#yes i just tagged the most popular Aarons

[lalalian]

So is there anything you can tell us about some of aethergarde’s teachers?

hihi!

Yeah I have a few teachers scripted! I just kept putting off posting about them due to plot stuff (sorry, ik you've asked this a few times!)

(Please refer to the progress report for the in-script teacher update)

OH-- Btw, I am still working on the mermaid script, it's just that it's so so messy rn; I'll update the progress report when things are more cohesive.

A few things to note… A lot of the teachers are gonna wanna teach you. You’re likely going to get the more famed teachers in the academy; they’ll use their influence to teach you. Teachers you’ll definitely have are: Professor Drakard, Professor Riorson, Esther Naida Covington

Alright, let's get into the teachers! Do note that these aren't all the teachers, it's just some of them.

Ok wait but first, what do I mean by influence and power in this post?

Professors who have taught at Aethergarde Academy the longest and teach either a fighting class or a magic class tend to have the most influence over discussions over curriculum, Academy based movements (like sending out 5th yrs to fight on behalf of the academy), dispelling particularly harmful rumors, and of course picking students they want to teach. You'd think only the assistant headmaster and the headmaster themselves decide this on their own, but in Aethergarde, both professors and the headmasters discuss what to do together. Curriculum changes that affect all departments will be discussed with all the teachers, but curriculum changes that only affect one or two more departments will be discussed with the appropriate teachers in each department. Meetings that include the non-magic based combat department tend to have the most discord-- mostly due to the fact that a lot of the teachers in this department either has anger issues, lots of influence, or both.

You bet your ass that people will be fighting over you.

professors:

Name: Aaron Hale Riorson

Subject: Spellwork, Scything

Class Levels: 1-5 (and onward for scything)

Rate my professor: 11/10

TOP TAGS: Strict, Supportive, Intimidating

- Lax: 4/10

- Teaching Ability: 9/10

- Homework: 4/10

Background:

Professor Riorson has worked for Aethergarde Academy for a long time— he is the head of the Magic Department at Aethergarde. His reputation as a talented rider and a personable leader makes him have a lot of influence and power amongst the rest of the teachers. He rarely tries to use his influence to get something he wants as he feels that it’s unfair; he has very few exceptions— you’re one of them. Once he finds out that you’re specializing in the scythe, he’ll definitely try to get you in his class.

Teaching Experience:

Professor Riorson (yes I did name him after the Percy Jackson author) is strict on his students because he wants to weed out the kids who aren’t persistent/skilled enough to handle the scythe. In his spellwork class, he is also pretty strict, but he is a lot less rigid and cold.

Name: Isaac Reol Lancaster

Subject: Swords, Long Bow

Class Levels: All

Rate my Professor: 8.5/10

TOP TAGS: Popular, Charismatic, Resourceful

Lax: 6/10

Teaching Ability: 7.5/10

Homework: 2.5/10

Background:

Recognize his last name? Yes, he’s related to Callisto and Asterias— Professor Lancaster is the boys’ uncle. Due to familial ties and bias, Professor Lancaster cannot teach either Callisto or Asterias. He is one of the most popular male teachers on campus amongst students— I’m sure we can guess why LMAO. He’s pretty close to Asterias and often tries to mediate any arguments between Callisto and his brother.

Teaching Experience:

Professor Lancaster has been working at Aethergarde Academy for 7~ years now. If you want an easier class, Professor Lancaster is your way to go. He can get distracted during class; like he’ll talk about Asterias and Callisto instead of like idk, teaching. Unlike most teachers, he won’t be as interested in teaching you.

Name: Daione Eloise Ingram

Subject: Aurawork, Magic Theory

Class Levels: All

Rate my Professor: 9/10

TOP TAGS: Understanding, Reserved, Passionate

Lax: 6/10

Teaching Ability: 9/10

Homework: 6.5/10

Background:

Professor Ingram would definitely make Magic Theory bearable. She's worked with Aethergarde Academy since the beginning, so she too has quite a bit of influence, especially regarding the Magic Department.

Teaching Experience:

Professor Ingram is calm and patient-- she isn't the kind of person to get frustrated easily, especially with underclassmen (1st and 2nd yr). She firmly believes that some students just need more time to master certain aura patterns, and is willing to accommodate if the student shows that they are at least trying to learn said skill (going to review sessions, asking lots of questions, or seeing her during her office hours).

Name: Alina Pietarinen

Subject: Herbology, Magitech

Class Levels: All (herbology), 1-2 (magitech)

Rate my Professor: 8.5/10

TOP TAGS: Eccentric, Efficient, Sociable

Lax: 7/10

Teaching Ability: 9/10

Homework: 1/10

Background:

Professor Pietarinen has also been with Aethergarde Academy for quite sometime, but has only recently began teaching Magitech (when you first shift to aethergarde, her second year of teaching magitech will have begun). She is popular with many of the extracurricular teachers.

Teaching Experience:

Professor Pietarinen is pretty chill, but she's also incredibly knowledgeable. Out of all of the herbology teachers, she teaches her students the most efficiently. Her small tricks and tips often help students grasp concepts faster-- this includes both her magitech classes and her herbology classes. As a bonus, she almost never assigns homework, and if she does, the assignment usually doesn't take more than 10 minutes.

Name: Nicoleas Barou

Subject: Scything, Battle Experience

Class Levels: Only teaches 3rd, 4th, and 5th yr students

Rate my Professor: 8.5/10

TOP TAGS: Stern, Harsh, High-Expectations

Lax: 0/10

Teaching Ability: 9.5/10

Homework: 6/10?

Background:

Professor Barou was head-knight of the Thorns Squadron before he started teaching. He only started teaching part-time when he kept getting disappointed by the new Aethergarde Academy recruits, but he eventually found that he liked teaching more than he thought he would (he'd never admit it tho) so he left the Thorns to become a Battle Experience teacher. His main weapons are throwing knives and the scythe; after seeing the performance of one student who was learning how to fight with a scythe in Battle Experience, he demanded to also teach kids how to fight with a scythe. He and Professor Riorson really don't get along-- they teach differently. Since Professor Barou refuses to teach underclassmen, you may have to take a semester or two (or more) with Professor Barou after you've been taught by Professor Riorson-- Trust me, Professor Barou will teach you how to fight in a different way and insult the way Professor Riorson has taught you.

Teaching Experience:

Professor Barou is the most infamous teacher amongst students. He never directly gives you homework, but he does insinuate you need to practice whatever you're not good at. Bottom-line is... Just practice for at least an hour or two per week-- just make sure he doesn't see you or else he'll either yell at you to do better (and then walk away muttering about how the riders these days just aren't talented enough) OR, if you're really unlucky, he'll stand there and say everything you're doing wrong until you get it right. In this case, your self-study session may last way longer than a few hours. Despite his crazy work ethic and harsh way of teaching, he is one of the biggest reasons why Aethergarde has such great riders. Uh, I will say tho... Scything class with this man will be TOUGH.

Name: Esther Naida Covington

Subject: Potions, Dragon Etiquette, Developmental Psychology: Dragons

Class Levels: All

Rate my Professor: 10/10

TOP TAGS: Passionate, Agreeable, Forgiving

Lax: 7/10

Teaching Ability: 9/10

Homework: 3/10

Background:

Professor Covington is another student favorite; many Aethergarde grads will continue to maintain a relationship with Professor Covington. She has been with Aethergarde Academy for an extremely long time, and refuses to retire because she enjoys teaching so much. Both her popularity and her long history with the academy gives her a lot of influence.

Teaching Experience:

Professor Covington doesn't like to make her classes hard, instead, she'll provide as many resources possible (for potions class, she'll provide a copy of the most important parts of her lectures to everyone, and if you're not in class that day, she'll make note of it and give you the notes). She is flexible with exams and practicals. Professor Covington may ask her students when they'd like to have their tests, and she'll plan for it to be on that day. Her teaching style makes her class straightforward and enjoyable.

Name: Elise Irene Drakard

Subject: Martial Arts, Throwing Knives

Class Levels: Only teaches 3rd, 4th, 5th yr students

Rate my Professor: 7/10

TOP TAGS: Unforgiving, tough, realistic

Lax: 2/10

Teaching ability: 8.7/10

Homework: 4/10

Background:

Professor Drakard is the youngest teacher at Aethergarde Academy. She is a recent addition; she began teaching at the academy only 3 years ago. Professor Drakard has a lot of rumors surrounding her since she doesn’t talk about herself much, and at least 2 teachers are crushing on her. Despite her short time at the academy, she has quite a good reputation (staff/teacher wise).

Teaching Experience:

As you can see from both the tags and ratings, she is a very strict teacher. She is the kind of professor to purposely fail you if she doesn’t think you deserve to pass because you either suck at martial arts/throwing knives, or you aren’t a good rider in general. Homework generally consists of practical work; she will have a written quiz here and there just so you know what terms she’s talking abt + make sure you’re listening to her in class. Professor Drakard used to teach all grade levels, but was removed from 1st and 2nd year classes due to high failure rates. On the bright side, you’ll be really good at whatever subject she taught you if you do have her as your teacher.

Name: Amon

Subject: Specialized Niche Training*, General Ancient Languages

Class Levels: 3rd, 4th, and 5th yr students only

Rate my Professor: 10/10

TOP TAGS: Mysterious, Charismatic, Powerful

Lax: 5/10

Teaching Ability: 9.5/10

Homework: 3/10

NOTE: Specialized Niche Training*

You will be his only student in his specialized niche class!

Background:

Amon has a ton of rumors surrounding him-- whether or not his dragon is dead, is he even a rider, is he even a he? Nobody really knows because he doesn't teach many classes. Students tend to enroll in his General Ancient Languages class just to see him. He always wears a mask, and he always wears those pointy metal gloves. Awhile ago, parents became increasingly concerned with the fact that Amon was teaching students in Aethergarde Academy. Sylvia Godwin, Aethergarde Academy's assistant headmaster, had to address this rumor in place of the headmaster; essentially, she revealed that she is certain that Amon's loyalty lies with the Academy, but did not explain why.

Teaching Experience:

Amon is eerily calm; no student has ever seen him angry. He is not one to use words to keep students in line, instead he uses his aura to emit a threatening feeling (idk how to describe it, but yk what I'm talking abt, right?). Not much is known about him, and any personal question is often dismissed with an enigmatic answer.

Name: Yashodha Karavadra

Subject: Tessen Fan Training, History of Eudora

Class Levels: All (and onward for tessen fan)

Rate my Professor: 9.5/10

TOP TAGS: Patient, Firm, Understanding

Lax: 5.5/10

Teaching Ability: 9.5/10

Homework: 2/10

Background:

Professor Karavadra has been with the academy for a while, but not as long as Professor Covington. She isn't the kind of person to dabble in social politics, because of this, she does not exert as much influence as most other teachers.

Teaching Experience:

Professor Karavadra recommends vendors for her students to shop for supplies and weapons; she tries not to show it, but she prefers students who aren't of noble descent more than nobles themselves. Professor Karavadra doesn't bend her expectations. If you can't keep up, she isn't the kind to get frustrated, rather, she'd invite you to her review sessions after class. She is well-liked among non-noble students due to her slight preference and willingness to financially provide for kids who cannot afford quality supplies.

Name: Cora Muir Lesiak

Subject: Swords

Class Levels: All

Rate my Professor: 8/10

TOP TAGS: Outgoing, Hardworking, Encouraging

Lax: 4/10

Teaching Ability: 8/10

Homework: 2/10

Background:

Professor Lesiak doesn't stand out much compared to other teachers but she's still quite talented. Professor Lesiak also worked in the Thorns Squadron, and she is often characterized by her strong loyalty to the crown. Some teachers don't like her for her ideology. Some teachers wanted to restrict the number of classes she teaches, but since Professor Lesiak never talks about politics in class, even after students speak about such topics, the Academy has largely ignored such concerns.

Teaching Experience:

Professor Lesiak is very extroverted and outgoing-- her personality is quite a stark difference from a lot of the teachers in the Academy. While she doesn't require her students to come to her review sessions, it is highly recommended as you can get your practice done within an hour. Professor Lesiak is not the kind of person to push you too far.

Name: Baariq El Khouri

Subject: Strategy Analysis

Class Levels: All

Rate my Professor: 9/10

TOP TAGS: Analytical, Critical, Comprehensive

Lax: 5/10

Teaching Ability: 9.5/10

Homework: 7.5/10

Background:

Ugh he's so fine. SO ANYWAYS, Professor Khouri is also another student favorite. I think we know why. Ok but besides that, he's insanely analytical and is one of the reasons why Aethergarde alumni are such great leaders. Professor Khouri, because of his specialization, works closely with both Sylvia Godwin (Assistant Principal) and Sagria Nahas (Headmaster) when planning the logistics of certain events.

Teaching Experience:

Professor Khouri doesn't assign a lot of homework, but whenever you do get an assignment from him, it's pretty hard, and he isn't a lenient grader. As long as you can explain why your method/answer is best, you'll get a good grade, but you need to make sure all factors are covered. Like all of them. Also if you aren't the type of person to raise your hand in class, take notes on the things people say and the professor's feedback. You'll know why a certain thing is wrong and the proper solution to it quicker.

Name: Yerzhan Maratov

Subject: Martial Arts, Tessen Fan

Class Levels: All

Rate my Professor: 10/10

TOP TAGS: Detail-Oriented, Diligent, Unique

Lax: 4/10

Teaching Ability: 9.5/10

Homework: 4/10

Background:

Professor Maratov used to teach at Empyrigate; he quit once he witnessed a truly talented rider fight with a tessen fan in one of the tournaments. Professor Maratov is probably one of the most loyal teachers to Aethergarde Academy; he is extremely passionate and proud that Aethergarde Academy fosters the best riders in Aenaroth. Professor Maratov is also not from Eudora, he moved decades ago (he is from Luayuhin).

Teaching Experience:

Professor Maratov places a lot of value in meditation in both his tessen fan and martial arts classes. This is because mana can make parts of your body weigh slightly more, cause too much mana to be pooled in the least useful parts of the body, or mana isn't pooling in the right limbs at the right times. Professor Maratov ensures his students utilize the passive form of mana correctly. Because of this, his classes are more complex than your traditional martial arts and tessen fan classes. Most of your homework will probably be aura related, followed by footwork, and just general fighting.

[marvelislove10]

Hello Stranger

We interrupt our semi-regularly scheduled Aaron Tveit fanfiction authoring for this bad boy.

Fair warning, I barely edited it and nobody but me has read it haha. Enjoy! Come yell about sports, broadway and fandoms in the chat/ask box!

————————————————————————

She hated being the center of attention. She had never liked it. She was just a normal person with a normal job.

So as people bustled past her in the hallway, she did her best to melt into the cinder block wall.

She pulled her beanie further down her head and sniffled, her nose still cold from the freezing weather.

There was a sudden rise in noise and Charlotte immediately looked up from her shoes.

People parted like the red sea as the tall blonde walked down the hallway.

He stopped less than a foot away from her as he chatted with his parents. But for the time being she kept her distance.

But then Joe pulled away from his Mom and was looking around expectantly.

His gaze settled on the long-haired woman and Charlotte’s throat tightened to see how red those normally blue eyes were.

            “Hello stranger,” she said pushing herself off from the wall.

The Bengals quarterback reached for her and she wrapped her arms around his torso.

She heard and felt his shaky exhale against her skin.

            “You played really well tonight, Joe. You should be proud of yourself.”

Joe huffed against her shoulder and then stilled.

         ��  “I can do better. I should have done better. I am better than that.”

She pulled back and caught his gaze, peeling a hand from his shoulder to gently touch his jaw.

            “Please don’t beat yourself up. Joe, please don’t.”

He inhaled shakily again, and she thought she could feel tears hitting her neck. She pressed her lips to the top of his head, and he finally calmed.

Joe pulled back and tried to subtly wipe at his cheeks.

            “I’m sorry you had to freeze your ass off just to see this shit result.”

            “It wasn’t shit. Yes, I’m mad that you lost of course but it wasn’t shit. And neither were you. It was just the Chiefs’ Day today.”

            “Lottie,” he grumbled.

She met his gaze and he still looked disgruntled. It was hard not to tease him, but she knew this wasn’t the moment.

            “I mean it. And besides, I’m from the Midwest Joseph. I can handle a little cold.”

            “So what you’re saying is that the cold never bothered you anyway?”

            “Did you just make a frozen reference?”

His pale skin flushed pink and that made her fight back a smile.

            “…No.”

She looped her arms around his neck unable to fight back the smile any longer.

            “You’re a dork, Burrow.”

            “I know. But I’m you—”

His words cut off as she pressed her mouth to his.

She tried to keep the kiss short and chaste as she knew they weren’t alone. When she pulled back, she could feel his fingertips skating across her jawline and it made her shiver.

            “I love you,” she whispered.

            “I love you too. Are you flying back at the same time as my parents?”

That question made her reluctantly open her eyes.

            “In the morning,” she said quietly with a nod.

            “Alright. I’ll pick you up.”

            “You don’t need to.”

            “I want to.”

She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

The next morning, as she waited for Joe outside of baggage claim she couldn’t stop her mind from drifting.

She didn’t know how she had gotten here. Somehow she spent most weekends galivanting across the country in support of one of the most popular quarterbacks in the modern NFL.

If she was honest with herself, she never expected this would be her life when Joe had complimented her Star Wars t-shirt one day during their torturous summer math class at Ohio State.

She hadn’t even realized at the time that he was on the football team. He was just a cute boy who was clearly a nerd too.

It wasn’t until their next class that she had noticed the “Burrow” OSU football tag dangling from his backpack when he settled in the seat next to her.

But somehow here she was, grinning widely to herself when he pulled up in his black car.

She tossed her bag into the trunk, rolling her eyes at the boxing gloves scattered haphazardly, and then slipped into the passenger seat.

            “Welcome home.”

            “Thanks Baby,” she said.

He leaned over the console and kissed her. She let out a squeak of surprise though when Joe swiped his tongue along her bottom lip.

She felt her pulse begin to race as Joe’s tongue slipped into her mouth.

The moment was broken though by a loud honk behind them.

            “Shit,” she swore.

            “Guess we gotta go.”

            “Guess so. Take me home, please.”

It didn’t take long for Joe to park at Charlotte’s apartment. He grabbed her bag from the trunk and waited while she unlocked her door.

            “I’m gonna take this upstairs and change. Make yourself at home.”

            “After 6 years, don’t I always?” he quipped.

She rolled her eyes at him but pecked his lips anyway.

He took a moment to admire her ass and couldn’t resist the urge to let out a low whistle. Charlotte threw up her middle finger and he laughed, going for the fridge once she was gone.

When Charlotte returned in a pair of tiny adidas shorts and one of Joe’s old OSU t-shirts she found him sitting on her couch.

            “You made coffee?” she asked.

            “Mm. With booze.”

That made her smile and she plopped down beside him.

            “Ah so it really is the off-season then, isn’t it?” she asked as she took the second mug from his hand.

            “Yup. Plus I’m still fucking pissed that we lost.”

She frowned lightly and took a sip of the very strong, boozy coffee.

            “Yeah that really did suck, huh?”

Joe just grunted in agreement.

She reached down and turned on the tv, putting on some random movie. She took another long sip of coffee and then put both the mug and the remote down.

When she straightened up, an arm snaked around her lower back and tugged on her hip.

Realizing what he wanted, she spun herself around and straddled his lap.

            “How’s the wrist?” she asked gently.

            “Very, very sore. Doctors want to see me tomorrow. So no sex until we get the all clear.”

Her eyebrows pinched together at his words as her eyes narrowed.

            “Who says you always have to be on top? I’m perfectly capable of taking what I want.”

Joe’s eyes widened in surprise at first before a wry smile grew across his lips.

            “That’s true. And it’s usually fun when you do. But still. We better hold off.”

            “Fine. I’m too tired for pity sex anyway. Now, what do you want to watch?”

Several hours later, the couple had switched positions and were lazily spooning on the couch.

            “Joey.”

            “Mm?”

            “You should probably head home.”

He turned so that he was now meeting her gaze.

            “You know…If you had just moved in with me, I wouldn’t have to leave.”

She sighed heavily. The couple had had this argument a thousand times since the LSU grad had been drafted but her opinion still hadn’t changed.

            “Burrow. I love you. You know that I do. But I don’t want to be a kept woman.”

            “Lottie, you wouldn’t be.”

            “Alright, then you and your millions can move in with me.”

Now it was Joe’s turn to crinkle his eyebrows.

            “That’s what I thought,” she said.

Her boyfriend wasn’t vain, she knew that about him. She just knew that with his budget now it made no sense for him to leave the posh part of town for her clean but tiny apartment.

            “Joe, it just doesn’t make sense. You know it and I know it.”

            “I know but I miss you.”

            “It’s not like we lived together at OSU. And then you moved, twice might I remind you, and now I’m here.”

            “I know but—”

She cut him off briefly by kissing him softly.

            “Look. I know you’d give me the world if I asked for it. But I’m not here for the perks of dating the NFL’s newest quarterbacking prodigy, ok?”

            “I never said you were. I appreciate the fact that you’re one of the few people left in my life who decided I was worth it when I was a third stringer riding the bench. But Charlotte, I want to start a life with you.”

            “Then put a ring on it Burrow. And then we’ll talk.”

His eyes widened in shock.

            “I thought you weren’t ready.”

She shrugged.

            “Well I’m ready now. Like you said it has been six years.”

He broke out into a bright grin that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Before she could blink, he was sliding off the couch and bolting out of the room.

            “Please don’t tell me you have a ring already!” she called after him.

She heard a laugh from the distance.

            “No, I’m not that bold. But I have ideas,” he said when he returned to the living room.

He sat beside her, pulled her feet into his lap and then handed her a pile of papers.

            “What are…Joe. No, please tell me you didn’t buy all of these.”

            “No of course not. I just…” He trailed off and blushed a deep red color.

            “You’re blushing! What did you do?”

            “Nothing!”

            “You liar,” she said with no venom in her voice.

But then she looked down and started to flip through the three pieces of paper he had handed to her.

            “I may or may not have asked my mom her opinion on what to get you…and your Mom. And asked your Dad for his blessing.”

Her jaw dropped slightly and Joe blushed harder.

            “You didn’t.”

Joe shrugged sheepishly.

She went back to the papers and slowly flipped through them. The ring on the second page caught her eye almost immediately.

            “This one. Or something like it.”

It was a traditional colored diamond cut into a pear shape. The band was a little untraditional as it looked like vines but that’s what she loved about it.

            “Alright, noted.”

She gave him half a smile which made him smile and then next thing she knew they were both grinning widely.

            “I can’t believe I finally got you to fold,” he said.

            “To be honest, it was never in doubt for me baby. I just needed a little bit of time. And you gave me that, so thank you.”

            “You’re welcome.”

He tugged on her ankles and brought her closer, pressing his mouth to hers.

            “Love you,” he mumbled against her mouth.

            “Love you too. Now time for you to go home. I unfortunately have work in the morning.”

            “Baby,” he whined.

Joe kissed her again and she melted.

            “Let me stay,” he whispered.

He kissed her again and she knotted her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

            “Fine.”

            “Yes!” he gloated.

            “But don’t bitch at me when I’m waking you up at 5:30 in the morning.”

            “I won’t.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

            “Promise?”

He pecked her lips.

            “I promise.”

[loisfreakinglane]

A YEAR IN REVIEW: POSTS OF 2023

Post your favorite and most popular post from each month this year (it’s okay to skip months). TAGGED BY NOBODY, I JUST WANNA SEE FOR MYSELF

January: Charlie/Kate in Walker Independence!!!!!!!!

February: lmao my femslash february mermaid makeout

March: Michael/Nikita in Nikita

April: Danny/Lacey in Twisted

May: N/A

June: Lily/Nick in With Love

July: Aidan/Sally in Being Human

August: Clarence/Kat in Joy Ride

September: Justin/Riley in The Lake

October: Cameron/Sarah in TSCC

November: Aaron/Mahandra in Wonderfalls

December: Kaldrick/Tariq in LA Complex

AND I TAG ANYONE WHO SEES THIS, YES YOU. TAG ME I WANNA SEE YOUR MOST POPULAR POSTS

[givemefandom]

Okay, let's be real here for as second. We all went through that Arron phase.

[honeypiehotchner]

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love). 

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.  

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

[masterwords]

Moth to a Flame

Summary: Aaron Hotchner's first job after law school is as a member of the legal team on the first season of MTV's The Real World, and his job is simply to keep the show on the air. Derek Morgan, the show's most popular wild child, is making that nearly impossible.

Warnings: None

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3k

Notes: This is for Hotch Appreciation Week Day 6 - AU, skipping Comfortember today to really just indulge this AWFUL cheese fest. @hotchappreciationweek (Title comes from Janet Jackson's "That's The Way Love Goes") This isn't really a coherent story...I don't know what it is. Just me being a gigantic dork, probably. Put on some C&C Music Factory or Extreme and embrace it. Honestly, I might revisit this AU because...I really like them here. You even get a really fucking terrible 90s style graphic to go with today!

**

“Mother,” Aaron says, wrapping the phone cord around his wrist mindlessly. “Yes, I know I went to law school, this is just a job...it's a stepping stone.”

“It's beneath you,” she says, and though her words are pointed he can tell she's otherwise occupied. A floral arrangement, perhaps, something far more important than her son. “You should be looking for a practice to join, not some raunchy television program.”

“I won't be on the program, mother,” he says, and she's already not listening so he continues if for no other reason than to, once more, reassure himself that what he's doing is smart. That it isn't career suicide before he's even established himself. “I'm on the legal team. I will be behind the scenes making sure that everything is good, that we aren't committing FCC violations, that MTV remains in good standing. This program could be groundbreaking.” Even he doesn't believe that, but he's looking at the photos of each of the people who are going to be moving into the house and the task feels daunting at best. Some of them look like they'll be well-behaved, stay in line, and then a few others...he's going to have his work cut out for him.

The house is not a house, not really. It's all movie magic, something he's not accustomed to. MTV is calling it a loft, but it's just more of a whole floor of a warehouse made to look like a hip Manhattan loft. There are makeshift apartments on the lower levels for staff, like Aaron, who will be required to be on call twenty for hours a day and available on little to no notice. He would have no social life for the next six months. None of the people moving in, himself included, could have even afforded the realtor to look at a place like this. He's watching them file in while he sorts through their contracts, makes sure they've signed their lives away on the proper lines, tries to ignore the noise as the cameras are installed and the wall of television monitors flickers to life. It's all a bit much. He's overwhelmed and it isn't even officially Day One.

By Day Five he's at his wits end. Out of the seven “strangers” who are more like mortal enemies at this point, only two of them cause him no problems and they are, by nature, the least popular in the target demographic which means they don't get much screen time. The other five took the show's tag line, to stop being polite and start being real, a little too seriously. He's had a migraine for two days and it isn't looking like it's going to let up any time soon. They have him pulling out his hair day and night, either by trying to figure out how many swear words are too many for a cable television show, or by trying to take off all of their clothes for literally anyone at any time. Four of them have already taken each other to bed and are now at war. One is threatening to move out.

The favorite, by far, is Derek Morgan. Fan mail pours in by the droves, and Aaron has to look at each letter before it can be delivered, make sure there isn't anything inside that might violate his contract – he's weeded out all sorts of propositions, sales pitches, things the man is probably enough of an idiot to accept. He rolls his eyes as he chucks an envelope full of naked photos into the pile to give to him. Men, women, they're all desperate for his attention and they love when he goes through fan mail on the air – it's the most popular segment. Aaron simply cannot figure out the appeal.

Sure, he's handsome - gorgeous, even, but near as Aaron can tell he's completely brain dead. He'll take any bet, put anything in his mouth, he has, so far, no limits. Quickly, he's become the face of the show.

By Day 13 Aaron is ready to quit. Derek has decided that it is now his goal in life to make Aaron miserable. He now refers to the stabbing pain behind his left eye as Derek, and at the end of the last two days he's thought perhaps he was already following in his father's footsteps and having a massive heart attack. His fingers tingle, his chest is tight, but his doctor assures him it's just stress and he needs to find a way to relax. He can't relax when his job is to babysit Derek Morgan. He's saying things he knows he can't while staring directly into the camera, breaking the fourth wall like he's staring directly at the legal team and daring them to stop him. They don't, no matter how Aaron tries. “Deal with it,” they tell him as the money rolls in. “They're eating him up.” The FCC fines can't compare to the number of viewers ready to throw money at merch, at meet-ups, at club parties. He's a cash cow, an overnight sensation.

On Day 17 Derek ends up in the hospital waiting for stitches after getting into a fight in FAO Schwartz. Apparently dads don't take kindly to full grown men antagonizing their children on the giant keyboard. Aaron sits in the ER with him fuming silently.

“Did you like the song?” he asks and Aaron groans, rolls his eyes. It's getting late and he can hear people coughing, throwing up, the emergency room is packed and they're going to be there for hours. The cameras are outside waiting, he can't stop glancing at his watch. This is his first time alone with Derek and the only thing stopping him from laying into the man is the fact that he looks like he's genuinely in pain.

“I've seen BIG, Mr. Morgan,” he grumbles. “Everyone has. All of those kids were going to play the same song. I bet every tourist that walks into that store plays it...the employees are probably all on suicide watch.” He's meaner than he needs to be, and yet it doesn't seem to deter Derek one bit.

“Yeah...but Tom Hanks didn't look half as good as I did...” and even though he's bleeding from a huge gash above his eyebrow, his eyes are twinkling and Aaron has to admit...he's not wrong. He looked good. “I coulda played something else, too, you know. I play piano.”

“No, you don't,” Aaron mutters, and he's shocked at his candor. How did he know whether Derek played piano or not? He clears his throat and glances at his watch again. Derek just smiles, holding an ice pack to his forehead.

“I do. I'll prove it to you...” He's so good natured that Aaron starts to cave, can almost see the appeal.

Day 18 finds Derek hauling a keyboard into the house. It's not clear to anyone where he got it, it just appeared one morning from out of the blue. Aaron woke up not feeling well (a fact which he would come to blame on sitting in an ER with Derek all night) and showed up late to work, trying to sleep it off. The minute Derek appeared with the keyboard Aaron's boss was calling him and telling him to get up there before it all went to hell. Derek was a wildcard, they were imagining him playing something off the wall, riddled with FCC violations, removing his clothes, the whole nine yards. In an over-sized sweatshirt, he shuffles up to The Loft and takes a seat. With his head in his hands, he listens to the show but he's barely keeping his eyes open, he's exhausted and he feels like garbage - the monitors are of no interest to him.

By the time the keyboard is hooked up to the house's surround sound system, he's nearly asleep in his seat. Reality television is not for him. He wakes to a sound check, jagged clanging on the keys, and he covers his ears briefly before the noise becomes a soft tune. Pumping through the speakers is “(Everything I Do) I Do It For You” on piano, and he looks up from where he's silently dying to see Derek actually playing it. His back is turned to Aaron, but he can hear his voice and on the monitors he can see those long, lithe fingers dancing along the keys and for a minute he forgets how awful he feels, forgets his contempt for the other man. He folds his arms over his chest and listens, knowing that the fan mail is going to start pouring in at twice the speed after this. It's beautiful, touching and sweet - unlike anything they've seen out of him so far. If Derek didn't end up married to a supermodel by the end of this, he would be shocked.

Day 19, and Aaron can't get out of bed. He can't talk, throat is on fire, he's got a fever...he's a mess. Derek spends the entire day behaving like a wild man and getting away with all of it, no one there to ensure he's on his best behavior. While Aaron's boss calls non-stop, there isn't anything he's willing to do, he can't even talk, he just listens to his boss yell into the phone and wants to cry every time he swallows. A grown man reduced to tears by strep throat. He's blaming the ER visit, but he knows it could have come from anywhere...he works in a cesspool and he lives with very few boundaries in the MTV warehouse. It's a miracle he hasn't been stricken ill sooner.

An intern brings him hot and sour soup and a cup of hot tea from the Chinese restaurant down the street, his favorite place for late night take-out after a long day of filming. She won't say who it's from, just a gift from someone on set. He assumes its his boss, or someone else on the back end, trying to butter him up and get him back in there asap.

Day 24 finds him finally back at work, still not feeling great but he can almost talk normally again and he's taken all of his antibiotics. He's trailing Derek through the city streets with a camera crew, making sure he doesn't go inside of any establishments they haven't cleared. It's just supposed to be a walk to get dinner, that's what Derek says - he's been cooped up in the loft too long and he needs to get out. He's been shockingly well-behaved since Aaron got sick, and he's more than a little irritated that he's back to his usual shenanigans on his first day back. They need to keep him in line, but the first thing he does is duck into a little nightclub that isn't on the list and the cameras have to stop at the door. Aaron groans and follows, he's got to go pull him back out or ask the owners to let their cameras in. The first option sounds better once he's inside, it's a club full of throbbing dance music and black lights. He hates the way Everybody Dance Now makes his chest pound, the singer's sharp voice slicing his nerves, the way his lungs feel tight. He doesn't see Derek anywhere and he's about to storm back out the door in frustration. This might be the night he quits, admits his mother was right and then there's a hand wrapped around his and he's being pulled into a crush of people on the dance floor.

“Finally,” Derek says, wrapping his arms around Aaron so he can't leave. “Five minutes. That's all I need.” Aaron is confused, but he's not trying to break free, he was trying to find Derek after all so really, Derek just made his job a lot easier. His senses are overloaded and Derek is staring at him hungrily. People are bumping into him, elbows in his sides, and he's swerving to try and stay upright in the crowd.

“Five minutes for what?” He's blaming his sickness, he's still not feeling all better, his head is pounding with the intensity of the music.

“Alone with you...” Derek replies, so casually. His body is swaying with the music that has changed from thumping beats to something slow and syrupy that Aaron can't make out. It's loud, overwhelming, the lights go down and the sea of people sways in unison. “Oh come on, you can't be that oblivious.”

Aaron stares, blinks stupidly a few times and Derek backs up, hands releasing their hold.

“Wait...” Derek says, and he pulls Aaron off of the dance floor, ducks them into a dark corner near the bar where Aaron can relax a little, it's not so loud over here. “You really don't know?”

“I know that we need to get back out there before they send in reinforcements...” he says but he's breathless, still not sure what's going on. He can't let himself dive too far into the reality of the situation.

“I thought you came along today...” and suddenly, Aaron is surprised, Derek looks crushed and he's never had trouble with confidence before. The sheer number of people who would give anything for this moment and Aaron blinks like a deer in headlights. “I thought you knew. I'm sorry, we can go get dinner.”

“You know, you've been spitting out an awful lot of words to say nothing. Are you telling me you wanted to get me alone because you like me?” It sounds stupid, just saying it out loud.

“In less clinical terms, yes.”

“You could have just asked me out, you didn't need to trick me.”

“When?” Derek asks, and Aaron has to admit, it's a good point. They aren't exactly supposed to talk. “I played that song for you...I sent you soup...I don't know how much more obvious I could have been without being able to just talk to you.”

“Listen, they could cite you in direct violation of your contract for coming in here when you...”

“Aren't cleared to have cameras inside of an establishment that hasn't given written permission and I'm supposed to be on camera at all times except for when I am in the bathroom? I know...”

“If...wait...you read your contract? You...then why...”

“How else was I going to get you to notice me?” Aaron leans hard against the wall, feels the pulsing of the beat from the floor up into his legs.

“Derek,” Aaron says, clearly exasperated. It isn't that he's not interested, he's just flustered. “I watch your show EVERY DAY. I have nightmares every single night about it. Believe me, I notice you...”

“That's not what I mean. You watch the show for all of us, to smooth over shit we did that the network isn't going to like...I wanted you to notice ME.”

“Well...” Aaron mutters, pushing his mop of hair out of his eyes. “We have a few minutes...” And Derek grins. They don't move back to the dance floor, but they do crowd together in the corner and find that they both very, very much enjoy eachother's company...and lips.

On Day 34, Derek has been using the bathroom window to sneak down to Aaron's loft after hours for a week, climbing down the fire escape and staying until he can barely keep his eyes open. Aaron was surprised to find out that Derek, too, had gone to law school and even though they come from pretty different backgrounds they have a lot in common. Sheepishly, he admitted that he hadn't bothered to read the bios MTV had provided him with, he really couldn't imagine being interested in any of these people beyond just making sure they didn't sink the ship.

Day 45 has Aaron accidentally on camera, they have to blur out his face because he refuses to consent to his likeness on screen. The fans go wild trying to figure out who Derek is seen holding hands with, and kissing, outside of a sandwich shop. The fan mail doubles with desperation.

Day 54 brings a death threat, and Aaron is beside himself. It's written for him, and now the legal team is telling him he's got to stay away from Derek to keep them all safe. What the showrunners had originally thought would make them edgy and hip is now putting people in danger, they've got to pull back. They're beefing up security, and Derek has to do damage control by being seen with a number of different people, each time breaking Aaron's heart. He understands, he even recommended it, but that doesn't make it any easier.

By the end of the six months, MTV is begging Derek to take a job as a VeeJay, and he says yes because it means he gets to stay close to Aaron who has been given a promotion to the channel's legal team, unattached to a specific show. His mother is having a fit.

"What will I tell people? Your father is rolling over in his grave..."

"Let him."

Derek's first week hosting Yo! MTV Raps! is a success, and he's the most popular he's been. He's the face of MTV, and Aaron has his hands just as full - just because they're living together now doesn't mean he's given up on his antics. Aaron eats Tums by the handful and deals with it. Derek likes when he picks the tropical flavors better than mint, the kisses taste like candy.

“What did I do to deserve this kind of punishment?” he moans watching footage from the day, but he's in Derek's arms and he's smiling. So long as Derek works for MTV, Aaron has what he likes to call job security - his hands are full at all hours of the day keeping the station protected from his partner's antics. The job on The Real World was a stepping stone, he was right, he just hadn't seen where the path would lead him.

[winterscaptain]

a kindness.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it is loving megan kane hours!! i’ve been working on this one for a while and i am so excited to share it with you!! we have ajf!pleasure is my business at last! as always, tell me what you think!! i adore your feedback. also, if you’re thinking ‘what the hell, tali! why am i missing from the tag list?????’ it’s because i redid it! the link to the form is below.

words: 4.8k warnings: language, canon-typical death, canon-typical discussion of sex work

summary: “i believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.” ― steve martin. au!february 2009

a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You rap twice on the office door before pushing it open with your fingertips, peering inside while ready to retreat at a moment’s notice.

There’s no need. Aaron’s alone. 

“You’re here early,” he says, his eyes still on his paperwork. 

You snort. “So are you.” 

He looks at you over his nose. “Can I help you with something?”

Sitting down opposite him at his desk, you prop your chin on your hands and grin at him. “You stole my line.” 

“Get out of my office.” 

Your smile stays plastered on your face as you stand and cross the room, closing the door behind you. On your way out, you catch the ghost of his smile. 

+++

You watch Hotch leave the bullpen, his go-bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Where you headed?” You ask, looking up. You’re still the only one in the bullpen, taking a few consults off your teammates’ hands by typing up quick briefs they can review without going through every single comma in the file. 

He sighs. “Dallas.”

Yikes. 

“By yourself?”

He sighs. “Standby - not sure what’s going on yet. Can you -” He gestures to the hallway behind you.  

You nod and stand. “Yeah. Fly safe.” 

After you watch him leave, you turn and make a beeline for JJ’s office. She’s here early, too - pushing away the separation anxiety by diving into work. 

“Jayje?” 

She looks away from her computer, looking exhausted. “Yeah?” 

“Hotch just left for Dallas - we might have a case there, but it didn’t sound like something that would come across your desk.” 

She squints. “Why d’you say that?” 

“He had that look on his face like he was going into a room full of lawyers.” 

+++

You lean forward, jamming yourself into the circle around the table with the rest of your team. Hotch, on the other end of the line, sounds oddly well-rested. 

Spencer, as usual, gives you the history and textbook briefing before you get to the actual case. “Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies.” 

“Because there’s no sexual gratification when a woman kills,” Derek adds. 

Looks like we’re all getting in on the pre-brief today. 

“Exactly. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra.” 

That makes you laugh a little. “So, basically, women are more efficient at killing?” 

Spencer shrugs. “Historically, they’ve had body counts in the hundreds.” 

Hotch, of course, is the one to get you all back on track. “So, assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?”

Derek, of course, is the first to follow. “Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder…”

The team bounces for a moment, covering previous cases of serial killers with a history of sex work. Emily brings up Allison Wuornos, but Aaron shuts it down. He thinks this killer is organized, not so much driven by trauma or need but the mission itself. 

Spencer looks at the medical examiner’s reports again, comparing notes between the victims. “She’s using tetra-methylene-disulfotetramine.” 

You don’t look up from the same report. “Bless you.” 

Emily snorts. 

Spencer continues, unperturbed. “It’s a popular rat poison in China - easily soluble in alcohol.” 

“Poison is the perfect M.O.,” Dave notes. “Quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they’re getting lucky.” He turns back toward the phone. “Does that mean something to you?” 

“Well, at $10,000 a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex.” 

Fair point.

“She has a history with them. They see her repeatedly.” 

You look over at Dave, trying to find the thread that connects Aaron’s thought to his.

Before you can really get to it yourself, Aaron spells it out for you. “She didn't decide to kill them in the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them.” 

There we go. 

“So she's not just organized,” you add. “She's also methodical. Could she be parsing out which clients are worth killing and which aren’t?” 

“Maybe the victims all share the same fetish?” Emily offers. 

Derek shrugs, his eyebrows raised in thoughtful agreement. “Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible. Careful about their image. I mean, if they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it.” 

“And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out.”

There’s the exhaustion I’m used to from Hotch. 

He sounds weird without it. 

“Actually,” JJ says, “I had some luck there. Hoyt Ashford's wife isn't too happy with how he died. But because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement.” 

JJ pulls the statement from her file and reads aloud: “Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.” She puts it down again. “They're already trying to close ranks.” 

Spencer frowns. “Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?” 

“What do you mean?” You ask. 

“The press release from the first victim.” He recalls, not needing the paper itself. “‘According to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home.’” 

Hotch begins to make assignments, directing Emily and Derek to the wife of the second victim. JJ’s tasked with the lawyers and you’re tasked with setup at the precinct with Spencer and Dave. When he’s done, you pick your phone up from the table, taking him off speaker. 

“What are you gonna do?” You ask.

Hotch snorts. “I’m gonna see which of the lawyers calls us back and in the meantime, see what I can get out of anyone else.” 

“Good luck.” 

+++

You’re up in your hotel room, getting a little bit settled and unpacked when you get a call to your cell. 

“Hey, Hotch.” 

There’s a sigh. “We got another body.” 

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” 

+++

You hop out of the car, following Aaron through the service entrance and up the back hallways to the lobby. Between your travel from your room and Aaron’s wrap-up in his, Derek and Dave beat you to the scene. 

Hotch is wearing that coat - your favorite, the one he’s apparently had for years - with the red lining and the soft wool exterior. It so rarely sees the field anymore you were afraid he’d done away with it, but every time you remember it exists and worry about its whereabouts, he brings it out again. 

Derek hands you a notebook when you reach him. You settle near Dave for the rest of the info. He, of course, delivers. 

“Victim was Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here.” 

You frown. “Poisoned? Like the others?” 

“And staged,” Derek says. “She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found.” 

“The lipstick's new,” you muse, circling the body in the elevator. “Done postmortem, it looks like.” You find Derek’s eyes with a little frown. “Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable.”

He hums. “Now she wants to be noticed.”

There’s some kind of scuffle at the police line - another man in a suit who thinks he’s more important than God. 

Hopefully he’s looking for Hotch. 

“Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?” 

Ugh. Good. 

You step back and point at Aaron, getting out of his way as he shoves past the crime scene techs. 

Aaron turns. “I'm Hotchner.” 

“Larry Bartlett.” The man holds out his hand, but Aaron doesn’t take it. He retracts his hand with an unperturbed tilt of his head. “I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries. 

Hotch, as usual, has no time for his bullshit. “This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett.” 

My lawyer could kick your lawyer’s ass. 

That’s a good bumper sticker. 

You shake off your thought and return to the victim, directing one of the younger crime scene techs. After a moment, you return to Derek’s side. 

“Yes. I spoke to Ellen Daniels.” This clown still sounds far too confident for his own good. “She said you're a very... reasonable man.” 

“Escort him out, please.”

You stifle a laugh. 

“No, wait. Please.” The lawyer - Mr. Bartlett - shrugs off the security team and chases after Hotch on his way to your side.  

Aaron stops, but looks inconvenienced in the extreme. 

“The press is outside and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?” 

“We're not about to lie for you.” Derek’s even less amused than Aaron, if that’s even possible. 

Aaron squints at the other lawyer, and you find it nearly impossible to tear your gaze from the little pinch at the corners of his brown eyes. 

You can only imagine him behind a prosecutor’s bench, laying into witnesses with the same deadpan amusement - like a bored cat with a half-dead mouse. Hoping to back him up a little bit, you get a little closer, looking skeptically at the lawyer from over Aaron’s shoulder. 

“You don't have to lie,” Mr. Bartlett insists, his eyes flickering to you. “Just don't comment.” 

“Excuse us.” He takes you by the shoulder and leads the three of you into a huddle. 

“Is there any reason to go public yet?” Aaron asks. 

Dave wavers. “Validating her is exactly what she wants.”

“If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake,” Derek says. 

You raise your eyebrows, looking over your shoulder for a moment. “He doesn't need to know that.” 

Hotch’s mouth twitches, and you know it’s almost a smile. He turns over his shoulder, back in game mode as he approaches Bartlett again. “We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails, everything.” 

+++

“Eighteen cars, six houses, and three boats.” Spencer rattles off the numbers with only the barest hint of shock in his voice. 

Your brow pinches and you look up. “Can you even boat in Dallas?” 

“You know, when you're talking about that much money, ten grand for a call girl is like deciding where to go for dinner.” 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Em,” you laugh. 

She rolls her eyes, still pinning photos to the board. “Yeah, right. My mom had a pretty cushy gig with her postings, but we were never that well-off. But...” She looks over her shoulder, “I’m sure Rossi would know a little something about that.”  

Before you can all get too out of control, Hotch reaches over you to connect to Garcia on the speakerphone. “Are you there, Garcia?” 

“Affirmative.” 

JJ flags him down. “I have half a million over here for something called the Bat Cave...” 

It really takes everything in you not to laugh. 

“...and here's a picture of him as fetish Batman. That is… wrong.” 

Emily pulls a face. 

“Is there anything this guy didn't like to spend money on?” Spencer asks.  

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “His ex-wives. Fielding was married four times. He didn't have prenups for the first two, but he did everything he could to cut them off anyway.” 

You lean forward, trying to see the paper in his hands. “Are there children involved?” 

“Yes, with three of the wives.” He hands it over to you and looks at Emily. “Hoyt Ashford was married a few times, too, wasn't he?” 

She nods in the affirmative. 

“You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans, this amount of money is sick.” 

Tell me about it, Pen. 

Emily sounds resigned. “What did you find?” 

Garcia outlines a series of bitter court battles about child support, alimony, custody, etc. “And even when the court ruled in the wife’s favor - which was almost always - these three charmers just, you know, decided not to pay.” 

Hotch asks for a cross-checked list of high-profile Dallas CEOs holding out on their ex-wives, and you figure it’s not a short one. 

“One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, comin' at ya. Penelope out.” 

The line goes dead and Aaron turns off the speaker.  

“So,” Aaron leans heavily on the table. “Why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?” 

Spencer obliges. “For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him.” 

“They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold.” JJ shakes her head and looks over at Hotch, seeking an answer. 

“Narcissistic, self-absorbed, a pathological avoidance of paternal responsibilities.” 

There’s an odd kind of look that passes over Aaron’s face as he speaks, and you pin it for later. You can already tell he’s falling into a headspace that’s fraught with comparison and self-loathing. 

They bounce around for a moment while you keep your eyes on Aaron. 

“Well,” JJ brings you back. “Should I assemble the police for a profile?” 

Your mouth twists. “I just don't think it's gonna help.”

“She lives in a completely different world than they do,” Aaron adds. 

“And,” Emily pipes up, “the CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it.” 

JJ snorts. “Like I couldn't even get past the team of lawyers protecting them.” 

“What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers?” Aaron stands straight, his hands resting on his hips. “They've cleaned up after her, even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman.” 

“Why would they go for that?” You ask. 

“Because she's putting them at risk, too.”

Your phone rings and you answer as you always do, chirping your last name into the receiver without really looking too closely at the caller ID. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

You nod once to your team as you step out of earshot. “Hey, Haley.”

“I can’t get a hold of Aaron. Is everything alright?” She’s beyond surprise or concern at this point. You’re sure you could tell her Aaron’s been shot in the head and she’d probably just hum at you. 

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. “Things are crazy and there are lawyers all wrapped up in this. Are you alright?”

“Jack’s got a fever - I just wanted to let Aaron know I’m taking him in to get checked out. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let him know. Give Jack a big kiss from me and I’ll do my best to get us all home quickly and in one piece.” 

She laughs a little into the phone. “Thanks. Will do. Talk soon.” 

You hang up and return to the table, shooting Hotch a significant look. He nods and pulls you aside. 

“What’s up?” 

“Jack has a fever - Haley just wanted me to let you know she’s taking him to the pediatrician to get him all checked out, just in case. I told her we’d all do our best to get home soon.” 

Aaron sighs and flips his phone in his hand. “I’ll call her now…”

“No need. She knows this is a tough one and you’re getting your money’s worth out of your JD this week.” 

When he starts to walk away, you call his name again. He turns. 

“You know - um.” You wet your lips and swallow. “You’re not like these guys. You know that, right? You’re a great dad.” 

His face lifts in surprise for a fraction of a second before he recovers. 

“Thank you,” He says. “Really.”

You offer him a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

+++

Hotch stops you all before you enter the conference room, full to the brim with suits and pantsuits. “Let me lead on this one. I’ve handled corporate lawyers like this before and they can smell blood.” He snorts. “This time, it’s their own.” 

You and Derek raise your hands in simultaneous and identical postures of surrender. 

“Have at it,” you say, falling into line behind Aaron. “Corporate lawyers scare the fuck out of me.” 

+++

“Hey, Prentiss. Got a whip?” Derek holds the leather outfit to Emily’s shoulders and she laughs. 

“Yeah, right.” 

You fondly roll your eyes at them and continue following off Aaron’s right shoulder. The two of you reach the bookshelf - an impressive glass case that runs from the floor to the ceiling. 

 Aaron’s gloved finger opens the case and runs over some of the spines. “Antique first editions on the bookshelves.” 

Rossi quips something about porn in the DVD player while Spencer espouses about the merits of a disposable, adaptable lifestyle in this line of work. 

“Well, these aren't just for show,” Aaron says. “The spines are cracked. Somebody's read these.” 

You peer over his shoulder. “Who reads Voltaire in French?” 

“Someone with good taste. Probably well-educated…”

You pick up where he trails off. “We profiled that she learned to fake privilege. What if she's not faking it?” 

“You're saying maybe she came from money the whole time?” 

You shrug. “It’s a possibility, at least.” 

Just then, the apartment phone rings. 

“Prentiss should answer,” Aaron says. “If it's a customer, she'll get more information out of them.” 

You hum, hedging your bets a little. ‘Unless she's calling in for her messages.” 

Too late. Derek’s already on the phone with Penelope. “Yeah, Baby Girl, we're getting a call to this line. Can you work some magic?” 

“I don't have a trap-and-trace in place yet. Give me a few. I'm gonna stay on the line.” 

Aaron gives her the go-ahead. “Prentiss, get ready to vamp.” 

The voicemail picks it up before Emily can so much as reach for the phone. 

“Hi, it's me. You know what to do.” Beep. 

“...Aaron.” 

You turn your head so fast you throw your neck out. You raise a hand to the crick and work it with your fingers. Aaron’s too busy frowning at the phone to notice. 

“I know you're up there. Pick up… Aaron Hotchner... Hello?” She drags out her words, almost flirting with everyone listening. 

With a sigh, Aaron pushes past the rest of you, silently counts to three, and picks up the phone while Emily clicks the speakerphone button. 

“I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, But I don't know yours. Can we start there?” 

Nice start. 

The game has begun. 

“I thought I could trust you, Aaron.”

What? 

The pinch between his brows deepens. “Who says you can't?” 

“I want to. I even looked you up online. Is that strange?”

Yes.  

“No.” Aaron wets his lips and begins to pace, the gears whirring in his head. “It's flattering to be noticed by a woman like you.” 

The woman continues as if he hasn’t said anything at all. “And I thought you were so... upstanding. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings. I found it posted on YouTube...” 

She has good taste. That’s an excellent presentation. 

“...And for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world.” 

“But I've disappointed you, haven't I?” He asks. “Just like all the other men in your life Who've walked out on their families, Who deserve to be punished.” 

“Did you walk out on your family?” 

His eyes flicker to you and you nod, nearly imperceptibly, reminding him he’s not alone. “No. My wife left me.” 

“Do you have kids?” 

“I have a son.” 

A sweet, thoughtful, perfect son. 

You smile a little, thinking of Jack, but it disappears when you remember that he’s home sick with Haley, probably having a miserable time. 

“How often do you see him?” She asks. 

 “I try to see him every week.” 

“Do you see him every week?” The question is mocking, smothered in dark amusement that could almost be called sarcasm save for its bitterness.  

“No,” Aaron’s eyes fall to the floor. “No, I don't get there as often as I want.” 

“I believe you.” Her response is softer, and you think she might make a decent profiler if she wasn’t on the other side. 

She is a profiler. 

In some ways, you suppose it’s true. She has to read and respond to everything her clients do, say, how they behave. It makes her good at her job and you good at yours. 

Same skillset, very different application. 

“But don't compare yourself to the men I see,” she continues. “You are nothing like them. You're just another whore.” 

Never in my life did I ever think I’d hear someone call Aaron Hotchner a whore. Unironically. 

That catches everyone’s attention, even Derek’s, still on hold with Penelope. 

“How am I a whore?” He asks. 

“You come when called. You do their bidding. In hotels you take the side elevator to avoid crowds, while the men who pay your salary walk across the ivory marble foyer into their cars.” 

Derek, behind you, presses. “Garcia.” 

You can hear her, faintly. “I'm in on the landline. Triangulating the cell. Give me like sixty seconds.” 

You gesture to Aaron when he looks. Keep going. 

He nods. “But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?” 

She sighs, sounding a little impatient for the first time. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, you want to show the world all these bad men and my investigation's just getting in your way.” 

“No, Aaron.” You almost startle, her tone escalating to a deeply frustrated shout. “You're not doing your job! You don't want to arrest me, you don't want me in custody because you're in their pocket.” 

She’s crying now, actively. “You just want me to disappear, just like they do.” 

“Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you.” 

Now that’s a tone you recognize - you’ve heard it when he talks to Haley. Most recently, when he couldn’t make it to some appointment or another. It’s one that’s disarming in the extreme, soft, but not condescending. 

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Am I right?” 

Just like Haley always does, the woman loses steam, sniffling once before answering. “Yeah.”

“Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.” 

“If we met under different circumstances... I could believe that. I won't let you cover this up.” 

A gunshot rings through the line and you flinch, turning to Derek just as the line goes dead. You know Penelope will have something for you soon. 

She never fails, directing you to an address only moments after the elevator doors close in front of the team. 

+++

Once you found Megan Kane, it was easy enough to find her father. 

You could empathize with her mission well enough after meeting him. He’s shrouded by his lawyers - detached and seemingly indifferent to anything Aaron had to say. 

Aaron starts the car and you settle back into the seat. “So, the wall of lawyers strikes again.” 

A shadow of a smile ghosts around the creases at the corners of his eyes. “So it seems.” 

“What’s next?” 

“We tail him - home and office. He’ll meet with her soon enough.” 

Your brow furrows. “Not to protect her, right? It doesn’t seem like he cares that much.” 

Aaron turns, placing his hand on the back of your seat as he pulls out of the parking spot. You’re momentarily distracted as he turns back, spinning the wheel with the heel of his hand and gunning it out of the garage. 

Focus. 

“No,” he says. “Think about it.” 

It comes to you only seconds later. “To protect himself.” 

“There you go.” He turns to you, another little smile threatening. “You’re getting pretty good at this.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been here over a year, Hotch. I’d fucking hope so.” 

You’re rewarded with a real smile, and it’s enough. 

+++

You take Derek’s six through the hotel, clearing the floors and reporting back to the rest of the team. SWAT is in full deployment, clearing the hard-to-reach areas like the stairways and rooftops, just in case. 

Aaron catches up to you, taking the four o’clock position off your left shoulder as Derek breaches the door. 

The gun and chilled champagne sit like ironic centerpieces on the entry table, but they hardly use any of your bandwidth as you clear the room, your vision narrowed by the sight of your service weapon. 

You hold a hand up when you catch the figure on the balcony. “Hotch.” 

He squints, and you move to raise your gun again and make the arrest, but he stops you with a hand over yours. “Easy.” 

There’s a question in your eyes. 

He, of course, answers it. “She knows it’s over.” 

Just then, she places an empty champagne glass on the table where you can see it. 

“I’ll call 911,” Derek says, stepping out and closing the door behind him. 

You turn to leave with Derek, but catch Aaron’s open hand, subtly signaling you from just under his hip.  

Stay here. It says. Stay close. 

So, you stay. You lean on the far wall of the hotel room, watching Aaron hold the hand of this dying, hurting woman. They’re speaking softly, and she smiles at him when she drops something into his hand. His eyes are soft, gentle, not even searching. Just warm. 

You feel for her. 

It’s the best way to go, you think. If there was ever a time you were dying before your time, you’d want Aaron there, holding your hand, telling you he was going to continue the work that killed you, that it was gonna be okay. 

“How could your wife have ever left someone like you?” You hear her ask. 

As much as you love Haley, the same question often floats through your head, and your heart aches for this woman who’s been able to see Aaron so clearly, even if she’s only seeing him for the first time now. 

“You’re the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t let me down.” 

You creep forward, further into Aaron’s eyeline, and sit on the edge of the couch. She’s close to her last breath and you can feel it - so can Aaron. His eyes flicker to you for a moment before returning to her. 

Megan’s voice is full of tears when she asks, “Will you stay with me?” 

You have a feeling it isn’t the first time she’s asked the question and you find yourself hoping Emily will be particularly rough with the handcuffs when she apprehends Mr. Kane. Hopefully he didn’t make it past the checkpoint and is still on-site.  

“Yes.” Aaron is solemn, so sincere, so genuine it makes your heart ache. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

You’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s doing her a great kindness - one that many would not offer. 

It’s because he is good.

A good man. 

The tension drains out of her, and she grips tightly to Aaron’s hand as she fights through her final breaths. His hands are gentle, his attention only on her. He looks more like a father in this moment than any other time you’ve known him. She’s safe. She knows she can die in peace. 

Once more, you hope you have the opportunity to leave this plane of reality in such safety, when your time comes. 

When she’s gone, he places her hand in her lap and takes a moment to brush the hair off of her face, pressing the back of his fingers to her temple as if checking her for fever. 

After a minute or so, he turns to you, and you hope the pride and respect coursing through you is evident in your gaze. You pull an evidence bag out of your pocket, but he shakes his head, pocketing the SIM card. 

You rise as he gets closer, returning the evidence bag to your pocket. He’s clearly affected, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. 

Opening your arms to him, he wilts into you, allowing you to gather him into your shoulder. His arms are loose around your waist, his fingers wrapped around his opposite wrist as an anchor. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability and you’d hate to make him feel anything less than safe. 

You still have a minute or so before they all come stomping through the door to collect Megan’s body. 

“I’m sorry, Hotch.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know why this one hurts.”

Your arms tighten around him. “It’s okay. I feel it, too.” 

A deep, shaky breath rolls through him. 

“She’s right, you know.” You almost regret your words, afraid you’re giving yourself away. 

“What?”

“You didn’t let her down. You’re a good man.” 

His jaw tightens, and you can feel it against your neck where his head falls into your shoulder. 

“Oh, stop. You’ve never let me down.” Your hand reaches up, stroking the back of his head, carding your fingers through the hair. “She died knowing you kept your promise.” 

+++

You look up to Aaron’s office when news of the leak breaks, finding his silhouette haunting the window, staring at the television. 

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and he turns back to his desk, settling back down to work. 

+++

tagging:  @aaronhotchnerr @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygrangerwriting @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me

[mcmusing]

X-Men Days of Failed Prequels

After so many mentions along with anti tags, the time has come for me to detail the depths of my disdain for the cinematic version of x-men days of future past. The sequel of stupid fandom loves. This is going to earn me so many cool points. Though considering I’m the one chick who finds Ian McKellen’s Magneto laughably one-dimensional, popularity obviously isn’t at the top of my priorities list. I’m also not trying to trash anyone who genuinely enjoys the film, however baffling I find that reaction. This is simply modern life in terms of media. If you can’t enjoy it on its own merit, take satisfaction in sending it through the shredder.

Those who think I take these films too seriously, first, I have a connection with FC whether I like it or not. Second, you’re protesting too much. If you really just see these as basic popcorn flicks and vehicles for slash-tacular fantasties, you wouldn’t make an effort to get me to shut up. I know because I’ve read critiques of fandoms I really enjoy and never responded. Unless someone’s trashing the Lion King then it’s on.

After the breath of fresh air ushered in by FC, the tone of this movie is bogged down with despair and misery only the stupid phoenix movie could surpass. This is also from where the bulk of the alleged sexism outcries stem. Sexism. In the X-Men. A group of outsiders from all walks of life made family, linked together by their mutual goal of defending a world that fears and hates them. A well-oiled machine of powerful men AND women who work and play off each so effectively. Yes, a positive of X-Men is the tackling of relatable real-world issues. Sexism can be a valid topic if handled objectively. However, the mindset has no place within the X-Men team itself. Seriously, these writers want us to believe that in a time of tremendous civic upheaval- presidents and movement leaders being assassinated, mass rioting and protests, churches being burned down, these vigorously trained warriors are wasting time on boys vs. girls contests.

To paraphrase James McAvoy, why did they bring the grandparents in?! The FC cast had infinitely better characterization from their initial scenes alone than the original cast had across an entire trilogy. It’s no question why this was done, though. After recovering from the major surgery of having his ego enlarged monumentally, Singer darkened the doorway of this series yet again. He couldn’t act fast enough to unceremoniously dispose of most of the FC players. No, he has to roll out the red carpet for his cast to return.

Let’s see, who’s here. Shawn Ashmore- or is it Aaron?- eh, I don’t care. Halle Barry- lady, if only your acting ability improved at the same rate you cut your hair. Ellen Page- sit down, kid, Hugh Jackman’s agent is on Stan Lee’s bowling team. King Patrick Stewart and- oh, no, no, no, no, no! Why did you have to bring your expired ham courtier? Sir Ian McKellen is back and wrinklier than ever. Even confined to a wheelchair and without telepathy, I always bet on Professor Patrick being able to take down this remarkably unintimidating dude. Took long enough for this war he kept preaching about. When we first meet them in the 2000 movie, Magneto is old and raggedy and mutant extinction has yet to occur. Even when they had valid reasons for wiping the mutants out, all the government did was weaponize the cure to subdue their powers. The US wants to be all stingy about helping their law-abiding citizens, but these suckers built an elaborate plastic prison for this Jewish refugee turned terrorist. It would have saved so many tax dollars to simply put Magneto to death. So, what is this senile sack of geriatrics always wailing about? Don’t be putting him in the same movie as Michael Fassbender. Even if they don’t share a single scene together, you don’t juxtapose a wet match next to an active volcano. Sure, both Magnetos were completely useless in the movie, but only Michael deserved better.

So, Mystique, who was totally Charles’ kid sister the entire time, is the reason the world goes to crap. Apparently, Prof X’s protectiveness and efforts to instill values in that scaley orphan ‘drove’ her away, eh? Then, Magneto put her on a dark path. Essentially, Mystique is a misunderstood victim turned into the doomsday device all because of the duel between two penises. I guess free will is medically impossible for creepy scale people. In trying to showcase some sort of empowerment, Singer and company wound up degrading Mystique and everyone around her in the process.

While Mystique was an important part of the original dofp, the film version goes way overboard in elevating her to dead center. I’ll admit that I was a Jennifer Lawrence fan during this time also, thanks to FC and the Hunger Games. I used to only feel indifference towards Mystique, but Jenni Law bringing so much humanity to the role really made me want to see more Raven… why can’t I have nice things?

Since Singer loathes character development (seriously, check out the deleted scenes from the earlier X-movies. Fleshing out characters always winds up on the cutting room floor), we’re reunited with the FC cast ten years after the tragedy that was Cuba. Ooookay, that was supremely unsatisfying but maybe we’ll see what happened during the interim. Maybe we’ll see how solidified Erik and Charles’ individual teams are by now. Yeah, dream on. Charles spiraled into a devastating depression from, once again, losing everything he ever cared about after trying to rebuild himself post-paralysis. As for Erik, the worldly, self-taught nazi hunter and holocaust survivor who gained a sizable power increase under Charles’ instruction, couldn’t stop a single bullet from taking out the president. That’s not even the worst of it. Someway, somehow he was not only caught in a suspicious position, this dude got locked up by plain Jane homo sapiens for ten years. So, he’s been in a plastic prison twice? The US is dead set against killing this moron yet *Charles* is the one leading a life of privilege?! At least what happened to Charles is mostly believable. What happened to Erik required so much effort to show the least amount of effort.

So, who is out there being a mutant freedom fighter? Freakin Raven. My suspension of disbelief still suffers strokes from this. They seriously want people to buy that this sheltered rich girl with a fixation on her appearance, trained with Erik for six months and just like that, she’s a one-girl revolution. While Erik himself got captured like a pathetic punk. So, Raven has been going around the globe to rescue mutants from being experimented on, but she couldn’t raise a single pinky finger to free Erik before he suffered the same fate? This isn’t me siding with Erik but with logic. Even worse, the blue brat is on an idiotic quest to avenge her genocidal friends that were, appropriately, killed. But she refuses to even disguise herself once in a while to secretly check in on her own brother. Is the audience seriously supposed to be sympathetic here? Why don’t we throw a memorial for the Pearl Harbor and 9/11 bombers while we’re at it?

 I’m not comic purist. In fact, something I really like about FC is that it’s similar to my own writing style. With so many different universes of superhero lore, I take whatever characters and aspects I like from different mediums to create something new. That really is the same thing FC did. However, the changes they made to Erik and Charles are mind-blowingly insulting. Dofp painted this iconic duo of different views but similar drive and ambition for mutantkind as pitiful failures. They suffered character assassination solely so that Raven could usurp their legacies and be made a false idol to worship. They filled the whole mary sue checklist for this girl. She’s considered the most important player for the future world, she’s the only one actively involved in the mutant plight, all the men are either in love with her or desperate for her to be in their lives again, the audience is expected to side with her without question, she is NEVER once held accountable for her actions (like her abandonment of her critically injured brother) but she receives all the credit and praise once the crisis is averted. None of that is female empowerment, you creatively bankrupt SOBs!

Hey, feminists, unsure adolescent girls out there searching for a relatable character to look up to, stop. Stop falling for this. Singer and Kinberg care about you as much as Disney cares about gays. Just a spoonful of pandering will make the bitter medicine that is these movies go down. I swear, x-misogyny and x-misandry abounds. Raven is an infantilized caricature so common in female characters now. They work for nothing, are handed everything, never go through genuine growth, and they crush so many men under their boots in the process. Kitty was played up as the time traveler for dofp, but she became a sentient machine for Logan to travel through instead. Rogue used to fill the slot that Raven is in now, but her daggon crap mom did her dirtier than Joan Crawford did Christine and stole it. Rogue was still supposed to have a significant part. She was meant to take over for Kitty as Logan’s sentiment time machine… girl power!

Men, with the exception of Peter, don’t fare any better. Charles’ mental health issues, pain, and nurturing desire for a family are treated as if he’s being weak, selfish, and the victimizer even though he’s the one going through the most struggle and abuse. Erik became a cruel, cold-hearted, shameless, nonsensical megalomanic before his descension into straight-up cowardice. Every time he wasn’t on screen, I forgot he was even in this movie. Charles doesn’t care about him in the slightest- and he shouldn’t- compared to his desire to heal his relationship with Raven. Erik cares about literally nothing but forcing his own agenda, killing his so-called ‘brethren’ if they dare hinder that goal. Hank is perpetually emotionally stunted and wimpy. His entire characterization amounts to nerdy science guy. There is not a single trace of Kelsey Grammer’s intellectual, well-read, majestically spoken, courageous, politically ambitious, mutant defending Hank McCoy. James Marsden makes his first re-appearance in the franchise in years and all he’s there for is to be the oblivious, mistreated boyfriend while Logan and Jean make bedroom eyes at each other.

Yeah, about that end scene with all the original cast members back together all happy like. With the exceptions of Rogue and Prof X, I don’t give a flying fart! Those played out MFs invaded the FC cast’s film and for what? Yeah, maybe they averted the apocalypse but they don’t know that! This is a completely alternate timeline. The former X-Men are very, very dead and none the wiser. Oh, Singer, thank you, thank you so much. Erik and Charles’ non-existent friendship, the unbelievably unnecessary estrangement between Raven and Charles, the waste of Michael Fassbender’s talents to the extent that he himself cringes at his own performance were such worthwhile sacrifices so that your outdated cast could have their precious sendoff.

Here’s another bit of controversy. You know that famous scene of baby James Charles meeting and conversing with King Patrick Prof X? How well it’s staged, how emotionally driven, how superbly well-acted it is? I still stand in awe of how these two could take totally different approaches in their performances of Charles Xavier and both walk away as the definitive live action version of the brilliant mutant mentor. That being said, the “It’s the greatest gift we have. To bear their pain without breaking. And it comes from the most human part of us” part- geez, I could barely type that out without tearing up. As poignant as that moment is, it’s honestly a very unhealthy message.

Yes, real men maintain a steadfast shield of stoic strength in order to protect those they love, never prioritizing their own needs above the ones for which they care. It’s a beautiful sentiment but in this situation, it is such an enormous burden placed on a young Charles’ shoulders. Even real men need help from time to time. Yes, Hank stayed with Charles- basically as his physician and home manager. But Charles lost his deepest, most intimate connections. The love and support of his sweet sister and the safety and camaraderie all too short-lived from his older brother figure. Surrounded by so many students in the future, when it comes down to it, Charles is completely alone. He’s forced into the role of emotionless, all-knowing saintly sage under the harsh mandate of absolute perfection. The tiniest slip or flaw, regardless of his intentions or attempts to rectify, takes everything from him and replaces it with scorn and contempt. He is a beacon for what he himself is never given; forgiveness and empathy.

This really cuts me at the quick because I think the Erik and Raven apologists are so rampant because most of fandom have no idea of what it’s like to be the group’s designated Charles Xavier. Everyone else is allowed to give into their emotions, fly off the handle, make all the demands, break all the rules, and receive the simplest redemption for it. Charles has to be the moral core because no one else in his life can begin to grasp that level of selflessness and reliability. Shouting, destroying, physical assault, reckless behavior- easy peasy. To be the one on the receiving end of unrelenting misery and coming out of it with unwavering refusal to continue the vicious cycle- that’s true strength.

Wow, writing is a good calorie killer. I haven’t had more than a handful of chips since last night. Meh, I guess I’ll go rectify that.

[perlukafarinn]

I posted two polls yesterday, asking who is your favorite potential love interest for Dean besides Cas and vice versa. I’ve tallied the votes for both polls and reblogged them with the results and some commentary but I thought it’d be nice to gather them in one post, plus some extra thoughts from me below the cut.

Potential love interests for Dean:

Benny (116). And yes, correct.

Cassie (77). Also correct. A few of you pointed out that Dean should have gone to her in season six instead of Lisa and are you wrong?

Victor (34). Tbh I wasn’t expecting Victor in the top three but I am very happy with all of you!

No one (28). Very Cas coded of you, very sexy.

Crowley (25). This is the one I feel like the character in question would be the most upset about. Only number 5??

Bela (13). I’d also like to interject that demon!Dean/demon!Bela should have happened.

Lee (8). Good for him, I guess.

Jo (5). I don’t know if I’m surprised by Jo’s ranking or not.

Donna (4). This one had a lot of support when her first episode aired, if I remember correctly.

Tessa (3). Good for her, I guess.

The rest got either one or two votes. With two we’ve got: Aaron (surprised he didn’t get more), Anna, Ash, Cain (very disappointed he didn’t get more), Deacon, Garth, Ketch (uhhh), Rhonda Hurley.

One vote: Balthazar, Daphne (lowkey feel like the two people who picked them read the question wrong), Donnie, Lisa (I also don’t know whether to be surprised by this ranking or not. On the one hand she’s Dean’s longest running textual love interest. On the other, they kinda forgot to give her a personality beyond ‘love interest’ and ‘mother’), Lydia (????), Me (lmao), Michael, Mick (also ???), Robin, Ronald (ngl I had to look him up), Sam (😶), Sarah Blake (this voter did admit they might be projecting) The Impala if it turned into a guy (this one might have the most canon support), That one hot desk officer from season 1 you know the one I mean (I don’t).

Potential love interests for Cas:

No one (33). I was expecting this option to be high up but not number one! Quite a few people specified he should be a single parent but what I really appreciate are the few of you who wrote dissertations in the tags on why this makes sense for Cas’ character.

Meg (26). Correct and very sexy.

Mick (25). I’ve seen like one episode with Mick so idgi but good for him!

Balthazar (6). Thought he’d get way more votes?? Idk might be my bias speaking.

Sam (6). Love the one of you who specified that Cas should not like him back.

Luca (4). Okay so there is a canon character named Luca who is a priest but I’m pretty sure y’all mean the Luca from In the Shadow of your Wings by ao3 user Enochian Things, who is also a priest (esp since a couple of you did say he’s not a canon character) and who actually meets Cas.

Benny (3). It should be noted that two out of three of you wanted to include Dean in this ship.

Crowley (3). Just as with Dean’s list, he’d be very insulted by placing so low.

Hannah (3). Hannah got three votes, two specifying in a male vessel and one just specifying “trans”.

Kelly (3). Makes sense, as she is the mother of his child and they have a friendly relationship. Also makes sense this didn’t get more votes since they have no chemistry and she is a republican.

These all got two votes: Djinn queen, Me, Pastor Sexy.

And now, a special category of those with one vote from people I’m pretty sure read the question wrong: Cassie, Lisa, Ash, Victor.

Another special category of Dean alternates who got one vote but don’t count because they’re still Dean: AU Dean, Amnesia Dean, Dean Smith.

And the rest all got one vote: Dabb-era OC, Hypothetical guy from centuries ago (from one of those times Cas’ mind got wiped), Jesus Christ (asdjifsdkl), Miguel from The Love Story of the Runner-Up by ao3 user Margo_Kim, Sergei (???), That angel dude who wanted him for his hands (okay who and what episode).

Okay so what jumped out to me immediately was “no one” topping Cas’ list (it placed pretty high on Dean’s list but Benny, Cassie and Victor still beat that option handily). 

A lot of people straight up did not like the thought of Cas with someone else (very Dean coded of them) but a lot of others just couldn’t picture it. Which I think can be attributed to none of Cas’ relationships with others being all that developed on the show, besides with Jack which is obviously not romantic. Tbh there aren’t a lot of deeply developed relationships on Supernatural that don’t include Sam or Dean (and lbr, mostly Dean).

People were also explaining their choices a lot more in the Cas poll. Idk what that means but I just thought it was interesting. There also wasn’t a consensus on Cas’ sexuality; while Meg and other female characters got votes a lot of other voters said they see him as gay and can’t picture him with a woman.

Most delightfully surprising result: Cassie taking second place! Honestly, it’s what she deserves. And Victor in third! The taste! 

Most expected result: Benny winning the Dean poll in a landslide.

Most surprising low placement: Balthazar only getting six votes in Cas’ poll. I thought this ship was more popular but that’s probably my bias speaking since I happen to like it.

Funniest vote: Those three of you who wanna shoot your shot with Dean/Cas. Go for it, I’m rooting for you!

Favorite specification on a vote: “Meg in a deeply lavender marriage way”

[buriedinbaltimore]

for the ask game- nicky is one of the most underrated characters in aftg (in my opinion)- what do you think?

First - thanks for participating! (especially because I had two answers to asks I sent other people in my inbox that tumblr decided not to notify me about, lol)

On to your opinion, one of my favorite things about aftg is I feel like all the foxes have so much potential to be really interesting and complex characters. Like, every fox is, in my opinion, three dimensional enough to be a protagonist of their own story, if anyone ever chose to tell it. None of them are throw away filler characters, and with that I feel like all of them are underrated to an extent.

If we were to rank how the fandom views the characters, Neil and Andrew get the most attention (they are the protagonist & love interest, so naturally they get far more attention than the other characters), then next I would say is pretty obviously Kevin. Then I feel like Nicky and Aaron get fairly equal attention from what I see, then Matt is next, followed by Renee and Allison and finally Dan. (Seth gets honorary mention because I love him and there are a few others who do too but since he does die in book 1 after being in like 3 scenes I understand people having little interest in him.)

So I wrote out the above paragraph based on my impression of the slice of the fandom I engage with, and then I decided to check and compare it to the amount of fics tagged with each character on AO3. The order there is Neil - 6126 Andrew - 6117 Kevin - 3385 Aaron - 2719 Nicky - 2609 Matt - 1930 Renee - 1842 Dan - 1693 Allison - 1457

So I was actually pretty on point by that metric*, just apparently Dan is more popular than Allison.

Going back to how I was saying I think there is enough content from canon about all of the foxes that they are all three dimensional, there still is more about Andrew's lot than there is about the Upperclassmen, so like I understand why more is written about them too. I really do think I lot of it has to do with what we are provided by canon.

But now going back to your actual opinion - Nicky is one of the most underrated characters - I 100% agree Nicky is underrated, but I don't know if I would agree that he is more underrated than any other fox outside of Neil, Andrew, Kevin. I've seen some meta about him on here, and there are a few Nerik fics out there, but yes, I would love to see more!

Especially I would love to see people thinking more critically about the Nicky we actually see in the book, rather than who they think Nicky should be. The Nicky that is deeply flawed and trying his best, who has done both wonderful things and harmful things. Who has a complex relationship with his race and ethnicity, which is hinted at more than once in canon. Who has been traumatized and brutalized for his sexuality and is still flamboyant and proud in spaces that are traditionally hostile towards queer people.

There are so many layers and possible interpretations of his character, and while comic relief is often necessary in this fandom that deals with so many heavy issues, I for one really enjoy when there is space for Nicky to exist beyond just that.

*Idk what we can actually learn from AO3 character tags, but it was the only quantitative data I could think of.

send me a ☕️ and an opinion (popular or unpopular) and i’ll say whether i agree or disagree

[lethargic-caterpillar]

Special (SFW)

Male! Satyr x Gender Neutral! Reader (however it is one sided on the readers part....)

---

You've been having lunch at a fairly popular cafe as of late. It had gotten a bit pricey coming every day but the view made the overpriced coffee worth it. You pinch yourself before you can let out a dreamy sigh at the satyr barista wiping down the counters.

He catches you looking and gives you a grin and wink. Colour rushes towards your cheeks and you hide behind your paper coffee cup. It wasn’t even that good, not five dollars good anyways. Especially not with the coffee grinds that came with it. But holy crow did he ever make it the best.

You didn’t even know his name. He wore a name tag but whenever he talked to you, your brain turned to mush. Quite incapable of being even slightly literate. He remembered your name, of course, he called you by it when you walked in. 

Today the satyr had told you that you looked really nice and noticed that you had worn a new shirt. You acted humble as if it was something you had in the back of your closet for ages, but that was most certainly not true. You’d bought the shirt yesterday with him in mind, and done your hair with extra effort.

You go to take a sip of your coffee but find it to be empty. A debate starts up in your mind as to whether or not an extra five dollars is worth 15 more minutes of ogling. Looking at your phone for the time, you decide that it is indeed not worth it. If you were late again, your boss was going to have an aneurysm. 

On your way out, you give a small wave to the barista, and he gives you another breathtaking grin, his dark eyes lighting up.

“See ya tomorrow,” his smooth voice nearly makes you swoon and smack into the door frame, but you catch yourself and quickly exit before the embarrassment swallows you whole.

You woke up with a strong sense of determination. Today was the day. Your hair was behaving, your skin was clear, and the bags under your eyes were easy to conceal. Yes, today was the day you asked the cute satyr boy to go out with you.

Your neighbour, a sweet old harpy that you often traded recipes with, even commented on the extra pep in your step. A knowing smile graced her lips; she leaned over the short wooden fence to put a white azalea in your hair.

“Have a lovely day, dear,” Phyllis turned back to her garden and hummed a quiet tune. 

“You too, Mrs. Aaron,” you jog down the rest of your pathway and climb inside your car. Butterflies do laps in your empty stomach as you navigate your way to the cafe. 

After you park in front of the cafe, you wait for nearly ten minutes in your vehicle. It seemed like such a good idea this morning, but you were starting to lose your confidence.

“No,” you look into the rear view mirror. “You’re strong, attractive, smart and you can do this!” you nod and push the door open, nearly hitting the man who was walking past you. You mumble out a sheepish apology, but shake your head and continue to march up to the door glass doors. 

A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth and you give in. You were going to do this! Finally! 

The smile soon falls though as you see him leaning over the counter, playfully tugging on the long hair of an extremely flustered girl. The flirty, easy grin he was giving her was the same one you got daily. Your breath is short as you turn quickly and exit the cafe. 

Figures. The only boy to catch your attention in months was a self-absorbed schmuck. Why couldn’t he just have been as nice as he seemed? Would that have been so hard? Angry tears form in your eyes, which just makes you madder.

You glance back in the cafe while opening your car door. He didn’t even notice what just occurred. Disgust fills you. Quickly, you debate whether or not you should storm back in there and slap that fake smirk off his pretty face. 

Before you can do anything rash, you get into your car and slam the door shut. You start the engine, curse as loud as your lungs allow, and do a shoulder check to pull out. Guess you’ll just have to find a new place to go for coffee; this time with a barista actually capable of making it.

---

Thinking of this made me mildly annoyed. Very much annoyed actually. I’d like to think that unbeknown to the reader, there’s a cute centaur that would very much like a piece of that cake. 

I finally went thrifting with a friend that actually cares about my well being, so it’ll be a nice full night of sleepies: An Emotionally Drained Caterpillar~

[rhysswingspan]

Mid Year Book Freakout

Inspiration came from @booksandchocolatesmears

1. The Best Book So Far

Well, as a mother would say with her children, I can't pick just one. However I can narrow it to three; Me Before You by Jojo Moyes– I loved that book with all my heart and will absolutely carry it with me forever–, From Lukov With Love by Mariana Zapata and Empire Of Storms by Sarah J. Mass.

2. The Best Sequel So Far

Definitely, by far, the best two sequels were Shadow Of Night By Deborah Harkness and New Moon by Stephanie Meyer (yes, I was a little late to that one).

3. A New Release You Haven't Read Yet But Want To

Parachutes by Kelly Yang, The Name Of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss, We Are The Fire by Sam Taylor, The Wrath And The Dawn by Reneé Ahdieh, Love, Jacaranda by Alex Flinn–idk if this name is because of Argentinian roots or why but seeing that name just elated me– and Furia by Yamile Saied Méndez, Which actually is a representation of Argentinian women and I'm so excited by it.

4. The Most Anticipated Release Of The Year

I can't pick between Midnight Sun by Stephanie Meyer, of course, or Forest Of Souls by Lori M. Lee, Which I haven't read yet.

5. The Biggest Disappointment So Far

Against the popular opinion three of the most disappointing books I've read so far are; The Summer I Turned Pretty by Jenny Han– I don't have nothing against it, its just so predictable that I couldn't get the hang of it really–, The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater–YES, I KNOW there's witches (I'm pagan), there's supernatural stuff (very into that), cute boys and girls (veeery into that too) but I just could get past the second chapter– and We Were Liars By E. Lockhart –YES, AGAIN, I KNOW but this, this just lost me halfway the first chapter. I think I'm not really into treasure hunting, tragic history in the family kind of thing–.

6. The Biggest Surprise So Far

Some of the biggest surprises are actually surprising by their genre. After reading all After books in one setting, without books in between, I swore to never go back to romance again. Oh how my tables turned when I found From Lukov With Love by Mariana Zapata, and I, a romance-hater, was swoop up from my feet with this heartwarming, beautiful novel. And also with a romance genre novel, The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren who made me fall in love with the characters and the book itself.

7. New Favourite Author Of The Year

Well, the author of one of my new favorite novels, From Lukov With Love, Mariana Zapata. Her slow-burn romances that deal with more than mellow stuff, like stress and family problems, and her steamy, dream-like doing the did scenes make me melt.

8. Newest Favorite Fictional Character

Again, I can't pick just one, so here are some; Ivan Lukov–but of course–, Kenji Kishimoto from Shatter me, Juliette Ferrars from Shatter Me, Cardan Greenbriar and my Lady Jude Duarte from The Folk Of The Air Trilogy.

9. Newest Fictional Crush

Oof, well, in the section dark haired, snarky boys we got; IVAN LUKOV, Cardan Greenbriar And Dorian Havillard. Then with the sassy blondes there is; Aaron Warner, Manon Blackbeak and Aelin Galanthyus.

10. A Book That Made You Cry

Without a doubt Me Before You by Jojo Moyes. That book wanted to choke me with my tears I swear. (Although I will admit, I cry with almost everything book related).

11. The Most Beautiful Book So Far

This year's is a hard top three for me; Again, Me Before you, The 100 by Morgan Kass And New Moon by Stephanie Meyer.

12. A Book That Made You Happy

The Book of Life by Deborah Harkness has the best ending, Which, of course, made me cry happy rivers.

13. Some Books You Need To Read Before 2021

In my urgent TBR are; The Girl From Everywhere by Heidi Heiling, all the shadowhunter chronicles, Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan, Girls of Paper And Fire by Natasha Ngan and In Five Years by Rebecca Serle.

Tag yourself if you want to, be free to reblog and tell me your mid year craze💗

[dweemeister]

Aaron Loves Angela (1975)

The protests following the death of George Floyd have ignited debates about police militarization and tactics in the United States. They have also reenergized, in some cases mainstreamed, a discussion about what is celebrated in popular culture. Some have argued that certain films should not be available for consumption because they have espoused white supremacist values or have merely depicted white supremacy – an argument that this blog rejects in favor of contextualization and curation. By many of those same critics’ hypothetical standards towards how black people can or should be depicted, blaxploitation films might be considered too problematic to show. Blaxploitation, a subgenre of exploitation film, rose and fell in the early- and mid-1970s. It featured majority-black (if not all-black) casts, but the characters they depicted often reinforced violent and sexualized stereotypes under the guise of empowerment.

Among the directors central to blaxploitation were Gordon Parks (1969’s The Learning Tree, 1971’s Shaft; the former is the first film directed by an African-American for a major Hollywood movie studio) and his son, Gordon Parks Jr. Released by Paramount, the younger Parks’ fourth and final film, Aaron Loves Angela, is a confounding film that cannot be cleanly categorized within the blaxploitation subgenre. At times, Aaron Loves Angela looks as if it will be played as a straight teenage coming-of-age or interracial romance film peripherally adapted from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, but a poorly written criminal subplot direct from low-rent blaxploitation fails to connect with the central drama. As disappointing as the execution is, the film’s interracial romance and – at least when the film focuses on the title characters – its framing through the star-crossed lovers is unlike anything of its kind in mid-1970s American cinema.

It is the early 1970s in Harlem. De facto segregation between blacks and Puerto Ricans does nothing to quell a simmering racial animosity. Two 15-year-olds – Aaron James (Kevin Hooks) and Angela Sanchez (Irene Cara in her film debut) – have a wordless, chance meeting during a high school basketball game. They gaze in each other’s eyes, with that tingly feeling in their stomachs. Of course, that tingly feeling is overwhelming and inconducive to winning a basketball game. Yes, Aaron’s team loses the game and a (predictable) bench-clearing brawl occurs. Aaron and Angela, despite their knowledge that most of their friends and family would disapprove, begin to see each other. Both are the only child in a single-parent household. He lives with his resentful father, Ike (Moses Gunn), once a promising American football player whose career ended due to injury, and too often stating his desire to see his son play professional basketball. She lives with her mother, and has never lived in one place long enough to make lasting friends.

Just as Aaron and Angela start their relationship, screenwriter Gerald Sanford (a journeyman television writer credited with episodes of Barnaby Jones and CHiPs) drops in a subplot that sidetracks the film so much that it not only undermines the budding story of the protagonists, but it seems as if it came from an entirely different film. In Aaron’s apartment building, drug dealer and pimp Beau (Robert Hooks; Kevin’s father) reels in Aaron on a narcotics deal with the Italian-American mafia. Aaron agrees to help for no good reason. Sanford’s inclusion of Beau and his girlfriend Cleo (Ernestine Jackson; whose character commits statutory rape) is an attempt to justify the film’s careening turns into a blaxploitation crime drama – a shootout, a climactic vehicular pursuit with innocent minors endangered. Considering how the film begins, its title, its ostensible spotlighting of two actors in a rarely-produced subgenre of romance, the subplot is a detriment to the young actors’ performances – there are genuine moments of tenderness, but not nearly enough – and the way their characters are written.

Romeo and Juliet displayed interest in developing the young Montague and Capulet; West Side Story affords the music and space for the audience to know Maria and Tony. Aaron and Angela favors the former, with the latter’s personality, family and friends, and ambitions reduced to her attraction to Aaron and nothing else. That Sanford and Parks are so disinterested in imbuing Angela with any character depth is an encapsulation of how carelessly they handle the story. As the criminal subplot begins to overstep its welcome, the amount of time directed towards Angela (without Aaron doting on her) and the Puerto Rican community evaporates. The film’s incuriosity towards its female and Puerto Rican characters probably should have been expected given the nature of exploitation films, but it is nevertheless dispiriting to see this sort of storytelling recklessness for a perspective seldom seen in American filmmaking.

The drug deal subplot also reduces the screentime for the best performance in Aaron Loves Angela. Moses Gunn, as Ike, is excellent here. He vacillates between fits of alcoholic rage and uttering thoughts regretted the moment after their delivery to sober melancholy and overbearing parenting. Stereotypes of black fatherhood in American mainstream media will often have the father be absent from their child’s life, sometimes simply unsupportive, and occasionally involved in criminal enterprise. Certainly, Ike exudes hostility and bitterness – which, on its face, appears to uphold those historic negative stereotypes frequently seen in movies (not just blaxploitation films). Noting his brief, injury-ended professional football career, that depthless well of antipathy is justified – in recent years, the National Football League (NFL) has been criticized for neglecting the financial and physical wellbeing of its retired players. Parks and Sanford should receive some credit, even if this is accidental, for providing dimension to a black father’s negative behavior. The film does not condone Ike’s behavior towards Aaron, but it retains some sympathy for the embattled father – something that might not have been perceptible with anything but a solid turn by Gunn. As Ike, Gunn plays a lifetime haunted by ghosts of glory.

Aaron Loves Angela also boasts songs by Puerto Rican singer/songwriter José Feliciano (who has a cameo in the film; some of the songs were co-written by his then-wife, Janna Merlyn Feliciano). The best and most notable feature of the code-switching soundtrack is “Angela”, played over the film’s opening credits. “Angela” is an impassioned song, strummed along to Feliciano’s signature guitar along with rolling string harmonies that make the piece distinctively Feliciano’s. The English-language version of “Angela” has not received much attention due to Aaron and Angela’s lack of success at the box office and contemporary obscurity, but the Spanish-language “Angela” (with a Spanish “g” pronounced as an “h”) was a generational hit among Spanish speakers. Irene Cara, a skilled vocalist (as any fan of 1980’s Fame will tell you), does not sing in this film.

Following Aaron Loves Angela, Gordon Parks Jr. formed a new production company, Africa International Pictures, and set to work on his newest project, an adventure film entitled Revenge. At least one-third of Revenge was completed when, on April 3, 1979, Parks and three others perished in an airplane crash that occurred shortly after takeoff. Revenge was never completed. The younger George Parks was survived by his father. For the young actors, they continued to work in the entertainment industry albeit thriving in different mediums. Kevin Hooks left acting to become a television producer and director while Irene Cara would become better known for her musical career (“Fame”, “Flashdance… What a Feeling”) than for her acting.

Movies centered on an interracial romance, let alone youthful interracial romance, are almost never distributed by major movie studios. Often consigned to smaller, independent studios and limited theatrical releases, these films deserve to have an audience. For Aaron Loves Angela, this was a film made by an established Hollywood studio, but apparently floundered with audiences – explanations for its lack of financial success are almost nil in freely-available literature because of the film’s obscurity.

Here is an attempt at inference. By 1973, the blaxploitation subgenre had been protested by civil rights groups and disgruntled actors and directors under the banner of the Black Artists Alliance because of their portrayals of black characters. Studio executives took notice of these protests, and the blaxploitation film would be in terminal decline for the remainder of the decade – these protests occurred even though these films provided black actors and actresses with a volume of starring roles that had never been seen in American cinema. With its 1975 release, Aaron Loves Angela arrived during the subgenre’s hasty decline. It is not an accomplished film, but Aaron Loves Angela’s central conceit – a film centered on African-American and Puerto Rican teenagers in a relationship – has unfortunately been buried due to the timing of its release. The virtuous qualities and cultural damage of films like Aaron Loves Angela and blaxploitation in general remain an open debate – one that deserves the recognition of nuance and previously unheard voices to help guide.

My rating: 5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[jadesabre83]

Writer Tag Game

I was tagged by @myevilmouse, my cheerleader and enabler.

Author name: It’s changed over the years, but currently I have it set to be JadeSaber83 here and on AO3. Way way back in the days of LJ I wrote under Acadecian, and my original AO3 name was Talulabelle05. 

Fandoms you write for: The first fic I ever wrote was for Star Wars; it was Young Jedi Knights fic I wrote when I was 14, and it’s exactly as cringey as you would imagine fic written in the late 90s would be. I didn’t write fic so much until I got caught up in the post-Avengers craze in 2002, and then the MCU was my bread and butter for a while. I’m just now (slowly) getting back into writing Star Wars fic.

Where you post: AO3 now. When LJ was still more active I would cross-post there, and I do still have an account on FFN but I don’t update it.

Most popular one-shot:  By hits (11,427) it’s Victory (Avengers, Darcy/Loki, Rated E). By kudos (385), it’s I Totally Know CPR (Avengers, Darcy-centric, Rated T), though the highest kudos count (481) is actually Beauty in Uncertainty, but that’s a multi-chapter and not technically a one-shot (Avengers, Clint/Darcy/Coulson, Rated E). 

Favourite story you wrote:  WHY MUST YOU MAKE ME CHOOSE?! Okay, I’m going to say Worshiping The Trickster, because it’s the kind of crack!fic that’s cracky enough to make sense. It brings together two of my favorite characters—Jaina Solo and Loki—at a time where they’re both hurting and it was a lot of fun to see what happened when you throw the Sword of the Jedi and the Trickster God together. 

Story you were nervous to post: Hands down, Miniature Disasters (And Minor Catastrophes). Not only was this my first time writing fic in over 6 years, it was my first time writing in the Rebels/Thrawn fandom, my first time writing Arihnda Pryce, my first time writing an AU, and my first time posting a WIP. 

How do you choose your titles: Almost all are either song lyrics or quotes. Sometimes I’ll hear a song and get an idea for a fic just from that one song. Other times I’ll already be working on the fic without a title, and a song will come on and it just fits. 

How many of your stories are complete?: 23 of the 24, technically? I started a Darcy/Coulson series that used Kevin Smith movie quotes as titles, and the intention was to write one for each of the View Askew movies. So far I’ve only done 3, so maybe some day I’ll finish the rest? I’d love to jump back into that. 

In progress: Intentionally in progress? Just the Pryce AU. But if I get an idea for something I have to get it out before I forget it (Thank you, ADHD). Sometimes it’s just a little note, sometimes it means writing an entire scene. 

Coming Soon: Once the Pryce AU is finished, there’s a few other ideas that have been floating in my head; a Jaina-centric fic that will follow her from NJO through the end of FOTJ (and possibly a little post-FOTJ?) with a working title of ‘Jaina’s Coping Skills are Worse than her PTSD’; a crack/crack-adjacent AU based on the Clone!Thrawn headcanon of @xenoarcana that has a Jaina/Thrawn pairing (Yes. Jaina/Thrawn); and a contribution for @myevilmouse‘s “Luke deserves all the blow jobs” collection.

Upcoming story you’re most excited to write: Either of the Jaina ones. There needs to be more Jaina content!

Do you accept prompts: When I first got started in the MCU fandom a lot of what I wrote came from prompts and/or challenges. I think prompts are a great tool when you want to write but can’t figure out where to start.

Top five favorite authors: From fandom? I don’t know if I can narrow that down to just five, though I do want to single out one of my oldest fandom buddies @sigridhr <3 

Aside from that; Timothy Zahn, Alexander Freed, Aaron Allston, Karen Marie Moning, Anne Stuart.

[james-stark-the-writer-wips]

A Year At The Opera - Excerpt

A/N: As promised, it’s here before december. Anyway, I hope you like it. Part 2 will be out soon! If you haven’t yet, go read part 9.

Chapter 9

Anyway, onto the story! WC: 4000 words.

*

Ingram and Aaron

Ingram arrived at the scene of the crime about ten minutes after Aaron’s call.

“There you are!” He said. Aaron turned around to see them. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re mostly fine but that person isn’t.” Aaron said.

“Who?” Ingram asked, approaching Aaron, Mason tagging behind.

 Aaron pointed at the hand sticking out of the ground.

“What. The. Fuck.” Ingram said, taking a step forward to look at it closer. “Is that a hand?”

“A what?” Mason walked up next to him, peeking over his shoulder.

“I think there’s a body under there.” Aaron said. “Can’t be that old, ground’s still fairly wet. Someone buried it recently.”

“What the fuck!” Mason took a step back, unable to process how casual Aaron was being about this.

“Look, what do we do?” El asked, shoving herself into the conversation.

“We call the police, obviously.” Ingram said.

“How are you all this calm?” Mason asked, pacing around in the same place, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “There might be a dead body buried under there!” He said in a forced whisper, trying to keep his voice down as if someone was listening.

“I don’t know, man.” Aaron said. “If we call it in, we’re opening ourselves up to be suspects.”

“Did you not hear me? There might be a dead person buried a few feet from you!” Mason clutched his face in his hands and continued to nervously pace in place.

“We heard you, Mace. But panicking isn’t going to help us, right now.” Ingram said, semi-calmly. “We’re all scared but we need to keep it together.” He turned to Aaron. “And I don’t care if we incriminate ourselves, there might be a dead person there. Someone might be looking for them. They might have a family. If we’re innocent we have nothing to worry about.” He gave Aaron a weird, accusing look. “We are innocent, right?”

“Ohmygod, yes, we didn’t kill and bury whoever is in there, there’d be mud on our clothes and body, wouldn’t there be?”

“Just confirming, man.”

“Look, we are innocent,” El interjected. “But are we sure we want to be involved in this? We could just leave an anonymous tip or something.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure they can track that shit.” Aaron chimed in. “One way or the other, if we tell them, we’re in this. If we don’t—”

“Not an option, don’t even think about it.” Ingram said.

“Look, all I’m saying is, let’s weigh our options here. Either we call the police, tell them their might be a dead body in the woods and open ourselves up to being suspects. Considering we don’t know how old that body is, and the fact that we don’t have alibis beyond each other for last night, that might be a risk, and a headache considering how many interviews and interrogations we might have to give and sit through. These cases can last for a looooong time. Or, we pretend we never saw this, enjoy another day or two at the cabin, go back and never talk about this. Just be chill about it.”

“I say we call the police. I don’t mind the interviews or the interrogations. My mom’s a very good lawyer, she’ll do her best to keep the press and reporters away if that’s what you’re worried about. But that might be an actual person in there, with a family probably waiting for them to come home, worried sick. Don’t you think they at least deserve to know what happened to him?” Ingram crossed his arms.

“I do. And your mom might protect you and Mason but what about me and El?” Aaron said. Ingram looked at him, astounded.

“Guys, I can’t do this.” Mason said, somewhere in the corner, having a panic attack against a tree.

“Mason, it’ll be okay.” Ingram reassured him. “We’re figuring it out.”

“No, it won’t.” Mason muttered, sliding lower on the tree.

“Can we focus for a second?” El asked.

“She’ll protect you, Aaron.” Ingram said. “You don’t have to worry about that. She’ll protect you both. You know she will.”

“Okay, let’s not worry about that right now, what do we do about the police?” El said.

“If we don’t call it in, there’s a chance nobody will. This isn’t exactly a bustling area of the woods — and they aren’t even that popular in the first place. Most people just use the hiking trail anyway. By the way, what the fuck are you even doing all the way out here?”

“Eleanor wanted to see the stream.” Aaron said. “And you’re right. If we don’t, then probably no one will ever find it.”

“All the more reason we could pretend it didn’t exist.” El said.

“No, El. If it decomposes, there’s a high chance evidence might get destroyed or tainted. The longer we wait, the harder it will be for the police to actually catch this killer.” Aaron replied.

“Exactly.” Ingram said.

“So, are we calling it in or not?”

“Let’s just put it to a vote.” Aaron said.

“All right. Show of hands, who wants to call it in?” Ingram raised a hand.

Eleanor raised a hand too.

“Who doesn’t?” Aaron raised a hand. So did Mason.

“It’s a tie.”

“Of course it is.” Aaron mumbled. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out.

“What are you doing?” Ingram asked. He couldn’t believe Aaron was going to respond to a text right now.

“It’s my mom.” He lied, “She’s just asking if everything’s okay, if I don’t respond, she’s going to start calling. Just give me a second.”

What do you want? He texted me.

Call the police.

Why

It’s how it should be done. I vote to call the police.

Your vote doesn’t count.

Doesn’t it? I’m here too, theoretically.

Hi, observing us from a pocket dimension doesn’t count. If anything, it makes you sound like a stalker.

Just call the fucking police, Aaron. Or I’m going to start talking and I promise you that’s going to be infinitely harder to explain to your friends than that corpse will be to the police.

Fine. God.

“Ugh, fine. Let’s call the cops.” Aaron said, defeated. He shoved his phone back in his pants.

“All right, you wanna do it now or do you want to head back to the cabin?” Ingram asked.

“Let’s just call them and get this over with.”

“I’ll do it.” El reaching into her pocket and grabbed her phone.

Ingram took out his phone as well. “I’ll call my mom and tell her.”

“Wait, shouldn’t we call her and ask her what we should do before calling the cops?” Aaron suggested.

“Good idea. Eleanor, stop calling the police.”

The phone rang slowly. But she finally did pick up.

“Mom?” Ingram said.

“Oh, Ingram, did you need something?”

“Yeah, there’s a bit of a situation here.”

“Oh?” She said. Ingram heard a drawer slam shut. “What’s the matter, everything’s working, right? There should be a guy coming up soon to fix the issues with the generator.”

“No, that’s fine. But the issue is more…legal, let’s say.”

“What’s the matter? You’re okay, right? Did you get into any trouble? Don’t talk to any cops without me there!”

“That’s actually sort of what we want to talk about. So, listen. Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, there was a body buried in the Shadow Woods, just a little further north of our cabin and it looked freshly buried, hypothetically, should we call the cops?”

“Hypothetically, is there a body buried behind the cabin?”

“Hypothetically, yes, there is.”

“Listen to me carefully. Hypothetically, if there were a body, I’d advise you to stay put, go nowhere, touch nothing, don’t move. Call the cops and send me your location, I’ll send someone to pick you up, hypothetically.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. Thanks, mom. I’ll send you the location.”

“Do that before calling the cops.”

“Yep.” Ingram cut the call.

Everyone stared at Ingram waiting at the edge of their seats, anxious to hear what the lawyer had to say.

“What’d she say?” Aaron asked.

“She said we should text her our location, then call the cops.”

“All right then.” El said, unlocking her phone.

-

The four stood by for about half an hour before the cops showed up. Quickly, police tape was set up around the area to maintain the integrity of the scene and as soon as the area was cordoned off, the four were escorted back to the cabin by three policemen, where a bunch of cops stood huddled around their car, seemingly conversing.

“Finally.” One of the cops said as the four drew closer. The group stopped talking and one of the cops stepped forward.

“Which one of you called it in?” He asked in a rough voice.

“I did,” El replied calmly.

“And were you the one to find the body?”

“No, that was me.” Aaron stepped in. “She’d sprained her ankle so I was carrying her when I noticed the hand sticking out of the ground.”

“And did you touch anything or go near the body?”

“No, we just stood far away, right where we were when you came.”

“I suggest you stop interrogating minors, officer.” An authoritative voice came from somewhere. The cop turned to look where it came from.

A man, clad in a custom-made suit and carrying a wave of authority around him approached the car.

“Especially without a lawyer present.” The voice said.

Ingram gasped. “Dad?”

*

David

Ingram stepped forward. “What are you doing here?”

“Your mom sent me, filled me in on everything. Officer, you’re not talking to minors without a lawyer present.” Mr. Shaw said.

Mr. Shaw was tall, maybe around six-two, probably in his mid 40s. A slightly greying stubble accompanying a thick cover of hair added a lot to the authority he talked with. The man always carried himself with enough poise and dignity to put royalty to shame. Even the cop looked intimidated.

“And you are?” The cop asked, trying to mask his fear. He lifted his pants over his extruding stomach, trying to be subtle about unclipping his holster.

“David Shaw. Attorney at law, but presently his father.” He pointed to Ingram. “And you’re not talking to any of these kids without me there.”

“Well you can be here if you want.” The cop said.

“Could I talk to you for a second over there, officer?” Mr. Shaw motioned towards a slightly secluded corner.

“Sure, I guess.” The officer mumbled, following Mr. Shaw.

“Officer, it’s obvious these kids are tired and traumatized. Why don’t I take them home for the day and bring them down to the station for questioning tomorrow?”

The idea didn’t sit well with the cop. “I don’t know about that.”

“Oh come now, Officer.” David’s voice was immediately softer and warmer. “Let’s be reasonable here. Your guys need to finish examining the scene and getting the forensics and stuff. These kids are tired and in no shape to answer questions and I don’t think you want to have a conversation like this out in the cold. I’ll just take them home and bring them down tomorrow. Plus then you have less paperwork to do.” Hook. “All the paperwork would be the detective’s to do.” Line.

The cop chuckled. Got you. “All right, I suppose. I’ll just ask them some preliminary questions so we can get a starting idea and then you can take them home.”

“Thank you officer.” David said. If the officer hadn’t backed down, David would have been forced to call his old friend Mayor Gilbert and he really didn’t want to disturb the man this early.

The officer started to walk back to the car to join the other cops and David followed him. The cop whispered something to the others and they dispersed in different directions.

“Just answer a few questions the cops have and then I’ll take you home.” David said.

“So,” The cop took out a notepad and flipped it open. “Who found the body?”

“I did.” Aaron said.

“And your name?”

“Aaron Adler.”

“And you made the call as well?”

“No, that’d be me.” El said.

“And you are?”

“Eleanor Easton.” She said. The cop scribbled something onto his notepad.

“And did you touch anything or see anyone around the area when you found the body?”

“No.” Aaron replied. “Besides the tree Eleanor was leaning against, we didn’t touch anything. We stayed put right where we were. And there wasn’t anyone around when we got there.”

“Alright.” The cop said, flipping his notepad closed. “That’s all for now. You’re free to take them home but don’t go too far.”

“I promise, officer.” David said. “Thank you so much. Hey, you don’t mind if the kids grab their bags, right?”

“Yeah yeah.” The cop mumbled before walking away.  

“Get your bags, everyone. We’re going home.” David said.

Ingram nodded and everyone headed inside the cabin to grab their stuff.

*

Ingram

Ingram shifted lower in his seat, sitting quietly, clutching the edges of his jacket.

“So,” David began. “Where am I dropping you guys off?” He glanced back at Eleanor and Aaron sitting awkwardly besides Mason.

“Uhh, just at your house is fine, we’ll make our way home from there.”

“As you say.” David said. The car fell into silence again. 

Ingram loosened his tight grip on his jacket and reached for his phone in his pocket. He reached into his other pocket to grab his earphones and felt a tap on his shoulder.

The voice was a forced whisper. “Hey, could we talk?” It was Aaron. He was leaning forward, his seat belt restraining him from bending too much.

“About what?” Ingram asked.

“Just… last night. And everything.”

Ingram froze. Last night. Oh no. He was more comfortable talking about that dead body they’d found. Last night was painful for everyone involved. Best to forget it. But, Ingram was trying not to be rude. After the thing at school a few days ago with Thea and that guy, whatever his name was, and Liz… he’d realized he’d started to get more irritable. And he was really trying his best to not let it show.

“Uh, maybe later?” He whispered back. It wasn’t a permanent solution but it was something.

Yes, it sure was something. It was avoiding the problem but for now, he was okay with it. Plus he really didn’t want to have this conversation with his boyfriend and his dad in the car.

“Later. Sure.” Aaron said, leaning back.

Later. And unfortunately, later was inevitable.

As the car neared Riker’s bridge, Mr. Shaw turned to Ingram. “I hope you don’t mind, I have to make a quick pit stop at the offices, pick up some files for your mom.”

“No, I’m good. We don’t have any plans anyway.”

“Oh.” David said. “You three call your parents yet?”

“Uhhh, not really, no.” Mason said. 

“Well, today sure will be something for the family history books, huh?”

“Yeah.” Aaron said quietly. 

The car fell silent again and stayed as such until it pulled into to the law offices of Shaw, Myers and Co.

The building stood tall, a behemoth of glass and concrete, towering over Athea, in direct competition with the public library and the Church of St. Peter to have the highest spot in town. In the last decade since Rebecca had become a lawyer, Ingram had never been inside the offices nor did he want to.

“Stay in the car, I’ll be back in five.” David said, releasing his seatbelt. He quickly exited the car, leaving, once again, four awkward teens; each desperate to talk, no one willing to start. Each stayed glued to their phones, pretending the others didn’t exist. Being alone was easier than talking. You didn’t need to deal with any complex emotions and honestly, none of them had the mental space for that right now.

And all eight and a half minutes passed in excruciating emptiness. A certain hollow void. It was not the feeling of nothingness. If anything, it was the opposite of nothingness: everything-ness.

The sort of void you’d feel at a funeral but more sinister. Too much all at once, a grim, dark feeling.

The sort of void you’d scream into and the scream would return ten times louder. Like sinister music ramping up in a horror movie — except you can’t see the scare, because it’s never coming. It’s a disturbing feeling to be sure, unnerving and creepy.

But as the car door opened again, the void began to fade, lingering just a little as Mr. Shaw sat down, carrying a stack of thick files.

“Here, hold these.” He said with a strained voice, handing the files to Ingram.

Ingram quickly took them, barely aware of what he was doing, and David put on his seatbelt.

“Hey, could you put those in the back?” David said, glancing into the rearview mirror at Aaron. “There should be an empty box there.”

“Yeah, sure.” Aaron replied, taking the files. He strained to turn in his place with the seatbelt on but finally did manage to place the files in the box.

“All good?” Mr. Shaw asked.

“Yep.” Aaron said. “They’re in there.”

“Good.” He turned the car key. “Let’s go home.”

*

Aaron and Ingram

As the car pulled into the Shaw’s driveway, Aaron felt a pit in the bottom of his stomach. It had taken everything he had to ask Ingram to talk. And now that they would finally have a chance to be alone, they’d actually have to talk.

He’d thought a lot about what he could say but nothing seemed right, nothing seemed to encompass all the things he’d wanted to say.

“We’re here.” Mr. Shaw announced, unlocking the car doors.

The doors opened quick, everyone stepping out. The inside of the car was suffocating — not in a literal sense obviously but it felt suffocating. There was just too much to deal with right now.

Even when he’d mentioned last night before, he’d seen Mason tense up. Mason clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Or was there something else afoot?

Ingram took a deep breath, letting the smell of home overcome him. Gone was the wet damp smell of the woods — not that he hated it — replaced with a light whiff of smoke from cars.

“Hey.” Aaron said, walking next to Ingram. 

Ingram’s shoulders tensed up and he put a hand in his pocket as he turned to Aaron. “Hey.” His voice was a soft whisper, like he didn’t want anyone to overhear. Anyone was probably Mason.

“Could we talk?” Aaron said.

Later had come already and Ingram was nowhere near ready to talk. But there was no avoiding the situation now. At best, he’d be delaying the inevitable. At worst, he’d be pushing Aaron away after they’d come to this weird middle ground. 

“Uh, sure.” Ingram said unsurely. He looked around to see where Mason was. He couldn’t see him and assumed he was unloading the luggage. “Come over here, yeah?” Ingram stuck a thumb out towards a secluded corner near the bushes and Aaron nodded.

The two quietly walked over to the corner and Ingram leaned against the wall.

“So…” Ingram prompted.

“So,” Aaron said. “I just wanted to—” He stopped.

“Yeah?” Ingram asked. he didn’t want to know but he desperately wanted to hear it.

“Well, I’m just—” Aaron sighed. “You know what, this was a bad idea, just — forget this happened, okay?”

“No, come on, tell me. What’s the problem?” Ingram was standing straight now.

“It’s just… I shouldn’t have interrupted your trip. It should have been you two and I felt like a third wheel so I brought El and I shouldn’t have done that and it was just really stupid of me. I’m sorry I ruined your vacation.” It flowed out before he could stop it.

“Hey, that’s okay. It’s fine, trust me. Plus, if you didn’t come, there’d still be a dead body in the woods. Now, because of you, whoever’s body that is, their family will at least know who it was. You coming was a good thing, eventually.”

“I suppose. It still doesn’t feel right to me though. And to be fair,  I was the one saying we should leave it as is. You’re the one who convinced me to call the cops. You did more than I did. I just saw a hand sticking out of the ground.”

“Fair enough.” Ingram chuckled. “And relax, you’re all good.”

“And just, about last night,” Aaron began slowly.

“It’s fine.” Ingram reassured him.

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry I got weird and made everyone leave. I seriously don’t know where that came from.”

“Trust me, we were starting to get bored anyways, you’re fine.” Ingram said. It wasn’t even remotely true but it was somewhat comforting to Aaron.

“Thanks.”

“Hey!” Ingram heard Mason calling him.

“I have to go.” Ingram said, walking away.

That wasn’t that bad, was it? Now we never have to think about it again, hopefully. Ingram thought.

On the steps leading to the house, Aaron spotted Rebecca, waiting for everyone to get in.

“Come on in, it’s cold outside. Don’t worry about your bags.” She said as Aaron approached the steps. “Oh, and your mom left the car in the garage, for when you came back. You can just take it from there whenever you feel like going home.”

“Hey.” Eleanor approached Aaron from behind.

“Hey, El.” He said.

“Oh, come on in. I’ve got some hot drinks for everyone.” Rebecca turned to Eleanor. “I hope you’re fine with hot chocolate. Oh, who am I kidding, everyone’s fine with hot chocolate.”

“Yeah.” El said, following Rebecca inside. Aaron turned to see Ingram and Mason helping Mr. Shaw with the bags and the files. He sighed quietly and walked in, closing the door behind him.

*

Aaron

“You WHAT!” Mary’s voice was loud through the speakerphone. “Are you okay?” 

“We’re all fine, mom.”

“Well why didn’t you call me sooner!” She said.

“I didn’t want to worry you. We’re fine, we’re at the Shaws’ right now, we’re heading home in a little bit.”

“I’ll come pick you up.” She said.

“No. We’re fine. You don’t have to worry.” Aaron reassured her. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Call me the second you get home.”

“I will, I promise. Bye.” Aaron cut the call.

“So?” El asked, as if she hadn’t heard everything. “How’d she take it?”

“She’s worried but she’ll be fine.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“You wanna get going?” El suggested.

“Yeah.” He took a final sip of his hot chocolate before gently placing the mug back on the table.

Aaron turned to Rebecca. “That was excellent, Mrs. S.”

She smiled. “There’s some more if you’d like.” She pointed to the kitchen.

“No, that’s quite alright. We need to get going.”

She stood up along with Aaron and Eleanor. “Very well. Just remember, if any detectives come calling, say nothing. Just call me and I’ll be there ASAP.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Shaw.” El gave her a warm smile.

“Oh, don’t mention it.” Rebecca said. “Come, I’ll show you to the garage.” She gestured for Aaron and Eleanor to follow her. And they did.

El and Aaron got into the car. And, with a final wave to Rebecca, the car pulled out of the garage and began to drive away.

*

[thestarsaroundyourscars]

Richie writing something weird and cryptic in Eddie's year book

Amelia ❤️ I know I take forever to write these prompts and I’m sorry for that but I hope they’re worth it and you like it. 

Handwritten Confession

Word count: 3,997

Pairing: Reddie

Read on AO3

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes@richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc @its-stranger-than-you-think@lemonaayyee @pennys-pet-kitty @tinyarmedtrex @richiefuckfacetozier @sam-i-am2468 @nicoperryy @richardtoz @aizeninlefox @chocolatemangoose @godtozier @reddie-for-anything @reddies-spaghetti

“Can you believe we’re done with school? Like, forever?” Richie asked while spinning in Eddie’s desk chair.

“Richie, don’t do that, you’re going to get dizzy.” Eddie chided, without even turning to look at him. “And it’s not forever. We still have college.”

“Fine. Done with highschool at least.” Richie sain. He stopped spinning and moved on to rolling the chair around the room, much to Eddie’s annoyance. “Can you believe that?”

“It is kind of crazy, isn’t it?” Eddie replied, moving around the room himself, getting a bag ready for their sleepover at Bill’s.

Richie had shown up a little while ago so that Eddie could drive them both there, where they would be meeting the rest of their friends to celebrate the end of high school while watching movies, filling their bellies up with pizza and snacks and getting drunk. Well, Richie wasn’t drinking, he was supposed to get on a plane next afternoon and he didn’t want to be hungover for that. He was meeting with his parents, who were currently in California with Richie’s grandparents, who wanted their grandson over to give him his graduation present.

“It’s beyond crazy. No more Derry High, no more detention, no more Henry Bowers or Greta Bowie-”

“Can you believe she signed my yearbook?” Eddie cut in with a snort, shoving a pair of socks inside his bag.

Richie stopped the chair abruptly, whirling around to face Eddie. “The fuck? What did she write? Was it something offensive? Because if it was we can drive there on our way to Bill’s and egg her house. I still haven’t forgiven her for writing ‘Loser’ in your cast that one time.”

“She didn’t write anything bad, don’t worry about it.” Eddie said, then he smiled sweetly at Richie. “Thank you, though.”

“Anytime, but forgive me if I don’t believe she didn’t write something bad, it’s fucking Greta Bowie we’re talking about.” Richie said and used his long legs to propel the chair towards Eddie’s desk, where Eddie had left his yearbook earlier.

He opened it to the signatures section and let out a whistle when he saw just how many messages there were. “Damn, Eds, when did you get so popular?”

“I didn’t,” Eddie said, with a laugh. “It’s mostly people from the track team and you guys. Your message alone took pretty much half the space.”

Richie ran his fingers over his messy handwriting that in fact took over most of the page. “Seems fitting, since I take all the space in your heart.” He said, blowing Eddie a kiss.

Eddie rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling up and Richie smirked at the pink blush on his cheeks.

He looked down, reading over what other people wrote. There was the usual stuff, countless ‘never change’ and ‘stay cool’ and ‘have a great summer’, Greta’s message being one of those, she had even signed off with a heart next to her name.

“I will miss you?!” Richie shrieked, in disbelief. “Did she really write that? Well, Greta, I know for a fact Eddie won’t fucking miss you .” He said, sticking his tongue out at the book in his lap, as if Greta could see him through it.

Eddie laughed, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Well you’re right about that, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t even know it was my yearbook. Someone must have handed it over to her.”

“I don’t get it,” Richie said, shaking his head, “Why sign someone’s yearbook if you’re going to write some shitty generic message.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t write ‘never change’ at least once on someone’s yearbook today?”

“Well, yeah, but I meant it. Like with you! I don’t ever want you to change, Eds, that’s why I wrote it.” Richie said, shrugging. “But take this girl from my English class for example, she wrote that, even though she spent the past year telling me to shut the fuck up every day. Clearly she thinks I should change.”

Eddie shook his head, laughing. “Well, you don’t. Need to change, that is.” He said. “But I get what you’re saying. All those ‘we should’ve hung out more’’ and ‘wish I could’ve known you better’, like you could’ve, yeah, you just never tried.”

“Fucking idiots, all of them. They didn’t know what they were missing.” Richie said, then he winked at Eddie. “Me, on the other hand, I always knew just how special you were, Eds.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, tossing a pillow at Richie but still smiling at him, before continuing to fold up his clothes for tomorrow.

Richie kept reading through the messages on Eddie’s yearbook, making it to the more personalized ones. Most of them were from the losers, he recognized Stan’s neat handwriting, Bev’s bright pink ink, Mike and Ben’s sweet words and Bill’s sketch, he had drawn animated versions of each of them in their yearbooks. Richie also recognized the names of Eddie’s track team members, Eddie wasn’t particularly close to them but they all wrote about how great Eddie was and how happy they were to have him on the team. It made Richie smile, knowing that there were people outside their group that knew just how amazing Eddie was.

Then Richie’s eyes caught something that made his breath catch in his throat in surprise. Eddie must have heard him because he whirled around, his face pinched in confusion.

“What? Did someone write something bad?” He asked, and he tried to sound unbothered by it, but Richie could tell that the idea of having a rude comment in his yearbook forever didn’t seem appealing at all.

“Uh, no.” Richie said, clearing his throat to try and get rid of the lump that had formed there. “Someone, uh -  someone asked you out. On your yearbook.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Yeah, right. Not funny, Richie.”

“I’m not joking, Eds.” Richie said, earnestly, but Eddie only stared blankly at him. “Fine, here, ‘Hey Eddie, I never gathered enough courage to say this to you in person, but I think you’re really nice and really cute, if for some reason you ever want to go out, give me a call, have a great summer, with love, Aaron.’ Who the fuck is Aaron?” Richie asked, voice an octave higher at the last sentence.

By then, Eddie was sporting an adorable blush.“It’s uh, a guy from my History class. We did a project together this year, but I- Did he really write all that?”

“See for yourself.” Richie said, handing him the yearbook, watching him closely as Eddie read the message. He saw his eyebrows disappear behind his hairline and a small, disbelieving smile appear on his face, the sight making Richie’s stomach clench.

“Are you- uh. Will you take him up on the offer?” Richie said with a small voice.

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet Richie’s. “I- uh. Do you think I should?”

No , Richie thought and he almost blurted it out. “If that’s what you want.” He said instead but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wished he could tell Eddie not to go out with this Aaron guy, but it wasn’t his place nor it was fair to him.

Eddie stared at Richie, as if expecting him to say more but when he didn’t, his eyes moved to the yearbook again.

“So,” Richie prompted, as he waited impatiently for Eddie to make a decision. “Is it? What you want?”

Eddie closed the yearbook, shaking his head. “No, Aaron is a good guy but I just- It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“Because you don’t see him like that?” Richie couldn’t help but ask, the knot in his stomach loosening now that he knew Eddie wouldn’t be going on a date with someone anytime soon.

Eddie stared at him, unanswering and Richie stared back, feeling like there was something happening between them, but he didn’t know what. He racked his brain trying to make sense of the look on Eddie’s face but before he could figure it out, Eddie sighed and looked away. “Uh yeah, sure, that’s why.” He said, taking a couple of steps back. Richie didn’t know how Eddie had ended up standing in the V of Richie’s legs without him noticing it. “I need to grab some stuff from my bathroom and then I’m ready to go.”

Richie nodded, dumbly, watching as Eddie left the room. The yearbook was back in his hands and he opened it again, his eyes immediately going to Aaron’s message.

Earlier that day, when Eddie had given the yearbook to him so that he could sign it, Richie had had a hard time trying to figure out what to write and it wasn’t just because Eddie had threatened to beat him up if he wrote anything about his dick or Eddie’s mom, ruling out most of his repertoire, but because of a conversation he’d had with Stan and Bev a couple of days before.

Because Aaron hadn’t been the only one to think about confessing his feelings through a yearbook message, Richie had thought that too. Beverly had agreed it was a romantic idea and that he should do it, Stan on the other hand had said it was stupid and that he should tell Eddie in person. In the end he hadn’t listened to either of them, writing a loving yet completely platonic message on Eddie’s yearbook and refusing to say anything to him. Seeing this Aaron guy’s message made Richie wonder if he had lost his chance.

Or maybe not, he thought.

Richie looked cautiously at the closed door before grabbing a pen from Eddie’s desk and filling yet more of Eddie’s yearbook with his messy handwriting. Before he could sign his name, the door opened and he tossed the yearbook and the pen on the desk before standing up abruptly, almost sending the chair flying to the floor.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Richie chuckled nervously, hanging his hand on the back of his neck. Eddie narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. “Uh. Bill called, wondering where we are. We should get going. You’re ready right?” Eddie nodded. “Great, let’s go then.”

Richie steered Eddie outside of the room by his shoulders, sending a final look to Eddie’s desk and his yearbook.

-

The next morning, Eddie woke up to the sound of Richie’s alarm blaring right in his ear. He searched blindly for it, hitting Richie instead, who had fallen asleep next to him at some point last night in the process.

“Eds,” Richie whined against the pillow. “Turn that off.”

“ That happens to be your alarm, Rich. The one you set because you’re supposed to get home?” Eddie told him, but still turned off the alarm for the sake of their friends, that were sprawled around them in the living room, still sleeping.

“Ugh. I don’t wanna. I just want to sleep.” He said, covering his face with the blanket Bill had given them last night.

“You can sleep on your flight.” Eddie said, getting said blanket away from him. Then he pushed at Richie’s shoulder until he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before putting on his glasses. “Now go get ready.”

Richie sighed, stretching his arms over his head with a yelp. Eddie’s eyes drifted to the sliver of skin showing from under Richie’s shirt and he shut his eyes to keep from staring. “Wait, you’re going back to sleep?” Richie asked, and Eddie nodded, already curling up under the blanket that was all his now. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have a plane to catch.”

“But you have to take me home.” Richie whined, nudging Eddie insistently. “You promised.”

Eddie groaned, “Fine, wake me up when you’re ready to leave.” He said, before closing his eyes, hearing Richie mutter something before making his way upstairs, where their things were.

After what felt like five minutes, Richie was nudging him awake and Eddie felt like hitting him. When he had agreed to drive Richie to his house in the morning, he hadn’t taken into consideration he would be tired and hungover.

“ Eds .”

“Ugh. I’m coming, Richie.” Eddie said, annoyed, finally crawling out of the blankets.

Richie snorted. “That’s what she said.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, throwing a pillow at Richie’s face as he stood up.

They said goodbye to their friends, Richie more effusively than Eddie, since he wouldn’t be seeing them for a week, meanwhile Eddie would probably be seeing them tomorrow at the latest.

When they arrived at Richie’s house they sat in silence in the car for a couple of minutes.

“Thank you for driving me home, Eds.”

“You’re welcome, Rich. Are you sure you don’t need a ride to the airport?”

Richie shook his head, offering a smile. “I’m not making my Eddie Spaghetti drive for an hour just so he can stare at my beautiful face some more before I leave. You’re tired, you should go sleep.”

“I wouldn’t be staring at your face, I would be staring at the road.” Eddie said, deadpan, before yawning. “But I guess you’re right about me being tired.”

“I was also right about my face being beautiful, which you didn’t deny.” Richie singsonged, nuzzling Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie pushed him away trying to fight off a smile. And a blush. “Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“Yeah, I do.” Richie said with a sigh, grabbing his bags from the back seat.

“Goodbye, Rich.”

Richie scoffed, “That’s all? A ‘goodbye Rich’ is all I get from my best friend? Not even an ‘I will miss you’?”

“You’re leaving for a week, Richie.” Eddie told him, raising an skeptical eyebrow.

“So you won’t miss me?” Richie pouted.

Eddie rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh. “Of course I’ll miss you, dummy.” He said, and Richie grinned. “But you have to go.”

“Fine.” Richie groaned, then he leaned over the console and planted a loud kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll miss you too, Eds.”

“Richie!” Eddie said, exasperated when Richie only stayed in his seat, grinning at Eddie.

“Okay, okay!” Richie said, finally getting out of the car. He waved at Eddie from outside, “Bye, Eds.”

Eddie waved back, and drove off, knowing very well that if he didn’t, Richie wouldn’t go inside. When he arrived at his house, sneaking in silently so that his mother wouldn’t hear him, he felt pathetic by how much he missed Richie already, even if he had just said goodbye to him, even if the had spent the night together, even if he would be seeing him again in a week.

He groaned, falling face first on his bed. He had thought keeping his feelings in check was hard when Richie was around, it turns out it’s even worse when he isn’t. He rolled over, noticing his yearbook had fallen to the floor.

He groaned, “Richie, you damn slob.” He muttered, stretching over the edge of the bed enough to pick it up. He peered over the pages, laughing at some pictures and cringing at some others, until he made it to the signatures section.

He found himself reading Aaron’s message over and over again. Eddie hadn’t been lying when he told Richie he was a good guy, but he also hadn’t been lying when he said it wouldn’t fair to him if Eddie went out on a date with him, especially since he was so hung up on someone else. His best friend, no less.

Eddie sighed, he wished it had been Richie who wrote that message.

He was about to close the yearbook when something caught his eye. Right under Aaron’s message, were two lines that Eddie was pretty sure weren’t there yesterday.

“I never took you for granted, granted I wish I had taken you out.” Eddie read, eyes widening both at the line and the handwriting. “What the fuck? What the fuck? ”

There was no mistaking who that handwriting belonged to, the same person who had filled half a page with countless ‘Eds’ and ‘Eddie Spaghetti’ and every joke he could think of that didn’t involve Eddie’s mom.

“What the fuck?” Eddie muttered again, breathing speeding up, scanning the page for something else that Richie could’ve written, like a ‘just kidding, Eds’ or a ‘haha, you fell for it didn’t you?” but there wasn’t anything like that. Part of him, knew Richie wouldn’t do something like that but Eddie made a habit of overthinking things and having his lifelong crush confess to him after years of pining felt too good to be true.

Eddie jumped from the bed, he couldn’t wait an entire week to confront Richie and he wasn’t doing this over the phone, because there were only two ways this could go, either Richie meant it and Eddie would very much like to kiss him or it was all a joke and Eddie would gladly punch him in the face. Either way, he needed Richie to be there in person.

He grabbed the yearbook, picked up his car keys and rushed outside.

“Eddie bear, is that you?” Sonia called from her bedroom.

“Shit.” Eddie muttered, he didn’t have time to deal with his mother, Richie would be leaving his house to go to the airport any moment now and Eddie would miss his chance to talk to him. “Yeah, Ma, I’m- I was making you breakfast but we ran out of- of milk, I’m going to get some.”

And before she could reply, either in agreement or to tell him there were several boxes of milk in the pantry, Eddie slipped through the door and ran to his car.

He made it to Richie’s in record time. There was a cab parked in front of the house, but Richie wasn’t outside. The front door was opened and Eddie rushed inside, running into Richie who was coming down the stairs, carrying a suitcase.

“Eds?” Richie asked, blinking at Eddie in confusion. “What are you doing here? You miss me already?” He said, smirking.

Eddie ignored the questions, instead he opened his yearbook and shoved it into Richie’s face, pointing at the two lines that had made him rush here. “Care to explain this ?”

Richie fixed his glasses, squinting at the words before his eyes widened comically. “That’s- that wasn’t me, Eds.” He said, but Eddie could see right through his lie.

“Cut the bullshit, Richie, I’ve been staring at your awful handwriting for more than half my life.”

“Shit.” Richie muttered, biting his lower lip, nervously. “I was kinda hoping I’d be on the other side of the country when you read that.”

“Because you knew I wouldn’t take the joke well?” Eddie asked, narrowing his eyes at Richie.

“The joke?” Richie asked, frowning. “Eddie, I wanted a whole country between us to spare me the inevitable rejection I knew was coming.”

Eddie stared at him, warily. “So it wasn’t a joke?”

Richie shook his head, “I- no. I meant it, what I wrote.”

Now Eddie’s eyes were the ones that widened, “Oh.”

Richie grimaced, refusing to look at Eddie. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, Eds, but Aaron’s message? I had the same idea, before he did. And I was going to, confess my feelings and shit that way, even if Stan said it was stupid, but I chickened out and I- ouch!” Richie’s rambling was cut off by Eddie using his yearbook to hit his friend, hard. “What the hell, Eddie?”

“What the hell yourself, Richie?” Eddie said, glaring at Richie.  “You can’t just write some cryptic message in my yearbook and disappear for a week!”

Richie knitted his eyebrows together. “You’re not- that’s what you’re mad about?” Eddie nodded. “Not the part where I caught feelings for you, potentially ruining our friendship?”

Eddie’s expression softened, hearing the worry in Richie’s voice. “You didn’t ruin our friendship, Rich.”

“I didn’t?”

“If you did then I did too.”

Richie’s eyes widened again, when the meaning behind Eddie’s word registered. “Do you mean- are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’m saying, I wished I’d taken you out too.” Eddie said, voicing the words Richie wrote in his yearbook. Even if he was ninety nine percent sure that Richie’s feelings mirrored his, saying the words out loud still made Eddie feel like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to take to jump.

But the way Richie’s eyes lit up, the biggest, dopiest grin appearing on his face at Eddie’s admission, made it worth the risk.

Eddie found himself smiling back, just as bright, until there was the sound of a car honking loudly.

“Fuck! I forgot my cab was here already.” Richie cursed, glaring at the door behind Eddie.

“Shit, your flight! You have to go!”

Richie groaned. “But I didn’t want to go before, I definitely don’t do now! I want to take you out on that date!” He said, whining like a kid.

Eddie smiled softly at him. “I do too, but your parents will kill you if you miss your flight and then we won’t get to go on our date.”

“ Fine .” Richie sighed, picking up his suitcase and dragging it behind him on his way to the door, shoulders hunched over, pouting.

Before he was out of the house, Eddie rushed over to him. “Wait! You forgot something.”

“What’s tha-”

Richie’s question was cut off by Eddie pulling him down by the lapels of his shirt, pressing his lips against Richie’s. He barely had time to register what was happening, before Eddie was pulling back, smirking up at him.

“I didn’t want to wait an entire week to do that.”

Richie sighed, staring at Eddie with a dopey smile and a dazed look. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Eddie chuckled, patting Richie’s chest. “Okay, now you really need to go.”

“I will miss you.”

“We already went through this earlier, Rich.” Eddie said, rolling his eyes, but Richie just blinked at him. “I already said I would miss you too.”

“But you’ll miss me more now that we’re boyfriends.” Richie told him, waggling his eyebrows. Then he frowned. “We are boyfriends, right?”

Eddie stood on his tiptoes, kissing Richie’s cheek. “If that’s what you want.”

“There’s nothing I want more, Eds.” Richie said, chasing Eddie’s lips as he pulled away but before he could kiss him, there was another honk.

“I’m coming!” Richie yelled at the cab driver. When he turned around to face Eddie again, he found him smirking. “What?”

“That’s what he said.” Eddie said, using Richie’s joke from earlier.

Richie let out a loud laugh, ruffling Eddie’s hair. “Eddie Spaghetti gets off a good one!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw the cab driver exit the car, no doubt tired of waiting. Eddie pushed a still laughing Richie towards the door. “Jesus christ, Richie, go !”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Richie said, stepping down the front steps.

“Call me when you land?” Eddie said from the front porch.

“And every day after that, Eddie my love!” Richie answered, waving at Eddie while getting in the car.

Eddie waved too, until the car and Richie were out of sight.

Then he drove back to his house and snuck in for a second time that day, thankful that his mother appeared to have fallen asleep again.

The empty feeling on his chest that came with Richie’s absence was back and Eddie searched for his phone, planning on texting Richie even if he wouldn’t see it until a few hours from now. But when he unlocked his phone he saw there was already a message from him.

‘Missing you already, Eds. I’m gonna spend the entire week coming up with the fucking best first date ever!’

The message was followed by a bunch of heart emojis that had Eddie fighting off a smile. And a blush.

He was already counting down the days for his boyfriend to come back.