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marvelislove10 · 2 years ago

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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!

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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.”

#Joe burrow #Joe burrow x ofc #Joe burrow x reader #Joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow oneshot #Terra writes fanfiction

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loisfreakinglane · 11 months ago

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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

#personal

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finlaure13 · 2 years ago

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I posted 3,622 times in 2022

68 posts created (2%)

3,554 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@musette22

@rainbowkisses31

@everythingfox

@justarandomgirly

@steverogersnotebook

I tagged 3,451 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#sebastian stan - 1,100 posts

#bucky barnes - 436 posts

#animals - 371 posts

#chris evans - 366 posts

#marvel cinematic universe - 342 posts

#pets - 290 posts

#cats - 287 posts

#cat - 276 posts

#steve rogers - 245 posts

#captain america - 203 posts

Longest Tag: 117 characters

#the confidence and tolerance that he developed after all those years of marvel press junketing is incredible to watch

My Top Posts in 2022:

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28 notes - Posted May 28, 2022

Making a mid-1800s wool skirt.

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31 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

Everything the creator of Our Flag Means Death has said about a season 2

Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!

By Zosha Millman on April 18, 2022 6:15 pm

Photo: Aaron Epstein/HBO Max

Our Flag Means Death still doesn’t have a second season. What gives?

It’s a surprising decision given the outpouring of love the show has been steadily receiving on social media and the increasing popularity among other HBO Max content. Even Our Flag Means Death creator David Jenkins says he’s not sure what the holdup is.

“It’s a rough one to not pick up on after what happened at the end of it,” Jenkins told The Los Angeles Times in early April. “I hope they figure it out. I hope they want to do more. I know everyone on the show wants to.”

In the same interview, Taika Waititi (who stars as Blackbeard and executive produces the series, in addition to directing the pilot): “I don’t know anything. I just think that they should because it makes sense. Also, I need to know what happens next. [Laughs]”

While the wait is certain to be agonizing, Jenkins and crew have alluded to things they’d like to see from the breakout show, were it to be renewed. Here’s everything we know about season 2 of Our Flag Means Death so far.

[Ed. note: As one might expect, this post gets into some spoilers for the end of season 1. Ye be warned.]

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58 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

This man boy.

173 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

See the full post

314 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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givemefandom · 5 years ago

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

#arron #arron dunworth #arron banks #arron fletcher #genevieve arron #arron jiron #phase #shower thoughts #shower thots #yes i just tagged the most popular Aarons #phases #its not a phase mom #throwback #i wanna die #jesus #sexy jesus #haha

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masterwords · 3 years ago

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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.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds #mortch #hotchgan #fanfiction #90s AU #absolute complete fluff #hotchappreciationweek

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years ago

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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.

1K notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

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

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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perlukafarinn · 3 years ago

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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”

#spn #dean #cas #long post #results are probably skewed by the polls receiving a very different number of votes #but whatever this was just in good fun

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mcmusing · 3 years ago

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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.

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