v1rgorl - Tumblr blog

[v1rgorl]

Me because the Miles 42 fic community is dying rapidly (someone PLEASE SAVE IT):

on another note..stop writing my baby like he’s a heartless hoodlum.

[v1rgorl]

AHHHHHH love it

Hi Jade ! I loove your sunshine!readers, could I request one for Carmy ? Maybe someone calls her to get to the restaurant when hes feeling anxious to calm him down idk if thats good lol love ya !

ty for requesting <3 fem, 1.4k

Is it The Beef or The Bear? In your head, despite the wishes of everyone who works there (except for Ebra, who seems to have mixed opinions), you always call it The Beef. But the sign brags otherwise, and when you push open the doors, nothing inside is left to remind you of the old restaurant. It was a total gut. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” says a familiar, warm voice. 

You almost walk straight into her table, distracted looking for brown curls through the kitchen door’s little window. “Hey, Tina.” You grin at your second favourite chef. Your most favourite Sous. “You taking a break?” 

She offers you a round butter cookie from a sleeve of them. Her cup of coffee billows with steam. “Uh-huh.” 

“Hiding from a meltdown?” you ask, taking a cookie, fingers oily with butter, sugar grains falling to the floor. 

“It’s not like that,” she says. 

Well, what is it like? you think. 

Richie’s text wasn’t exactly descriptive. Need ur help with the little Bitch, he’d said. Then, when you didn’t answer, ASAP!!!!

You figured it must’ve been another rant. He’s prone to these… episodes of anger where he doesn’t realise he’s spinning out and hurting people who really care about him. You try to bring him out of it, but he’s a Berzatto. They’re all the same, sort of. Everything that’s wrong with them has been stamped into them a long, long time ago. 

He’s been better since Nat steel armed him into AA, but still. You tilt your head to one side, sugar cookie between your fingers, listening for the goings on in the kitchen. “Sydney’s here?” you ask. “I thought she was sick.” 

“Sydney gets sick, but she doesn’t take sick days,” Tina says with a loving shrug. 

You smile at her in brief goodbye for now and make your way to the kitchen, where you push in quietly. All their ‘Behind!’ and ‘Corner!’ and ‘Hands!’ makes you laugh, and you can’t take it seriously so you don’t, but you’re not trying to be dangerous in there either. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

Sydney and Richie look up from a cramped notebook at the table nearest to the door. There are employees you're unsure of prepping vegetables along the wall, but Carmy isn’t anywhere to be seen. 

“Fucking finally,” Richie says, before rubbing his face regretfully. “I’m sorry, it’s just– I texted you an hour ago, babe, you’re letting me down.” 

You laugh. “Sorry, babe,” you tease. “I have a job, just like you.” Your hands are cold where you tuck them under each armpit, crossing your arms. “Hi, Sydney. You feeling okay?” 

“No. He’s stressing me out.” 

“Which one?” 

“Both of them.” She looks like she might rub her face too. “I need him to be in here right now, he should be doing this, but he keeps walking away and– and not saying where he’s going.” 

“He is stressful,” you agree, though usually Carmy’s stress tends to bounce right off of you, “I’m gonna find him and strap him down for you.” 

Sydney just frowns. 

“I’ll see what’s up,” you say more seriously. “In the office?” 

“Out the back,” Richie says. “Smoking like his mother. He’s a fucking steam train lately.” 

It’s like they want to worry you. You give them grateful nods, sorry nods, and start to make your way out of the main kitchen, past the dishwashers and the dessert station to one of the back doors. Carmy isn’t your responsibility. You don’t have to apologise for him, you don’t have to mother him, he should commit to his responsibilities all on his own, but… it’s hard. You like apologising for him because his behaviour isn’t always on purpose, and he struggles with commitment for similar reasons. There’s this aching, stagnated grief in him that’s reawakening, there’s the stress of the restaurant, his business, the scars of the last ten years, and before that. You know it isn’t your job to come here and make him feel better, but isn’t it? When you love someone, it’s half the deal. 

Carmy shouldn’t yell at his friends, or employees. He shouldn’t chain smoke, and he shouldn’t be sitting on the low wall by the dumpsters shaking so hard with his head so low that you can see the first notch of his spine in his shirt. 

“Carmy?” you ask. 

His head ducks further down. You can hear him breathing, not too hard as to alarm you, and yet unrelaxed. 

You smile without thinking. You hate seeing him like this, but looking after him is a pleasure. “Hey, Carmen. Can I sit with you?” 

He forces his face up. “What are you doing here?” he asks. 

Trying to make sure he doesn’t tear another chunk out of Richie. “It’s my lunch break.” 

You perch on the wall beside him and snap your nearly forgotten cookie into two pieces, one side bigger than the other, which you offer him. 

Carmy takes it. Looks at it without expression, though that slowly turns to a dry ire you’ve felt directed your way a hundred times. “What the fuck is this?” 

“Cookie.” 

“I don’t want this.” 

“Could you just eat it?” You put your own half in your mouth in its entirety, all aligned to your teeth. It shatters into sweet, soft crumbs between your teeth. You talk with a hand over your mouth, “It’s not gonna kill you.” 

Carmy looks at it for a long time before he eats it. 

You watch him. He’s more tan than you’d think, that Italian gene kicking in, skin clinging to whatever sunshine it finds. He spends enough time inside that you’re surprised it can muster the energy. He looks better with it though, his curls look gold toned under the sun, and his clenched jaw doesn’t seem so harsh. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask eventually. Almost conversationally. 

“Nothing.” His hand shakes on his thigh. He turns his palm down to clasp his knee. 

“You sure?” 

“No.” 

“That one’s my favourite.” 

“What?” 

You poke toward a tattoo on his hand. It’s a simple flower, same style as most of his tattoos. “I like it ‘cos it’s just a flower.” 

“My least pretentious,” he guesses. 

“Something like that.” 

He tips his head back. 

“Richie texted me. He thinks I’m gonna… like, I’m gonna calm you down, I guess.” 

“You always do,” he says. 

You give him a long, smiley look. “So you’re in love with me?” you ask warmly, pushing up into a knee to wrap your arm behind him, hugging him before he can move away. “You’re totally fucked for me, Berzatto, that’s fucking crazy.” 

“Fuck off,” he laughs. 

You rub his arm, his skin hot in your hold. He touches your waist very, very lightly. “What am I supposed to do, anyway? I can’t cook. You and Syd are on your own.” 

“You already… already did enough.” He grabs your waist where you wobble on the brick wall, grit biting your knees, his hand comparatively soft. 

“Such a crush on me,” you tease in a whisper, his hair crushed under your cheek. 

You’re tempted to kiss his temple, but affection with Carmy is like oil and water sometimes. You give him a last protective squeeze and sit yourself down again. 

“Carm,” you say, “you know you can call me, right? Like, if you don’t feel okay.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” 

“Or text me. If that’s easier. It’s hard to say hard things out loud.” 

He laughs again. “Sorry.” 

“I know, I don’t– I don’t seem like I know what you’re talking about, I get it, but I do understand. N’ even if I didn’t, I don’t mind listening. Or laughing at you.” 

“What’s that about?” 

“The laughing?” you ask. “You tell me.” 

His hand slides behind your back in half a hug. “Guess it’s funny.” 

“Can I change my mind about the tattoo?” 

“The flowers not your favourite?” 

“No. You know which one I like best?” 

His thumb rubs into your back. “The snail.” 

“Absolutely the snail. You’re so fucking silly sometimes, I’m supposed to take you seriously when you’re yelling and red in the face with a snail on your arm?” 

You can’t see his face with your cheek to his shoulder, won’t know that he’s smiling at you with a rare aura of peace. Can’t see the wanting, either. 

[v1rgorl]

[v1rgorl]

꫶᳜᳝ᰭ ᅠ✿ Beijo Aveludado

͟ ͟✧? ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜ᰯ 悪党.

[v1rgorl]

in Germany it’s actually scissors rock paper

i cant believe americans on tv really say rock paper scissors like???? its paper scissors rock omg do u irl americans actually say rock paper scissors????

[v1rgorl]

PipRavi moments

[v1rgorl]

SEO IN GUK as MYUL MANG DOOM AT YOUR SERVICE (2021)

[v1rgorl]

Waittt this is so fun (help I really don’t know who to tag)

EVERYONE ON TUMBLR NEEDS TO DO THIS

[v1rgorl]

AHHH this is soooo good literally giggling rn

one year with luke castellan

↳ january 14 with annabeth chase

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of apollo!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: luke forces annabeth to go seek medical care from that one apollo kid he’s always fighting with

content: a little bit of a slow burn. luke makes like one dirty joke. unedited writing and banter

“Luke, you’re being—“ Annabeth cuts herself off with a wet cough. “—completely dramatic.”

The sight of them must look crazy to any of the early risers around camp. Because much like a cat handling her kittens, Luke has Annabeth by the scruff of her neck, dragging her in the direction of the Apollo cabin. With her tired and lethargic, he’s doing most of the heavy lifting.

“Kid, it’s been a week, and you’re still burning up. And the way you hack up phlegm is scaring the campers.”

“Yeah, so?” she groans, dragging her feet. “If they weren’t aware, that’s kind of how being sick works. That’s how the body reacts to—”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

She huffs, annoyed, but the congestion just makes it sound like a weird gargling noise. Luke snorts a laugh from in front of her, and she digs her heels into the ground harder. But he just continues walking with her in tow, undisturbed.

Annabeth doesn’t care how immature she’s sounding — she hates going to the camp healer. The bedside manner of those teenagers could use some work. The last time she’d landed herself in there, she was fighting the urge to put one of the healers in their own infirmary.

“And definitely don’t get smart with this healer I’m taking you to,” Luke adds, looking thoughtful. “‘Cause she won’t care how old you are. She’s evil.”

The Apollo cabin is only about fifty feet away now, and even though it’s dreary and cold out, the building still seems to be shimmering under the sun. Annabeth feels her stomach churn at Luke’s words, and she can’t tell if it’s one of her routine bouts of nausea or slight fear.

“Are you being serious?” she hisses, her voice dropping to a whisper as they grow nearer. “Why would you take me to her, then?”

“She’s apparently good at what she does,” he soothes. “She’s just mean. A monster in the form of a demigod, really.”

He releases her from his grasp just to knock on the door, and Annabeth sees the opportunity. But her exhaustion has dulled her reflexes, and the moment she’s bracing herself to run, Luke’s grabbing onto the orange fabric of her camp tee again.

Luke gives her a lopsided grin as the two of them hear footsteps on the other side of the door. “Plus, she’s really pretty.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes so hard it hurts. Her snarky response is cut off when the door opens.

Your eyes meet hers, and Annabeth is taken aback by the kindness in them — no apparent evilness like Luke had claimed. All kids of Apollo have that weird glow to them, and you’re no exception. Even though the door still isn’t fully open, just staring at your shiny smile gives the effect of having a flashlight shone directly into your eyes.

“Hi,” you say kindly, opening the door a little wider. She’s starting to get a closer look at your face, and she realizes Luke was right. You are pretty, and she remembers seeing you around before with Silena and Clarisse.

But she honestly hears about you more often than she actually sees you around camp.

Luke’s complaints of you always made their way to her ears eventually. Some days it was about how you were always trying to one up him, whether you were on his Capture the Flag team or not. Other days it was about how you would always go way too far during training and bruise his ribs, or nearly sprain his ankle.

With the amount of bodily harm you seemed to cause, Annabeth hadn’t even considered the idea of you being a healer.

You open the door wide enough for her to get a good look at you, and your easy demeanor is enough to put Annabeth at ease. If she were more awake, Luke’s mean words about you would’ve probably had her on edge, but it feels like you’re single handedly parting the clouds above you, so she relaxes easily.

“Can I help— Oh.”

Whatever it was about you that had Annabeth pacified in your presence is gone the moment you push the door open a little wider. Your smile flattens out into a line.

It’s like watching the sun disappear behind a cloud.

“Castellan,” you greet, expression unreadable. Annabeth doesn’t miss the way you look him up and down, cringing at the blood stain on the bottom of his shirt.

Luke grins, and Annabeth has half the mind to walk away before she has to hear the rest of this conversation. “Hey, sunshine.”

For a second, Annabeth wonders if Luke’s snark is going to end up with them having the door slammed in their faces. You give him an indecipherable look.

“You’re lucky your sister is here. I would’ve done your face in for that stupid nickname.”

Annabeth doesn’t doubt it. It had taken Luke a week to get over the black eye you had given him that one time.

“Sorry,” he says, but the amused look in his eyes says anything but. “Just excited to see my favorite girl, of course.”

Something changes in your eyes. You look smug when you say, “Oh, really? Well I don’t see—”

The amusement is wiped clean off his face. His teasing tone has long disappeared when he says, “Dude, fuck off.”

“Language,” you remind, giving a side glance to Annabeth. “But really, have you ever considered just—”

“I get it,” he says quickly, throwing Annabeth a weary look. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”

You look smug. Luke looks effectively humbled.

Annabeth’s head is spinning. The two of you go back and forth so quickly it’s hard for her to keep up.

“Anyway, is there anything I can do for you?” you ask Annabeth, turning away from him.

She glares at the boy. Plants her feet like the proverbial mule.

“No,” she says firmly. “I feel perfectly—”

”Annabeth’s sick. She’s had a fever for over a week now,” Luke offers, cutting off her lie. He seemed to have recovered from whatever conversation you two had just had. His tone is sweet again, his charm levels cranked back up to fifteen. He’s really laying it on thick.

You don’t seem to care much for the way he has that look on his face — the one he uses whenever he talks to pretty girls. Instead, you tilt your head at Annabeth curiously. She only shrugs, her mouth shut tight. There’s no use lying to you.

After looking her over, you reluctantly turn to face Luke. “It’s been over a week?”

“Almost two.”

You nod, the first remotely kind gesture aimed in his direction. After what Annabeth feels is a few awkward seconds of Luke staring expectantly at you while you assess her condition, you finally open the door for the both of them.

Luke tries to usher her in, and she nudges his hands away. Annabeth’s already resigned herself to her fate — she knows the drill. Still dragging her feet, she makes her way over to an empty bed at the edge of the room and slumps down, exhausted.

She’s pleasantly surprised to find the scratchy green sheets have been replaced with soft blue ones. And as she lets her head fall back against the cloud-like pillow at the head of the bed, she realizes a lot of the room has changed since she’d last been here. What had once been a dreary infirmary has been revived — posters that look like they should be in a pediatrician’s office cover the walls. A glance inside the storage closet shows organized shelves stocked to the brim.

Annabeth shuts her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at the photo of an owl wearing a stethoscope anymore, and listens to the sound of you flitting around at the other side of the room. There’s the quiet closing of cabinets and the sound of your sneakers on the wood as you gather what you need. She can hear whatever’s in the cabinets roll around as you shut the drawers of supplies quickly.

Annabeth sighs loudly. She just wants to take whatever medicine the camp bought from the local Walgreens and leave.

When Luke doesn’t say anything about her dramatics, Annabeth realizes belatedly that she can’t sense his presence at the end of the bed. She cracks open an eye in curiosity — and fights the urge to cringe.

He’s practically on your heels, watching as you do whatever healer-y stuff that it is you do. Annabeth knows for a fact that he has no idea what you’re doing, but he watches, a little too interested, as you take a knife and begin chopping something efficiently.

The reason why you’re using a common kitchen knife in an infirmary is beyond Annabeth’s knowledge. Maybe a new healing method? Or maybe it's a silent threat to get Luke to back away from you.

“You still sore?” Annabeth hears him ask, picking up a metal object off a desk and tossing it into the air.

Confusion paints your face as you set the knife aside. “What are you talking about?” You catch the object on his next throw, unamused, and hiss at him to stop touching things.

“You know, after last night.”

Annabeth watches your eye twitch. Luke smiles, like he knows he’s won something. “After we sparred?”

He just grins, picking up the object again while you blink at him, stunned. “‘Course. What else would I be talking about?”

Annabeth has a feeling that she’s missing out on a second, more unspoken conversation.

The point of the kitchen knife is tapped lightly against Luke’s chest, but he doesn’t break eye contact for a second. “You’re funny, Castellan.”

“I know.”

The two of you move around your table in silence, with the occasional murmurings of Luke as he opens his mouth and asks what sounds like a stupid question. At one point, you pretend you can’t hear what he’s saying over the sound of you crushing something with a mortar and pestle.

“Why haven’t you been resting?”

After a beat of silence, Annabeth blinks hard to clear her vision. It had taken a little too long for her to realize that you and Luke were at her side. You’re standing over her and Luke is sat in a chair by the bed, giving her a questioning look. Her face warms, adding heat to her already raised body temperature.

“Excuse me?”

“You were leading Capture the Flag last week,” you point out. “But Castellan says you’ve been sick for a while. Why haven’t you been resting?”

She bristles. What good demigod gets put out of commission for two weeks over a simple sickness? Any normal demigod, sure, but she was Annabeth Chase. She could overcome anything, especially the average flu.

“I’m not that sick. And I’ve had the flu before, it should go away any day now.”

You nod at Luke, and he helps prop Annabeth up on a pillow, much to her dismay. A swirling goblet is placed in her hands, the liquid inside purple and shimmery. It’s so dark in color she can’t see to the bottom.

“Something me and my dad made,” you explain, a tinge of pride in your voice. “It uses some medicinal herbs and less than a tablespoon of ambrosia. Just enough to kickstart your immune system, but not enough to heal any major wounds.”

Annabeth hides her surprise. You had developed this with Apollo? The gods visiting their children wasn’t unheard of, but it was obviously not an everyday thing. Even claiming their children seemed to be a load of work for them.

“You just have to drink the whole cup. After that, you should start feeling better in about twelve hours.“

After a weary glance, Annabeth nods, draining the glass sip by sip. It doesn’t quite taste like what she’s usually reminded of when she eats ambrosia, but there’s still that umami taste that warms her chest with the comfort of a long lost home cooked meal.

“You’re going to need to make that for me,” Luke says after a few minutes of silence. “You hit me so hard once, I lost hearing in my right ear.”

You snort. “I don’t think drinking it could save you from your atrocious form when we do hand-to-hand.”

Luke is fast enough to curl his foot around your ankle so you stumble when you take a step back. But he isn’t fast enough to block the metal appliance you throw at his face.

Annabeth works to drain the rest of the liquid so she doesn’t have to sit through another few minutes of you two arguing. She’s almost done with the goblet when you make a gesture at Luke for something. Half yawning, he haphazardly sticks out his arm in your direction.

Your responding gaze could rival Medusa’s.

“Couldn’t even bother to read the time for me? It’s a digital watch, you don’t even have to—”

“—Well, Sunshine, I just thought that since you obviously do everything better than me—“

“Don't start.”

Annabeth almost laughs at how Luke did the one thing he told her not to do — get smart with you. He retracts his arm, huffing. “It’s eight fifteen.”

You’re smiling when you face Annabeth. “Then you’ll get off of bedrest by dinner.”

“Bedrest?” she echoes in disbelief. “I’m supposed to sit here for twelve hours doing absolutely nothing?”

“No. I expect you’ll be asleep for a few of those hours. The treatment kind of acts like an antihistamine, so it could make you a little drowsy.”

Her head is spinning. She’s being taken out by a mortal sickness.

You take the empty goblet from her and hand it to Luke.

“If you’re going to annoy me while I work, you can at least wash this for me.”

“Don't you have a servant to do that for you? I’m sure that one Aphrodite kid would love to.”

You make the same face you made when you realized Luke was outside your cabin, so Annabeth assumes you don’t like the aforementioned Aphrodite kid very much either.

“At least leave the cup in the sink.”

Luke mumbles under his breath what is likely a mockery of your words, but you pay him no mind as he slinks away.

The cabin is quiet for a few moments, and Annabeth accepts the cool cloth you place on her forehead thankfully. Then, there’s the sound of running water, and she stares behind your head to see Luke using a sponge to scrub out the interior of the goblet.

You take his seat next to Annabeth and give her a heavy look. “Even the best of us have to rest, you know.”

“I know.”

“So it’s okay if you take off the rest of the day.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

She shrugs, turning the washcloth over. “Yes. I just don’t want to.”

You smile in the weird shiny way you do. “You’re exactly like Luke said you were.”

Annabeth doesn’t say anything about how you’re calling him by his first name now, but she perks up at your words. You and Luke were talking about her?

“Which is?”

Your icy gaze usually directed at Luke thaws a little when you turn back in the direction of the sink. The both of you watch as he dries the inside of the goblet, thoroughly wiping it down. “He said you’re smart. And an excellent counselor.”

Her spine straightens the slightest bit. It wasn’t often that Luke was willing to praise people to their faces, so she would take anything she could get.

“But he also said you can be stubborn. And prideful.”

Of course he did.

“And even though those can be flaws, I do admire that about you.”

You look pensive, so Annabeth waits for you to continue.

“I’m not going to force you onto bedrest.”

The one eighty from your previous decision is making Annabeth’s head spin. She thinks that’s what you wanted.

You give her a look that’s thick with wisdom and experience. For a second, she can picture you amongst her older siblings, with their steely gazes and sharp stares. “But if you keep at this, you’re going to face a fate a lot worse than twelve hours of bed rest.”

You don’t say anything else, letting her sit with your cryptic words. The conversation ends when Luke walks over with the newly shined goblet, and you take it from him to put everything back in their proper places. He sits down in the spot you vacated with a heavy sigh of his own.

Annabeth can’t tell if it’s the placebo effect, but she is beginning to feel a little exhausted. She sits in a comfortable silence as she joins Luke, who’s watching quietly as you saunter around the room, deep in work.

Her eyelids haven’t quite fluttered shut yet when Luke mumbles something from next to her.

“I hear your bedrest’s been lifted. You headed out soon?”

Annabeth hesitates. She thinks about her counselor duties. And she thinks about rotting in this cot doing nothing.

And then she thinks about you.

She doesn’t waver when she says, “I think I’m gonna rest for a while.”

Luke’s brows raise. “You are?”

Trust me, I’m surprised too, she wants to say.

“Your friend,” Annabeth says, hesitating over the word. She isn’t quite sure what the two of you classify as. “She’s not evil like you said. She’s really smart.”

What seems like a grin spreads across his face — Annabeth can’t tell with the way everything is unfocusing.

Luke’s voice is surprisingly light. “I guess you’re right.”

notes: they’ll get together in a year. trust

if i added you to the wrong taglist let me know and ill fix it!

1 year with luke: @marshymallo @ghostisstuff @tayswiftlovebot @dangelnleif @bipstargirl @fearlessmoony @lyssaluvss @badcoping @dorcas4meadowes @surftrips @inejwraiths @lizziesfirstwife @randomnpc456 @pleasingregulus @solecitoszn @supercutszns @superswaggycooch @kiyasoup @teatimedisaster @sgmianne @otchae @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @mclando81 @softtina

general luke taglist: @chasebeth @silkenthusiasts @urmomsbananabread @sunny747 @randomgurl2326 @repostingmyfavs @au-ghosttype @mrsaluado @holy-macncheese-balls @catluvwr @katemlk @lukecastellandefender @wonuskie @kitkat-writes-stuff

[v1rgorl]

riordanverse - luke castellan. son of hermes. betrayed camp. cabin eleven counselor

‘ethan, me, all the unclaimed. don’t let it… don’t let it happen again’

[v1rgorl]

Awww this is sooo cutesy

A bunch of cuties in love | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, nicknames (i think that's about it?)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations. 

Request: Hotch request: BAU!Reader is Jack’s favorite and always spends the day with them when he’s brought along to the office. They have a cute bonding moment that Hotch secretly watches. Cue the “oh god I’m in love with them aren’t I”

A/N: it’s been two months today since I made this blog, and it’s been wild, it’s been fun, and it’s been a little teary. thank you for the love and support! Please enjoy this cute little hotch piece, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I’d love to hear what you think! Also, I miss old Disney😭

9:23.

On the days you weren’t working on a case, and the only thing you really needed to catch up on was paperwork, your usual start time was 8:30. Yet almost an hour had gone by and he wasn’t in his office like he usually would be.

With a punctual Unit Chief like Aaron Hotchner, it was a shock, and a little nerve-wracking that he was late. 

You’d lie if you didn’t say you were getting a little worried, taking into account the last and only time he’d been late - Foyet attacking him in his own home, leaving him with long-lasting trauma, scars, and without his family. 

You'd never forget that day, and every day after where he was left to suffer, laying the blame on himself. No matter how many times you said it, how many times Rossi patted him on the back, reminding him it wasn't his fault, you knew a part of him still didn't believe it.

And the part of you that cared about him, maybe a little more than you should, didn't have the heart to watch him do this to himself - the silent guilt, the long empty looks. 

You’ve known him awhile, seen him through many of his ups, and just as many as his downs. You’d seen him laugh in glee and beam with happiness, you’d seen him lose it in anger and anguish and you’d seen him cry in heartbreak. 

So much of your life spent beside him, so many memories linked with him, and your team. And much of it you knew was friendly love - your love for Emily and Spencer, JJ and Morgan, Penelope and Rossi. But the love you felt for him was just a tiny bit different, deeper, not the friendly kind. 

You’d only recently started to understand what you were really feeling for him, as recent as the last few weeks. Still new and a little unexplainable at times, you were learning to balance that, within your friendship.

You didn’t think you wanted to pursue anything, right now. It had been a little over two years since he’d lost Haley, since he’d needed to start navigating his life as a single dad, a widower. 

You could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh as the day it had happened. You knew he was managing, but it was still apparent, that it was hitting them both hard.

And Jack? He was a little ray of sunshine in the otherwise gruesome life all of you led - the same could be said about Henry. But Henry was Reid's favorite, as his godfather, you knew the bond between them was unbreakable. 

But Jack? You were his favorite, and he was yours. 

He was your little buddy, your partner in all things art, cartoons, and Disney shows. He was your little helper during all things baking - you'd babysat once and he'd requested chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies and you'd been more than happy to help him make them.

He was a natural baker and a little taster. 

Your love for the little cutie ran as deep as your feelings for his dad.

At the end of the day though, you were a friend, a shoulder both could use to lean on and rely on. You were comfortable in your role within their little family and weren't looking to make any changes then.

9:28.

You were playing with your watch, already having decided you’d be giving him a call if he didn't arrive by 9:30.

Worry was making your hands sweat, and just as you went to wipe them on your pants, the door to the bullpen opened, and in walked a very frantic Hotch - his tie was a little crooked, shirt a little wrinkled, and Jack - a little backpack on his back, and a curious look paired with a timid smile.

Aaron's eyes searched the bullpen, as did Jack's, the little Hotchner noticing you seconds before his father did. You stood up, watching as the blond pulled away from his dad, and on a little run, made his way towards you. 

“Cutiee.” He called out, using the nickname you called him, to address you too. You leaned down when he was a few steps away, accepting his hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Hi, cutie.” You greeted him, a wide smile on your face. Hotch had made his way over to you by then, giving you a barely-there smile, but his eyes shone.

“You're late.” You started, pulling to your full height.

“Yeah, Jessica was called on an emergency at the last minute, and Liah is away on a hiking trip, so here we are.” Liah was Hotch's neighbor, she looked after Jack for a few hours when Hotch couldn't stay with him, or Jess was busy.

He looked at his watch, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“I have a meeting with Strauss…well, right now. Can you please watch him until I get done?” 

“Go, don't make her wait. We'll be okay and we're going to have fun. Right, Jack?” You watched him nod at both you and his dad before Hotch exhaled.

“You're a lifesaver. Be good for Y/N, okay buddy.” Another nod from Jack, and he was on his way to Strauss's office.

‘’Okay Jack, let's see if Aunt Penelope can download a few episodes of ‘The Suite Life’ for us, and then we'll go color and draw for a while. Does that sound good to you?” 

“Very good. Can I also have orange juice?” He asked, taking your hand in his small, soft one, fingers wrapping around your own.

“Let's go see if we have any.” You walked towards the small communal kitchen space, checking the fridge and then you checked the pantry…and, “Bingo. Let's go see the lair.” You led him to Penelope's office.

“Knock, knock, may us mortals enter?” You joked, making your little partner giggle. 

“Us?” Her voice rang from the other side of the door.

“I have sir Hotchner with me. The smaller one.”

“Hey,” Jack said in outrage

“My favorite Hotchner.” You added.

Penelope pulled the door open, beaming at both of you, before she made space for you to enter. 

“Jack, my love, hi,” She raised her hand, letting him give her a high five. Even though she was affectionate, Jack wasn’t as much, especially after Haley. He only hugged a few people now - Jess, his dad, and surprisingly, you. 

It really showed how comfortable he was with you.

“What brings you to my tech cave?” She asked. You raised your brows at him, prompting him to do the talking. 

“Can you, please, download a few episodes of Zack and Cody for us?” His voice rang with its usual child calm and sweetness, fingers intertwined in front of him. 

Penelope's smile softened even more, “Sure thing, sweetie,” Her eyes turned towards you then, “Your tablet?”

“Yes, please.” You knew it was a work tablet, but no one had to know.

“Any requests?” She asked the little guy.

“You pick.”

“Okay-dokey. Should have it in about 10 minutes, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunt Penelope.”

“Thanks Pen.” You gave her air kisses before you led Jack out and towards his father's office. 

His day had started rocky, hell, the whole night had gone that way. 

Jack had woken up from a nightmare - twice at that. After the second time, he’d asked Aaron to sleep in his bed, too scared and sad to stay in his room.

He’d snoozed his alarm, just once, and had a hard time waking his son up too. He’d had 20 minutes to get himself ready, but Jessica had called 10 minutes before she was supposed to arrive - apologizing because she’d been called on an emergency at work. 

Aaron had to rearrange his whole morning then, already aware he’d be late for work. He’d had to get Jack and his backpack ready and cook him breakfast. All of that, and be in the office before his 9:30 meeting with Strauss. 

Breakfast and preparing Jack for a day at the BAU, he’d done successfully. Arriving on time had been a little tricky, with barely 2 minutes to spare. 

But when he’d walked into the bullpen, Jack spotting you just seconds before he did, and he’d watched your smile grow, he’d known all would be okay. 

Watching you with Jack always brought a warm feeling within him, like he was watching something sacred. You were always patient and kind, always interested in listening to him talk, even though he was a quiet kid, who appreciated quality time more. 

You gave him that too, and a lot of it - you watched cartoons and shows with him. Colored and drew, baked cookies, and played with him whenever he wanted. Any time spent with Jack was about what he wanted, what he liked doing, and above all, making him comfortable. 

Even if it meant cleaning flour off your kitchen floor and whatever had gotten in the drawers too. 

He appreciated, even loved the bond you had with his son, every smile, every hug, and every minute you spend with him. He loved hearing about you from Jack - what you’d done together, what you’d told him, the stories, the jokes, the conversations. 

Hearing his son proclaim you as his favorite person in the BAU had made his heart soar. Taking into account all the time you spent with him, it wasn’t really a surprise. He bonded hard, but once he did, he never went back.

He was much like Aaron himself in that regard. His trust had to be earned, as did his friendship, and it required hard work. Jack was much the same. And you’d successfully earned both of theirs with your beautiful and caring personality. 

He exhaled a breath, checking his watch, step fast, and briefcase in hand. 

11:18.

His meeting with Strauss had run longer than he’d anticipated - over an hour and a half. Diplomacy, politics, budgets, and cuts, they’d run through countless things, half of that meeting already fully blacked out from his memory. 

He was tired - every meeting with Strauss left him drained. Worried,  about Jack and his state of mind after last night. All he wanted to do was get to his office and check up on his son. 

Walking into the bullpen for the second time that day, he quickly made his way towards his office, only to stop short at the window. The blinds were open, having forgotten to close them last night, so he had a clear and full view of his office.

You were sat on the couch close to the armrest, Jack cuddled against you, cheek squished against your collarbone, face almost buried in your neck. 

Your work tablet sat propped on the coffee table, and your arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close. His eyes were almost closed, your thumb running soothingly on his back. 

He watched, mesmerized by the scene. He felt himself soften, all of him. His face, the furrow in his brow, and the tight set of his lips. His whole body, his heart, suddenly at peace. 

For months he'd observed the kindness you showed everyone - the families of victims, heartbroken by the injustice of life. Passersby, people you might never see again. Your team, especially, your work family. Jack, and even Aaron himself. 

And as he watched you with his son, the one person left in this world who truly loved him, no matter his rights or wrongs - he couldn't help but feel himself unravel. 

Every little thought he'd had about you, every feeling he might have somehow suppressed in order to protect himself and his child, they all attacked him, in seconds. 

Because the truth was, you earned his trust, his friendship, and somehow along the way, you'd won his heart as well.

Right at that moment, his heart pounded in need, in adoration, in pure, clear love. Love he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Haley. Love, he'd frankly hadn't felt in years, ever since he’d put his signature down on the dotted line. 

He wanted to get home to see this. He wanted to see you put Jack to bed, and kiss his forehead with a whispered ‘good night’.

He wanted to stroke your cheek tenderly, pull you into a kiss that made you melt, and stroke a fire within you like no one else could. 

He wanted to tell you he loved you - in the car, as he drove you to work. In the kitchen during breakfast and dinner. In his office, a few stolen moments as you worked. And under the sheets, while you made love. 

And even through the fear that gripped him in a vice, of rejection, separation, and even trust - he still wanted to love you, as if he was loving someone for the first time again. 

“Everything okay, Aaron?” David asked, passing on the way to his office. 

Aaron barely spared him a glance, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, it's okay.”

He pushed the door to his office open and walked in, greeted by his new favorite sight, and his two favorite people. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[v1rgorl]

i am going to obsess over this male character in a way that is so lesbian

[v1rgorl]

you dislike Luke Castellan because he disagreed with an oppressive government system and actually took action to change the abusive ways him and his peers have been forced to follow for millennia.

I dislike Luke Castellan because in the Titans Curse he manipulated Annabeth, who he raised as his little sister, into holding up the sky, the FUCKING sky, for over 20 hours and had the audacity to walk away as though he was completely apathetic towards it while she begged and pleaded with him to help her.

we are not the same.

[v1rgorl]

yes.

So we all agree that Brisket Five is the real OG Five and the Five we had in s4 was an evil doppelganger right

[v1rgorl]

[v1rgorl]

Didn't think I could be even more furious about s4... and then I saw the cut scenes. They *cut that* for ten fucking minutes of vomiting and baby shark. They cut Five being *caring*, they cut Rob acting his goddamn heart out. That's literally the most concern Five shows for his siblings this whole fucking season in a minute long scene. And goddamn but Klaus getting... an actual moment, actual resolution, I genuinely teared up and felt more on the edge of my seat/had more of an emotional reaction at the end of the AA meeting than I had to the ENTIRE FUCKING SEASON 4.

[v1rgorl]

Brisket Five!! the newly and improved Five 😀👍(forgetting the og Five for now)

Woohoo!! WOOOOOO-