of the blade dangerously close to his skin. Still, Hotch didn’t flinch and Roman flicked the knife over Hotch’s cheek drawing fresh blood apart from the red liquid slowly causing Aaron’s vision to be disabled. Hotch naturally pulled back and Roman laughed before saying, “How would you like me to blind you, Aaron? Or cut off one of your ears. Do you think the FBI will still want you after that?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from coughing out in pain as the men holding him tightened their grips on his forearms. 

Roman was happy with his enemy's position, as bloody drool slipped from his mouth and onto the floor of the bar. LeBrant stepped back and stated, “Boys, if you want to have some fun you can. You can blame Agent Hotchner for locking me up for a few years, so why don’t you pay him back in kind? Now, no serious boldly harm, and not too much blood. You’ll have to clean this shit hole up after the mess you make of him, but enjoy for a bit.” Hotch raised his head to look at Roman defiantly, hoping to show that he still wasn’t afraid. Whatever he had planned for him, he still didn’t regret putting him away, and putting him away again. LeBrant met Aaron’s stern brown eyes and sat back at the bar, grabbing another drink like nothing was happening. The man said over his shoulder as the real beating began, “You’re welcome for the whiskey, Hotchner.” 

LeBrant managed to down two more beers while watching and listening with a sick satisfaction to Aaron as he got punched, spat on, had drinks splashed in his face, and forced down his throat. Hotch gaged as another bottle was cast aside and hit the wall with the sound of shattered glass. He was beyond the point of silence as he took blow after blow to his face and torso. Aaron was sure his nose was broken as he took another hit to the face and his nose radiated pain through his nasal bridge and up his skull. He grunted in pain as his ribs got another beating. If pulverizing him to death was the plan, then the men surrounding him were doing a good job at that. However, what these bruisers weren’t very good at, and apparently Roman wasn’t good at noticing either, was that Aaron’s DNA was getting spread everywhere in the room from his saliva on the shattered beer bottles, or his blood dripping on the floor, or his hair which had been harshly pulled to jerk his head up. That was the thing about groups like these, they loved to act tough and strong, but their brains weren’t aways fully used. People like LeBrant could use others as a shield, but no matter what happened, it was going to be hard to get rid of every trace Aaron would leave in the space. 

Hotch’s hold on consciousness was becoming harder, but he managed to notice when the front door opened again. Aaron had hoped it would be someone who was an outsider like him, someone who didn’t belong here. But the normalcy of seeing a man being beaten told Aaron the new man was part of the group. Hotch’s neck hurt as he made eye contact with the man. He had sandy blond hair and clear grey eyes. The look of surprise and innocence quickly left the young man’s face before anger and hatred took over. Aaron dropped his head not sure what was happening but unable to support his own head. Because of this, he didn’t fully understand why the arms that were holding him up suddenly slacked and there was a heavy scuffle of feet as the floor came dangerously close. Before he could reach the ground there was shouting and then a loud popping sound that Aaron realized was a bullet once he felt a searing hot pain tear through his side whipping his body back and to the ground. The pain was worse than anything Aaron had already felt before now. The pain was so bad that he struggled to get oxygen in and his vision went black for a few seconds before he took a huge choking gulp of air in which only blinded him with more pain. 

While Hotch was writhing on the ground trying to get a grasp of what had happened and not blacking out, the older, more seasoned members of Roman’s gang stood for a brief moment of silence, as the men realized what had happened before an uproar started. They dropped their victim and rushed to the newest person in the bar throwing the gun from his hand. Roman stumbled out of his chair, face turning red with rage as he took a breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, “What the fucking hell are you doing Davies? What the mother fucking hell!” Spittle flew from his mouth and Davies, the newest, and youngest recruit to LeBrants' cause swallowed nervously. He hadn’t expected this response. He thought he’d get praise for his actions as he was always told to take bigger steps and take risks for the cause. Greg, one of the senior circles slapped Davies in the face and said, “Roman’s talking to you. Answer him.” Davies stuttered as he said, “That’s the guy that put you away. I thought that I should put him where he belonged. Hanged from a noose or underground. I ain’t got no rope, so I shot the fucker.” Davies was all in and zealous for the group's beliefs and in his case. Roman bowed his head and muttered “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath. 

LeBrant came back to the moment when Aaron let out a soft whimper and placed his hand over his stomach where blood was pooling dangerously fast beneath him and onto the ground. Even in his agonizing state, Aaron knew that the most important thing was to try and stop the flow of blood as much as possible. If it was instinct or training, Hotch couldn’t be sure with the pain he was in. For now, all he could do was try and survive. Roman was thinking the same thing for himself as a multitude of options flashed in front of his mind. He was the leader and he needed to act like one as Davies looked at him like a deer in the headlight while the rest of his men glanced uneasily between Aaron’s hunched-up body on the floor and their leader. 

Roman cleared his throat and took a more secure stance, with his feet apart and chest out. An idea was forming in his mind and he just needed his people to fall in line. Roman looked at Davies first and said, “It’s alright son. You did well shooting the fed. He earned it.” With those words, the men seemed to relax a bit and one knelt down next to Hotch to see the damage. Roman nodded a self-soothing gesture before saying, “Okay. Steve. Get us a trash bag or something to stop the blood so it will be easier to clean. Let’s do that first.” Steve rummaged through his back bar and tossed a roll of saran wrap and tape to Greg. Hank another senior member moved next to Greg and asked Roman, “Are we saving his ass?” LeBrant scoffed and replied, “Funk no. Just don’t want the fucker bleeding all over. Now, wrap him up tight, and don’t make it too comfortable on him either.” Hank snorted back laughter and he pulled Aaron’s torso off the floor roughly. Hotch tried uselessly to stop anyone from removing his hands from the gunshot wound, but he was too weak to put up a fight. His large hands were slick with blood as he tried and failed. Greg took out the plastic wrap and pushed the roll to Hotch’s stomach causing Aaron to groan out in pain. The pair on the floor moved the roll over the agent's wound minimally stopping the flow of blood. Davies watched as Aaron convulsed in pain on the ground. 

The young man had thought he would feel better killing a fed, but what he was seeing was making him want to vomit instead. When the seran wrap was taped tight over Hotch’s blood-soaked shirt Roman instructed, “Greg, Hank, Davies, go take Agent Hotchner into the woods. Far away. I’d recommend the national park. Don’t kill him. Let him bleed out or better yet, let some animal finish him off. Take him in his car and then when you’ve dumped the body torch the car.” Everyone else, we’re cleaning this place, top to bottom. No drop of blood, nothing can be found here.” Everyone nodded and took on their roles quickly. 

Hotch was jerked back to consciousness as he was dragged out the front door. He blearily saw someone open the door to his SUV before he was placed in the back seat. His brain was thinking of trying to run, to call for help, but he was stripped of his phone and hardly had the strength to keep his eyes open. Davies was standing outside the car still not sure what to do exactly, and most certainly not sure how to feel. Roman looked out the window at the man that had the potential to fuck his life over again. He turned to Steve and said, “Go out there and kill Davies. Headshot, make it fast, and don’t let him suffer.” Steve looked up at Roman and said astoundedly, “Roman?” LeBrant turned to Steve and said, “You heard me. The kid’s a liability. I am not going back to that shit fucking hell hole of a prison cell, and Davies seems to be trying to send me there, so go out there and get the job done. Put his body in the truck with Hotchner and tell Greg and Hank when they set the car on fire to leave Davies's body in there.” 

It was with blind adoration that Steve hesitantly grabbed his rifle and stepped outside. The young man was still standing while looking at Aaron’s SUV as Greg and Hank looked at a map to decide where to drop Aaron off to have his last few moments of life. They were arguing about accessibility, getting the car in without being seen, and lugging the agent out into the middle of the surrounding forest. It had to be just right without the chance of anyone catching them but still able for two men to pull off alone. They didn’t trust Davies for shit. He was too green for the whole operation. Not trustworthy in their eyes.

Meanwhile, Aaron had gathered some of his bearings in the back seat. He was unhappy with his supine position in the back. It would be far too easy for him to be taken out quietly and quickly after the SUV had pulled away from the bar. While Aaron was waiting for something to happen, he pressed his left hand to his side tightly, grit his teeth, and used his right to slowly inch himself up to a seated position. He was well aware that this position was causing him to bleed out faster, but at this stage, life didn’t seem too long, and if he was going to go out, he would understand as much as he could as to what was happening around him, and if possible, leave traces for the team to find his body after. 

The thought hurt Hotch as Jack would lose both of his parents. Aaron held himself back from crying, but the idea of his son being alone tore at him just as badly as the hole in his torso did. Aaron did not expect to see what he did. Just as his eyes got high enough to see out the window, the young man who had shot him had his name called from the porch of the establishment. Davies was about five feet from the bar and turned around. He didn’t see the shotgun in Steve’s hand, but Aaron did. There was nothing Hotch could do but close his eyes just before the blood splatter and brain matter painted the tires of his car. Aaron fell back onto the seat, not expecting to see an execution like that. He was too beaten to get back up, but at least he was laying on his side instead of on his back which would afford him a look out the front window so he could see where he was going or try and make mental notes of some landmarks; assuming that he wasn’t going to be blindfolded. From the state of things outside and groups shouting at each other, Hotch didn’t think that those dumping him would do anything more than take him far out and drop him. 

A few moments later the back door was opened again and several men heaved Davies's body onto the floor in the back of the car. Aaron didn’t focus on the body apart from unintentionally seeing what was left of what had been a youthful face. He was unrecognizable now. Hotch closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the ride to come. If he survived long enough he’d think about the man on the floor -- later, much later. Right now he centered his head on Jack, then on the team who were on a case in Ohio. Lastly, he tried his best to listen to Hank and Greg as they got in and revved the engine. 

They were silent as they slowly drove out of the parking lot. The crunch of gravel and Aaron’s labored breathing punctuated the silence. It was clear to Aaron that the two men in the front were remaining quiet so Aaron wouldn’t have any more details about them, their plans, or the organization. He and the BAU had taken Roman down once, and they didn’t want to be in that frying pan again. As they hit the main road, Greg, who was driving, stayed just at the speed limit to not attract any attention from passing cars even though there were none on the road. However, as the car started hitting bumps, Aaron couldn’t hold in his pained grunts and whimpers as searing pain shot through him with each unexpected dip or rise in the SUV. It seemed that Aaron’s pained sounds were too much for the men, and they looked at each other and then the downed agent in the rearview mirror before they both started a light conversation that was fully juxtaposed to the gruesome scene around them.  

The men began talking about the weather and then talked about their wives. Aaron could hardly hear the conversation as he tried to keep himself awake. The duration of the car ride took about half an hour, and Aaron noticed one very strange-looking tree that had been struck by lightning and bifurcated down the center almost perfectly. His brain had started to be pulled into so many different directions as his sanity slipped away from the blood loss. His brain wondered how many trees like that got struck annually, and he knew that Spencer would have an answer to that question. The team flashed before his mind when an abrupt halt of the car almost had Hotch fly into the seatbacks in front of him. He managed to not have that happen, and shortly after Greg and Hank were at the left side of the car and both grunted as they pulled Aaron by the legs out of the car. 

Hotch almost hit the muddly path, but the two men held onto his underarms jostling him back to awareness. As strong as these men thought they were, they hadn’t realized just how hard it was to drag a limp body around, and Aaron had no strength to walk on his own feet and no desire to help in his own demise. In fact, if he could make it harder for them, he would. So Aaron coughed and made sure that some of his spit and blood got on the ground. Not only that but he also dug his toes into the earth so his tennis shoes left little trails in the mud. Hotch knew that if he was dealing with a more competent group, they would do something about this now, but Greg and Hank were too busy hauling him along to care at the moment. Greg was significantly taller than Hank and due to this, Aaron’s left side was far lower to the ground making the weight distribution of his toned body uneven. After only ten minutes, once the trio had entered what seemed to be a secluded and wooded part of the forest, the shorter man who was carrying the greater bit of weight grunted out, “Let’s dump him here. I can’t keep doing this and then have to trash a car too.” Greg, who was also tired agreed and they dropped Aaron like a load of bricks and took off as quickly as they could discussing loudly that there was a cliff face nearby and it was unlikely that anyone would find Aaron for days. Hotch moaned slightly and took in the scent of the wet earth near him. He supposed that dying in the forest, in nature, wasn't the worst place to go. It smelled nice and if he could only turn over he’d see the sky and canopy of trees above him once more. As his vision started fading again he realized he might not have that chance. 

Nearby Aaron’s dump site, y/n had been on a four-day long backpacking trip. They’d asked their boss for the Friday and Monday off months ago. y/n had needed a chance to unwind, be alone, and potentially scream into the void. That type of behavior didn’t normally fly in their apartment and they were feeling so much more at peace after their first day of hiking. y/n had found a lovely spot to set up their small one-person tent for the evening. When y/n had gotten up the next morning and looked down the tall rock ravine, they saw the bolts in the wall from previous climbers. They regretted that it had rained the last night making any climbing impossible. y/n considered continuing moving along the twenty-five mile trail they had mapped two months before, but realized that they weren’t with a group and they were already almost halfway through the trail and could finish hiking it in a full day. Because of this, and because y/n had promised to do whatever they felt like on this trip, they decided to stay in that spot for the day. It was a bit off the beaten track which is what they wanted and in all honesty real life had been so stressful recently that just taking a day to sleep, read, and swim in the nearby river sounded like exactly what y/n needed. 

y/n slept in another hour before making a cup of _c/t_. While they sipped their steaming cup, they picked up their most recent book and took a few minutes absorbing the pages of the story making small mental notes about where the plot might go and if some twist was coming in the next chapter. Somehow all the books that y/n read ended up having weird twists that they loved to hate. After getting through their drink and feeling warmed, y/n changed into light hiking attire that could be stripped down for a dip in the lake as long as the water wasn’t too cold or full of bramble from the rain last night. It was a short hike down to the water's edge and it was crisp, but not too cold to for a midday swim. y/n laid a towel down on the rocky shore after getting out of the water and drying off in the warmth of the sun. They dozed on and off as they tanned for a bit. Not that y/n was a vain person, but with the oncoming of summer, having a bit of a tan couldn’t hurt. When y/n was happy with their time by the lake, they moved back toward their tent and supplies which they had put in a bear bag and lifted high above the ground. It was about a thirty minute walk back to the tent when y/n would plan on what to do with the rest of their free day. 

It felt wrong to just waste such a pretty day. When y/n was close to their campsite, they stopped in their tracks abruptly. The sound of voices and heavy footsteps is what made them halt. y/n’s stomach dropped for some reason. If they were on a more well-known trail or popular camping site, y/n would likely greet those on their walk in the opposite direction. But this was different. This area was secluded, off the beaten track. And from the sound of it, it was two men moving slowly nearby. y/n had spent enough time outside camping and backpacking to hear loads of horror stories of those having bad things done to them on the trail. Sure some of them were overembellished, but certainly not all of them, and y/n wasn’t willing to take the risk with their own safety. y/n slinked back into the brush and hoped that the men would stop before catching sight of their tent. y/n took slow soft breaths and waited, all there was to do was wait. Just as the footsteps seemed to be right on them, they stopped. 

y/n couldn’t see the men. They’d stopped just out of sight. As they stopped, y/n realized that something was very, very wrong. The strong breathing of the men had hidden the sounds of another person. Someone who was clearly in pain. Their breathing was raspy like air wasn’t fully supplying their body. There was also a very painful-sounding grunt as the injured party hit the ground. One of the men said, “Fuck, that’s hard work. I don’t believe Roman’s stories now about all his brawls and picking people up in the clanger now.” There was a grunt and another, deeper voice replied, “Shit man, I don’t believe half of his crap, but he’s the boss. He says jump and I jump. Now let’s get back to the car and torch it. The agent here won’t last long.” The first voice agreed and said, “Yeah. I need a shower and another beer. Let’s hope it’s all cleaned up by the time we get back to Steve’s.” 

y/n felt like they couldn’t stand still any longer. The desire to take a deep breath of just look out to see what was happening at the men who were talking pulled at them like an itch. But not all itches should be scratched. Some needed to not be disturbed, and it felt like torture, but y/n held back from moving until the sound of chatter and footsteps were long gone. Even after they were out of audible range, y/n waited. After another few restless minutes, they got up from their hiding position. From the sound of it, someone, perhaps someone unsafe was very injured. Even so, it wasn’t like y/n to leave someone hurt to fend for themself. With caution, y/n moved through the low brush and mud, and after a few paces, they noticed a man lying on his stomach. It didn’t take y/n more than a second to realize that the man on the ground, even if he was some hardened criminal, was unable to fight. Besides this fact, there was the comment about the “Agent not being around long,” so the man might have been on the opposite side of crime. Without hesitation y/n moved next to the prone form in the mud and set down their backpack. The man gave a small sound, perhaps aware that there was someone else near him. y/n looked over the man and noticed the saran wrap around his torso. It was a poor attempt to staunch the flow of blood from a bullet wound. Given how much blood the man had lost, there was no time to lose in getting the man medical help. 

y/n knelt down next to the man and noted the thick blood coating his forehead and brow. y/n patted his shoulder, and he managed to open his eyes. Aaron could see the blurry figure of someone kneeling in front of him. He thought it was a hallucination until they touched his shoulder and tried to say something to him. Understanding the stranger's words was beyond all comprehension to him now. y/n could tell that he didn’t understand or see them well, but at least he was awake. It would be in his best interest to keep him awake. If the man slipped off to sleep, he may never wake again. So with that in mind, and to try and keep him in as calm a mindset as possible, y/n took off their jacket which they had tied around their waist, and placed it on the man’s back. It would do for a bit of padding and something to soak up the excess blood. There was no need to cut this side of the plastic wrap, and why it had been added in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the main goal right now. The main goal was to stabilize the man for long enough until medical help arrived. y/n grit their teeth and said firmly. “I’m going to roll you over onto your back and then run to my tent and grab some supplies while I call 9-1-1 for you, okay.” 

The man didn’t make a sound, but y/n knew that shifting his weight was going to be painful, so they didn’t waste more time. Given the man’s parlor, there was no time to waste. y/n grabbed the man’s shoulder and hip and tried to slowly and carefully roll him onto his back. As soon as y/n pulled their hands away, which were slick with blood, the man groaned in pain as his body settled. He was still awake. y/n cringed to hear him and said, “I’m going to run to my camp, get some supplies, and call in an emergency helicopter. I’ll be back in five minutes max.” y/n swallowed thickly trying not to be sick at the sight of the man. They grabbed his right hand and placed it over the bullet hole. The man’s hand was crusted over with blood, and it was large. His fingernails had dirt caked under them, and y/n imagined that it might be painful when he got washed up with all the hair his arms had on them. y/n snapped back to the moment. It had only been a millisecond, but in moments of high stress,  they always found themselves focusing on the smallest, most insignificant things. They shifted their eyes to the man’s and he seemed to be locked on theirs. y/n nodded their head and said, “Hold your hands here, as hard as possible, okay.” The man nodded slightly, and with that, y/n got up and ran toward their campsite. 

It was in moments like these that y/n hated that they didn’t always carry their cell phone with them when they camped alone, but then again, they hadn’t expected to find themselves in this situation either. y/n was an experienced outdoors person. With friends and family that respected and highlighted being self sufficient and being able to take care of one’s self. In their world being unable to handle any situation was a weakness and therefore y/n had pressed themselves to always be prepared. This included knowing basic first aid and other skills that were more niche to their interest in spending a lot of time outside. Although it had been hard to be a parental figure and having to figure out being self-sufficient from a very young age, the parentification had equipped y/n for moments like these, and for meeting strange men in the woods if it ever came to that. y/n ran as quickly and as carefully as possible. It would be no good to anyone if they slipped and twisted or broke an ankle or wrist before getting back to the man. The image of his bloody and bruised body was seared in their retinas. They hadn’t seen anything this bad, ever, and the questions on what had happened to the man and who he was came faster than y/n could process them. It was all a sickening blur. y/n made it to their camp and almost dove into their tent. They found their phone first which was still on the solar-powered charging brick. y/n checked for a signal and let out a small prayer of thanks that there was a signal. Even though they were pretty far out, a signal was more often present than not. And if there wasn’t, there were always ways to contact emergency services, but it would take longer, and there wasn’t time for longer right now.

         After one ring the emergency operator answered, “9-1-1, please state your name and the nature of your emergency.” The woman on the phone sounded calm, calmer than y/n felt. Their breath had picked up with all the running, and they had to clear their throat before saying, “My name in y/n, _l/n_. I’m at Shenandoah National Park on the east side camped near Ghost View Lake. There’s a man who needs a Medevac as soon as possible. He’s been shot in the torso, and he’s been severely beaten.” There were a few clicks on the other end of the line and the responder asked, “Are you with this man now? Is he still breathing?” y/n nodded, taking in the person’s words before saying, “I’m not with him right now. He was breathing when I left him. I had to run to my tent to call you and get my emergency supplies.” There was more typing and a muffled voice on the other end of the line before the woman came back on saying, “Please get back to the man as quickly as possible. Do you have any medical training?” y/n nodded saying, “Some, but not much. The bullet seems to have gone clean through though, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” As y/n was speaking, they began packing all of the important things to help the hurt man into their large backpack. By the time they had started zipping up the sides, the operator had told y/n to get back to the Hotch and light a flare for the helicopter to see so they could find a spot to land. The woman relayed that it might be twenty minutes or more before help came, and to keep the man awake if possible. As y/n ran back toward Aaron, they were given more specific instructions on what to do once they were back. y/n kept the woman on the line and as soon as they found an open and dry spot close to where they had found Aaron, they pulled out a flare and struck it against the cap of the flare. Once the melting hot red light burst from the tip like the tale of a demon, they set the flare on a smooth rock, far enough away from the wet brush and leaves to not start a forest fire. Once this was done, y/n moved as quickly as possible back to the man.

         Since y/n had been gone, Aaron felt his strength ebb again. Had the person said something to him? The world was dark again and he was beginning to feel numb. But the memory of the feelings of their hands on his, pressing against his stomach reminded him that they had been real, at least for a moment. Hotch also knew that sleep was death, and therefore grit his teeth and pressed against his torso again over his wound. The pain shot through him again, though his time was less intense; he knew this was not a good sign. Just as Aaron felt his hand slipping, he noticed a bright red light in the corner of his vision, and the person who had been with him before returned.

         y/n skidded to a halt in front of the man, falling to their knees saying, “Hey, you’re still with me. Good. You’re doing good. Help is coming, I promise.” y/n placed their hands on either side of his head and the feeling of their fingers on the side of his face had Hotch open his eyes slightly. Just the simple feeling of touch was a comfort, even if he was doomed to bleed out on the forest floor. Hotch pondered how funny small things became huge things when life was about to end. y/n noticed his brown eyes on them and said, “I’m just making sure your head is laying flat. Then I’m going to check your mouth to make sure you’re not going to choke on your own blood.” Aaron tried to nod, but he couldn’t manage it. y/n knelt further forward and helped Aaron open his mouth. Thankfully there didn’t appear to be any blockage of his trachea, though his breathing was labored. Where or what that situation was, was beyond y/n, so they moved to the next thing the emergency operator had said to do. 

The woman was still on the phone, but y/n was so hyper-focused on the task in front of them, that they didn’t think to give a report on the man’s condition. While he was trying to see the person in front of him more clearly, y/n started pulling things out of their backpack and setting them on the ground, attempting to not get them muddy or contaminated while still being efficient. Once y/n had pulled out their small knife, their first aid kit, and the clean clothes they had, they rezipped their bag and moved to the man’s feet. y/n spoke loudly, so the man could possibly hear, “I’m going to raise your feet. Keep the blood going to your head as much as possible. y/n grabbed their bag and placed it just to the side of the man’s lower legs. y/n didn’t want to shift the man’s body much, if at all, so they had to have things in place. They took another sturdy breath and lifted his left leg just high enough to move their backpack under his knees. The man groaned and y/n said, “I’m sorry. Sorry,” y/n repeated one more time before moving the other leg next to the first. y/n knew that this would be the least of the man’s pain. y/n placed their hands on the ground and took another stabilizing breath, reminding themselves that they could do this. That they could do anything, that they had had to do everything. y/n tried to picture the man as someone they’d protected in the past. Someone that they would do anything for. This helped y/n in moving forward to the next step. Before doing what needed to be done, y/n looked at the man again, tapping his face. Those big brown eyes met theirs again, half understanding, half sad. y/n said more softly this time. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry. Try not to bite your tongue. Keep your teeth clenched,” y/n demonstrated, “like this.” y/n they looked a fool, but what else could they do?

         y/n pulled a packaged sanitary wipe from the ground and ripped it open. They rubbed it over their hands thoroughly. When the moisture had evaporated, y/n grabbed their first aid kit and pulled out all of the cotton balls and cotton bandages that were inside. y/n placed them on top of the kit and hoped the no wind would blow the supplies away, there were already scant few as it was. Next, y/n grabbed their knife and opened it with a flick of the wrist. y/n knew that once they made the next move there was no going back until the medics arrived. With a look of determination, y/n shifted forward and carefully slipped the tip of the knife under the plastic wrap covering the man’s front. His shirt protected his skin from the sharp blade from cutting him further, and y/n cut up and out with as much care as possible. The blood made the surface of the saran wrap slippery in y/n’s free hand and the multiple layers were not as easy to cut through. However, after what felt like an eternity and with y/n’s heart beating loudly in their ears, the plastic was freed from his body. y/n quickly closed and locked their blade and pushed the plastic barrier aside along with Hotch’s soiled shirt. Even though the saran wrap hadn’t done much to stop the blood from leaving the man’s body, it’s removal along with the final absorption barrier being pulled aside allowed the blood to ebb up a bit more in a trickle of crimson. Again y/n didn’t have time to look at the deep red pooling up on the man’s stomach. Instead, they grabbed a cotton ball and with as much mental strength as they had, pushed it into the weeping wound. The man’s body jolted in pain, but y/n ignored him and grabbed another piece of cotton and then another, pushing each of the white puffs into the bullet hole. The clean cotton was instantly stained red, and y/n tried to ignore the man’s cries of pain knowing that this was for the best. Keep the blood in the body, get his legs up, keep him awake. That was what the nurse had said and what was what they were going to do. At least to the best of their ability. Another eternity later, the hole was filled. It was still releasing blood but at a slower pace.

y/n grabbed the biggest cotton bandage they had and pressed it on top of the packed wound. y/n placed both hands over this last dam, and pressed down to try and keep the man stable. To keep him alive. It wasn’t until all of this had been accomplished that they managed to look up at his face. The man’s eyes were drooping closed and y/n said, “Hey, hey, stay with me. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” Aaron turned his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look at the person helping him. It was a comfort to be in their presence. He still couldn’t see them so he said in a low voice, “Hotchner.” y/n nodded, assuming it was a last name. They were at a loss for what to say next. Nothing felt right, so they opted for questions, easy ones. Or at least ones that seemed easy for them. “Hi, Mr. Hotchner. Where were you going today? What brought you this way.” 

Aaron, whose brain had been feeling numb for some time, had started getting more blood circulation thanks to his legs being lifted off the ground. He could feel his helper's hands still over his side. Where he was and what was happening felt beyond him again. He didn’t like the feeling at all, but his body was shutting down and he half-mumbled, “I’m going to see my wife. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” y/n, nodded and replied softly, “I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you. And I know you’ll be happy to see her.” It wasn’t until this point that y/n had thought about him as a person. Not actually as a person, person, but as a man with a life and things outside this very moment of survival. But as they raised one hand and just barely shifted his hair that was caked with blood, off his forehead it became increasingly more difficult to see Mr. Hotchner as anything else than a man who is hurt and probably afraid to die. At the person’s touch, Aaron moved his dominant hand up and this allowed y/n to see that he wasn’t wearing a ring. This fact only came to y/n’s mind because Mr. Hotchner had just said that he was going to see his wife. y/n justified that perhaps the man was just one of many many husbands who didn’t wear a wedding ring, but for some reason, y/n didn’t think that this man would be one of them. Something in their gut just said otherwise. A moment later Hotch said something that would shock y/n even more as he said, “I’m worried about Jack. I can’t go away.” y/n looked up at him and moved their hand back to the now blood-soaked bandage and asked, “Who is Jack Mr. Hotchner?” 

The image of Jack passed in front of Aaron, and he saw himself holding his child, Jack smiling. Maybe it was Christmas time because the lights were twinkling in the background. Then Jack at his first soccer game came to mind, his little legs carrying him toward a ball he was sure to miss. Hotch blinked back tears as he came back to himself. Weakly he said, “My son. Jack is my son. He’s a good kid. Really good. He doesn’t deserve this.” Aaron was thinking about the very real possibility of his son losing both of his parents, but he didn’t vocalize that out loud. y/n furrowed their brow and said “You’re going to be fine Mr. Hotchner. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see your son and your wife again. I know it.” y/n was speaking to themselves now mostly. The trauma of finding someone brutalized in the woods and the possibility that he might die in front of them was finally settling in. y/n had experienced trauma before, but not like this. This was different. Thankfully y/n didn’t have much time to explore this train of thought as the sound of the helicopter approached nearby. y/n bowed their head in thanks for the sound that drowned out their thoughts and didn’t even realize that they had set their head on Aaron’s chest while still keeping their trembling hands on his wound. 

When they arrived, it took the emergency medics a moment to pry y/n off of Aaron as they struggled to let the man they were trying to save go. When y/n realized what was happening, they moved off to the side on unsteady feet and watched the flight paramedics assess and then begin rudimentary efforts to stabilize their patient. y/n watched as a blood transfusion was started and the packing of the bullet wound was made better with medical-grade supplies. These things felt like a blur and as the two-person medical team began moving Aaron onto a stretcher, the sound of police sirens in the distance became audible. y/n realized that the helicopter operator had shared the patient's location and law enforcement was coming to help. This allowed y/n to relax slightly realizing that they were not going to be left alone in the woods once the Medevac was gone. 

Although y/n had felt peace knowing more help was on the way, the questions seemed endless as police arrived and went over the course of the afternoon again. They pointed out everything. Said as much as they could remember and watched as the orange helicopter lifted off and moved Eastward. The last thing they heard from the trauma team at the hospital was, “We have a multisystem failure. Patient is already on a transfusion and Fentanyl…” as they passed by,. y/n’s brain now felt like scrambled eggs and they longed for some respite. Eventually, the police said that y/n would need to come to the station and that they could get a ride in one of the cruisers. Behind y/n’s back, the officers also noticed that y/n should also go to a hospital, and driving there themselves was not a safe idea for them. A few minutes later, y/n tipped their head against the headrest in the backseat of the police car simply letting things happen to them at this point. The officers had assured them that a recovery and crime scene team would gather their belongings from their campsite along with their car. This was all for evidence too, but y/n was too tired to comprehend what was being said to them. 

A few hours later y/n made it out of the room they had been seen in at the hospital. It was very dark outside at this point but the police had easily identified the man they had found, Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner. The words ran over y/n like a wave. Anything would bowl them over now, but finding out that they had found a federal agent near death in the woods was astounding. In the hospital, y/n was given a thorough exam and then given some strong sleep medication and some Benzos so that y/n could have a sound night’s rest. The local police station had called the Quantico Field Office to let the Beaure know that Agent Hotchner was in critical condition at the JFK University Medical Center.

 As it turned out the BAU was out on a case at the moment, but the Lead Team Coordinator said they would reach out. Within the hour the hospital and police station knew that a member of the BAU was flying up immediately on their jet and should be there sometime around three in the morning. With this information in mind, the police had asked y/n to stay at least one day in town before going home. The very professional-sounding man, Agent Rossi, who was headed to the hospital had asked them to stay and talk. The police had made the choice easy by booking a cab and a room to get y/n from the hospital to the hotel room they had booked in their name. Thankfully, y/n’s boss, after a few minutes of explaining what had happened, had given them the rest of the week off. y/n knew they would need it. Nothing felt quite real anymore and some more time alone would be good. Before y/n went to call the cab, to get a shower and sleep, they stopped at the receptionist's desk and asked, “Do you know if Aaron Hotchner is in a stable condition?” The nurse asked them how they knew the patient and y/n showed their own medical bracelet and explained that they had found Mr. Hotchner. The man looked at y/n and how tired they appeared, nodded, and replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t share any information about the patient” There was a long pause before they added, “However, Mr. Hotchner is still in the ICU.” y/n nodded, wanting more information but also knowing that they had already been told more than was allowed. With that scant information, y/n moved outside and caught their ride. 

The first thing that was surprising to Aaron was the fact that he woke up at all. The feeling of the stiff mattress against his fingers and the crisp sheets covering his body. The sterile scent of antiseptic was the next thing he noticed. He took a few moments to just take in the fact that he had survived the ordeal with Roman. Much of what had happened after the beating in the bar was foggy and beyond his reach. He tried to take a deep breath to center himself but that was a serious error as this triggered parts of his body that weren’t ready to be used that way yet. He let out a cough only exacerbating his pain. The feelings of multiple IVs which he detected now became more apparent and when he opened his eyes, the blurry figure of someone standing came into better focus as the door to his room opened letting in more light from the hallways. As his vision cleared, he could see Dave turn around and greet someone who must have been a doctor. Rossi stepped back a bit, but just knowing Dave was here let Aaron be checked over and taken care of. He didn’t have the energy for much more than being pocked and very lightly prodded before he slipped back into unconsciousness. 

The next time Hotch woke, he was more aware. The room didn’t spin and he could see Dave looking down from his seat near the hospital bed. Aaron didn’t know what to say and just said, “Hey.” At hearing Hotch, Rossi sat forward in his seat and softly replied, “Hey there. Looks like you had a hell of a time with Sean.” Sean hadn’t even crossed Aaron’s mind, but Dave’s attempt at humor while he was feeling like hell was actually funny and Aaron let out a half scoff, half laugh before leaning his head back on the pillow. It wasn’t until he tried to move the blanket to feel more covered that he realized his arm was in a cast. His whole body felt numb, and in that moment, he was grateful for opioids. Rossi moved forward and moved the blanket up and over Aaron’s shoulders. Hotch looked up at Dave and asked, “How bad?” Rossi’s eyes moved toward him, a sure sign that it wasn’t good. After a deep breath, Dave said, “You lost a lot of blood, you’re fighting an infection, concussion, broken arm, and multiple lacerations to your head and body.” Hotch nodded, absorbing the information before saying, “Yeah, Sean really did a job on me.” Rossi could see regret in Aaron’s eyes even though the statement was an attempt at a joke. Dave frowned. Something had happened with Sean and it wasn’t fair to Aaron after being through such a crucible that he should feel bad about anything at the moment. Dave thought about reaching out and patting Hotch on the shoulder, but it was likely Aaron wasn’t looking for touch right now, so he settled with telling his best friend that the team was coming to find LeBrant, who had gone into hiding, and how Jessica would bring Jack down when the doctors said it was okay. Aaron nodded again, thankful that Dave knew him so well. When Rossi had given him some time to just relax and center himself, Aaron asked, “Who was it that found me? Have you seen them?” All Aaron could remember about the person who had saved his life was that they had stayed with him. That their presence, even if he had died, had made him feel safe. 

Rossi replied, “I haven’t seen them yet, though I’ve asked them to meet me here. There are some questions I still have about their report. They should arrive in a few minutes, and that way you can have some time alone if you like. I did read about them, they’re name is y/n y/l/n y/a and they live in Virginia.” Aaron swallowed, his mouth feeling dry before saying, “I’d like to see them when they come. If they’re comfortable with it.” Dave nodded and replied, “I’ll ask them when they get here. For now, just try and rest. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll get the nurse.” Aaron nodded and let his eyes slip closed again. He could sense that Dave was keeping things from him, about what he couldn’t tell, but he’d ask in time, for now, he was alive. 

y/n entered the hospital again. This time it felt better. They were going to get some answers, hopefully, or at least some information about Agent Hotchern’s condition. They’d answer more questions about that information. After the last few day or so the thought of Mr. Hotchner hadn’t left their mind. y/n went to the receptionist who paged another party in the hospital and after a few minutes, an older man walked into the hallway. y/n could tell that he was Agent Rossi instantly. His clothing and demeanor gave him away, along with the deep circles under his eyes. y/n turned toward the man and extended their hand toward him. Rossi gave y/n a reassuring smile and as he took their hand said, “Hello. I’m Agent Rossi. You must be y/n y/l/n?” y/n nodded yes and said, “Yes Sir. That’s me.” Dave gave a small laugh at being called sir, and gently led y/n to a seat on the far side of the waiting room. They both took a seat and there was a moment of awkward silence as they both made mental observations about the other. Finally, y/n said, “Agnent Rossi, I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about my report, but could you tell me if Mr. Hotchner is alright?” Dave dipped his head and pulled himself together saying, “He’s doing better. He’ll have a hard and long recovery, but he’ll be alright. Hotch has gone through a lot, he’ll make it through this too.” y/n listened thinking about the type of person that can say with confidence after such an ordeal that they would make it though. It seemed like a lot, but Mr. Hotchner was clearly cut from Kevlar. y/n replied, “Thank you for telling me. Now, um, what questions did you have for me? I wrote down some notes to try and jog my memory.” Rossi lifted an eyebrow as y/n pulled a notebook from their mini backpack and flipped to a page that had a neat, color-coded timeline of events. Dave smiled at this before saying, “I would like to look at your notes, but I have some questions of another nature to ask first.”

y/n looked confused about what Rossi had said, and he clarified stating, “I’d just like to know if Aaron said anything to you while you were with him?” y/n let out a breath realizing this was a more personal visit. This was to see how his coworker was, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. y/n felt bad for not having thought of that before now and swallowed, realizing this was going to be another layer they would need to unpack within themselves as well. After this thought had passed, y/n replied softly at first, “We did kind of talk, though I did most of it to keep my mind still.” Rossi nodded encouraging y/n to continue, which they did. “I did ask him where he was going and he said that he was going to see his wife. And that he was sorry for his son. He tried to say more after that but it was all sort of jumbled up.” y/n looked up, fresh emotions welling up in them at the remorse that Mr. Hotchner had shown while he lay dying. There was a glimmer of tears in Dave’s eyes too and y/n moved a hand to his comfortingly and asked. “Agent Rossi?” to check in on him. Dave sniffled and moved a handkerchief under his eyes before squeezing y/n’s hand back replying, “Please, just call me Dave. Aaron’s wife passed a little over a year ago. I, I guess I didn’t know what he would think about, but it would make sense.” 

Hearing Dave’s words, a pang of hurt shot through y/n. Suddenly Aaron’s words made more sense. He said he was going home and being sad about it. Jack’s name popped into their mind and y/n asked hopefully, “His son, Jack. He said he had a son. Is he okay? Is Jack with his mom?” Dave closed his eyes and replied reassuringly, “No. Jack is fine. He’s a sweet and hyper kid.” That thought, of Aaron’s son being there for him, made y/n feel better. It was strange for them, to have such intense and strong feelings for a man they hardly knew, but then again, they had been through a lot together. There were a few more minutes of silence as Dave processed and moved on by asking to look at y/n’s notebook and to ask questions for them. Looking at y/n’s notes and the very detailed recount they had written was precise and smart. Not perhaps like a profiler, but somewhat so. That conversation lasted about a half hour and Rossi could see that y/n was tired and he still needed to broach the topic of them seeing Aaron, so to take something off of their plate he began by saying, “y/n this has been very helpful for me, both as Aaron’s coworker and as his friend. I know you’ll need your own time to process and work through all of this but I might need to contact you again by myself or a member of my team. Would it be okay if I left you my number and I got yours?” y/f felt a hitch in their breath thinking that this might be over. All the adrenaline came to a big crash like a wave on the rocks. But it had to end sometime, at least they thought so, so they nodded yes. The pair traded numbers and then Dave said, “y/n, I know this has been a lot, but I was just with Aaron and he asked if he could speak with you if you’re up to it. If not, he’ll fully understand.” 

At the suggestion, y/n’s eyes shot up in surprise. Not that they hadn’t been thinking about the man twenty-four-seven since they’d first seen him in the woods, but the idea that he would even want to see them felt like a surprise. Curiosity suddenly turned into apprehension and for a second they thought about running out of the room for some wild reason. But y/n came back to earth and knew that perhaps this would be their only time to see the man they’d helped and it would hopefully make things feel more resolved, more final. And they’d have the peace of mind of knowing that he really was alright. So y/n nodded yes and Dave gave them one of his reassuring dad smiles and got up, leading y/n toward Aroon’s room. He flashed his badge when he came across anyone looking at him funnily. At the door to Hotch’s room, Dave knocked and opened the door slightly saying, “I’ve got a visitor for you, Aaron.” There was a muffled response from inside and then Rossi stood back and said, “I’ll be just outside when you’re finished.” y/n swallowed thickly and stepped into the room. 

The space was large enough for a chair or two by the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment that beeped on a cycle of minutes, keeping time. The lights had been dimmed and as y/n’s eyes adjusted, they took a small step closer toward the bed. Mr. Hotchner was all cleaned up from his blood-soaked state and now that he was visible, y/n couldn't help but notice how striking and attractive he was. y/n pushed that thought aside, it wasn’t the time. His dark eyes met theirs, and y/n said awkwardly, “Hello Mr., I mean Agent Hotchner, Sir.” Hotch let out a half laugh and said replied, “It’s alright, you can call me Mr. Hotchner, or just Aaron is okay.” y/n nodded listening to his deep voice. Different than how it had been in the woods. There was life in this version of him, and it made y/n feel better. y/n took another step forward, not sure what to expect. 

Aaron watched y/n move forward. They were young. Younger than a normal person should have to deal with such stress and anxiety. He could see their apprehension even as they stepped close to him. Aaron cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t you have a seat, y/n.” y/n did as he said feeling the authority in his presence even as he was in bed recovering. Of course, he wasn’t directing that toward them, just that that power was there in him. It didn’t surprise y/n that he was someone important in the FBI. y/n sat in the chair closest to Aaron so they could hear him better. y/n wasn’t sure how to act now. They wanted to say they were sorry about his wife. But that was too personal. y/n opted for just asking, “Are you feeling okay?” The words sounded hollow in the face of the pain he had experienced in his life. 

Hotch smiled slightly, seeing the struggle in y/n’s eyes. He was glad to see y/n. To really see them and know who they were given how they had kept him calm and feel safe a day ago. Once y/n was seated he replied, “I’ll be okay. It’s just going to take time. I wanted to see how you are doing actually.” y/n’s eyes widened slightly. Shone in the darkness of the room. Taken aback they said, “I’m… okay. I always end up being okay in the end.” Hotch nodded, seeing himself in y/n instantly. Another survivor of a difficult life. It was easy to compartmentalize, and he didn’t want that for them. Not this young. So he said again, “I hear you. But how are you, really feeling?” y/n took a deep breath and tried to suppress the emotions before saying in a shaky voice, “Tired, scared and I don’t know why.” Aaron nodded in understanding. He moved his hand toward y/n, not sure what his intentions were with that movement. Hotch replied, “You don’t have to think about it all right now. But don’t let it out with someone at some point it will eat you up. Do you think you can take this?” 

y/n knew that Aaron was asking about just life in general. How overwhelming it could be after something like this. They had dealt with these feelings before, not like this, but close enough for y/n to say, “Yes. I can bounce back.” Hotch knew that response too. The bounce back. He didn’t want to pressure y/n to seek help, he’d be a hypocrite for saying so, but he worried. This person had saved his life and he didn’t want to see them crumble for it. Hotch took a moment and said, “Thank you for being there for me. I wouldn’t have made it without you.” Not really thinking he added, “You made me feel safe in that moment. I didn’t know if I was going to feel that again.” There was a long silence after his statement as they both absorbed his words. The quiet was punctuated by y/n’s quiet response of, “You’re welcome. I’m happy I could be that for you, Aaron.” y/n looked over at Hotch and could see there was something there. A bond, a name whisper on the wind, or a star. It was a flicker for just a moment and it was gone, but they had both felt it, some of the overwhelming feelings they both housed within. 

In another moment Aaron said, “I’ll let you go, but I’m sure Dave has given you his number, but tell him to give mine as well. I may not be at my best right now, but if you ever need anything y/n, anything, you can give me a call.” y/n nodded and stood wondering if the last they’d ever see of Aaron Hotchner, and was at least grateful for having crossed paths with him. They brushed their hands over his hand for a moment before smiling, saying “I hope you are well soon, Aaron,” leaving the room. Aaron watched as their figure moved outside and stopped to talk to Dave for a moment then disappeared. 

Rossi entered the room and asked, “Do you feel better now?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Yes. Did you give them my number?” Dave laughed and said, “Sure did, office and cell.” Aaron huffed but then said seriously, “y/n will need protection for a few weeks at least.” Rossi replied, “Already on it. Or Garcia is on it. Knowing her, y/n will be getting flowers and chocolate for life.” Hotch laughed at the truth in that statement and felt better. Yes is sucked, this sucked, and his body hurt like hell, but he was alive and things would get better. Aaron’s mind flickered back to his fight with Sean and he laid back on the bed with a groan. Dave watched and eventually, Hotch said with his eyes still closed, “Would you call Sean for me?” Rossi had Sean’s number in case of emergencies with Aaron, Jack, or Jessica. Rossi had everybody in the team's close family on that list. Dave couldn’t help but say, “Why do I have to call him, if you do will he throw his phone out the window or something?” Hotch scoffed and replied, “Just about, but I need to talk to him.” Rossi understood and took out his phone and dialed Aaron’s younger brother before handing the line over to Aaron. 

Aaron had something planned to say, but Sean beat him to it saying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. You don’t deserve it.” Hotch let out a breath and replied as lightly as possible, “You bet I didn’t. But I want to apologize too. I got hot-headed…” Rossi motioned for Aaron to ask if he wanted him to leave the room or not. Aaron nodded his head no, and Dave settled in his chair. As Sean and Aaron spoke, and attempted in their own ways to make amends, Aaron knew that things would get better. There was family, be it Jack, Sean, or the team, and there were people out there willing to help. The image y/n smiling down at him filled him with a strange warmth, and he let the image and feeling linger as Sean went on about his day.

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[lexiene]

Mithrun in Barong 🙈💖

Hes kyut in here tehee~ *winks

Bonus my Oc 😭💖

[desired-deity]

hiiiiii if you still write for kenji could i request dating hc? i saw urs for kai and i was just curious 👀👀

Dating Kenji Headcanons!

KENJI x Gn! READER

Genre : Floofy Headcanons 

A/n : Finally getting back into making things again and now going back to the fandom, I don’t think I can stop writing for them. I love you all and I hope you enjoy honey! (I can’t get enough of Kenji-)

When it comes to a boy who streams non-stop but doesn’t show his face, mostly, if not all the time, you will be in his lap while he streams

It’s just the honest truth🤷‍♀️

Anyways- of course (when you were ready) you guys told chat and chat now literally loves you

Fan art, fics, you name it, it’s probably out there somewhere

You, Kai, Doctor, and Kenji are a trouble some crew but everyone lives for it

Uki loves it, Vox loves it, Kyo loves it, Shoto loves it, basically everyone

You guys take naps together, you either lay on top of him or he spoons you on the couch

Just rules of the land with him ig🤷‍♀️

Kenji looks after you and if you also stream, he watches your vods, shorts, streams, etc

Basically story short, you are his and he is yours💙

[dimeroj]

So what if I’m convinced there’s going to be an Oasis reunion? Can’t a girl dream?

[daryascurse]

A little something in your ask box ❤ Eren's A, C, H, J, M, W

❤️😫 AWWW MY GOODNESS THANK YOU!! I was SO excited to see this hehe I’ve been on a bit of an Eren kick the past few months that hasn't gone away.

Okay this is sort of modern-AU Eren just to be consistent with all the prompts (and I love my modern Eren with a touch of stoner lol). I shuffled a little from the alphabetical order just to flow a little better.

ɴꜱꜰᴡ | ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ + BLANK / AGELESS BLOGS ᴅɴɪ // cw: recreational weed smoking, alcohol, kinda possessive vibes; completely g/n reader not described with pronouns or genitalia, but mentions of high heels

ALPHABET NSFW ASKS (still open!)

A for Aphrodisiac [What always turns them on?]

A few things turn Eren Jaeger on without fail; but he never really noticed the effect they have on him until they were characteristics of yours. He loves your independence. He loves the way you move through the world with an unapologetic freedom. He has to shift his legs in public when you give a devious smirk, when someone says something and you have some smart retort to bite back with. And he loves when that little clever laugh becomes a keen between the sheets, loves being the one to take your brain and make it melt just for a while, taking his time just coaxing it out of you to make you fall apart under his touch. His touch. He’s not controlling, he could never control you, but he takes pride in being the person to make you thoughtless for once. Besides, shouldn’t all boyfriends be a little possessive? That’s another thing – boyfriend. Partner, significant other. It doesn’t matter the term. Anything you say publicly, with a pride, with a cooing smile, is irresistible to him. The burst in his chest is a little juvenile, but he can’t swallow it down, he won’t hide a smirk of his own when you introduce him with such a label. It’s the same feeling other people might get by buying their lover jewelry or more extreme public showings of belonging. For him, your choice to call him by such special words is enough. Something else, something more tangible that turns him on, is when you wear high heels. It doesn’t matter how tall they are, how tall they make you. Even if you tower over him, he loves how strong it makes the muscles in your legs look, the way your hips sway as you walk in them, the way it literally elevates you so simply. Not that you need it. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he said once in the elevator on your way to a dinner, and his eyes were dark with desire.

J for Jazz [What’s their go-to sexy song/playlist?]

Eren doesn’t really have a “sex” playlist. He has a playlist that inevitably gets shuffled through at night when you have a bowl or two or three together; so, it’s usually just already playing when his fingers, thick and slow from the marijuana, crawl over your clothes to peel them off you. A month or so into seeing each other, you’d convinced him to make it collaborative – he grumbled just a little at not wanting to spoil his carefully curated vibe, but he’s also been adding your favorite songs to his library. The songs he’d already had on the playlist include “Skin” by Mac Miller, “Acai Bowl” by Dominic Fike, "You've Got Everything Now" by The Smiths, “Moon” by Seahaven, and “War” by Hypnotic Brass Ensemble (yes, the Hunger Games theme – it came on shuffle mode once when his head was between your thighs, and in your hazy mind it was hilarious. He sat up with a scowl and turned his head to hide his flush as he quickly skipped to the next song, and you howled with laughter as he muttered something about it being a “really good song to blast through headphones while walking home stoned from the park.”).

M for Moan [What kind of noises do they make? What sounds do they like to hear from their partner?]

It’s not that he’s quiet, but Eren wants to hear you more. Especially at first, when things are just getting hot and heavy, when he’s listening acutely to the sharpness of your sighs and moans and using that to guide his hands and his mouth over you. He’s groaning, his gasping breaths full of sound, but he’s listening to the cues to figure out what makes you feel best – pressing further when he hears your “oh yeah”s and “right there”s and shifting his touch to get your voice to that point where it’s breaking, where your mouth can’t properly form words anymore. He gets pleasure from giving you pleasure. That is the first thing he sets to do when he puts his lips on you to worship your body, and he’ll take his time doing so. But the words finally burst from him when you’re half-drunk from endorphins and hungry for your orgasm, when his fingers are on your thighs and his tongue drips with your arousal. You’re begging in broken sentences, your body in agony. That’s when his throaty groans turn verbal, when he sits up, fixes his eyes on you, and speaks with that possessiveness through his wet lips – “ ‘S getting sensitive? You can still come for me.”

H for Hands [What do they do with their hands during sex?]

Maybe it’s because Eren always wants to make sure you get off – he’s said that he feels good when he makes you feel good – but his hands are always on you. It doesn’t matter the position, he’s always touching you, stroking against your skin, rubbing the places he knows are sensitive with the lightest, but most insistent, caresses. Sometimes his hands are gentle like that. And other times, his hands hold you by aching wrists, as he groans right into your ear and your hips jerk as he fucks into you again, and again, chasing down your climax with his own. “Tell me it’s mine, your pretty little body is all mine.”

C for Cuddling [How do they cuddle after sex?]

When the two of you collapse, naked and exhausted in the sheets, Eren takes a moment to gather his breath. You’re doing the same, your mind turning cartwheels as your blood pounds and your bones weigh you down, and you can barely hear the creak of the mattress over spinning in your ears when he sits up again with a long sigh. He goes into the kitchen, and returns with a glass of water, and a gentle reminder that you should pee. You drag yourself to the bathroom with staggering steps, and when you make it back to the bed, he’s wearing boxers, pulled the sheets back up and propping the pillows in place again. He hands you a clean oversized t-shirt with hands still trembling from exertion, hair sticking to his forehead in a sweaty sheen. You let him help you back into the bed. He passes you the water from the dresser and puts it back when you take a sip. Neither of you have the energy to speak as he crawls back in bed. You turn to him with open arms, welcoming him into a silent, overly warm embrace of limbs, heartbeats, and damp sheets.

W for Wet [How would they have sex in the shower?]

You’ve brought up sex in the shower a handful of times before in different contexts, and Eren’s never really given the warmest reaction. Once he wrinkled his nose, pointed out in a doubtful deadpan just how difficult and clumsy the mechanics would be. Another time, he asked if it was something you’d done with an ex, a tinge of jealousy coloring his voice. So you’ve mostly seen it as a joke now, nothing to seriously pursue. But you come home extremely drunk together tonight. You’re sweaty and buzzing from the walk. When you whine about wanting to shower, Eren asks if he can join you. Your enthused “yeah of course!” matches the same heavy alcohol-laden tone he had invited himself in. You two stumble into the shower without even turning on the bathroom light and the fresh water is all you can pay attention to, the hot stream pouring down your face and waterlogging your senses. You don’t even care about the sting blinding your eyes, don’t even think of Eren at first until you spit warm water out of your mouth and ask hoarsely if he wants to switch. You reach for the bottle of body wash but his hand is on your face, turning it to you, and his lips devour yours in a drunken kiss. It is clumsy, he was right, as you scramble to hold to the edge of the tub and he bends you over with a foot on the ledge. The angle isn’t quite right, the water hitting you around the shield of his body in jagged strikes, the porcelain tub too smooth to grip – but you don’t care, your brain is just wheeling in dumb drunk circles as your thighs shake and your teeth chatter, skin somewhere between hot and cold as he holds your hips in slippery fingers. He draws out wetness between your legs with each uneven stroke. The small room reels in steam and moans, everything getting teased but nothing getting fully satisfied, and he finally grunts: “Let’s go to the bed, okay?”

[xacutesblogs]

Can y’all give me story ideas or plots or something? it can be anything at this point!

[levithestripper]

Smut Alphabet with Hoyt Rawlins

warnings: gender-neutral reader (slight fem! reader in parts), creampies, voyeurism/semi-public sex?, hair pulling, oral sex.

length: 1.5k || read on ao3

notes: the complete and utter lack of anything hoyt related on this site is criminal

Aftercare

Hoyt is a gentleman, after all, so he treats you very well after sex. Kisses over your face and chest as he cleans you both of sweat. He isn’t one for eating afterward, but if you’re hungry, he’ll always try to have something on hand. Hoyt is a cuddler after sex, so that is what you most commonly do with him after. You enjoy it as he encourages you to rest your head on his bicep or chest.

Body Part

Definitely his chest and abs. If that wasn’t clear at fight night, Hoyt isn’t sure how much more blatant he can be about it.

His favorite part of your body is your eyes. He likes to watch you from across the road, his eyes meeting yours, captivating you from his spot against the signpost Hoyt was leaning against. Hoyt’ll tip your face up to look at him, first finger underneath your chin, grinning at you.

Cum

Hoyt most commonly finishes inside you, something you’re more than okay with. It’s what you’re both used to, and Hoyt is eager to watch his cum drip out of you after he pulls out.

Dirty Secret

Hoyt’s dirty secret is that he fantasizes about being overheard. He doesn’t want to get caught or walked in on, just loud enough for the other patrons to know what he’s up to in the hotel room at Hagen’s Saloon.

Experience

He has a decent amount of experience, and his former partners have always given him stellar reviews, so to speak, so Hoyt is very confident in himself and his performance in bed. Your past partners pale in comparison to Hoyt, a fact that strokes Hoyt’s ego whenever he thinks about it. It’s not uncommon for him to ask, “So, darlin’, am I still the best you’ve ever had?” He knows the answer is yes; you know the answer is yes, but he still gets you to say it regardless.

Favorite Position

From behind, hands down, no questions asked. He could hit it from behind every day of the week and not get bored of it in the slightest. Pushing your head down into the pillows, arching your back for you, ass pressed nicely against his hip bones. Hoyt is an ass man through and through.

Goofy

Hoyt can be silly during sex when he wants to be, but he can also be serious when that’s what the mood calls for. He likes to mess with you, giggling at the noises your bodies make or tickling your sides just to get a rise from you. It’s earned him a swift jab in the ribs on more than one occasion.

But when the mood is a serious one, that’s when his sex appeal is ramped up tenfold. Sure, he’s sexy when he’s goofing off with you, but it’s like you’ve found yourself in bed with a different Hoyt when he’s focused.

Hair

Before meeting you, Hoyt couldn’t be bothered to keep himself tidy down there. Besides ensuring his pieces and parts were clean, Hoyt left it natural. Having overheard a white dove complaining of getting hair in her mouth, Hoyt decided it was best to tidy up for you (even if you didn’t complain about it previously). If he knew beforehand that he’d be meeting you later that day, he’d find something to clean up his thatch of dark blond hair.

Intimacy

Sex with Hoyt is always romantic, but the scale of it depends on whether the mood is silly or serious. He’s always kissing whatever part of your body he can reach; he doesn’t care if it’s your face, spine, thighs, or even the curve of your ass. If it’s within his reach, it’s getting peppered with kisses, regardless of the mood.

Jack Off

Hoyt’s sex drive is higher than any of your previous partners. Before meeting you (and when he was between partners), Hoyt was good for at least jerking off twice a day. Sometimes, it was once in the morning and once before bed; other times, it was twice after waking up or twice before going to sleep that night. Even on days when he’s been with you, Hoyt still has to rub one out before bed.

Kink

He has a thing for pulling hair. Pulling your hair, you pulling his hair, it doesn’t matter. The first time you tugged on his blond locks, Hoyt wasn’t expecting it, drawing a shameless moan from him. You’ve made it a habit of weaving your fingers through his hair and gripping tight when his head is buried between your thighs.

Location

Although Hoyt puts on the facade of the “sexy, passionate, lust-filled outlaw,” he doesn’t care for exceptionally risky sex. He doesn’t want to share you with anyone, much preferring to take you in the privacy of a hotel room or your room. He enjoys spreading you out across the bedsheets, something he can’t do on a couch or in the alleyway behind the saloon.

Motivation

You could wear a potato sack, and it’d still manage to turn Hoyt on. He finds you sexy and desirable regardless of what you’re wearing or doing. He can pitch a tent in his pants just by watching you do laundry or as you browse the general store for that night’s dinner.

No

Hoyt doesn’t like making you cry for any reason. Even if it’s from pleasure, he worries that he’s hurting you, so it’s an immediate turn-off in his book. He wants to make you feel good and provide you with insurmountable amounts of pleasure; harming you doesn’t fit within that goal.

Oral

You’ll have to pry him from between your thighs with the power of a steam engine if you want him to stop. He’s excellent at it, enjoys it more than is probably considered normal, and you love every minute of it. By the time he’s finished, Hoyt’s chin and beard are positively soaked with your slick, and so are the bedsheets.

Hoyt’s just as enthusiastic when you go down on him as well. He doesn’t care how deep you can take him or how fast you go; he just enjoys the experience as a whole. He’s always up for a quick blowjob if you offer.

Pace

Hoyt tends to average at a medium pace, not in any hurry to get it over with sometime within the next hour. He can be rough if he wants to (or if you ask him to be), but that’s not his default setting.

Quickie

If Hoyt hasn’t seen you for an extended period, sure, he’s up for a quickie, but he doesn’t plan on making a habit out of it. He likes to take his time with you, expertly taking you apart and putting you back together again, piece by piece. He’ll always choose that over a quick fuck in a closet somewhere.

Risk

Hoyt is a “sure, I’ll try anything once” type of guy. He’s seen a lot over the years, so anything you suggest won’t shock or surprise him at the very least. He’ll tell you if something you propose is past his comfort level, but other than that, he’s game for everything.

Stamina

He can go for at least two rounds, but the second one won’t be as intense as the first. It’s still as pleasurable and passionate, but just not as overwhelming, I suppose.

Toys

Hoyt isn’t one for toys. He doesn’t own or care to use them on himself or his partner, but he won’t care if you like using them. Hoyt has nothing against them; he simply doesn’t understand the appeal when you could have the real thing instead. Hoyt isn’t the kind of guy to get mad at you for using them, though.

Unfair

Hoyt is the most unfair little bitch, and he loves it. He is a certified brat and uses it to his advantage against you. He’ll make you beg for him to fuck you, go down on you, anything you can think of; he’s probably made you beg for it at some point. But once he’s deemed you’ve suffered enough, he’ll give you everything you’re asking for and then some.

Volume

Hoyt loves to be vocal in bed. Grunting, groaning, swearing, breathy moans, you name it. One of his favorite things is to whisper hotly into your ear, reveling in how you shiver from his words.

Wild Card

Hoyt loves to cover in hickeys and love bites, marking you as his, as taken. Since he’s gone for long periods, he likes to leave your neck and thighs covered in red and purple bruises, showing off to the entire town you’re spoken for.

X-Ray

He’s just above average, but it’s objectively very pretty. He’s thicker at the base, and it curves a bit to the right. You can’t explain it, but Hoyt’s cock just has something about it that’s different than the other men you’ve been with, but whatever it is, you can’t get enough of it.

Yearning

Just like with his masturbation habits, Hoyt’s appetite for sex is high, too. He likes to have you every day if he can, but if he can’t, he won’t lose his mind or anything. If you’re not feeling up to it, or if he’s busy, his fist will have to suffice.

Zzzz

Hoyt will stay up long enough to ensure you’re okay and cuddle you for a bit, but after that, he’s passing out as soon as he can. He gets so tired after sex. It settles his mind and puts him in the best headspace for a long nap.

[justafriendofxanders]

i used to think the billionaire romance genre was about the fantasy of escaping capitalism, but i'm not sure it is anymore. the fictional billionaire husband hasn't "won" capitalism as much as they've become fully dependent on it and its cultural baggage in order to maintain their status. romancing the billionaire isn't necessarily about you and your daddy dom existing in some place outside of capitalism and financial insecurity but rather you and your daddy dom getting, uh, dommed by the CONCEPT of what it means to be successful under capitalism and being told what a good man/woman you are. you know?

[im2tired4usernames]

Every single time I defend someone shitty who has done nothing but be a cunt to me because they did 1 (ONE ) decent thing THEY ALWAYS TURN AROUND AND DO SOMETHING SO MUCH WORSE TO ME

[marsneedsalife]

Oc and Y/N art! Noncannon drawing for the Murdersim I’m working on! Feel free to ask questions if you wish!

[lemongogo]

a random OC ask for you (for zaihala): what is your OC's favorite memory?

also: if they were dropped in a random city for a day with a pouch full of gold/relevant currency and no obligations whatsoever, what would they be doing?

aah omg this is so sweet ehehe, thank you for the qs :3c

i like to imagine that zaihala is an avid stonemason and mosaicist .. i think she is enraptured by the idea of taking something so resilient in nature and molding it under the guide of mallet and chisel . she's a humanist intrigued by the natural world, by geology.. by the incredible craftsmanship that goes into such a trade .

if she were to be dropped into some random city with the freedom of both time and money, i think you could find her in the market , sourcing materials or tesserae she couldnt otherwise acquire at her local workshop. . glass, shells, ceramics etc from vendors or acquainting herself with quarry tradesmen in order 2 procure the stone that best fits her vision.its an obsession..u literally have to pull her away or she'll be there all day

as for her FAVORITE MEMORY!!! omg.. i keep picturing her as this fresh face in baldurs gate, having just moved there on her own , sworn to independence but feeling like maybee she made a mistake. . maybe she was too impulsive, chasing her desire to pursue stonework on a whim, not having thought abt the consequences or the finances or what have u .. but she takes the chance to meet up with some local artists on an outing just outside the city .and its just sooo .. reaffirming to her in that moment. to be surrounded by people who are drunk on wine & laughter and to see the sprawling city just before her as the sun is setting..and the wind is warm..gentle...and it leaves her feeling so content..like a feeling of peace that swells up within her and lets her know tht she made the right choice. that it will be OKAYYU!!!!!!!!!! i think that's gotta be in one of her top ten.. perhaps.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Your Side of Town [Aaron x Reader]

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

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

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

Category: Angst 

Word Count: 14.5K 

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

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

List with all stories 

y/n 

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

d/b = department building 

y/l/n = your last name. 

y/f/s = your favorite subject 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Text Break Banne by @cafekitsune

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[collecting-stories]

Could I request Cowboy Like Me with Tom Davidson please? So excited to see someone writing for Walker Independence!

Cowboy Like Me - Tom Davidson

Summary: Reader and Tom spend the duster together.

A/N: Finally finished the season! Does anyone know if it's been renewed?

TS Anthology Series

...now you hang from my lips, like the gardens of babylon...

The duster felt like it had come up out of nowhere. You were standing on the front porch of the dry goods shop, debating the cost of fabric for a new dress, when someone warned of it’s presence. And like a tidal wave at the ocean, the dust rose up out of the ground and floated its way toward Independence like a cloud of bad fortune. You’d abandoned the fabric and headed for the nearest place you knew to be safe from the storm: Hagan’s. If you were lucky Kate would be there, or one of the other dancers. Someone to ride out the storm with at least.  

The hotel and bar looked absolutely deserted when you finally managed to make your way inside. With the whole place closed up tight like this it almost felt eerie and there was a small part of you that was beginning to regret not finding a better place to ride out the storm. At least a more populated place so that you didn’t have to sit here alone.  

“I thought I heard someone down here,” a familiar voice called down the stairs and you realized that you had been so engrossed with the duster out the window that you’d missed the sound of footsteps on the staircase.  

“Just taking shelter from the storm sheriff,” you replied, turning to smile at him over your shoulder. You’d been hoping for Kate but you seemed to be having far better luck.  

None of your friends knew about your relationship with Tom, although you had your suspicion that Kai knew. He seemed to know about everything that went on in Independence. He hadn’t said anything outright to you about it, or to anyone else to your relief. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of seeing Tom just that you knew how your friends would feel about it, especially Kate and Abby. 

“Did you come in alone?” He asked, hesitating at the last step, taking a sweeping inventory of the room in case someone else had followed you into Hagan’s. He’d been relieved to find that no one was in the bar and hotel when he arrived though he had come looking for you. It was luck that he stayed and you had decided to come here.  

“I did.” You nodded. “Is anyone else here?” 

“Just me...disappointed?” He asked, the faintest hint of a smirk appearing on his face as he took his hat off and laid it on one of the tables. He walked passed you to the bar and you followed after, standing on the other side of the counter and watching as he fixed two drinks.  

“Not disappointed at all,” you replied, leaning against the counter to bring yourself closer to Tom as he passed a whiskey on ice to you. “Fancy,” you mused, taking it and sipping. “Say, you planning on keeping your distance the whole afternoon?”  

“Is that what I’m doing?” He joked.  

You regularly looked forward to moments alone with Tom. It was tricky, considering he was the sheriff of Independence and you were dancing on stage at Hagan’s. Not quite the pair that people would match up if they were asked to but something about the two of you worked. Maybe because you understood each other better than anyone else ever had. Both from families back east, both running from something and ending up out here in Texas, both falling into roles that you didn’t really want. When you were with other people in Independence, you felt like you were always putting on a show. Even with Abby or Kate. But with Tom, when you could find a moment to steal away together, or like today when the moment found you, it felt like you could truly be yourself.  

“Well I’m all the way over here and you’re all the way over there,” you teased, leaning forward again. Tom leaned forward as though he might meet you in the middle for a kiss, stealing a sip of his whiskey at the last moment instead.  

“Guess I’ll have to do something about that,” he mused.  

You nodded, backing away from the counter with your whiskey in hand, walking your way backward until you reached the table he’d left his hat on. You picked up the black hat he wore everyday and slipped it on your head, “You know what I was thinking?” 

“What’s that?” He asked, coming around the counter and following your movements as you slowly backed yourself to the stairs. You had a destination in mind, his office and room, and you could tell by the smirk on his face that he knew exactly where you were headed.  

“After this duster blows through, you should take a couple days off, let Gus take care of things here in town.” You said, “you been looking tired lately.” 

“Have I?” He asked, placing a hand on the banister as he reached the staircase. “And what about you? You takin’ off too?” 

“Why not? My feet are crying every night, might as well.”  

“And if we’re both hiding out? You think people won’t notice?” He asked, the light tone to his voice betraying the very serious question he was asking.  

“Let them,” you shrugged, turning to walk up the last few steps, “now come over and give me a proper hello.” 

“Whatever you say,” he downed the end of his whiskey, leaving the empty glass on a hall table as he followed you into his room, closing the distance between you and the office doors.