#( if that makes any sense....and so I think she finds comfort in that )

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

I'm sorry guys I'm trying but I just cannot summon any emotion, love or hate, for Taylor Swift. People pretending her songs are poetry and I feel nothing. People talking about how her music is trash and the first group are horrible makes me feel nothing. I don't understand how you can hate this woman or her fans because I don't understand how you can rouse that much emotion towards her. I tried to listen to a song from an album I think she put out recently (?) that everyone's mad about and my first instinct was to compare it to elevator music and then I realised that that was wrong because elevator music makes me feel a sense of comfort and/or reminds me of my favourite scene from Mr and Mrs Smith, both mildly positive emotions. I don't get how you can love or hate this woman. I don't get how you can love or hate her fans. The only way I can make myself feel anything at all for Taylor Swift is to remind myself about her private jet so I have something to be angry about, and you're really scraping the absolute bottom of the emotional barrel when your sole retreat is the old 'let's pull out the carbon footprint of the stuff we hate and ignore impact of the stuff we like' chestnut. I don't understand the swifties or the haters. How do any of you find the energy to be invested in either direction in this unseasoned white rice of an artist or the people who listen to her.

[helen-with-an-a]

Anxiety pt 2

Hiiiii. So I've had a few requests for a 2nd part to Anxiety. I'm not quite sure I like the end but I think I like it overall, if that makes sense. I'm slowly working my way through my inbox, so if you have any requests, please send them through. This is inspired by the video from the Everton match where Jonas may or may not have pushed Viv (I think we all know the video).

Thank you for all the support from everyone. It's been lovely to see it <3

AWFC x Reader ; Viv Miedema x Reader (platonic)

Description: Jonas gets into it with R

TW: Jonas; Discussions of anxiety

Word Count: 2.4k

Since you had begun to open up to Viv about your struggles, life was... easier? You think it was easier. It was definitely easier not to have to pretend you were fine all the time. Allowing yourself to lean on people, even just a little bit, lifted a significant weight off your shoulders. However, the prospect of embracing open and honest conversations was a daunting challenge. You had never relied on anyone before and making that shift required a significant adjustment.

Before Viv, you had mastered the art of hiding. You had become adept at concealing your trembling hands when a comment struck you the wrong way. You had learned to regulate your breathing in isolation whenever you faced a question that made your heart race. These coping mechanisms had become so ingrained in your identity that letting them go felt like losing a part of yourself. Your silent panic had been a defining aspect of who you were, and now … without it … you found yourself questioning your very identity.

Despite the unease, everything seemed better now that Viv had been deemed fit to return to training. Her steady gaze and quiet encouragement had become a source of comfort. Under her guidance, you were slowly becoming more open. The walls you had built around yourself were beginning to crumble, brick by brick. You still shied away from the larger personalities within the squad – Kyra and Katie were particularly intimidating for you. Their boldness and confidence seemed to highlight your own insecurities. However, you were finding comfort in smaller, one-on-one interactions. Gentle conversations with Kim provided a safe space for you to turn. Standing next to Lotte offered a level of protection, she happily took the conversation away from you, yet let you speak whenever you felt brave enough. Viv never pushed too hard, understanding that your journey was a delicate one. You found yourself being bolder whenever she was around, even going so far as to joke around with Leah and Beth.

There were still moments of struggle, of course. There were times when the old habits of hiding, and self-reliance reasserted themselves. But now, there was a difference. Now, you had someone to turn to, someone who understood.

Everything was going well. You were more confident in your play – stepping onto the pitch didn't make you feel like you were suffering a heart attack, although you still felt sick at the thought of starting. Your training was improving, too; you no longer panicked at every interaction or overthought a small comment made by a teammate. The tension was a constant presence, affecting everyone's performance and morale.

It was an open secret that Jonas was… temperamental at best. It was something you grew to learn incredibly quickly. One moment, he was speaking normally, and the next, you were being shouted at in front of your work colleagues and friends – often leaving you with whiplash if you weren't on the receiving end and shaking in your boots if you were. His unpredictable nature added a layer of anxiety to an already stressful environment. The fear of his sudden outbursts kept you on edge, making it difficult to fully relax and enjoy the ball at your feet. You knew Viv was growing more concerned. With every flinch or wary look, she threw daggers at Jonas, even going so far as to say something to him. It wasn't without consequence either; if someone spoke to him, in public or private, they would often find themselves out of the Starting XI or not utilised as a sub the next game.

It was the Everton match where things came to a head. Tensions had been high for weeks now, especially since Viv's return to matchday fitness. You had been promised some game time. It was supposed to be an easy win, and you had been assured more than your usual 15 minutes. As the match approached, the anticipation and anxiety built up. You could feel the familiar weight on your chest. In, two, three … out, two three. Nice and slow.

"Ademen, lieverd." Viv's hand came to rest on your shoulder. You nodded, your hand reaching out to find hers. Her touch was comforting, a steady anchor that helped calm your racing heart. She squeezed your hand gently, nodding and smiling her reassurance, her eyes conveying her belief in you.

The locker room was a flurry of activity, teammates bustling about, lacing up boots, adjusting shin guards, and sharing last-minute strategies. The noise level rose and fell in waves, punctuated by bursts of nervous laughter and snippets of conversation. Amidst this controlled chaos, Viv's presence was like a lighthouse in the storm. Her quiet confidence was infectious as she drew you in for a final hug.

As the team filed out onto the pitch, the roar of the crowd hit you like a wall of sound. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The energy of the stadium was palpable, the anticipation almost tangible. You and Viv made your way to the bench, settling in and preparing to watch the game unfold.

From the sidelines, you could see the intensity of the match from the very start. Everton was playing with unexpected energy, turning what was supposed to be an easy win into struggle for the full 3 points. The tension was so thick you could almost taste it, and Jonas's voice cut through the air with sharp commands and criticisms. His temperamental nature added to the pressure, and you could sense the unease among your teammates. Despite the mounting anxiety, you tried to focus on the game. Viv's steady presence beside you was a constant source of comfort, but it was a struggle to keep your nerves in check. As the match wore on, you knew your moment was approaching. You glanced at the clock, your heart rate quickening with each passing minute, the sound of it pounding in your ears.

Finally, the call came. You stood up, shaking out your limbs and taking a few deep breaths. Viv gave you a reassuring nod, her eyes full of support. "You've got this," she whispered. You nodded and stepped out to start your warmup. The repetitive movements are a familiar source of comfort. You were waiting by the 4th Official, completing your final pre-match rituals, shaking your arms and taking a few deep breaths. Jonas was next to you. You weren't entirely comfortable with how close he was or the hand resting lightly on your shoulder, but you would be moving soon enough.

You waited.

… And waited.

You looked to the 4th Official; two chances for you to step onto the pitch had passed. Had she forgotten about you?

"Umm…" you piped out, blinking as she dismissed you slightly. You turned to Jonas. "Uhh," you repeated.

"Sit down." He all but shouted at you. You stepped back, stumbling into the 4th Official.

"Sorry, sorry," you whispered.

The sting of Jonas's dismissal hit hard, your confidence wavering. You glanced at Viv, who was watching with a worried expression. The familiar weight of anxiety began to press down on you again, but you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Viv's eyes remained on you, a silent source of encouragement. You couldn't move. Your muscles had locked, and your mind raced. What did he mean 'sit down'? Were you not supposed to be subbing on?

"Did you hear me? Sit. Down!" He was definitely shouting now. You clearly weren't moving quickly enough for him, as the hand on your shoulder roughly pushed you towards the bench.

You didn't really see much of what happened next. But you saw it later when the video got released on Twitter.

The camera had been trained on you, clearly anticipating your substitution. You looked absolutely terrified, but that was a normal expression for you to have during a game. In the video, you can see you look up to the official standing next to you before you turn to Jonas for answers. Thankfully, they were too far away to pick up the audio, but you could distinctly see your step back, Jonas’s angry face and the rough shove.

Viv was next to you in a flash. One arm pulled you into her side, and her other hand flailed wildly. Her lips moved too fast to see the actual words, but it was clear she was furious.

The events following that moment were a blur. You remembered Jonas's face contorting with rage, his voice rising above the din of the stadium. Teammates turning to look, confusion and concern etched on their faces. You could see the girls on the bench exchanging glances, their brows furrowed. You were shaking, confused about what was happening around you while trying to get back to the bench. Viv stood firm, though, her anger matching his, not backing down. You felt her hand grip the top of your arm slightly, grounding you, giving you a focal point amidst the chaos. Her other hand gestured animatedly as she argued with Jonas, her voice cutting through the noise. You couldn't make out her words, but her tone was unmistakable.

Jonas finally stormed off, his arms flinging in the air as he moved past you both, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. You could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. Viv stayed close, her presence a comforting barrier against the outside world. She guided you back to the bench, her arm still wrapped around your shoulders.

As you sat down, the adrenaline began to wear off, leaving you feeling drained and shaky. Viv sat beside you, her hand still on your shoulder. She didn't say anything, just stayed with you, her fingers rubbing soft circles into your skin. The game continued, but your mind was elsewhere. The roar of the crowd, the calls of the players, and the commentary from the coaches all blended into a distant hum. You focused on your breathing, trying to regain some form of calm. In, two, three... out, two, three. Nice and slow. Viv's hand on your shoulder rose and fell with your breaths, a comforting rhythm. In, two, three... out, two, three. You could breathe better, but every exhale was jumpy, the exhale coming out short and staccato

You didn't really notice the full-time whistle or Viv disappearing from your side. You didn't register Lotte, guiding you back to the lockers. It wasn't until you were placed in the cubby, a too-big jumper being tugged over your head, that you became aware of your surroundings. You blinked slowly, looking up at Lotte.

"Hey, you back with us?" She asked gently.

"Sorry," you looked away, ashamed of your previous panic.

"No, no, no. Do not apologise, especially not for anxiety." You nodded, not believing what she was saying. You always felt like you needed to apologise for your nervousness, particularly when you were helped through it by someone else – something about relying on them to guide you always sat a little funny. You should be able to do this yourself. You shouldn't have to rely on someone to do it for you.

"What happened anyway?" Lotte asked gently. She had been on the pitch at the time, but she had seen the commotion from where she was standing.

"I don't know," you answered honestly. "He told me to go warm up, so I did. And then I was standing by the Official, ready to go on, but nothing was happening. I … I just asked what was going on. I promise I didn't do anything." You began to panic again. Was it your fault? You didn't really know. One moment, everything was fine, and the next, you were being shouted at and pushed away. "I'm sorry, it didn't do anything. I promise." You were crying now, your body shaking as you rushed out your apologies.

"Oh, honey," she said, pushing her arms around you in an awkward hug.

When you didn't calm down after a few minutes, like Lotte and the girls around you expected, they also began to panic a little. Your usual support system, Kim and Viv, weren't back yet. Lotte looked around helplessly, hoping someone would know what to do. The other girls exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to help you.

"It's okay, just breathe," Lotte whispered, trying to soothe you. She rubbed your back in slow circles, but you were still shaking, tears streaming down your face.

Finally, Katie stepped forward, her voice firm but kind. "Hey, listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong, okay? This is on him. Not you."

You looked up at her, eyes red and puffy. "But I… I just—"

"No buts," Katie interrupted gently. "We've all been there. It's tough, but it's not on you. We're a team; we look out for each other."

Lotte nodded in agreement, tightening her hug. "Exactly. You don't have to go through this alone. We're here for you, always."

Slowly, their words began to sink in. You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself. The panic was still there, but it was a little less overwhelming with their support.

The door to the changing room crashed open; Kim and Viv appeared, concerned expressions on their faces. Viv was the first to spot you in the centre of the little huddle of players.

"What happened?" Kim asked, her voice urgent.

Lotte quickly filled them in as Viv knelt down beside you, her presence immediately calming. "Hey, it's going to be okay," she said softly. "You're safe." She reached out, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, her touch gentle but reassuring. "You're strong, lieverd, remember that. And you've got us. We'll speak to people back home; he won't do anything like that again."

Kim nodded in agreement; her eyes filled with determination. "Absolutely. We won't let anyone treat you like that. You're a part of this team, and we protect our own. We're family."

Their unwavering support began to ease the tightness in your chest. You took another deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded. The shaking in your hands lessened, and the tears slowed to a stop. You leaned heavily into Viv, your head dropping to her shoulder.

"Do - do you think we could get ice cream, when we're back at the hotel?" you asked, hopefully, smiling gently at the laughter that filled the changing rooms.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3

[thestrongestkikufuku]

a business proposal, p. 3

» part one, part two, part four, part five - ⟡⋆˙

» contents - ⟡⋆˙ fluff, crack, au, satoru gojo x f!reader, ceo!gojo, reader works in the same company, made up character 'rin' as your bestie, suguru geto as the secretary, gojo being persistent and a lil shit, curse word, chaos

» word count - ⟡⋆˙ 5.5k

» notes - ⟡⋆˙ hi hi dear readers!! welcome to part 3 of the business proposal inspired fic! this one is a longer one, i kinda got possessed while writing this, lol, i haven't slept at all and it's almost 7 am >.< i've had some challenges on what to take from the show without making this too long because i really want to get started on the whole "fake dating" process, while also slowly building up the relationship. but in the next part we will uncover and explore more of the relationship so stay tuned!! :D anyways, happy reading and if you want to be added in the taglist for upcoming parts please let me know!! :D<3

» m.list - ⟡⋆˙

The next morning, Rin dragged you out of bed early with a wide smile on her face. “Come on, we’re going shopping!” she announced, practically bouncing with excitement.

You were initially confused but quickly became caught up in Rin’s infectious energy. She took you to all the high-end boutiques, insisting on buying you the most exquisite clothes. You protested, but Rin waved away your objections with a grin. “Consider it my treat! You deserve to be spoiled.”

By the time you both arrived at a charming little café, your makeup has been done, and you were wearing a stunning new outfit, complete with elegant accessories. “Rin, this is amazing,” you said, beaming at her. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

Rin laughed nervously. “Heh, well I did say I owed you for when you stepped up, right?” she replied sheepishly, her eyes darting around the café. “Now, let’s sit and have some coffee.”

You chatted happily, sipping your drinks and enjoying the cozy atmosphere. It wasn’t until Rin glanced at her watch and her expression tightened that you felt a sense of unease.

“[name], listen carefully.. There’s something I need to tell you,” Rin said, her voice suddenly serious. “Satoru Gojo will be here soon.”

You spat out your drink as panic surged through you. “HUH?! SATORU GOJO?! WHAT—”

Rin nodded, looking equally panicked now that she’d said it out loud. “I didn’t have a choice! He realized that we were friends and asked to meet you.”

“Then you should’ve pretended not to know me!” You exclaimed, your heart racing.

“I tried! But then he said he’d find out on his own! God, [name], he’s so scary! What if he discovers you’re his employee!?” Rin's voice was rising, her eyes wide with anxiety.

You both sat there in a shared moment of panic, glancing around the café as if expecting Gojo to walk in any second. 

“You could’ve at least warned me!” You exclaimed suddenly, your mind spinning with the sudden pressure, a mix of fear and frustration bubbling up inside you.

“Then you wouldn’t have come here!” Rin countered, her voice tinged with desperation, “but that doesn’t matter now, he thinks you owe him an apology.” She bit her lip, clearly regretting her decision to drag you into this.

“W-what?”

“Just say you're sorry! Nothing could go wrong, right?” Rin offered you a forced smile, meant to reassure you, though it only fueled your panic. Her attempt at comfort was painfully unconvincing, and you could see her own fear mirrored in her eyes. “Anyway, I’ll be going now.”

“You’re leaving?!” Your voice rose in disbelief.

Rin hummed as she rushed to gather her things then handed you a big paper bag, “don’t forget to wear the wig.”

“Wha—”

“I’m so sorry.” Rin shot you an apologetic smile before running off, leaving you alone to face the impending storm.

“Wait! RIN!” you called out after your friend, but she was already gone. “Shit—” 

You fumbled with the bag Rin left, searching frantically for the wig she mentioned. You found it nestled among the clothes she bought you, hurriedly pulling it out and attempting to adjust it over your hair, praying you'd be ready before Gojo walked through the door.

Your hands trembled as you struggled to fit the wig over your hair. “Come on, come on,” you muttered under your breath. 

The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly, each tick echoing loudly in your ears. You stole quick glances at the entrance, half-expecting to see Gojo's distinctive figure appear at any moment. The café seemed to shrink around you, the cozy atmosphere now suffocating with the impending arrival of Satoru Gojo. Every passing second felt like an eternity, your heart pounding in your chest as you imagined the scenarios that could unfold if he saw you right now.

Finally, with a shaky sigh of relief, you managed to secure the wig in place, patting down the stray strands, hoping it looked convincing enough. 

The café seemed quieter now, the soft hum of people’s conversations around you contrasting sharply with the rapid beating of your heart. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves as you mentally rehearsed what you might say to Gojo if and when he arrived. Apologize? For what exactly? Rin’s vague explanation had left you more confused than reassured.

Just then, the door to the café swung open, and in walked a figure that made your breath catch in your throat. It was him—Satoru Gojo, unmistakable with his white hair and striking blue eyes.

He scanned the room casually at first, his gaze drifting past you without a flicker of recognition. But then his eyes doubled back, focusing directly on your table, slowly approaching to take a seat in front of you.

You sat there in tense silence, acutely aware of Satoru Gojo’s presence across from you. His gaze was inscrutable, his expression calm yet somehow piercing. Panic churned in your stomach as you wondered what he was thinking, what he might do next.

After what felt like an eternity, Gojo broke the silence. “So, how much did Miss Takahashi pay you to impersonate her?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected question. You hadn’t anticipated this direct approach. Frantically, you searched for words, trying to gather your thoughts amid the rush of adrenaline.

“I-I…” you stammered, your mind racing. “I didn’t want to do it at first, but she offered me 90,000 yen,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Gojo arched an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “90,000 yen, huh?” he mused, leaning back slightly in his chair. “You tried to scam me for merely 90,000 yen?”

“Going as a replacement isn’t technically a scam, now is it?” You nervously attempted to defend yourself, the words stumbling out amidst the tumult of guilt and panic.

Gojo's gaze hardened slightly, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as he regarded you thoughtfully. The weight of his scrutiny made your throat tighten, regret seeping into your every nerve.

“You pretended to be another person,” Gojo began, his voice cutting through the air with a sharp edge of disappointment. “You deliberately wasted someone’s precious time for your own benefit. If that’s not a scam, then what is it?”

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, the words heavy with guilt and sincerity. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just... I needed the money, and Rin... I-I wish I could make it up to you, but there’s not much I can do..” 

There was a long moment of silence before you gathered the courage to speak again.

“But,” you continued, your voice wavering slightly, “if there's ever anything I can do, please let me know, and I promise that I’ll do everything in my power to help you out.” you said, forcing enthusiasm into your voice.

After a moment of contemplative silence, Gojo stared at you with a penetrating gaze, his expression unreadable. The weight of his scrutiny made you shift uncomfortably in your seat, unsure of what to expect next. 

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you ventured cautiously, “Are you... Still mad at me?”

“In what way do I look like an archaeopteryx?” Gojo questioned suddenly, a serious expression settling over his features.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked in confusion. “Uh... what?” you asked, baffled by the sudden shift from serious to whimsical. “I.. Is that why you’re angry?”

“It is not why I’m angry,” Gojo replied firmly, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back slightly in his chair with a small huff. “It's just that I've never heard such nonsense before. So I was caught off guard, yes.”

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh, that? I.. I just said whatever popped into my head because I wanted you to stop asking me to marry you.”

“Whatever popped into your head?” Gojo echoed, the seriousness of his expression unwavering.

“Look, I got nervous okay? I-I just really tried to play my part, I really didn’t mean anything by it.” you stammered, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I-If there's nothing else you want to talk about, we can just wrap this up and forget that all of this has happened.” You suggested tentatively, hoping to diffuse the awkward tension.

But before you could move to gather your things, Gojo’s voice cut through the air, unexpectedly serious. “Wait,” he said, raising his hand slightly, “let me see your phone.”

Confused, you hesitantly handed him the device, watching as he quickly tapped on the screen. 

“Really? ‘Don’t Answer’?” Gojo asked with a brow raised, turning the screen towards you to reveal his contact name. “You should save my name instead, and from now on you have to pick up my calls, no matter what.”

“But—”

“If you don’t answer or try to disappear, I’ll come find you.” He said, suddenly holding up a small, quaintly designed business card that read 'Sweet Delights Bakery' in playful, elegant script, adorned with a whimsical illustration of a cupcake.

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight you couldn’t ignore. The seriousness in his tone left no room for doubt—he meant what he said.

“I-I... How did you...?” you stammered, feeling exposed and caught off guard.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You dropped it earlier,” he replied casually, as if revealing an obvious fact. “So you own a bakery?”

You sighed heavily, “not me, it’s a family business.. My father owns it.”

“How intriguing. Perhaps I’ll drop by sometime to see your handiwork.” He mused, giving you a cheeky smile.

Your throat tightened as you processed his words, slowly taking your phone back. 

“Okay.” You mustered out weakly, your fingers trembling as you hastily typed ‘Archaeopteryx’ as his contact name.

“Also, what’s your real name?”

“Oh, it’s—” You hesitated, a knot forming in your stomach. You knew you couldn't reveal your real name, not when you worked for him, that could mean trouble if he finds out about it. “Um... my name... it’s...” You faltered, searching for an excuse. “It’s Mei.”

“Mei?” Gojo repeated, his eyebrow quirking up in curiosity.

“Yes.. Mei,” you confirmed, trying to sound convincing. “Just... call me Mei.”

Gojo studied you for a moment, his gaze calculating. “Alright then, Miss Mei,” he said finally, his tone unreadable. 

Relief flooded through you as Gojo entered the fake name into his phone. You thanked whatever luck you had that he didn’t press further. 

—

That same night, exhaustion finally overcame you, the events of the day had left you emotionally drained, and you eagerly welcomed the respite of slumber with open arms. However, the peace was short-lived.

A sudden ringing shattered the silence, jerking you awake. Disoriented and groggy, it took a few moments to register the persistent sound of your phone vibrating on the nightstand. With a sigh, you fumbled for it, quickly pressing the button to answer the call.

“Hello?” you managed to croak out, your voice thick with sleep.

“Ah, Miss Mei, you're awake.”

Confusion swept over you. “Hm, what? Who’s prank calling me—”

“This is not a prank call, Miss Mei. Are you.. Are you half asleep?” His voice held a hint of amusement.

“I’m not Mei—” squinting at the bright screen in the darkness, you see the contact name, ‘Archaeopteryx’. You jolt up on your bed, running your fingers through your hair in frustration, “—a-ah, sorry! You just surprised me, that’s all.. Um.. Why did you call?”

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get a new number to cut me off, that's all,” he said casually, his tone bearing no hint of remorse for the disruption he had caused. “Goodnight.”

“Wha—”

Before you could formulate a coherent response, the line went dead. Staring at your phone in disbelief, frustration bubbled up within you. It was late, you were wide awake now, and there seemed to be no reason for Gojo's late-night call other than to unsettle you further.

Tossing your phone back onto the nightstand, you buried your face in your hands, feeling a mix of irritation and helplessness. 

“He’s crazy, he’s actually crazy.” You muttered under your breath, glancing at the clock. Your eyes widened upon seeing the time—4 a.m.

“UGH, this guy is so annoying!”

—

“Do you think there’s anyone else who goes on ten blind dates a day?” Gojo’s voice broke the silence, glancing at his friend.

“No.” Geto answered bluntly, a playful smile forming on his lips, “and I can assure you that you’ll set a new record for the most blind dates in the shortest amount of time.”

Gojo snorted, rolling his eyes at Geto’s remark. “I just don’t get it,” he began, his brows furrowing slightly. His relaxed and playful expression slowly morphed into a serious one. “These girls.. They’re all beautiful. But every conversation feels rehearsed, as if they’re all saying what they think I want to hear, it’s creepy.”

“It’s most likely because they want to impress you, Satoru.” Geto countered calmly, offering him a reassuring smile, “but I don’t doubt that you will find someone eventually. Besides, they seemed a little better than the fake ‘Rin Takahashi’.”

“Well, at least the fake ‘Rin Takahashi’ wasn’t boring.” Gojo retorted, sighing heavily as he threaded his fingers through his white locks. “There’s just... Something about her..”

Geto hummed softly, nodding thoughtfully as he considered Gojo’s words. “So what will you do?”

—

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, you found yourself immersed in the usual rhythm of work. The hum of conversations and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards provided a comforting backdrop, a return to normalcy after the whirlwind of emotions stirred up by the intense situation involving Satoru Gojo.

Just as you were engrossed in a particularly challenging task, your phone buzzed insistently on the desk. Glancing at the screen, your heart skipped a beat when you saw ‘Archaeopteryx’ flashing brightly. Dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as you answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising panic.

“Hello?” you ventured cautiously.

“Hello, Miss Mei,” came Gojo's voice, cool and composed. “I was thinking we should meet up to talk.”

Your mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in a chaotic whirl. Why did he want to meet? What does he want to talk about? You struggled to find words, your throat dry as you searched for a response.

“Um, yeah, sure,” you managed finally, attempting to sound nonchalant despite the turmoil inside. “When?”

“How about tonight?” Gojo suggested casually. “I know a quiet spot not far from your place.”

“Tonight?” you echoed, anxiety tightening its grip on you. “I-I'm not sure if—”

“It’ll be quick,” Gojo interrupted smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Just a chat.”

“I-I’ll be working late, I’m helping my father close today.” Trying your best to steer him away from the idea.

Gojo’s voice remained calm and determined. “No worries. I’ll wait for you. See you then.”

Before you could protest further or ask for more details, he ended the call abruptly. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you reeling with uncertainty. The clock on your desk seemed to tick louder, each passing second heightening your nerves.

Fighting to steady your trembling hands, you took a deep breath, attempting to focus on your work. But Gojo’s unexpected request echoed in your mind, stirring a whirlwind of questions and apprehensions. What did he want to discuss?

—

Later that evening, you found yourself helping your father close up the bakery. The warm scent of freshly baked bread still lingered in the air, mixing with the soft hum of the ovens cooling down. Despite the familiar surroundings, a knot of anxiety tightened in your chest.

As you wiped down the counters, a sense of dread crept in, intensifying with each passing minute. Thoughts of your impending meeting with Gojo gnawed at your mind like an insistent itch. What did he want to discuss? And why was it so urgent that he requested a late-night meeting? Uncertainty burdened your shoulders, diverting your attention from the usual tasks at hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your father's voice interrupted your thoughts gently. He glanced at you with concern, his eyes catching the weariness in yours. “I’ll be heading upstairs now. Is that alright?”

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Oh, yeah sure. You go ahead.”

His brow furrowed slightly, sensing there was more beneath the surface. “You sure?” he pressed gently, crossing his arms on his chest. “You seem a little.. Distracted? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” you assured him, avoiding his gaze as guilt pricked at your conscience. How could you explain the mess you'd unwillingly gotten yourself into? “I just... Have some things to sort out with work. It’ll be fine.”

Your father studied you for a moment longer, his expression softening slightly, “alright, if you say so,” he relented, sensing your reluctance to share more. “Just take care of yourself, okay? And call if you need anything.”

“I will,” you promised, forcing another smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

As you watched him leave, a sense of apprehension settling in your chest. You immediately gather your things as you hurried to the small employee restroom tucked away in the corner of the building. You hastily pulled out the wig stashed in your bag and swiftly put it on, adjusting the unruly strands until they framed your face nicely. A quick touch-up of makeup followed, just enough to subtly alter your features, transforming you into the fabricated “Mei”. It was a disguise borne out of necessity, a guise to navigate the unforeseen entanglement Gojo had dragged you into. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you glanced at your reflection in the dimly lit mirror, reassuring yourself that you looked different enough to pass unnoticed.

Stepping back into the bakery’s main area, you locked the door behind you and ventured into the cool night air. The street lamps cast long shadows as you made your way to the agreed-upon meeting spot, a quiet café not far from your workplace. Each step felt heavier than the last as you trudged towards the building. The café was nearly empty when you arrived, only a few lingering customers left, sipping their drinks. Spotting Gojo at a secluded table near the window, you approached cautiously, the click of your heels against the tiled floor barely audible in the hushed atmosphere.

He looked up as you approached, his gaze lingering on you for a brief moment before a faint smile touched his lips. 

“Hello, Miss Mei.” Gojo greeted smoothly, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. “You look different tonight.” he remarked casually, sipping from his cup of tea. His eyes, however, bore into yours with an intensity that made you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“It’s been a long day,” you deflected, forcing a smile that felt stiff on your lips. “So, um, what did you want to talk about?”

Gojo set his cup down, his expression growing serious once more. “This isn’t really a place to say such things but,” he began as he leaned closer, “I want us to start dating. With marriage in mind.”

“What?” Your eyes widened at his sudden request, shock evident in your voice. “Dating? Marriage?”

Gojo leaned back, observing your reaction with a calm demeanor. “I know it sounds sudden, but hear me out. My grandfather has been pressuring me to find a wife. And he's been... Relentless, and frankly, it’s driving me insane. He has set up countless blind dates, all of which have been less than ideal. All I want for you is to pretend that you’re in a relationship with me, just to calm him down a little.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “You want to fake date me to get your grandfather off your back?”

He nodded, his expression sincere. “Exactly. And you wouldn’t even have to do much—just attend a few family gatherings, maybe a couple of events. It would give me some breathing room and hopefully that’ll convince him.”

“I..” you stare at him for a moment, disbelief spreading across your features as you shake your head, “no.. No way! I won’t.”

Gojo’s eyebrow quirked up at your outburst, “why not?”

“Why— you have been calling me a fraud— a-an imposter! And now you want me to do it all over again?!”

“Well, I figured you’d be the best person for the job.” Gojo shrugged casually, taking another sip of his tea.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re good at pretending to be someone else,” he replied nonchalantly. “You managed to fool me, didn’t you? Besides, you already know how to handle difficult situations. This will be a walk in the park compared to what you’ve already been through.”

Frustration bubbled up inside you. “You think this is some kind of game? This isn’t just about fooling your family. It’s my life too.”

Gojo’s expression softened slightly. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think you could handle it. Look, you wanted to repay your debt, right? Not to mention all the precious time I’ll save. It’s a win-win situation, is it not?”

You bit your lip, feeling cornered. “It’s not that simple, you know? Pretending to be someone I’m not, pretending to be in a relationship… It's exhausting and emotionally taxing.”

“I get that,” he said, his voice sincere. “And I’m willing to make it worth your while. Whatever you need, I can help with. Financially, professionally, you name it. Just think about it. Whatever Miss Takahashi offered you, I'll double it.”

You sighed, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. The logical part of you recognized the potential benefits—paying off debts, helping your father out, gaining influential connections. But the emotional part of you recoiled at the idea of diving deeper into this charade.

“I-I’ll think about it.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and you could feel Gojo’s gaze on you, waiting for more. But instead of elaborating, you found yourself standing abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gojo,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you bowed at him. “But I have to head home now.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Gojo sitting alone at the table. You could feel his eyes on you as you exited the café, but you didn’t look back. 

—

The soft glow of your desk lamp illuminated the paperwork strewn across your desk as you worked on a project that was due the next morning. Your eyes felt heavy with fatigue, and you longed for the comfort of your bed. The clock on your wall ticked away, reminding you just how late it had become. With a sigh, you decided to wrap up for the night, stacking your papers neatly and turning off your computer.

Just as you were about to head to bed, your phone buzzed on the desk. The sudden noise startled you, and you glanced at the screen to see ‘Archaeopteryx’ flashing brightly. Your heart sank, a mixture of dread and annoyance bubbling up inside you. Why was Gojo calling you so late?

Reluctantly, you answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Mei,” Gojo’s voice was as smooth as ever, but there was an underlying urgency that made you uneasy. “I’m outside your house.”

Panic gripped you instantly, suddenly feeling more awake. Oh, god why now? You weren't even in your disguise; you were just yourself, in your pajamas, your face completely bare.

“W-what? Why are you here?” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady.

“It’s been a few days since our last encounter, and I needed to talk to you,” he replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to show up unannounced. “Can you come meet me outside?”

You glanced around your apartment, your mind racing. “Um, I... I’m not really... prepared for visitors,” you said, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

“I won’t take long,” he insisted. “Just a quick chat.”

You hesitated, weighing your options. The last thing you wanted was for Gojo to see you like this, without the wig and makeup that turned you into “Mei”. But you knew he wouldn't leave easily. Taking a deep breath, you decided to face him.

“Okay, okay, just— give me a minute,” you said, trying to keep the anxiety out of your voice. You ended the call and quickly looked around your apartment for anything that might help.

There was no time to put on the full disguise, but you grabbed a nearby hoodie and a pair of sunglasses, hoping that it would be enough to obscure your features. With a final deep breath, you headed towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you exited your apartment complex, your eyes caught sight of Gojo’s car parked under a streetlamp, his figure leaning casually against the hood.

Gojo looked up as you approached, his eyes immediately narrowing at your makeshift disguise. “Interesting choice of attire,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” you retorted, pulling the hood tighter around your face. “What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

Without a word, Gojo reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a neatly folded document. He handed it to you, his expression serious. “This is a draft of the contract for our arrangement. I had it drawn up to outline the terms clearly.”

You unfolded the document, your eyes scanning the formal language and detailed clauses. It was all there in black and white: the terms of your fake relationship, the things you had to do, the financial compensation. Everything was meticulously planned out.

You looked up at Gojo, disbelief and frustration now evident on your face. “You seriously expect me to agree to this?” you asked, your voice rising. “No. No way—”

“When you were apologizing to me the first time, you said you’d help with whatever I needed. Or was that all an empty promise?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, quickly silencing you. You remembered that moment vividly, the desperation in your voice as you tried to make amends for your deception. 

“That was different,” you countered, shaking your head. “I didn’t know you were going to ask me to lie to your family.”

“Is it really that different?” Gojo asked, his tone calm but insistent. “You wanted to make things right, to repay a debt. This is your chance. And it’s not like you’ll be doing it for free. The compensation is generous.”

“No!” You countered stubbornly, your voice firm and resolute. “Find another woman.” 

With that, you turn on your heel, ready to march back to your apartment. But before you could take another stride, Gojo moved swiftly. His hand shot out, gripping your arm gently but firmly, halting your retreat as he turned you around

“Let go,” you demanded, trying to pull your arm free, but Gojo's grip didn’t waver.

“Please, just listen to me,” he implored, his voice low and urgent. “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t truly need your help.”

“Mr. Gojo, I can’t,” you asserted firmly, meeting his eyes with a mixture of resolve and apprehension. “I have my reasons.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “And what are those reasons?”

Your mind raced as you stood silently in front of him, Gojo's intense gaze fixed on you. His question hung in the air, demanding an answer you couldn’t easily give. You couldn’t reveal the true reason—the fear of him possibly finding out about your true identity, which could jeopardize your entire career. And as the CEO of the company where you worked at, Gojo held a significant sway over your professional future. The mere thought of it sent chills down your spine.

“I—”

Your words come to a stop, your heart pounding in your chest as you see a figure approaching from behind him. Dread washed over you as you recognized your father, returning from his late-night snack run. Panic surged through you, a rush of adrenaline urging you to act swiftly. Without thinking, you quickly pushed Satoru Gojo behind the dumpster with more force than you intended, but Gojo’s swift reflexes pulled you down with him, and you landed awkwardly on top of him.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around you blurred into insignificance. Gojo's expression was a mixture of surprise and amusement, his lips quirking into a half-smile despite the awkwardness of the situation. His hands instinctively held onto you, one arm around your waist and the other supporting your back, his breath warm against your cheek.

As your father entered the building, oblivious to the unfolding scene, you scrambled to your feet, hastily brushing off your clothes in an attempt to compose yourself. The urgency to maintain appearances clashed with the lingering closeness you felt with Gojo, leaving you flustered and uncertain of how to proceed.

“S-sorry,” you stammered nervously, extending your hand to help Gojo up from the ground. His half-smile remained, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he accepted your gesture, grasping your hand firmly.

“Thanks.” Gojo murmured as he started to pull himself up.

But just as he rose to his feet, his expression suddenly shifted, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. Before you could react, Gojo swayed unsteadily, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, panic seizing your heart as you knelt beside him. His body lay limp on the ground, unconscious and eerily still. Fear gripped you as you checked for any signs of injury, your fingers trembling as you brushed his hair back from his forehead. Did he hit his head too hard? Is he...?

Panic washed through you as gently shake his shoulder. “Gojo? Gojo, wake up.”

But there was no response from him, his eyelids remained shut.

“Shit!”

—

The memory of Gojo collapsing haunted you, the image replaying in your mind. Though he appeared remarkably well now, considering the events of last night. But you couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at your insides as you sat across from him in the small meeting room. You both had agreed to meet to discuss the contract for the fake arrangement—something you had been adamant about not signing.

As you read through the document again, your brow furrowed with determination. “This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, scanning the clauses once more.

With a sigh, Gojo leaned back in his chair, his expression turning serious. “You know, I was supposed to sign a crucial contract this morning. But thanks to yesterday's little incident,” he paused, rubbing his temples as if in discomfort, “I had to clear my entire schedule for the day. Missed that meeting, lost that contract.”

Your heart sank at his words, guilt and frustration knotting in your stomach. “I-I’m really sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen.”

“Yeah, well, here we are,” he replied curtly, his tone sharp with irritation. But then, a glint of mischief flickered in his eyes, a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “But.. If you just accept my offer, I won’t sue for the damages. And I’ll still pay you what I promised.”

His casual threat hit you like a punch to the gut. The implication hung heavily in the air, undeniable and unsettling. You glanced down at the contract, the words swimming before your eyes. This wasn’t just about signing a piece of paper anymore; it was about conceding to his terms under pressure.

“Mr. Geto,” Gojo began, his voice firm and sharp, “contact the legal and tell them to proceed with the lawsuit right away—”

“Okay, okay, fine! I’ll sign it!” You interrupted, your voice edged with frustration and resignation.

Gojo’s smile widened into a satisfied grin as he leaned forward to give you the pen. “Good choice.”

As you reluctantly added your signature to the contract, a sense of defeat settled over you. The ink dried with finality, sealing the agreement that bound you to Gojo in ways you never imagined. The weight of his expectations and the consequences of your actions bore down on you heavily.

After Gojo gathered the signed document and tucked it away with a sense of finality. “Well, that settles it then.” he said as he stood up, his gaze lingering on you thoughtfully, “I’ll call you later to schedule another meeting with you soon. There's a lot of things we need to go through and talk about.”

You nodded weakly in acknowledgment, still processing the whirlwind of emotions and decisions made in such a short time.

With that, Gojo turned towards the door and left the office without looking back. The quiet click of the door closing echoed in the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the signed contract that now bound you to an uncertain future.

The feeling of regret settled in as you stared at the empty chair where Gojo had been just moments before. 

“Oh god, what have I done?”

» taglist - ⟡⋆˙ @megumisthirdog, @inluvkai, @ieathairs, @roscpctals99, @laviefantasie, @snwvie, @sanriosatoru, @reagan707, @keaugh, @cc1306, @shadowheads-shitshow, @pinkprincessglitterzombie

[kurogane2512]

Here's a suggestion for you, sis. How about boss Jade x assistant reader(male) where she gives you a lap pillow while stroking your shaft and gently squeezing your balls till you cum.

Also, I really feel like giving you a donation since you write so much good stuff for us. Feel free to drop a donation link if you're comfortable with it.

That's very thoughtful of you man, thank you for that. I have thought of doing commissions in the past so as to have some savings while I'm unemployed, but the issue is the payment method. I tried looking into Patreon but it doesn't seem to work well here, my country imposes stricter laws on these online international payments so idk if there's a good platform. If you have any option then I'll very likely accept the idea since it'll help me a lot! And here's your request below~

NSFW AHEAD || Jade x male!Reader || Smut and Fluff

You rushed through the IPC's corridors the entire day, fulfilling all your tasks and requests as assigned by your boss. Finally, you had a moment of rest now. You were about to go to the rest area when you received a text from your boss asking you to come to her office as soon as possible. You sighed and texted her back saying you'll be there in a minute and made your way over, hoping she wasn't going to assign you another mountainload of work.

"Lady Jade, it's me." you knocked the office door before going in. Your boss wasn't seated at her table as usual, instead you found her sitting on the couch on the right with a cup of tea in her hand.

"Ah, Y/n, as punctual as ever. Come here, have a seat~" Jade softly smiled and patted the place beside her. You blushed for a moment then nodded and walked to her side then sat down keeping some distance between you two. Your boss was beautiful and alluring, and nobody knew the special relationship you had with her as on surface you were just her assistant.

"I gather all the tasks have been completed for the day, hm?" Jade asked while sipping on her tea.

"O-Oh, yes ma'am. I already made a report as well. Should I show—"

"Shh~" Jade placed her index finger on your lips, stopping you from speaking further. Your heart pounded in your chest feeling her intense gaze at you, a pair of light blue eyes looking at you with lust. The same finger now slid down your body, tracing your skin intricately.

"You have done everything as I wanted, not disappointing me in the slightest...." Jade leaned close to you, speaking in a hushed tone. Her finger teased as it roamned over your abdomen, finding the right opportunity to slip inside your shirt.

"I think a reward is in line, a well-deserved one...." her finger now grazed your crotch before palming it, a muffled groan leaving your throat.

"You fulfilled my desires, it's time I fulfill yours~"

This meant she was letting you choose instead of doing what she felt like. Many things occurred in your mind, there was so much you could ask for but only one thing continuously came in your mind. It was an embarrassing request and you felt she'd be disappointed. Jade sensed your inner turmoil and gently placed her other hand on your face, lightly caressing it.

"Are you really feeling shy at this point? Well, I am good at being patient but I don't think you can be considering your state down here~"

You looked down to see a prominent bulge in your pants and Jade's hand still palming it, gently rubbing it up and down. She came even closer to you making her body press into yours, her breasts squishing against your chest as she leaned near your ear to whisper.

"Come on, say what's on your mind like a good boy~"

Your dick twitched at her words and the way she said them, straining in your pants and begging to be freed. You finally gave in and confessed your thoughts. You expected Jade to disagree and send you away, but she simply chuckled and kissed your cheek in response.

"That's all? I can't see how that is a fair reward for all your hard work, but if it'll please you then I have no problems. Come here~"

She opened her arms and you practically lunged forward to embrace her, breathing in her relaxing sweet scent and burying your face in her chest. Frankly, you were tired and wanted to rest. You too had more things you desired but for now, just being able to rest was the best reward your could ask for. You then let go and moved down to place your head on her lap, your eyes looking up at her smiling face.

Jade certainly didn't expect you to ask for something so....simple, she was prepared for a rough evening but she found this quite pleasant. Her left hand roamed down to unbutton your pants and zip down your flyer to fish out your erect shaft, some pre-cum already staining the tip. She smirked and licked her lips at the sight before gently grasping your length.

You stared up at her breasts then pulled down her coat followed by her bra to expose them, kneading the mounds of flesh while she fisted your cock. Her right hand caressed your head, ruffling through your hair and petting it in soothing motions. Her left hand moved up and down your shaft in slow and languid strokes at first, smearing the pre-cum all over for ease of movement.

You leaned up slightly and placed your lips around her nipple, a soft sigh coming out of her. Her right hand now placed under your head and supported you as your tongue flicked over her bud and sucked it. She grasped your cock tighter now and stroked it faster, noticing the way it twitched and was ready to burst. Her fingers moved down to massage your sac, gently rubbing your balls and feeling how full they were.

"Mmm.... quite pent-up, weren't you? Is it because of all the work I gave you today?~"

"N-No, I don't mind the work.... But yes, I haven't got much time for rest, ngh~"

"You should have told me. I have said to speak about your worries and problems to me, haven't I?"

"Yes.... aah.... I just didn't want to burden you in return, I like working for you...."

"Hehe, always a sweet talker. If words could be exchanged for credit then I likely wouldn't be able to pay you back~"

You groaned as you sucked her breast and kneaded the other one, her hand stroked you faster now and in no time you bucked your hips into her palm and released spurts of cum all over. You let go of her breasts and panted on her lap as your cum shot out, staining her hand and some drops falling on your belly. You were about to apologize but your eyes widened as you watched her lick away all of your cum on her hand.

The sight was erotic, the way her tongue licked up every drop and savored it made you turned on more than anything. Her eyes stared back at you as she licked, a lustful gaze staring right into your soul and making you entranced. She looked at how hard your cock still was and smirked.

"Well, shall we indulge in more of your desires tonight?~"

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Teacher's Pet [Aaron x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@littlecarmine) Center (@penandpaper-love) Right (@f4iryesss)

Prompt: When the reader, Jack’s teacher gets injured during the school day keeping her students safe, Aaron goes to check on her that evening. The unlikely pair get closer, but it's up to both of them if they want to make whatever they have more. 

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, teacher!reader,  ally!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns

Category: hurt/comfort 

Word Count: 12K

Content Warnings: Homophobic phrases [from anti-LGBTQ+ protesters (the bad guys)], brief mention of religion, mention of being hit in the face and body and a split lip (reader) distress, mention of food and drinking alcohol, mention of an accident [not specified what (reader)], Haley’s death is brought up. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is for amazing @imagining-in-the-margins's Pride writing challenge! I made up my own prompt for this one which is: The reader puts herself in danger to keep her students away from anti-LBGTQ+ protesters. Aaron finds out about this and makes sure she’s fine (aka protective Hotch.) I hope you like this more fluffy and cute style of fic. It’s a bit different from the angst I write. It takes me back to my early Aaron writing style! I want to note that I know that not all school districts deal with this kind of stuff, but as I live in the South, and my sister and I are both in Education, I get to hear about this kind of thing more often than I’d like. Anyhow, please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/l/n = your last name 

a/r = age range 

a/d/r = any dietary restrictions (if none, please ignore) 

Aaron got the call from the school shortly after he’d finished an early lunch. He was seated at his desk, the soft glow of the lap lighting his space which was covered by the team’s files. He was going to do the boring parts of the files for them, as he always did, but his phone ringing had disrupted his workflow. He glanced at the caller ID and quickly picked up, saying, “This is Mr. Hotchner.” There was a brief pause before the woman on the phone said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Hotchner. This is Rachel Jenkins, the school receptionist.” Hotch nodded his head; he knew the woman well, as he had gone to the school multiple times this year already because Jack had gotten into some kind of trouble, or needed him. Rachel continued, stating “Sorry to disturb you during the work day, but there’s been an incident with Jack, and the nurse thinks it’s best that you come and pick him up as soon as possible.” Aaron stifled a sigh. He wasn’t angry at Jack. He didn’t blame him for acting out, a trait that had started once his son had started processing his mother’s death. The family counselor said that was a natural part of grieving for a child, and Aaron was sympathetic to his son’s pain and emotions. Sometimes he wanted to scream or lash out too, but he had more faculty over his emotions. Even with all that being said, Hotch did find it a bit troublesome that Jack got into scuffles on days that would have been easy for him. But that was neither here nor there, life, nor emotions waited for anyone’s schedule -- Aaron knew this like all parents did. 

Hotch asked a follow-up question: “Was this Jack dealing with bullies, or was this him doing something he shouldn’t be?” Aaron liked to know these things heading into the Principal or Nurse’s office beforehand, so he could set his tone appropriately. There was a pause on the line which made Hotch nervous. The silence was broken as Jessica replied, “No, Mr. Hotchner, it’s not that. I… I think it’s best that you just come down to the school.” This response made Aaron even more tense. 

What could have happened that the woman would hesitate like that? He sensed that an answer had been on the tip of her tongue, and she’d stopped herself from speaking because she thought it was better. Hotch furrowed his brows, got out of his chair quickly, and grabbed his suit jacket. He flipped the screen of his laptop down, then grabbed his shoulder bag from the couch. No matter what Jack might have gotten up to, not knowing if something bad had happened to his son, nothing would stop him from getting to Jack. 

Hotch hurriedly locked his office door behind him and as he started striding toward the stairs that would get him to the elevators, Rossi exited his office and offered a quizzical look at his friend. It was unlike Aaron to flee the office, even on days that felt like they were drawing on for an eternity. Hotch beat Dave to the question forming on his lips, someone would need to know where he was in case something serious came up in his absence. “Jack had some trouble at school and they said I should head over there.” Rossi frowned and said, “The bullies again? Remember my offer of teaching Jack how to punch is still on the table.” The worried look on Aaron’s face prevented Dave from joking further. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “I don’t think so, I hope to be back in a half hour or so. Look after the team while I’m gone, please?” 

Rossi nodded his head in understanding and watched as Aaron took the stairs quickly down to the bullpen and out of sight. Dave closed his eyes for a second. He knew things had been hard for Aaron and Jack after Haley. There was no avoiding the hurt that lingered like a shroud around the two of them. He knew that Hotch had done his best to help and support Jack, but that didn’t make Aaron’s pain any less. If anything it made it worse because the guilt still haunted Aaron like a spector. Jack’s anger had grown and manifested at anything that it could get its teeth into, and often its victim was Aaron, who was trying his best. Dave bowed his head and saw the grief with Aaron. Rossi knew grief, it had been his companion for many years. And it hurt to see it on Hotch, but there was little he could do but support Aaron to the best of his ability and let time do its healing. And healing was a slow seamstress. Dave looked over the bullpen at the team working and smiling and turned back to his office, he felt like he needed a drink, but for now, bitter coffee would have to do. 

Aaron drove at a speed that was technically street-legal. The churning of his stomach and the constant red lights had him worried and agitated at the same time. Jack’s school wasn’t too far away, but he’d hit the lunch-hour traffic which made the drive at least twenty-five minutes long. Hotch jacked up the air conditioner to silence his stressed-out thoughts. If something very bad had happened, then he would have been told. And there was nothing on the news, no lockdowns, or active shooter drills. However, sending Jack off to school every morning knowing that that was a possibility didn’t make him feel good. 

It was the fear of the unknown that made Aaron press his foot down on the accelerator further. Hotch arrived at the school and everything looked normal from the outside. With hurried footsteps, he made it to the front office to check in. Jessica could see how nervous he was and the intensity of his expression. Aaron’s eyes, when they were dark and worried, had opened many doors for him, and broken many unsubs in the interrogation room. The receptionist swallowed and said, “Just grab a visitor badge and you can head to the nurse’s office, Mr. Hotchner. I’ll sign you in. The Vice Principal is already there.” 

Aaron grabbed one of the laminated passes and said, “Thank you,” as he headed out of the glass office and toward the nurse’s office which was located at the end of the central hall adjacent to the janitor’s closet. Knowing the Vice-Principal was present with Jack told Aaron more information, but not enough to know exactly what had happened. If he found out that his son was being bullied again, he was going to send some strongly worded emails to those boy’s parent’s this evening. As he was drafting the letters in this mind, he made it to the nurse and opened the door. As soon as he saw Jack’s tear-stained face, and that he was clutching a Kleenex in his hands, Hotch stepped further in the door and the nurse and Vice Principal moved aside and let him go to his son. Aaron knelt next to the bed that Jack was sitting on and embraced him firmly. Jack let out some sniffles and Aaron reassured him before asking for any information, “It’s okay, Jack. It’s okay.” 

After a few moments, Hotch attempted to move away, but Jack’s hands gripped the fabric of his shirt. Aaron moved his right hand from Jack’s soft hair that reminded him of Haley to under Jack’s legs as he stood. Unamused at how he’d been kept waiting, Aaron asked in a cool tone, “Would you tell me what’s going on, Vice Principal Westbrook?” The silence that stayed in the room as the Vice Principal picked at the hangnails on his fingers and looked at the floor had Aaron hot under the collar. Jack didn’t look bruised or hurt in any way, just very upset. Upset enough that he had wanted him. Before Dr. Westbrook could come up with a scripted answer, Jack said, “They hurt her, Dad.” Aaron frowned, pulled Jack back from his chest a bit, and asked, “Hurt who, bud?” Jack sniffled and replied, “Ms. y/l/n. He punched her in the face and her shoulder.” The words tumbled out of the boy's mouth and only had Aaron more concerned. Jack was crying again, and Aaron handed him back his crumpled tissue and pressed Jack to his broad chest again. Jack set his head on his dad’s shoulder and took comfort in the solid presence and scent that was always there for him when he needed it. 

Jack had done a lot of growing up in his short years. He’d discovered a few things about life that he wished he hadn’t. How people you loved sometimes went away, maybe just for a bit, or sometimes forever, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still there loving him. His dad was a prime example of this -- and even if Jack couldn’t articulate this, or might change his mind later, it was still true in the moment. As his little fingers clutched at Aaron’s shirt collar, Hotch turned to face Dr. Westbrook again. 

The slim man seemed to be trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with Aaron, and giving a straight answer to anything, but Hotch wouldn’t let him get away with this. Ms. y/l/n was someone who had become very special to Jack this year when he got into her class. Aaron also had a kind of parasocial relationship with y/n, as she had been very helpful with Jack and dealing with his grief and the bullying he’d been dealing with that year. Jack had brought her up early in the year and when Aaron had met with Ms. y/l/n for the Meet-The-Teacher night, Hotch could tell why. She was so bright. Her presence illuminated her cozy room which she had decorated with bright posters and lights. It seemed even the sharp corners of the room were softened by y/n’s presence. She had given Jack such praise for his manners, his reading skills, and how he treated his classmates with kindness. Aaron had almost felt like a lost that night, as he could only listen and nod. He had to really pay attention when some of the other parents started asking questions. Apart from the fact that y/n was clearly an adept teacher and classroom manager for her age, she was also pretty. Pretty in a quaint way. He’d left the school that night feeling oddly lighter than he had in months. 

The next time they met was at the first parent-teacher conference. That was where Aaron had learned that Jack was dealing with bullies. The administration hadn’t even informed him of this issue. y/n was very kind about it and wanted to make sure that Aaron had the right support for something like this. y/n hadn’t meant to question his parenting skills, but as a single dad, she wanted to get a better feel of how emotions were handled around the Hotchner household. Not just sad feelings, but anger and resentment too. It wasn’t until a month later when the bullying had gotten really bad, that Aaron realized, thanks to y/n, that he wasn’t equipped to handle this alone and had brought in the help of a family counselor. He had more contact with y/n after that, as she checked up on Jack and kept Aaron informed about his son’s grades and other issues that popped up in the classroom. 

Hotch could understand why Jack would be upset that y/n had been hurt somehow. He was also angry, and asked in a firm voice, “What happened to Ms. y/l/n?” The VP sighed and said, “Well it was just an unfortunate situation, Mr. Hotchner, but no one was seriously hurt and we’re launching an investigation into the situation that happened.” This evasive answer didn’t satisfy Aaron and he replied, “Great, but what happened to Ms. y/l/n, and why is my son so distraught about it? What happened?” 

Dr. Westbrook realized that he couldn’t talk his way out of not answering Aaron as he had with the other parents he’d had to have had this conversation with. The man relented and said, “Well this morning a group of Anti-LGBTQ+ protesters amassed at the front of the school and held up degrading signs and shouted at anyone coming into the building through the front entrance.” Hotch already didn’t like where this was headed. The political climate had many up in arms due to the acceptance of others, and they made it their goal to try and complain and intimidate those who didn’t agree with them and their views. The VP continued, “Well they were blocking the flow of traffic and harassing the faculty, so we had some city police move them off campus. Unfortunately, they set up on DeGhatty Street on the sidewalk by the area for recess.” Hotch nodded, getting a better picture of what had happened. But there were still missing pieces. The next bit Dr. Westbrook rushed through, but Aaron caught the story even if the VP was trying to make it hard to. “Well it was the second shift of recess, the time that Jack has, and the protesters became more agitated. They weren’t getting the engagement they wanted, and they started yelling at the kids. Ms. y/l/n was on recess shift and tried calling the school’s two SROs, but they were dealing with an incident in the cafeteria. The screaming was distressing to some of the students and one student started moving toward the group by the fence…” 

Hotch stopped the man and asked, “Was it Jack?” The Vice Principal nodded his head no and replied, “No Mr. Hotchner. It was another student, but other monitors and students did say that your son was watching from a pretty close distance.” Hotch narrowed his eyes but didn’t detect that the man was lying. Dr. Westbrook swallowed thickly under Aaron’s gaze and shaky continued, “Well Ms. y/l/n saw the student moving toward the protesters, and she moved forward to cut the student off. The group was unhappy about that, and they accosted her and made some false statements and allegations about her. She did her best to verbally defend herself and move back to protect the students and get them all inside, but one of the men in the group, allegedly, grabbed her shoulder, screamed at her, and then lost his composure and hit Ms. y/l/n in the face and chest.”

The image that the man was painting made Aaron feel his anger flash up in him. Not only was the VP using protective language for the protesters, he, nor the school had done a proper job of protecting their students or teachers. No wonder Jack was distraught. Thinking of Jack, his son had settled and Aaron knew they would have to leave in a bit. This was still a school and there were other things that had to be done, but Aaron asked, “Are the protestors gone now? I drove down DeGhatty to get here, and I didn’t see anyone. Also, how is Ms. y/n? Is she alright?” 

Dr. Westbrook nodded and seemed relieved that the conversation had turned away from the events of that afternoon. He cleared his throat and straightened his blue striped tie which didn’t match his grey suit before replying, “The local police came down and dispersed the crowd and told them they didn’t have a right to protest on the school’s block without a permit, which is true. As for Ms. y/l/n, Nurse Patty here looked her over and we decided it was for the best to send her home for the day. Ms. y/l/n seemed shaken up.” Aaron refrained from letting out a long sigh. Now was not the time nor the place. But the feelings and questions that flooded Aaron were that he wondered why the police hadn’t been called earlier, why the school didn’t seem up on its legal code, and the utter condescension that came with having to send y/n home for the rest of the day. What did the Vice Principal expect from her after being punched in the face? y/n had “appeared shaken up?” How the hell would he have reacted in that circumstance? 

Aaron didn’t want any of this frustration at this situation to make Jack feel like he was angry at him, but he would have a conversation with his son later about when to step back in a situation. But he’d worry about that later. For now, Hotch said, “Okay. Thank you for explaining. May I take Jack home now?” Dr. Westbrook seemed to deflate and nodded his head yes. The nurse moved over to Jack and gave him a pat on the head and handed him a lollipop. The older woman said, “Have a good rest of your day, Jack. If you’re at school tomorrow and you feel bad at any time in the day you can come and see me, okay?” Jack nodded softly and Aaron shot her a thankful smile before tightening his grip on his son and moving out of the door and back toward the front office. Hotch quickly signed out with Jessica and returned his visitor badge to the counter. 

Once he was back out into the warm, almost, summer sun, Aaron dipped his head down to Jack's ear and said softly, “Hey, Buddy. Would you be okay with hanging you with Dad’s friends for a while while I work in the office? You could camp up with me or you could see Uncle Spencer, Uncle Morgan, or Aunt Penelope?” The prospect of seeing his friends had Jack perk up and his distress diminish as he said, “Hm-hm. I wanna see Aunt Penny and Uncle Derek.” Hotch smiled and replied, “Okay. We’ll just be there for a few hours and then, if you’re good, we can go to ice cream after Daddy’s done with work.” That last piece of information really made Jack happy, and Aaron relaxed for the first time since the school had called him. It didn’t take long for Aaron to get Jack strapped into his car seat and head back to the Quantico Field Office. 

Hotch spent the rest of the afternoon working and looking after Jack; mostly making sure Jack wasn’t getting into too much trouble with the team. Derek showed Jack around the bullpen, and Spencer did some physics magic which the whole BAU oohed and ahhed at, even Aaron and Rossi, from a distance. Then Penelope took Jack into her office and they spent around an hour together laughing and talking. There was something about Garcia’s energy that matched Jack’s so well, and his easily distracted self could be entertained for hours. Hotch made sure to set up a fancy coffee delivery for tomorrow morning for the team out of his pocket. He knew all of their orders by heart now. He did this as a thank you to the team. Not that any one of them would complain about having Jack distract them, however, being a babysitter was very much not in their job description, especially when they were in the office, so wanted to make sure they knew how appreciative he was of their support. Each one of them had been there for him and Jack on numerous occasions when Hotch thought that he couldn’t go on. He realized how lucky he was to be surrounded by this support system. Jack had them too, and also his friends and teachers at school. Ms. y/n came to mind as he finished scheduling the coffee order. The thought of someone laying hands on her gave him a constricting feeling in his chest. 

Aaron let out a breath and looked outside his windows into the bullpen where he watched Prentiss, Morgan, and JJ kneeling next to Jack who was speaking animatedly about what looked like soccer practice. Hotch moved his eyes back to his laptop screen and pulled up his personal email. With a few clicks of his fingers, he had gmail pulled up. He hit ‘new message.’ He typed in y/n’s email into the ‘to’ box. It felt so strange to be the one initiating a conversation, especially a new one, but he cared about Ms. y/n, and he knew his nerves wouldn’t settle down until he’d checked in on her. 

y/n was the one to normally start a conversation either to check up on Jack or let Hotch or Mr. Hotchner, as she called him, what had happened with Jack at school. Aaron had only once emailed y/n for details about Jack’s day when he’d come home upset about something that he couldn’t quite decipher. She responded promptly and told him everything she knew about the situation. Essentially they had only emailed in a professional capacity before, and this felt different. For a moment Aaron wondered if anyone else had called or messaged her. If her friends from school or elsewhere were getting a story about the wild day she’d had, or how she was hurting. The thought made Hotch’s heart clench for some unknown reason. He typed out this message: 

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: Checking-In 

Good afternoon, Ms. y/n,

 I heard from Jack and the school today that you were hurt today while trying to keep your students safe. I wanted to thank you for putting yourself in that position for the sake of the students, especially Jack. He is very worried about you and keeps asking if you’re okay. He and I both share that sentiment. I hope the school fully supports you in what you need at this time. If there is anything I can do to make your life easier these next few days, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I would be happy to drop off food or just be a support if you need it. Wishing you the best, 

Aaron Hotchner 

Hotch hit the send button and listened to the little swoosh of the sent sound. Although he did feel better after sending the email, it was also odd. He didn’t want to come off as a parental figure to y/n. Not that he wasn’t older than her by a good few years, he was, but the idea of him coming across that way made him uncomfortable. And the fact that that idea made him uncomfortable only made him question what he wanted to come off as instead. Mostly, Aaron didn’t want to seem patronizing. He knew y/n was tough and could handle things, but his concern and care had overrode those thoughts. Hotch pushed those thoughts from his mind; he had good intentions sending the email and if it came off in another way, then at least he’d tried his best. 

Aaron looked at the clock at his wall and it was five minutes to five. Unlike a normal day, where Jack would have an afterschool activity or Jess would pick him up for a few hours before he would swing by and get Jack for the rest of the evening, tonight was different, and he started packing his things up in his briefcase. He took some of the important files and the rest he left for tomorrow. He’d come to the office early if Jack felt up to going to school tomorrow. Once Hotch had most of his things ready, he moved outside of his office. Jack was playing a game with Spencer, and Aaron called out, “Jack, come up here and get your backpack and lunchbox, please. We’re about to go home.” Jack looked up at his dad and said, “Just one sec, Dad.” Aaron gave his son a look, and Jack sighed, got out of his seat, and made it up the stairs to Aaron’s side. As Jack moved past Spencer, Reid gave his head a little pat and once Jack had passed the lithe agent, Aaron gave Spence a smile before turning to his son and moving with him to the office. 

Jack only had one binder and one maths assignment out on Aaron’s office couch. Jack had promised his dad that he would be good in the office, and being good meant doing five minutes of a math worksheet and complaining about how hard it was before the little boy moved out into the bullpen to see the team. Aaron didn’t blame him. Jack had had a hard and stressful day, but he did expect his son to pick up and get ready to go on his own. 

Jack was getting old enough for those things now, but Hotch still packed his lunches every day or made sure his son had money for his lunch account. By the time Aaron had his suit jacket back on and his briefcase and shoulder bag in hand, Jack had put his paper and notebook away and was struggling to zip up his small Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack. Aaron leaned down and helped him close the bag and handed it back to Jack. Aaron led his son out of the room and locked the door behind him for the last time for the day. Hotch nodded to Rossi who was also locking up his office and then followed Jack down the stairs. The pair made it through the bullpen, and Jack waved at the team as he passed them. Aaron said, “Thank you” to each of them as well in his low voice. As Hotch got to the edge of the BAU’s area, turned, and said more loudly, “Thanks for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, and JJ nodded and said bye. 

True to his word, Hotch took Jack to get ice cream at a local spot not far from their house. Jack was ecstatic to be having sweets before dinner. Aaron had to remind his son that he still had to eat some other food once they got home and settled. Jack agreed excitedly as they walked into the pastel-colored storefront. There weren’t many people inside and no one in line, so it took only a few moments for Jack to order his chocolate swirl scoop with add-ins of Oreos and strawberries. Aaron got a scoop of brown butter vanilla for himself and then paid as Jack got them spoons and napkins, then found a comfortable table in the corner of the building near the window. After paying, Hotch sat down across from Jack who said, “Thanks, Dad.” Aaron smiled and reached over and patted the top of his head, replying, “Of course, Buddy.” Hotch cherished these moments. There would only be a few more years that ice cream before dinner was a big thing, and time in some things, such as kids growing up, moved so quickly. Not only was this time for them to have a bit of fun, but it was also a teaching moment for Jack. But Aaron was going to enjoy his ice cream first. 

Aaron dipped his plastic spoon into the slightly yellow-colored ice cream. There were specks of vanilla bean in the scoop that was slowly melting in the afternoon sun. Hotch took his spoon and slipped it in his mouth, sucking off the sweetness. Hotch let the cold ice cream sit in his mouth and melt with the body heat inside. The taste was sweet, but not cloyingly so which he enjoyed. The aftertaste of the browned butter hit as he swallowed. Aaron didn’t allow himself to have anything this indulgent very often, so when he did, he tried to enjoy and appreciate it. For many years, Hotch knew that his faster metabolism had gone in his early thirties, and treats were a thing he sought out less and less for himself. However, as he watched Jack enjoy his ice cream and as the soft music played in the space while the cars drifted by outside, he realized that this was something not only Jack needed, but something he needed as well. Aaron was brutal on himself and his body, and maybe he was trying too hard. He wanted and tried to be the best version of himself for the team, but more importantly for Jack, and he might have been taking it too far on his end. He relaxed a bit into his bench seat and took another bite of ice cream, this time just enjoying it for the sake of the experience. 

After their paper bowls were empty, Aaron took a breath and looked at Jack who was playing with his spoon and asked, “Jack, did you know what those people who were at your school today were talking about?” The boy stopped fiddling with his cutlery and made a face that said he was thinking before saying, “I think so. They were mad about gay people and shouting. They were really angry and I don’t know why…” Hotch nodded his head and tried to think about how to best respond. He had talked to Jack about the LGBTQ+ community, not so much like that but in the more simple and kid-friendly way of emphasizing that anyone can love anyone else as long as it’s not hurting anyone. That there could be two moms or two dads, and that not everyone felt like a boy or a girl. Jack looked up at his dad and asked, “Why were they so angry?” 

Aaron swallowed and replied, “Well, sometimes people don’t like something, or don’t believe in something. And they can think that, but the thing is that they try and want to make other people think it too. And when people don’t agree with them, they get angry. Because if you can’t make someone agree with you, then you can at least make them scared. And what do we know about being scared, Jack?” It took a second before Jack replied, “It’s okay to be scared but being different doesn’t mean being scary.” Aaron nodded proudly and Jack added on, “So they were just big bullies?” Hotch knew it was more complex with that but for now, it was a good analogy and he nodded yes. 

This conversation gave Jack a new thought and he asked, “You told me that I shouldn’t give bullies time, but Ms. y/l/n went up to them and tried talking to them.” Aaron nodded and replied, “Yes. You’re right. That’s what I’ve said to you. Things are different with Ms. y/l/n because she’s an adult, and she was trying to keep you and all of the students safe. But you’re right, for you, Jack, I would say to stay away from a situation like that, but there are some other things you can do too.” Aaron knew that Jack was a helper, and always had been. So in a situation where his son might feel helpless, he wanted to give him an option to do something that would give him power in the scenario and to do something that he was good at. 

Aaron stated, “So what you can do, Jack, is to find the other kids like you who might be upset. Because those people were saying upsetting and hurtful things. So you can find those kids who are hurting and make sure they’re doing okay.” Jack nodded along, this was something he could do. Aaron also added, “And if things seem bad, like if you feel unsafe or the other kids feel unsafe, the best thing you can do is get help from an adult. From someone you trust or know. Does that make sense?” Jack nodded and sat forward, mirroring Aaron’s posture as he shook his head yes. Hotch smiled and said, “Good, If you have more questions about today you can ask me anytime, okay?” 

Just as Aaron and Jack were getting ready to head home, Hotch’s phone pinged with an incoming message, and he checked it. The email was from y/n and he tapped on the screen opening the message which read: 

To: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

Subject: Re-Checking-In 

Good afternoon, Mr. Hotchner, 

Thank you so much for checking in on me. That is very kind of you. I’m just sorry that Jack or any of the students at recess had to see and hear what they did. As for what the administration thinks about what I did today, I think I’m going to find that out tomorrow, but don’t want to know really, nor should I speculate about it in an email. You are niceto offer your help. I think I’m just going to order a frozen pizza from the store and call it a night. I’m a bit banged up, if it was any more than this I think I’d have to go to the ER (that last bit is hyperbole). Thanks again for checking in Mr. Hotchner. I hope Jack isn’t too upset. Tell him I said hello, and that I’ll see him tomorrow at school! I hope you have a pleasant night, 

Ms. y/n. 

Aaron frowned slightly. There was a hesitancy in y/n’s tone here. Especially with how the school might react to what had happened. That, and the fact that y/n seemed to be in a lot of pain didn’t make Hotch feel good. It made him want to go over and see her even more. He paused to make sure this was still being done with good intentions. That his desire wasn’t just trying to find an opportunity to see y/n again. The feelings in his gut were still one of concern, even if his heart was doing something different. Hotch pushed aside the new feelings in his chest, something for him to contemplate later, and composed a reply to y/n: 

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: Re-re-Checking-In 

y/n, I’m glad you can bring some humor into this situation. That’s a relief. It sounds like you’re in a good bit of pain. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER? Also, would you let me pick you up a pizza? It’s no big deal at all, and that way you can save money on the delivery. Sorry, I don’t mean to overreach, but I am willing to give a helping hand if you want. 

Aaron Hotchner

Hotch really hoped he wasn’t sounding too desperate, or that y/n would think his offering to help her save money made her feel poor. He didn’t mean it that way. He’d tossed a few options out for her to reach out if she needed, or wanted help, or just some company. From what Aaron could tell about y/n was that she was fiercely independent. She’d seemed so put together for someone in their mind a/r. From what he could tell from y/n’s weekly email updates, she made a lot of her own classroom content and tried very hard to connect with each of her students. Not only that but from the two times they’d met at school, there were no indications that she had a partner or parents close by to help her with things. Aaron assumed this mainly because she’d told him how she’d had to learn how to fix the leak in her bathroom faucet from YouTube just so she didn’t have to call in a plumber. That was another time when Aaron had wished he could just whisk himself over to her duplex and lend y/n a hand. Before he could overthink what he’d sent there was another reply: 

To: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

Subject: Re-re-re-Checking-In 

Ummm, you’d do that, really? I don’t want to be a bother, Mr. Hotchner. I know you have to take care of Jack and everything… 

y/n y/l/n

Now a hint of a smile turned up the corner of Aaron’s mouth. He and Jack had made it to the car at this point and Hotch typed out: 

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: [Re]-Checking-In 

y/n, 

I’d be happy to take even a small load off of your shoulders. After what you’ve been through today it is the least I can do, and I can get someone to sit with Jack for an hour or so while I come over. To make communication easier, here is my cell Number: (804) 572 - 4459. If you’d like, however, to keep this over email, that’s fine as well. It might be a moment before I get back to you as I have to get Jack home and get him dinner, but I’ll be open after that and talk to you again then. Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions I should know about before I go grab your pizza? 

Aaron Hotchner 

The drive home was quiet as Jack thought about what his dad had said. The sandy-haired boy had a few more questions which Aaron did his best to explain. When the questions turned toward religion, it had been a church group protesting, Hotch did his best to turn the conversation back to the key points. He rarely talked to Jack about church or religion, wanting his son to be able to make his own choices in faith, or not to have any at all. That hadn’t been a choice for Hotch as a child, and he wanted Jack to not have the burn of guilt that faith could bring unless it was something his son came to on his own terms. Plus religion had become a bit of a sore subject for Aaron after Haley’s passing. How could a fair God take away someone as good and pure as Haley? It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t have the will to study theodicy. So he pushed those thoughts to the background and focused on getting home. 

It didn’t take long for Aaron to get dinner ready for Jack. While he reheated some leftover pasta and veggies, Jack did his homework, and they both had a small dinner. Hotch also texted Jess to see if she was open to swing by for an hour to which she replied, “Yes. I never miss a chance to hang out with my coolest nephew. Are you going on a date or something?” Aaron rolled his eyes at the text, he suspected sarcasm and replied, “Something like that. Making a house call to a friend in need. I’ll tell you more later.” A moment later Jess sent a thumbs-up emoji and said, “I’ll be over in about forty minutes once my boys are settled, probably playing Fortnite or something *sigh*” Hotch liked the text and checked his messages to see a text from a new number which he correctly assumed was y/n. She had sent a simple, “Hello, it’s me, y/n. For your pizza question, I have a/d/r so knock yourself out with that. I’m not a picky eater. Also here’s my address, ________. I’m not doing anything tonight, I couldn’t even if I wanted to, so you can come over anytime, but before nine would be great as I have to wake up early. Thanks so much again. This is very, very nice of you. - y/n.” Aaron liked the text and replied, “Sounds good. I’ll make sure to make it to yours before nine. - Aaron.” 

Jess arrived promptly at 6:30, and Hotch let her know it was the normal bedtime routine that night. A half hour of TV, upstairs, teeth brushed, and in bed by 8:30. Jessica nodded and said, “Gotcha. You owe me a story for this one.” Aaron chuckled and said, “I’ll let you know. There’s an open bottle of Pino in the fridge if you want some. I shouldn’t be gone long.” Jess couldn’t help herself from saying, “That's what she said,” and Hotch flushed crimson. Unlike Haley, Jess had gotten the more crass humor of the Brooks family. 

Aaron left the room, keys in hand before any more jokes could be levied at him. He really didn’t plan on staying at y/n’s long. However thanks to the recent comments, Aaron couldn’t help but feel like he was a teenager sneaking out of the house to see some girl after curfew. Hotch shook his head at the silly notion and reminded himself that he was an adult man, and such thoughts were above him. However, he couldn’t stop the small thrill that ran through him as he entered y/n’s address into his phone. He swung by the local store and picked up two frozen pizzas that he thought y/n would like and matched her allergy and dietary restrictions she’d sent him earlier. He also moved to the pharmacy section and picked up some pain relievers, liniment oil, and cotton pads, just in case y/n didn’t have any of those things at her apartment. After all, she had said she was going to get stuff delivered to her, and he didn’t know if those were things she had planned on getting and then just didn’t tell him because she hadn’t wanted to be a burden. At least, that was how Aaron justified the extra purchases. 

Hotch texted y/n that he was on the way and the closer he got to her place, the more nervous he felt. It was strange. He hadn’t felt this way in ages. He had to keep attempting to suppress the feeling, but it kept creeping up on him like frost on the ground in the morning; an inevitable thing that he knew would change and probably go away with time. It was a week away from summer, there shouldn’t be frost on the ground at all. Hotch felt exasperated at his state and realized that maybe he was just too cold of a person and the frost stuck with him. Outside of y/n’s place, Aaron said, “Get ahold of yourself Hotchner, and be helpful for once, goddammit.” His little pep-talk got him to the door with the groceries. The lights were on inside and Aaron knocked lightly on the front door. There was a very muffled, “I’m coming” and all of a sudden the piercing darkness was broken by a stream of yellow light that poured from y/n’s open door. Aaron blinked for a second as he took in y/n. She seemed pretty relaxed in an oversized t-shirt and shorts that were nearly swallowed by the length of her shirt. She was barefoot and leaning against the door frame taking him in as well. Apart from the angry bruises on y/n’s face and her split lip, she looked comfortable here. ‘This is her home, of course, she’s comfortable’ Aaron reminded himself. 

While Hotch’s eyes had been adjusting to the light, y/n’s eyes were getting used to the dark. Jack’s father had always been an attractive man even though she’d only seen him briefly in the drop-off and pick-up lines and even less for any extended period of time. But Mr. Hotchner had a face, and attitude one didn’t easily forget. There was an intensity about him, a fierceness that could easily draw one in or scare one away. 

y/n wondered why the other teachers didn’t talk about him more. Maybe it was all the things he and Jack had gone through, horrible horrible things that kept people away. It made sense that Mr. Hotchner was in the FBI. He had a high-intensity job. All that energy had to go somewhere, and when he wasn’t being a parent to Jack and doting on his son, he must be doing dangerous and exciting things. Far more exciting than her job at least. y/n noticed his jeans and polo, a new outfit on him, and most certainly not his normal pressed suit and tie. y/n wasn’t complaining. His arms filled out the sleeves and his waist seemed a little less trim. y/n felt like a total fool for just standing there, realizing that he was also waiting to come inside, or maybe just drop off the bag of groceries he’d brought her so kindly using his own money and taking time out of his night. 

y/n snapped back to reality and berated herself and thought, ‘You’re fun little thoughts are getting out of hand. Please like he’d care about you like that.’ It was true, y/n had allowed herself to think, just a bit about the mysterious Mr. Hotchner. It was harmless, just small vignettes of them laughing about a joke, or holding hands -- kid's stuff, or at least it had been until he showed up outside her doorstep. y/n shook her head and said, “I’m so sorry Mr. Hotchner. I get hit in the head and my manners fly out the window. Would you like to come in, or just hand those things over? I can pay you back for them. Do you have PayPal or Venmo?” The words came out quickly, more quickly than y/n had hoped. There was no hope in sounding nonchalant now. A flush started forming on y/n’s face and she wanted to put her face in her palm, but had enough dignity left to not do that in front of the parent of her student. 

Aaron let out a little sigh of relief knowing that he wasn’t the only one who thought meeting like this was a bit, different. He wondered for a second why y/n had accepted his help, but pushed that aside and said, “Please Ms. y/n, you can just call me Aaron. I’d like to come in for a moment. See if you’re alright if you don’t mind?” y/n nodded and opened the door wider for Hotch. Aaron slid past her into the warm comfort of her space. It was lit mostly by lamps and the furnishings seemed soft and cozy which would match y/n’s personality. It was a bit more sparse and minimal than Hotch would have imagined, but maybe the chaos of a classroom called for order at home. The lights in the kitchen were on and the brightest. Hotch heard the soft click of the door behind him as he looked over the space. 

y/n stepped forward and said, “Well, please just call me y/n. Unless I’m in the classroom, Ms. makes me feel like a 19th-century spencer waiting for Harlod Hill to come into town.” y/n rolled her eyes at her choice of words. ‘Yes y/n, let’s talk about The Music Man in front of Mr. Hotchner, why don’t you?’ In an attempt to recover and hide her embarrassment, y/n stated. “I was just pouring myself a glass of wine when you knocked, um, would you like one? I can also take those groceries from you.” Aaron offered y/n a soft smile that only made her heart beat faster as he extended the bag of groceries and said, “I’m good for now. Thank you. Have you had anything to eat yet tonight?” y/n took the paper bag and their fingers brushed, the warmth of their skin spreading despite the frozen contents inside the bag. y/n cleared her throat and turned toward the kitchen in an attempt to hide how flustered she was. The cool linoleum tile of her kitchen managed to cool her down, and she placed the pizzas in the freezer. She tried to say casually over her shoulder, “I haven’t eaten yet, no. You can sit down anywhere if you like…” y/n didn’t know exactly if Mr. Hotchner wanted to stay long and she felt silly for having offered him a drink in the first place. Maybe he didn’t drink. By the time y/n had situated the food, Aaron had taken a seat in one of the chairs sitting catty corner to her tan couch. Trying to play it cool, y/n moved to her counter and poured herself the glass of wine she had been planning before she’d put her foot in her mouth. y/n contemplated that maybe this was why she was good with kids. The nuances of adulthood could pass over children’s heads so easily. They didn’t feel the awkwardness that y/n did right now. Nor the racing of her heart as Aaron filled one of her seats. 

She moved over to the couch and asked again, “Can I please pay you back for the groceries? It was nice of you to bring them, and for you to check in on me. I got a few angry emails from parents saying that I exposed their children to danger today, so yours was a nice change.” Aaron’s eyebrows pulled together. The comment about payment passed him by. He wasn’t going to let Jack’s favorite teacher pay him back, even if she asked a hundred times. But the more pressing issue was the emails from other parents. If y/n’s actions didn’t look good, then he didn’t know what they were. He asked in a low voice, “Why were they upset?” y/n bit her lower lip and cringed as the pain stung from the split in her mouth. She had forgotten it was there for a moment. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought up the other emails. Depending on how the district’s admin took her situation, it wouldn’t help her to spread information. 

y/n chose her words carefully as she replied, “Well some were mad that I got hurt in front of their children and some were angry that their kids were exposed to those protestors in the first place.” y/n looked at Aaron and his slightly annoyed and sympathetic gaze made her feel better, safe. She hadn’t really processed what had happened to her yet, and she’d been alone since she’d been sent home. It was good to have someone here, and y/n took a sip of her wine and set her glass down on the table before leaning her head back on the couch and sighing deeply deflating slightly. 

In a smaller voice, a voice that gave away the pain she was feeling y/n said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have done anything. I just didn’t like the things they were saying. Kids are much more cognizant than people like to think and for those who have gay parents, or siblings, or might be part of the community themselves, they shouldn’t have to hear that stuff.” y/n pinched the bridge of her nose and continued, “This had to happen the week before summer break?” As y/n had her eyes closed, Aaron took the chance to give her face a better look. The bruise under her eye was turning a nasty purple that would fade to an even more ugly yellow color in the following days. The split on her lip looked nasty as well. The tender pink skin must hurt as she talked. He got what she was saying about kids knowing more than others expected. Jack was a prime example of that. Of course, Jack had been through more pain and grief than many his age. It would only make sense that he was more perceptive. The claims from the other parents sounded like bullshit to him though. 

y/n turned her face to him and said softly, “Sorry for unloading on you. I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about this yet. I don’t mean to hold you up.” Aaron nodded his head no and said, “You’re not bothering me, and you’re not holding me up. What were the protestors saying exactly, had you seen them before?” y/n’s eyes softened. She hadn’t really allowed herself the opportunity to picture Aaron like this in person, so kind and concerned. She’d just let herself think silly little snippets, but this gentleness hadn’t filtered into the equation. y/n moved her gaze to the ceiling and said, “Oh they were saying all the homophobic classics. Fags go to hell, god hates queers, and they were accusing the teachers on the staff of being groomers and turning the students gay, all that jazz.” Hotch rolled his eyes. These points were so tiring at this point, and he was annoyed with y/n for having to deal with this. y/n looked at Hotch and said, “And I haven’t seen any of those people before. Not like I’d be looking for those types of people on a daily anyway. They must have come down from upstate.” 

Hotch let out a small huff, his lawyer side kicking in as he asked, “You seemed hesitant about the school’s response to what you did today, and some other parents showed concern. Do you think the district might not support your actions?” y/n sat forward and took another drink of wine, more this time. It was helping her calm down. Not that she normally needed wine to unwind, but it had been a long day, and there was a very attractive man unexpectedly sitting in her home. That last fact was still a wonder to y/n. Like a dream. y/n considered that she might have gotten a very bad concussion and was being wheeled right now to a hospital. But she was brought back from her wayward thoughts when Hotch cleared his throat. y/n shook her head. She was letting her brain get away with itself far more than normal. But she blamed it on the pain, painkillers, and stress of the whole situation. That stress was slightly intensified by Mr. Hotchner’s question, but y/n realized it was better to say it out loud instead of keeping it in to eat at her. 

y/n sighed and said, “It really depends. You’ve heard about that Mom’s for Student Purity campaign at the beginning of the school year, I’m sure?” Hotch nodded his head slightly. He had heard of it but hadn’t thought much of it. Only that there had been some issues and poor behavior at the school assemblies. Aaron had assumed that the district had taken care of the situation and that’s why he hadn’t heard more about it. As hard as Hotch tried to be involved in Jack’s academic life, and he did show up to every game, play, and parent-teacher conference, he didn’t have much time for the school board meetings. That had been Haley’s forte and the thought pained him momentarily. Aaron wished he could live up to the expectation that y/n must have had of him as he said, “I’ve heard of them, but not much. I’m sure they’d have something to say about today.” 

y/n let out a little snort and replied, “Tell me about it. The district has been having a constant battle with them. Ever since the president and the vice-president of their organization got elected to the school board it’s been hard to keep them at bay. They’ve tried implementing book bans, vetting curriculum, and getting the librarian fired. Right now they’re not in the majority and their ideas are unfounded and impractical to implement, but they’re making things hard. Every time the district shoots them down, they start a new campaign and it gets more troublesome. I know this will come up in a performance review and if they don’t like it, they’ll find a way to make it hard for me. They’ve done it to others already. I can imagine the comments, ‘Teacher causes brawl in front of students leaving them disturbed.’” 

Hotch took a moment to think about how hard that must be. To have to be so careful that making a choice to do the right thing could get y/n in trouble. How the system was setting her up to have to make hard choices at the expense of her employment possibly. All of these loopholes reminded him of his own work in a way, though he didn’t have to deal with kids all day. Even though some of the police and sheriff’s departments the BAU worked with acted like children. y/n sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain. I love my job. I love working with my students. I love to see their joy and to have concepts click in their heads. They bring me so much happiness every day. It’s just the other part of the job, having to tip-toe around people and admin, it kind of dims that excitement I had when I was a new teacher.” y/n finished off her wine as Aaron took a moment to think. y/n had a great way of telling stories, it wasn’t a surprise that Jack was drawn to her tone and humor. It drew him in. He turned his head back to y/n who was now longingly looking between her wine bottle on her counter and her empty glass, as if trying to decide if she should risk another glass. 

Hotch asked carefully, “Have you taken anything for the pain?” He didn’t want to say that she looked rough, but her face looked like it hurt, and from y/n’s small grimaces, it clearly did. y/n nodded and said, “I did. I had some painkillers when I got home. I think I have another hour before I can take another round.” Aaron didn’t make a comment on y/n’s choice to mix alcohol with painkillers, nor the fact that she was drinking on an empty stomach. He’d recommend that she have some dinner in a minute, but for now, he said, “Well, I think if you iced your face for a bit and used some liniment oil on your lip it would reduce the swelling. It’s still going to hurt for a few days, but the bruising should be a little better, and it might tide you over until you can take your next dose of painkillers.” y/n nodded and said, “There’s a bag of ice in the freezer. I was doing that earlier but then fell asleep. I woke up in a nice puddle.” y/n grunted slightly as she got to her feet and made her way toward the kitchen. Aaron followed her with his gaze and he asked, “Can I refill your wine glass, and maybe you can try that oil, it’s pretty soothing. I know from experience.” 

y/n turned her head toward Aaron, he was being so nice to her and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t come across people who were just nice for the sake of it often, and it filled her with warmth. She nodded her head yes and tried to imagine Aaron, who was always so put-together and composed, not bruised and bloody. The thought sent a pang through her. She wondered how often his getting injured happened, and if he’d let her help him like he was helping her. y/n shook her head. This was already feeling like a fantasy, she couldn’t possibly hope for more than this. Things like this didn’t happen, not to her. y/n grabbed the bag of ice that had refrozen after her nap, and grabbed a towel from the drawer next to the fridge, cradling the cool bag in her hand. y/n moved back to the couch and sat back down. The butterflies in her tummy had fluttered their wings like they did when they stopped to get warmed on the gray pavement outside of her house in summer. She wished she could still them, but at the same time, it was such a rush, they almost made up for the pain in her face. She wished she could get a better read on Mr. Hotchner. She knew about his son, and his circumstances, but even so, he was unpredictable like a comet. Why he’d offered to help her apart from out of kindness was hard to pin down, and she didn’t dare ask him outright. Why she’d accepted was another mystery. Did wanting to be in the company of a good man make her a bad person? Was she sexualizing him, taking advantage? 

Before her thoughts could take her further, y/n pressed the bag to her face, covering her and dimming the flush that was blooming on her cheeks. y/n pressed a little too hard and grimaced at the cold and the pressure. Just as she did this, Aaron sat down with her wine and the grocery bag. Hotch softly said, “Gentle now.” y/n looked up at him, half of her face covered, and smiled. She felt like I might cry, but she didn’t know why. How pathetic she must have looked to him. Not able to take care of herself. But she’d been trying. She’d been trying to prove she could care for herself forever. Now one had trusted her, not after the accident. Not after her life had been turned around. But she didn’t talk about that. She didn’t even talk about it with herself anymore. There was no point in self-pity, she’d lived, externally unscathed. For as perceptive as Mr. Hotchner was, he couldn’t know everything inside her, maybe that was what she was waiting for. Someone who could explain why bad things happened to good people. y/n swallowed back her emotions and wiped away one stray tear, and Hotch sat in silence watching her with concern. Wondering why her mood had shifted so suddenly. 

After a few minutes, y/n pulled the ice pack off her face and set it on the table. She then picked up her fresh wine glass and took a smaller sip, savoring it this time, as she did this, Aaron put his hand into the grocery bag and pulled out the cotton wipes normally used for removing makeup, then the liniment oil which was in a small dropper topped bottle. He opened the bottle and took off the paper cover keeping the clear liquid inside. Hotch screwed on the cap and then dropped a few drops of oil onto the pad. He considered that if this was for Jack, he’d use his hands, and let the warmth of his skin soothe the hurt. But this wasn’t Jack, and Aaron remembered that as he started raising his hand to y/n’s mouth like she was someone he could just tend to like family. Hotch froze mid-movement and turned noticeably red. He cleared his throat and said, “Sorry,” as he set the pad into y/n’s waiting hand. She was as shocked as he was at how he’d reached out for her. y/n murmured a barely audible, “Thanks” as she took the pad and, this time, more carefully pressed it to her split lip. Aaron filled the silence with what he hoped were some helpful reminders. It felt too awkward if he didn’t speak after his slip-up with his hand, plus, he was going to have to leave in a few minutes. He didn’t want to stay out late and the darkness outside was only getting darker. 

“If the school or the district ends up giving you any serious trouble, make sure your union rep is with you when you have to explain the situation. And, heaven forbid, there is some complaint and the union can’t do anything, I have a few lawyer friends I can get you in contact with.” y/n nodded her understanding, Her eyes widened at his lawyer comment. Who doesn’t this man know? Aaron continued, “You should ice your face on and off until you go to bed, and make sure you get some dinner before you sleep. You can also use this oil in other places if you’re aching elsewhere, just make sure not to get it in your eyes.” y/n watched him list off these things so collectedly. Not even having to think about them. She considered that he would make a good teacher if he was inclined toward that profession, but then again, he was the leader of an FBI Unit, how much more of a teacher can you get than that? y/n snapped her head up, realizing Aaron was saying something to her. Hotch smiled and repeated, “Can I see?” He gestured toward her lip and y/n let out a little breath and said, “Okay,” as she removed the pad from her lip and looked into Aaron’s dark, thoughtful eyes.

Hotch sat forward in his chair. y/n’s face was in the light of a lamp and he could see her full-looking lips which were pretty except where they were marred by the scar and scab of dark clotted blood. It didn’t look bad enough to need stitches, but just barely. He’d seen so many scars like these on Morgan, Reid, Emily, and his own mouth that it didn’t bother him. What did bother him was that what was a painful and annoying injury being inflicted on y/n. That would sting for at least a week. Sure it sucked when it happened to him or a member of the team, but they’d signed up for that, the most y/n should have to expect in terms of harm on the job was a paper cut. Clearly, he had been mistaken. 

Since they had both returned to their seats, y/n and Aaron had started drifting closer together like moths drawn to a flame. Hotch was about a foot away from y/n and could feel the ghost of her breath on his face and the hint of her barely touched second glass of rose now forgotten on the table. Without thinking, he moved his large hand up to the side of her face. The warmth of his hand on the side of her face had y/n rest her chin in his palm, and she closed her eyes. Not exactly sure what or why he was doing this, Aaron brushed his thumb over y/n’s top lip and then softly over her bottom lip. She winced as the pad of his thumb brushed over her scab, but didn’t pull away from his touch. y/n opened her eyes and Hotch dropped his hand. He leaned in slightly, entranced by y/n, her presence, just wanting to be a bit closer to her. y/n did the same. 

The moment was shattered when y/n’s phone loudly went off. Aaron dropped his hand like a lead weight, and y/n’s head snapped toward her phone on the side of the table. She turned her gaze back toward Aaron, but the moment had been broken. He looked silly, almost ashamed of himself. He’d pulled back and away and his posturing also made y/n feel like a fool. What had she been thinking? y/n got up grabbed her phone and answered, stepping farther away, but not so far away that Hotch couldn’t hear. What did she have to lose after acting so immature in front of him anyway? She could hardly think how she’d act when she saw him again, especially in the classroom. 

Putting the phone to her ear, she listened as her doctor asked if she’d picked up the refill of the medication that she had needed since her accident. y/n dipped her head. She’d completely forgotten about going to the pharmacy after her day and replied, “No not yet. I’ll pick them up right after work tomorrow.” There was a short reminder that those meds were helping y/n and she shouldn’t go without them. y/n nodded and said, “I know. I’ll pick them up tomorrow. I have enough to make it till then.” Hotch watched y/n cave in on herself as she walked away from him. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad, or silly. He felt silly. Like someone who hadn’t been thinking about what he was doing. He shouldn’t have put y/n in that position and he was sorry for it. He’d have to find a way to apologize and leave y/n to her night before making some other kind of monumental error in judgment. 

Hotch heard y/n wrap up her call and her footsteps came back toward him. He stood and moved into the open space of the living room. The front door was just a few feet away and he felt like running out of it. But he stayed in discomfort and said, “I’m sorry for what I did earlier, y/n. That was inappropriate. I, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” y/n dropped her eyes again and said, “It’s alright. You were really kind to come over here and listen to me ramble and complain for half an hour. Not even my friends did that, and I’ll make sure to heed your advice. It’s clear you have a lot more practical life experience than I do. You don’t need to apologize for anything.” Aaron nodded, trying to accept her words for a situation he’d created. He wished he could explain what he’d been thinking, but he couldn’t because he hadn’t been thinking. The final nail in the coffin was when y/n said, “I hope you have a good night, Mr. Hotchner.” The change back to his last name, y/n hoped sounded regretful, but to Aaron, it only sounded hollow. Now it was Aaron’s turn to drop his head and he moved toward the door, stopping for one second as his fingertips brushed the cool metal, so unlike y/n’s warm skin. 

y/n didn’t like this. She didn’t like this at all. She hadn’t really known why she’d said yes to him coming over other than she wanted to see Aaron. She had enjoyed feeling his hand on her face. It was fast and strange like a dream, but she’d liked it, and part of her wanted very badly to understand why she’d wanted him here. And she didn’t think she could do it alone. She assumed that Aaron was as lost as she was. It seemed like he was. The words of y/n’s therapist rang in her ears, “Sometimes being strong is letting people in instead of keeping them out.” Just as Hotch’s hand latched onto the door knob y/n said, “Mr. Hotch… Aaron. I can’t exactly tell you why I asked you here, apart from the fact that I wanted you here, and I really enjoyed having you here, for all of it. I mean, like, before the phone call. I don’t know what this is,” she gestured between them, and continued, “But I’d like to understand it more. Maybe when the semester is over we could get coffee or something. Or if you don’t want that, I understand too.” 

There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity before Aaron turned. His expression looked lighter, and maybe there was a ghost of a smile on his face that said, “I’d like that y/n. I enjoyed tonight too. You have my number now, so you let me know once you have the headspace to come up with a day for our meeting. I look forward to it.” y/n smiled too and raised her hand and waved. Hotch then moved outside and closed the door behind him. As he walked down the drive he felt better. Much better, and happy he’d come, even if he hadn’t been sure why, he had a better picture now, and he felt less guilty about it. He’d have something to tell Jess when the time was right, but for now, he could look forward to getting to know y/n better, and get to know himself too. 

Inside, y/n looked at the door for a second before she moved to it and locked it. She then moved to the couch and dropped into the cushions with a sigh. Once she’d grounded herself, y/n grabbed her glass and took another sip. The bag of ice was once again going unnoticed on the cushions and melting. y/n pulled the glass from her lips and contemplated how her face didn’t hurt so much anymore. Perhaps it was the painkillers, or the wine, or maybe, just maybe, it was the courage to tell Aaron the truth, and the possibility to know more about that feeling between them.

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[arc-misadventures]

hey, you are a popular Rwby stuff writer who has written many stories, so I want to ask you how from a reader to a writer, why do several people like to write that after Pyrrha, Jaune is no longer considered worthy of someone's love? more? that doesn't make any sense and I find it silly and pointless (Yes, I know we're talking about Fanfiction), Jaune Basically he only knew Pyrrha's feelings for 5 minutes before he died and for some reason that means that he suddenly considers her her love of her life and that she can't love anyone else, which seems really silly, even though Jaune had previously shown no romantic interest in her, it just doesn't make sense to me, just because Jaune found out that Pyrrha loved him. Does it mean that he can't love anyone else? I don't know, it seems very strange

I apologize if the question is stupid

I doubt that I am that popular of a writer, but to answer your question.

First off, Jaune was well aware of how, Pyrrha felt for him before that kiss. Most people like to act as if he was aware that, Pyrrha had feelings for him by the, Beacon Dance, at least he became aware of them. And, you can’t look to the part where he was trying to comfort her, and placed his hand on hers that he wasn’t aware of how she felt for him, and was testing the waters so to say the least.

If given more time, Jaune, and Pyrrha would have probably started dating. In a ‘No Fall AU’ i could see the pair start dating after the festival.

Now, as for the idea of, Jaune isn’t deserving of anyone’s love. Well, I like to see it as, Jaune is scared to fall in love again.

Take it as such, Jaune finally clued in that, Pyrrha has feelings for him, and he has feelings for her. The duo want to explore the possibility of a relationship. But, before that relationship has a chance to bloom it tragically ends.

No one forgets their first crush, I’ve learned techniques to forget my first crush, and it is a bitch to deal with. So, do you honestly think, Jaune can just move on from his first crush when she was murdered on a day that lead to the destruction of of, Beacon Academy, and then the realization that, Ozpin fed ideas to, Pyrrha’s head that lead to her death?

Does it sound like it’s an easy task to just, ‘move on?’

And, the cherry on top of it all, is that their first kiss as well as their last. Can you imagine the pain of such a kiss; A lovers kiss filled with the painful regret of a farewell?

In my opinion, Jaune doesn’t feel that he is undeserving of love. Jaune is scared to love again, because his first love was so short, and so painful that it haunted him for a long time afterwards.

Least that’s my opinion. Does that answer your question?

[seramilla]

For the fake dating au I was wondering why Sera would think of Carmilla the ballet teacher so my assumption is that Emily is or was taking classes. I could only imagine how it must feel for Carmilla to have the guardian of one of her students ask her to pretend to date her. Maybe a part Carmilla had been hoping she would ask her out.

Carmilla wonders why Sera had chosen her to be her fake partner. It doesn't make much sense for someone as high-brow as Sera to be asking Carmilla to participate in this scheme with her. Carmilla is just a teacher; a teacher who spends a large chunk of each week with Emily's sister, but a teacher all the same. She's not rich or famous or even part of the nobility. She relies on people like Sera for income. The match seems like it would fail under any other circumstances.

The truth is, however, it is because of Carmilla's position that Sera is drawn to her. Carmilla spends hours upon hours with Emily on a regular basis; so much so that the young Seraphim finds Carmilla as a source of safety. She never stops talking about all the new dances and exercises that Ms. Carmine is teaching her. Emily is the most important thing in the entire universe to Sera; of course her match would have to be someone who Emily trusts, and someone whom Sera can trust, by proxy.

Still, Carmilla doesn't know about this piece of context, so it makes very little sense to her. But...she doesn't hate the idea. Sera is a gorgeous, radiant...almost too-perfect specimen of a woman. Carmilla truly doesn't understand what Sera sees in her. But she's honestly relieved Sera had asked her out. Finally. She's only been teaching Emily for the last 3 years, pining and longing after the girl’s older sister from a comfortable distance.

But Sera is very close to her now, and Carmilla doesn’t know how to handle all of this fake, yet excessive, attention. It’s a dream true…but also, her heart is threatened to be broken by the end of their deal. When Sera gets what she wants…when she has no more use for Carmilla…Sera may leave. And that is the most tragic, painful thing of all. Carmilla vows to enjoy it while it lasts.

[ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si]

On Good Nights

Dev x Reader

Summary- He can already smell his favorite curry cooking as he enters his home. And he knew, today was going to be one of those good nights.

Dev's Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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Dev was used to living a life of shadows and whispers. His world was one of secrets and lies, a world where trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. But at home, with his wife, his world was different. It was filled with warmth, love, and an unspoken understanding that made all the darkness worthwhile.

Today, as he approached his house, the familiar scent of his favorite curry wafted through the air, teasing his senses and tugging at his heartstrings. He couldn't help but smile, a rare and genuine smile that was reserved only for moments like these.

Unlocking the door quietly, he stepped inside, taking a moment to savor the homely atmosphere. The radio was playing a song softly, the recognizable tune of ‘Abhi naa Jao chod kar~’ reached his ears. Along with her sweet voice humming along.She had a knack for picking the perfect background music for every occasion, and today was no exception. He'd remembered her saying that it reminded her of him and since then had been deemed as one of her favorites.

He moved further into the house, the smell of the curry growing stronger, mingling with the subtle scent of incense. As he turned the corner into the kitchen, he saw her. There she was, his beautiful wife, standing at the stove, gently stirring a pot of curry. She was humming along with the radio, and gently swaying along,a hand resting on her pregnant belly.

His eyes softened as he took in the sight. Her growing belly was a constant reminder of the new life they were about to welcome into their world. Despite the challenges of his job and the secrets he had to keep, moments like these made everything worth it.

Dev moved silently, his training coming in handy as he approached her from behind. He wrapped his arms around her gently, careful not to startle her. She jumped slightly, then relaxed into his embrace, a smile spreading across her face.

"Oh jii, aap aa gaye?," she said softly, her voice filled with warmth as she turned to glance at the wall clock. "Aaj jaldi aa gaye."

"Aap se dur raha nahi gaya," he replied, burying his face in her hair and inhaling the comforting scent of her shampoo. "I missed you both."

She laughed, a light, musical sound that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. "I made your favorite curry. Thought you could use a taste of home."

"It's perfect," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Just like you."

She blushed, the color rising to her cheeks. "You're just saying that because you're hungry." She teased.

"I'm saying that because it's true," he countered, tightening his hold on her for a moment before reluctantly letting go. "I missed you so much. Every moment I'm away from you feels like an eternity.”

She turned around and reached up to cup his face in her hands, trying to put all her love and tenderness into it. "I'm here now," she whispered. "And so are you. That's all that matters."

He leaned down and kissed her, a slow, lingering kiss that conveyed everything he couldn't put into words. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing a little more heavily, their foreheads resting against each other.

"How's the little one?" he asked, his hand moving to rest on her swollen belly.

"Active," she said with a smile. "I think they know when you're around. They always seem to move more when you're home."

Dev felt a surge of emotion, a mixture of pride, love, and a fierce protectiveness for the family they were building together. "I can't wait to meet them," he said softly. "To hold them in my arms and tell them how amazing their mother is."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she chuckled. "And I can't wait to see you as a father. You're going to be the best, just like you are the best husband ever.”

“I hope so," he said, his voice a little rough with emotion. "I want to give our child everything I never had. A safe, loving home. A family they can always count on."

She reached up and kissed him again, a soft, sweet kiss that spoke volumes. "We'll do it together," she promised. "As long as we have each other, we can face anything."

Dev smiled, a deep, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. “Just like we always do."

She nodded, her eyes filled with trust and love. "Yes, we will." She took his hand and placed it on her belly, where their baby kicked softly. "See? Even the little one agrees."

They both laughed, the sound mingling with the soft music from the radio. And Dev couldn't remember the last time he felt this content. The world outside might be filled with danger and uncertainty, but here, in this kitchen, with his wife and unborn child, everything felt perfect.

"I should let you finish cooking," he said after a moment, not wanting to, but knowing he should. "I don't want to burn the curry."

Her eyes widened slightly and she quickly turned back to the stove as she began to stir the forgotten curry. "Oh, thank god, it's not burnt," she said, having a sigh of relief. "Aapn fresh ho kar aayi ye, khana bas hone hi aaya.” She continued.

Dev smiled as he watched her return to her task, the love in his heart swelling as he took in the sight of her. "Okay," he said, giving her a quick peck on the side of her head before heading to their bedroom to freshen up.

When he returned to the kitchen, she was setting the table, her movements a little restricted due to her huge stomach. He immediately reached out and began helping her to carry the dishes from the stove to the table. It was a simple, mundane activity, but it meant everything to her. The curry smelled heavenly, the aroma was making his mouth water and he couldn't wait to dig in.

Once the table was set, Dev poured two glasses of water, and they sat down to eat. "This smells amazing," he said, taking a bite and closing his eyes in bliss. "And it tastes even better."

She watched him with a soft smile. Her own plate was barely touched as she watched with adoration as he wolfed down his plate. "I'm glad you like it," she said softly. "I wanted to make something special for you."

"You always do," he replied, reaching across the table to take her hand. "And it's always perfect."

Dev glanced up and saw her looking at him with a smile. And he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude. Despite the secrets and the challenges, he knew he was incredibly lucky. He had a loving wife, a baby on the way, and a home filled with warmth and love.

After dinner, they moved to the living room, where they settled on the couch together. Devi leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. The radio was still playing softly in the background, the music a soothing backdrop to their quiet conversation.

"I can't wait for our baby to be here," she said softly, her hand resting on her belly. "I keep imagining what they'll be like. Will they have your eyes? Your smile?"

"Maybe," Dev said with a smile. “I don't mind, as long as they'll have your kindness and your strength. Either way, they're going to be amazing."

They talked for a while longer, sharing their hopes and dreams for the future. It was moments like these that Dev cherished the most. The simple, everyday moments that made life so incredibly precious.

Eventually, they decided it was time for bed. They moved upstairs, their hands intertwined, a silent promise of their unwavering bond. In the bedroom, they settled into their nightly routine, and Dev couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful she looked, even in the simplest of clothes, doing the mundanest of things.

They climbed into bed together, the familiar comfort of their shared space wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Dev pulled her close, his hand resting on her belly, and she snuggled against him, her head resting on his chest.

"Goodnight, Dev," she whispered, her voice soft and sleepy.

"Goodnight, love," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," she murmured, her eyes already closing.

As Dev lay there, listening to the sound of her breathing and feeling the gentle movements of their unborn child, he knew he would do anything to protect them. He would keep his secrets and live his double life, all to ensure their safety and happiness.

On good nights like this, when shadows retreated and secrets held no power, Dev knew he had everything he ever wanted. And that was enough. Because in the end, nothing mattered more than this. Nothing mattered more than the love they shared and the family they were building together.

With that thought, he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him, secure in the knowledge that as long as they had each other, they could face anything the world threw at them.

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

Well... I love this! What do we think?

Tags- @mad-who-ra @vijayasena @kanha-sakhi @nerdreader @athena-roy @warnermeadowsgirl @celestesinsight @sabii5 @bxby-luna

Let me know if you wanna be tagged and you will be added to the list!

Enjoy 🤎

[south-sea]

shadow having days where he’s more kid than adult, and more adult than kid

but also days where he’s more maria than shadow

[sovonight]

,

[evermoredeluxe]

my lord taylena forever, they’re simply sisters 🤷‍♀️

[waluigisgaybf]

trauma caused by a therapist really makes getting therapy for trauma a bitch

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #24

[planetarytransformation]

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation, the goal of which was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial that so many of us once learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to

[yueebby]

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 

 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.” 

“o-okay.” 

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.” 

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!” 

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

[celesterayel]

something out of my dreams | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x dionysus!reader

request: could you possibly write a luke x daughter of dionysus please? maybe she’s like super nice and when percy gets to camp she becomes like an older sister and luke is super whipped for her? @elz-zalarrr

IN WHICH — all he knows is that you were something out of his dreams.

"trust him like a brother, yeah, you know i did one thing right. starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night" - t.s.

w.c. 1.8k

warning(s) : cheesiness ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note okay i've begun to realize that low-key i feel like i write in cursive if that makes sense? if a feeling could describe it i'd say its like using poetry to write? that's likely not any better lol :)

there was but one person that everyone could agree they adored at camp half blood.

it didn't matter what grudge who had with whom or what ancient rivalries transcended the ideals of reality, everyone loved you. not the typical type of brittle love that crumbled at the slightest of touches, but pure adoration that endured the sands of time.

you with the gentle soul, who healed others with each laugh and smile. when new half-godlings were brought to camp, you made sure to comfort them and make them understand that they belonged here and would find a home whether they wanted to or not. you made sure that no birthday was forgotten, no deed undone.

children of minor gods or elders, of Ares or Aphrodite, you became an older sister to all who needed you. you, the daughter of fertility and chaos, the god dionysius.

there was no debate that at camp half blood there was only a before you and an after you. you were like that high right before the free fall–invincibility and smoke and curiosity wrapped into the form of a demi-god. you were the gentle breeze during summer nights when the heat became too much. and none ached more to feel it than luke castellan, who had been burning for as long as he knew.

your relationship in itself was tentative, you danced around your feelings–scared one wrong touch or word would break the shaky, fine line that lay between you two. but you could not hide the way you loved the other to yourselves nor the children of the beings of divine blood. 

luke castellan loved you like the stars would fall out of the sky with one harsh touch, free and incandescently self-destructive. like you were a wild, wonderful thing out of a fantasy.

you loved him like there was no hell or heaven but the cosmos that lay in his eyes and the worlds that lay in his soul. something so sacred and rare. a love so true and mortal it put all the greek tragedies to shame. 

you knew that whatever you and him were made of, in every lifetime or the next you two were made for each other. 

loving luke castellan would be both your redemption and destruction in the making, your elysium for whatever good thing you had done in your previous life. 

✩ ‧₊˚

you first met percy jackson when he came to camp, he was a scared little thing who had just lost his mother when the veil between reality and deception flickered. everything he’d known came crumbling as quickly as the truth was uncovered: gods and monsters were real and played games of hell and heaven on earth. some thing about him called out to the vulnerability you once knew when you first came to camp so you made it your mission to be the sister he never had. 

you met him at the front of the steps of the main office, “my name is y/n, percy jackson. welcome to camp halfblood.”

“do you just somehow know everyones name,” he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“yes.” no, but you supposed it’d be fun to let him think that. 

“of course you do.”

“come along, i’ll show the ins and outs here. if you're nice enough, i might let you in on the cook's secret stash of blue ice cream,” you laughed out.

he contemplated his choices before grabbing your outstretched hand and shaking it, “deal.”

you showed him who to avoid and the best people to befriend. the history between your kind and why the gods were as they were. the truth behind his bloodline and the legacy that he was now responsible for. the tribulations and the pain that was cursed to follow the children of the gods. 

“and this is chris. the best person to ask if you need to know what plants are poisonous,” you say, introducing him to a guy with black hair and soft eyes. 

percy looks at chris before looking around to see where the hermes boy is, “we’ve met. he was with luke when he was showing me around”

you’re cheeks heated at the mention of his name; looking around to see if you can spot the familiar tan skin and soft eyes that belong to your luke. 

“oh! luke! yeah, he’s around here somewhere. he’s sly like that, wandering and then popping up the next second.”

a voice pipes up behind you suddenly, “y/n, already telling percy everything about me?” 

you whirl around and there he stands in all his glory with the curls you love and the sun in his eyes. your golden boy.

“just telling him the truth, castellan. you’re hard to get a hold of sometimes.”

a hue of pink covers his cheeks, “i’m never far from you.”

both of you oblivious to percy and chris who seem to be conversing about you both and the tip-toe dance you play. 

percy just wonders what’s happening here: firstly, luke is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars and that’s saying something because he has shit observation skills–his analysis essays can attest to that. secondly, he swears he can see hearts in his eyes from where he’s standing and is that…is that a blush?

he turns to chris, who is just staring at the two like it's not out of the normal for what’s happening, “what’s happening here? is he blushing?”

chris just nods, “yeah. luke’s kinda–very obviously to everyone–in love with y/n. if i didn’t know better i’d say she’s gotten him insane in love. very likely as her dad’s the god of insanity.”

he turns back to the two who are laughing and standing closer than before, “like super, super in love. if there was a word for love, luke’s found it”

“huh.” 

chris says it like it’s common knowledge like how the best food is blue jelly beans, “i mean i ship it, y/n’s the sweetest person around here–the type of person people write songs about. she’s like a sister to us older ones and a mother to the younger ones. the whole camp is waiting for him to just man up and ask y/n. they make each other happy, you know?”

“yeah, i think i do.” 

percy thinks it’s something the poets would write about.

✩ ‧₊˚

fridays are capture the flag days.

you’re not the type of person to engage in these types of games all that often but you suppose there’s a first time for everything. someone’s got to show the percy boy how it’s played. 

“okay, percy. remember, keep your senses open and make sure that no one gets close enough to engage. once they engage, it’s hard to fight them off.”

all around you two, people have begun to don their armor and raise arms. the sun has just reached its height and you’re huddled together discussing your gameplan. even though your cabin house is pretty small, you’ve joined athena and hermes for this game. 

percy’s voice rises a little high as he tries swinging his sword around only to drop it, “yeah, okay. i’ll just try not to die, i guess. that’s not like hard or anything.”

“just follow my lead and if i’m not here find luke.”

you're not exactly excited about percy’s odds. the kid is lanky as is and his sassiness doesn’t help him out much when others target him for it. 

that’s exactly why you’re gone to his rescue when he nearly gets hit in the face by a spear after he insulted one of the boys from house ares. 

your heel nearly buckles under a sharp hit after you block the attack that’s directed to percy. you manage to reset your heel and push the sword off before you drop down into a crouch and sweep the legs of the warrior in front of you.

unfortunately you're slightly too focused on what’s in front of you and protecting percy you don’t realize that someones charging toward you from the side. 

fortunately, a block from a familiar sword stops any attack that might meet you head on. no sooner do you hear the block that luke’s got the other guy on the floor and surrendering. 

you grin at him, “i had that handled.”

giving you that grin that makes you feel like your future's right in front of you, he replies: “i’m sure you did. but why let you deal with him when i can save you the trouble.” 

“why don’t you go and help annabeth win the games, romeo.”

he gives you a wink, throwing a quick ‘yes ma’am’ before he’s already running off again. 

no sooner than later, a quick gong resounds throughout the camp, concluding the games. you’re standing slightly battered while percy walks behind you pointing out all the flowers he’s found. you definitely need to teach him how to defend himself. 

the players are just trickling in for the woods they’ve been fighting in to reband together and in the distance you see a figure running toward you. 

holding onto the flag, he continues to look at you like you’re everything he’s ever needed to breathe. he’s taken his helmet off and you can finally see him fully: brown eyes and all dimples.

“see you’ve found the flag.”

he takes a couple of steps closer to you until only two steps separate him and you, “yeah, someone told me to go win the game so I did just that for her”.

“really now?”

he whispers, “yeah.” 

his eyes twinkle and you’ve never wanted anything more than to continue to stare at them. 

you hope he’ll make the next move but luke castellan, the boy you’ve fallen for in every lifetime, is always content to admire you.

so, you take those two next steps, grab him by his neck, and press your lips to his. 

he stands shocked for a minute, wondering if what’s happening is really happening. but no sooner, he’s dropped the flag on the grass and holds you like your the greatest treasure he’s ever had.

there’s a certain type of tragedy that your golden boy tastes like, fire and freedom all in this moment. it’s the price of redemption and damnation that you’re willing to pay. 

to him, it’s the stars aligning like you’d will them to–the power you held and every thing he’s ever needed. your his past, future, and present: the threads in his life giving him the one thing he’s ever wanted. something he’s only ever dreamed of. 

he pulls back slightly before murmuring, “in every lifetime or the next, i am yours. i don’t know what i did to deserve you. you’re something only out of my dreams, y/n.”

"you sap"

you just kiss him again, ignoring all the campers and those still trickling in. 

✩ ‧₊˚

“definitely a child of dionysius. she’s reduced him to insanity,” pipes up percy as he tears off the petals of the flower he holds in his hand. 

chris just grabs a flower and continues to rip the petals off like the boy beside him. 

“damn straight!” shouts luke toward the two.