#I fixed this issue by making a playlist full of songs I don’t think you’d listen to

[buysomecheese]

You’ve ruined music for me; I can’t enjoy a song without your voice louder than the lyrics

[everybodyscupoftea]

you are the music in me

rafe x reader

five times rafe shows you a song, and one time you show him

holy cow who let me do this:

okay huge thanks to @travisgermy​ who stayed up forever with me picking out songs one night, the list of “maybe this” or “idk does this fit the vibe” is insanely long but i think i got it right.

i’m very very proud of my playlists and my taste in music. music is also very important to me, so i decided to write this because if a man ever came to me and said “this song made me think of you,” i might marry him on the spot

finally, thanks to my two very good friends for encouraging me and reading it over @sunnypogue​ and @moldisgoodforyou​ you guys are the best

little warning: there’s some cursing

(also i tried to link the songs to the titles so you can click and listen while reading that part)

You met Rafe freshman year in an auditorium size Intro to Theater elective. He was giving off huge ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes and sitting alone in the top left corner of the room, pretty far away from everyone else. Not only was the lack of people appealing, but the rumpled boy with headphones in, chugging coffee, was cute.

Orientation was scheduled late for you, and theater was the elective you opted to take when all the music classes were filled. Unfortunately, scheduling last meant most of the seats were full anyway, and you had no choice but take it at 8 a.m.

It was easy at first, barely any work involved and minimal notes. You basically just had to show up and fill a seat for attendance. And then the ‘acting’ unit started and your professor, who had been your favorite until then, threw a partner project and suddenly the ‘not talk to anyone’ strategy you’d been employing backfired.

Holding in a groan, you looked over the lines of dialogue he’d given out with the instructions, “Make it your own.” People all around you were moving and chatting with the people they’d talked to in class already and you felt frozen. Until headphone boy suddenly sat down next to you.

“Wanna partner up?” he asked after a long sip of coffee.

“Oh, um, yeah, that’d be great.”

Thus, the shaky alliance formed. He was a little closed off at first, but you managed to get to know him a little more, and by the end of the semester, you’d even call the two of you friends. It was really solidified when he texted you first a few times over winter break.

Rafe was really easy to talk to, he had his own amount of trauma that he didn’t really talk much about unless it related to an issue you were going through and he felt his experience could relate to yours and comfort you. It was really nice, having a support system away from home in this new college town where you didn’t know anyone.

Study sessions together turned to lunches together turned to dinners together. He became your permanent bar buddy and you always felt safe with his steady presence nearby. You’d never really known anyone quite like him and it was exhilarating being with him all the time.

Where Rafe really excelled was music. He constantly had headphones in when walking around campus, when the two of you studied, and when you went to the gym together. It didn’t bother you, it wasn’t rude, he just liked it and he knew so much about artists and bands you’d never heard of. It was how he best communicated.

One: Let Me Down Slowly

Fall of sophomore year, you started seeing a guy in your literature class. It wasn’t like a super romantic thing, it started with just sleeping together after a football game to occasional dinners when you weren’t with Rafe.

His name was Brian and Rafe hated him. Casual sex was hard for you, separating feelings and intimacy wasn’t your style, but for Brian you tried really hard. It failed, just like Rafe warned you it would, but you vowed to keep faking it anyway.

Eventually, Brian, during dinner, asked if you had been seeing anyone else. You hadn’t, of course, and told him so. He seemed pleased and you thought that meant he wasn’t either. Where you went wrong was not actually getting clarification on that point.

He invited you to a party one Friday night, and you decided to go. Rafe was in your dorm room, watching you get dressed, as you chattered on about finally being official with Brian and this being the two of you’s big moment as a couple finally.

Rafe sat cross-legged on your bed, barely concealing his contempt toward Brian, but you ignored it, pushing through. Once you deemed yourself ready, you turned to Rafe, holding out your necklace to him, “Can you help me put this on?”

He sighed and hopped off your bed. Taking the necklace from your hand, he gently turned you around and stepped closer, brushing all your hair to one side. The metal was cold when it hit your collarbone and you shivered a little.

Rafe’s fingers danced over your neck as he fastened the chain and fixed your hair back. Putting both hands on your shoulders, he squeezed a little and smiled at you in the mirror, “Knock ‘em dead, gorgeous.”

Before you could respond, Brian texted you that he was parked outside, waiting for you. With a nervous exhale, you held your fist out for Rafe to bump, “Thanks for keeping me company, Cameron.”

He smiled and gently bumped your knuckles, “Anytime, bud.” You didn’t see his smile slip a little as you left the room.

Brian was blasting some club remix he frequently listened to when you got into this car. He smiled at you, leaning in for a kiss, “Ready, babe?”

“Ready,” you told him, buckling in.

The party wasn’t anything new or special, you’d been to many just like it, but it felt different. You weren’t sure what it was, maybe that you were finally officially on Brian’s arm, but the air felt odd.

Excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, you pulled out your phone to check and see if Rafe had texted you. He had, something short reassuring you that if you needed a ride home later, he’d be up. You breathed out a sigh of relief because Brian had started drinking the moment the two of you stepped in the door and you weren’t sure how he planned on getting you home.

Leaning forward and bracing yourself on the counter, you stared at yourself in the mirror. With an annoyed sigh, you hissed, “Get it together, bitch. This is supposed to be your night.”

And with that, you left the bathroom. Only to find Brian making out with some girl you’d never seen before on the couch. Which really fucking hurt. You didn’t even really know what to do, you’d only been dating for a few weeks, but you’d been emotionally connected to him for much longer.

Tears you didn’t want rose in your eyes as you stared frozen at the two of them groping each other. One of Brian’s friends that you’d met a few times caught your eye. His widened and he shook Brian’s shoulder. Brian, hazy eyed, pulled away and saw you standing there, clearly hurt.

He jumped up, fear in his eyes, and you backed away, shaking your head. You weren’t sure if he chased you, you hightailed it out of the house and down the street, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. Pity was the last thing you wanted from him or his asshole friends who did nothing to stop him.

By the time you’d gotten far enough away that you didn’t hear the music anymore, the cold had set in and you were shivering. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you sniffled several times, trying to get it together. Unfortunately, your tears refused to listen and streamed down your cheeks, not slowing in the slightest.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated, a text from Rafe telling you he’d made it to season four of the show you recommended him and that season three’s finale had been heartbreaking.

How could you not give me even a little heads up, what the fuck

You choked out a laugh through the tears and hit call before thinking about how he’d definitely be able to tell something was up from your voice.

“Hey,” he answered, sounding a little concerned, “you still at the party?”

“Um, not really,” you said, trying to not give away your crying.

It didn’t work, you heard rustling in the background as he asked, “Where are you? Better yet, where’s Brian?”

You sighed, “Probably fucking whatever chick I caught him making out with.”

Rafe cursed lowly before saying, “Send me your location and I’ll come pick you up.”

Hanging up, you sent it to him and sat down on the sidewalk, pulling your knees to your chest. You kind of didn’t want to see Rafe because you didn’t really want the ‘I told you so’ likely to come as soon as you got in the car.

He pulled up, not too long after your tears stopped, and you hopped up to get into the passenger side. You weren’t expecting him to throw it in park and jog around to wrap you into a tight hug before you could get in. It took you by surprise, but it wasn’t unwelcome. After getting over your shock, you squeezed him back tightly, cherishing the unusual show of affection.

It brought the tears back and you sniffled a few times, burying your face into his chest. Rafe held you tightly until you got ahold of yourself again and then pulled the door open to help you into his truck. While it wasn’t unusual for him to do, you couldn’t help but notice for the first time, that it was something Brian never did.

Before you could buckle up, he grabbed one of his sweatshirts off the backseat and handed it to you.

“How are you feeling right now, bud? Do you want to wallow for a bit or do you want to say ‘fuck him’ and move on?”

You sighed, “I don’t know, kinda in the mood to wallow right now.”

Rafe cranked up the heat and nodded before pulling up his Spotify to pick something out. A familiar sounding song started playing and he looked over at you, “This song really encompasses the lonely feeling of wanting someone, great for wallowing.”

You sniffled a few times and turned the volume up before sinking back into the seat. He smiled at you gently and started driving down the street. The words started up and you couldn’t stop the tears anymore.

Don’t cut me down, throw me out, leave me here to waste

Rafe tapped his thumb against the steering wheel to the song as he drove. You quickly recognized his route to the coffee shop the two of you go to. Wiping your nose on the hoodie sleeve, you finally spoke up, “It’s closed.”

“Huh?” he asked, glancing over at you quickly before focusing on the road again.

“Coco Bean, it’s closed.”

“I’m just driving, no destination.”

“Oh,” you said, tuning into the song again.

Could you find a way to let me down slowly / a little sympathy, I hope you can show me / if you wanna go then I’ll be so lonely / if you’re leaving baby let me down slowly

With a long, shuddering sigh, you melted back into the seat and let Rafe drive. You were a little startled when he started to sing softly. He’d hummed in front of you but never sang, and he actually had a pretty good voice.

And I can’t stop myself from falling down

Twisting your fingers through the hem of the sweatshirt, you tilted your head to lean against the cold window as the song started its last bit.

Now I’m slipping through the cracks of your cold embrace / so please, please / could you find a way to let me down slowly

Rafe switched to something slightly more upbeat as you tried to pull yourself together. The two of you drove around for hours, songs switching from upbeat to sad, enough to keep you interested.

“One last song,” he told you, around 3 a.m. and All I Want started up. Rafe had showed you that one before. He reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing tightly for a few seconds before adding, “Brian’s a dick and you deserve better.”

You squeezed back and nodded, not really knowing what to say.

Two: I’m Good

You’d stubbornly avoided Rate My Professor when trying to schedule a bio class, which was turning out to be a pretty hefty mistake. The guy you picked, mostly because of the 10 a.m. time slot, was a disaster. His teaching style didn’t match your learning style and he barely taught the information he used on the test anyway.

Needless to say, you bombed the first one. Like not a dramatic, ‘I bombed it’ and it turning out to be a C. Like a serious 40%. You weren’t sure how you made it through the rest of your classes, maybe adrenaline or just the pure stubbornness to not have a very public breakdown, but you sent Rafe a very vague text blowing off lunch and went straight to your room.

Face planting onto your bed, you shut your phone off, totally content to not talk to anyone for at least another day. Hours could’ve passed before you finally rolled onto your side, you weren’t sure what time in was, all you knew was that your stomach was growling.

At some point during your wallowing, you roommate had come home, and it had gotten dark outside. All of your weekend plans flew straight out the window and the idea of doing any work when clearly it would be pointless anyway was nauseating.

Eventually, you fell into a restless sleep, dreaming about failing classes and angry bio teachers trying to break your fingers until you finally understood cellular respiration. It was easily one of the worst nights you’d ever had, and by the time the sun rose, you were ready to just stop thinking.

You knew your roommate would eventually come into your room to ask about getting brunch, or to just see what you had planned for the day, but you really didn’t want to see her. What you didn’t expect when your door was finally pushed open, was to see Rafe standing there, holding a bag of food.

“Hey, bud,” he spoke softly, walking slowly toward your bed, “you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” you asked, voice cracking.

Rafe laughed, “No, you don’t. But I did bring your favorite.”

You perked up a little, looking at the bag curiously, “Chicken caesar wrap?”

“Yes ma’am. Would you like to join me on a walk?”

You sighed, but getting out of the room with Rafe sounded kind of good, so you stood and put on a pair of slides, not wanting to put in the effort of actual shoes. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders while the two of you walked down the hallway, and you cherished the closeness.

“What happened?” he finally asked, as the two of you made it out the building and over to a bench outside.

“I failed my test. I don’t know what happened, none of the material he taught was on the test and I just don’t know how to study for that.”

Rafe handed you half of the wrap and let you rest your head on his shoulder before speaking, “Did you check Quizlet, maybe someone who’s already taken it posted something for you to use.”

You shrugged while taking a bite, “Maybe. I mean I know I can come back from this, he drops the lowest test, but I don’t know, I’ve never gotten a grade that bad. It’s so discouraging and I just lost all motivation to do anything.”

He hummed softly and pulled his phone out. After scrolling for a few seconds, he offered you a headphone with a smile, “Maybe this will help.”

Trying to figure out who I am / or who I’m supposed to be / feel good about where I stand / so I can make the most of me

You drummed your fingers on Rafe’s knee to the uplifting beat. He bumped your shoulders together and started eating the other half of the wrap.

You only live once / I’m good with myself / I’m there for my friends / til the very end

Rafe reached out to lace his fingers through yours, catching your attention, before saying, “You know I’ve always got you right?”

You nodded, tears rising for the first time since the numbness gripped you, “Yeah, Cameron, I know.”

I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good / living life just like I should / wouldn’t change it if I could / I’m good, I’m good, I’m good

When the song ended, you lifted your head up and finished your half of the wrap. Rafe paused the next song playing and smiled down at you gently, “You are the smartest person I’ve ever met, if anyone can beat this asshole bio professor, it’s you.”

“I am pretty smart, huh?”

He didn’t answer, just laughed and leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. You didn’t know what you could do without him.

Three: Blood // Water

It got out of hand before you could stop it. You were tired all the time because of work and your roommate was stressed from school, and her new boyfriend was a huge slob. He used your utilities and ate your food and didn’t pay a lick of rent.

You’d been fuming about it for months, but it really came to head when you realized how often he was staying over and she wasn’t giving you a heads up. One afternoon, you were watching TV on the couch, a rare free afternoon that you wanted to spend in your underwear, no one was home anyway. So you thought.

Your roommate had class, but she’d let her boyfriend in and he’d been sitting in her room without you knowing. Just as you settled in, her door flew open and you shrieked, grabbing for the nearest blanket to cover yourself up with. He stared at you, mouth hanging open.

“Dude, stop fucking looking, what the fuck?!” you yelled, and he slapped a hand over his eyes. Taking the opportunity, you ran to your room and slammed the door shut. He had to go, the boyfriend either needed to stop living rent free or stay out of your personal space.

By the time your roommate made it home, you’d had time to get yourself really really worked up, and you were ready for a fucking fight. Rafe had called at some point and tried to calm you down, but talking it out with him only made you angrier, and he eventually gave up, telling you to not let her walk all over you.

She walked in and toward her room, but you stopped her right outside it by clearing your throat. Maybe, for a more constructive conversation, you could’ve started it better, but you went straight in with, “So do I need to buy Marcus a housewarming gift or is he going to live somewhere else anytime soon?”

She frowned at you, “What?”

“I’m not paying 50% of the rent if your boyfriend is gonna be here as much as I am. I’ll gladly play a third of the rent, but I’m gonna need him to contribute if he’s going to use my hot water and eat my food.”

Your roommate took a defensive stance, “He’s not here that much.”

“Oh yeah? Well then why did I go to wash my work uniform, only to find his shit in the washing machine?”

“That was a one-time thing, he stayed over a few nights and ran out of clothes.”

Fists tightening, you drew yourself up, “Okay, tell me, when’s the last time he went home?”

She paused to think and you nodded, emphasizing your point. Before either of you could say anything else, there was a knock at your door. Your roommate opened it and saw Rafe standing outside. With a huff, she turned back to you, “Well while we’re at it, talking about boys being over all the time, what about Rafe?”

Your jaw dropped, “Rafe isn’t eating your food and showering at 3 a.m. and WALKING OUT WHILE YOU’RE SITTING IN YOUR UNDERWEAR.”

Rafe’s eyes widened, he’d never heard you yell like that before, it was rattling. Your roommate had, but never at her, and she looked taken aback before narrowing her eyes, “Why the fuck were you just sitting in your underwear?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I not allowed to do that in the comfort of my own home?”

“Not when Marcus is around.”

You threw your hands up, “That’s the fucking point! I never know when he’s around or isn’t because you don’t have the courtesy to give me the heads up!”

She stepped closer to you as if to shove you, but Rafe stepped between the two of you, putting both of his hands on your shoulders, “Hey, bud, hey, look at me, okay?”

You fought against him, trying to get another look at your roommate, “Never compare that asshole to Rafe, at least Rafe can hold a fucking conversation. You’re dating a piece of wet cardboard.”

“Babe,” Rafe warned you.

“Babe,” she mimicked in a high-pitched voice, “you do everything he tells you to, doormat?”

Rafe’s hands tensed on your shoulders and he narrowed his eyes, “Marcus, better get your ass out here and help me. You’re the root of the whole fucking problem.”

Her bedroom door opened slowly and a very sheepish looking Marcus stood there with a pair of her shoes in hand, “Let’s go for a drive, huh?”

Rafe kept you in place until the other two had left and you sagged into his hold. You couldn’t stop the tears that started falling as soon as the door slammed shut, and Rafe pulled you into a hug. He stroked your hair, “You’re just tired, babe, it’s going to be okay.”

You sniffled pathetically, “Why won’t she just be fucking accommodating.”

He pulled you behind him to your room and shut the door behind you. It was nighttime, and the room went dark immediately, until Rafe turned on the fairy lights you had hanging around your bed. He sat down and patted the empty spot next to him, “You remember when you called me to come hang these damn lights up?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, “Yeah, you hated me for it.”

“I didn’t hate you, but I wasn’t thrilled.”

Leaning into his side, you sighed, “Did I just fuck things up?”

Rafe wrapped his arms around you and laid down, arranging the two of you on the bed so that you were partially on top of him before he spoke, “I don’t think so. Y’all have been friends for so long, I’m sure she’ll come around.”

You played with his shirtsleeve for a few seconds before looking up at his face. He was already looking down at you, soft smile on his lips, and you stuck your tongue out playfully at him. Rafe laughed and lifted his hips up to fish his phone out of his pocket.

“Oh, you got a song for me?” you asked, leaning further onto him.

“Maybe. You want some angry vibes?”

“Hmmm, I think so, yeah.”

He picked a song after a few seconds and laid back fully, shutting his eyes while you started to hum along. It was catchy.

Look me in my eyes / tell me everything’s not fine / or the people ain’t happy / and the river has run dry

Rafe smiled with his eyes closed as you climbed off the bed to start jumping around. All your angry energy started to drain as you read from the lyrics on your phone.

The price of your greed / is your son and your daughter / what you gon’ do / when there’s blood in the water

You grabbed his arm, trying to pull him up to jump around with you, but you weren’t nearly strong enough. Rafe laughed at you, eyes finally open again, until you huffed and tossed his arm back. He stayed down watching you as the song built.

I am the people / I am the storm / I am the riot / I am the swarm / when the last’s tree’s fallen / the animal can’t hide / money won’t solve it / what’s your alibi

It was probably for the best your roommate had left because if she was still there, she’d be furious with your screaming. By the time the song ended, you were breathing heavily and Rafe was laughing. Collapsing on top of him, you tried to catch your breath.

Rafe brushed an errant strand of hair out of your face, “That was beautiful, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, “Felt good, thanks for the assist, Cameron.”

The smile slowly fell from his lips as he kept staring at you, and you were confused. Before you could ask what was wrong, he shut his eyes and leaned up to kiss you.

It wasn’t totally unexpected. You’d thought about it a few times, and you were pretty sure he had too, but he’d never said anything, so you figured it was out of the question. So, while you weren’t prepared, you were happily surprised.

After a few seconds to work through the shock, you started kissing him back. He kept it short, you figured he would with emotions running as high as they were in you.

“Anytime,” he told you, brushing your lips with his thumb.

Four: Let You Down

Your boss informed you that there was nothing that could be done. That the department was going through budget cuts and they’d be laying people off. Unfortunately, since you were the youngest, you were the first to go.

The early shift was your normal gig, you always woke up around 5 a.m. to get ready and get coffee, and that morning, you woke up to a missed call and a message from your boss. Rafe was still sleeping, so you unplugged your phone and took it with you to the kitchen to listen to the message while you made coffee.

After turning the kettle on, you brought the phone to your ear, and immediately regretted it. You missed the first part of the message, but got the gist from, “So sorry to have to let you go, with the cuts in our department, we have to make hard decisions- “

And you didn’t really care to hear the rest. Three years of your life wasted on that place that promised you a job post-grad, and then just cut the rope. Your hands were shaking and you shut the kettle off, deciding to just go back to bed and cuddle with Rafe until his alarm went off.

Unfortunately, Rafe was a light sleeper and woke up when you tried to get back into your spot next to him.

“Babe, wha?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Nothing,” you whispered, “go back to sleep.”

Rafe squinted at you, “Don’t you have work?”

You sighed, “Not anymore, I got let go.”

He sat up and you groaned, not really wanting to hash it out with him at 5:30 in the morning. Fumbling to switch the lamp on, Rafe pulled you into a hug with his other arm and you couldn’t stop yourself from sinking into his arms.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I know you liked that job.”

“They told me like two fucking weeks ago they were looking at a managerial position for me. I just, I don’t know why I was on the first list of cuts.”

Rafe huffed out a laugh, “I wish I could tell you, but unfortunately, I can’t get into the mindset of actual buffoons.”

Your lips quirked up, “They are buffoons, aren’t they?”

The two of you sat in the middle of the bed for who knows how long, just hanging onto each other, and you were almost back asleep when Rafe moved again, this time to stand up. You glared at him, “Can’t we sleep?”

“We can nap later, but I want to see the sunrise.”

He grabbed his keys from the desk by the door and you followed him out to the kitchen. There was a place the two of you had gone before, near the reservoir, for sunsets, but you’d never done a sunrise before. You started the coffee making process again and pulled on one of his sweatshirts while he leaned against the wall, looking up what time the sun rose.

“It says 6:40 so we have plenty of time to get there.”

“Car sex,” you offered jokingly.

“Make the coffee, babe,” he dismissed, pulling you in to ruffle your hair.

You shoved him away, pouting, “I can’t make the coffee when you’re manhandling me.”

He didn’t let you push him far, grabbing onto your hand where it was pushing his chest and pulled you back to him. The smell of coffee filled the kitchen as he hugged you. Your face was buried in his chest and the two of you just breathed together until he pulled back enough to catch your lips with his.

You pushed up on your toes, leaning further into him. He loosened his grip on your hands and you slid them up to cup his jaw. It was quiet in the kitchen, the only sound coming from the coffee maker and the slight hum of the air conditioner. You basked in it.

Rafe suddenly dropped both of his arms to your legs and lifted you to sit on the counter. The sudden movement startled you into letting out a little squeal of surprise, but he swallowed it up with another kiss.

You draped your arms over his shoulders and he leaned all of his weight on the counter. In the background, you barely heard the coffee kick off and your roommate moving around in her room. Rafe brought a hand up to stroke up and down your thigh, fully distracting you again.

The two of you only broke apart when Rafe’s alarm started going off. He pulled away, annoyed, and then cursed when he realized what time it was. Helping you down, he told you, “We’ve got 30 minutes to get to the res.”

After quickly fixing two to-go mugs, you let Rafe pull you out of the apartment to his truck. For once, he didn’t pick any music, just let the radio play softly in the background while the two of you sipped on coffee. You rolled the window down and let one arm hang out the side.

Rafe reached over and grabbed your other hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss softly without looking up from the road. You grinned at him, “You’re soft as fuck, Cameron.”

He laughed, “Only for you, sweetheart.”

The sky started to lighten as the two of you drove and you left turned your focus back out the window. By the time Rafe parked, the sun had started to rise, and Rafe finally plugged his phone in to play a song.

“Something soft?” he asked.

You nodded and queued up something before hopping out. Rafe grabbed a blanket from the backseat and pulled the tailgate down. It was the blanket the two of you normally sat on to watch the sunsets, so you assumed Rafe wanted to sit back there together for it.

Grabbing the coffees, you walked around the truck to join him just as the song started playing through the speakers.

Feels like we’re on the edge right now / I wish that I could say I’m proud / I’m sorry that I let you down / let you down

You climbed up with him and settled in, your back against his chest. Rafe rested his chin on your head and you shut your eyes for a few seconds to let it all soak in.

I feel like every time I talk to you, you’re in an awful mood / what else can I offer you / there’s nothing left right now, I gave it all to you

“What am I going to do?” you whispered to Rafe.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

All these voices in my head get loud / and I wish that I could shut them out / I’m sorry that I let you down

“But we’ll figure it out,” he told you, sounding totally sure.

The sun slowly crept up as the two of you sat in silence, both hoping that things were going to turn out okay.

Five: You Make My Dreams (Come True)

“I hate men,” you said from your spot laying on the floor, “why are they the worst.”

Rafe laughed, nudging your hip with his foot, “Come on, sweetheart, I think some Waffle House will cheer you up, huh?”

“Nothing can cheer me up right now. Maybe alcohol.”

“You can’t get drunk.”

“Why not?” you demanded, a little childishly.

“Because you have an interview tomorrow, and it’s just a game.”

You were offended, staring at him open-mouthed, “I know you didn’t just tell me that the Leafs getting eliminated from the playoffs is just a game.”

Rafe didn’t respond, just kept looking at you, hand held out to help you up from the floor. You huffed and stubbornly stayed down, “No, I will throw myself off a balcony before going with you for that disrespect.”

With a sigh, Rafe bent down and pulled you up, you fighting him the entire way. He shook you gently, “Knock it off, mamas.”

“No, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“I can carry you, and I will, so you may as well just walk.”

Which was a good point. You crossed your arms and tilted your chin up, “Fine, Waffle House it is.”

“Fine,” he agreed, following you out of the apartment. Rafe tried to start conversation a few times during the walk to the Waffle House down the street, but you weren’t having it. After blatantly ignoring his attempts, he finally gave up.

“Rafe,” you asked, after a few seconds.

“What?”

“Can you play Hall and Oates? I think it might be good for me to hear.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Are you going to have a breakdown on the side of the road if I play it?”

“No,” which was a total lie and both of you knew it, but Rafe, being the accommodating boyfriend that he is, played it.

What I want, you’ve / And it might be hard to handle

And your eyes immediately filled with tears, just like both of you knew would happen. Rafe wrapped you into a hug while you cried, still playing the song so you could let it out.

Oh yeah, well well you / you make my dreams come true

Sniffling, you told him, “I thought it was their year.”

“I know, baby,” he soothed, hand running up and down your back.

“I want them to succeed and be happy.”

Again, he said, “I know.”

“It’s mostly the refs’ faults anyway, you know the league is dedicated to sucking Bruin dick.”

Rafe snorted, “I do know, yes.”

Softly and sadly, you sang along, “You make my dreams come true.”

The song finished and Rafe tucked his phone away, giving you one last squeeze before pulling away. You sighed and the two of you resumed walking toward Waffle House. He told you, “My dad is a big Bruins guy.”

“WHAT?!”

+ One: Outnumbered

Throughout your relationship, Rafe was always the more put-together one. He always had his shit together while you tended to be a little louder and messier. While you had some experience with handling him in this state, it wasn’t much.

You figured something must’ve been wrong when he didn’t answer any of your texts, but you weren’t sure what. He’d flown home for Thanksgiving, he normally didn’t because it was only a few days, but his sister was going to be in town and he hadn’t seen her in a while. You were invited, but your parents wanted to visit you for the day, so you stayed behind.

When your parents left, you stayed in and watched football, not really wanting to do anything except talk to Rafe who promised to watch one of the games with you over FaceTime. Unfortunately, it was halftime and you hadn’t heard from him.

In fact, you didn’t hear from him until that night. You were getting ready for bed when your phone finally vibrated and you answered it, mid washing your face.

“Hey, bubba.”

“Hey, babe.”

“Get caught up today?” you asked, rinsing the cleanser off.

He laughed humorlessly, and you felt something in your stomach, “I did, my dad had some thoughts he wanted to share with me.”

“Bruins fan dad?”

“The very same.”

You grinned, “Well I’m sure they weren’t valid then.”

Rafe paused for a few seconds, “Well, maybe they were a little valid.”

“Tell me what he said, and I’ll let you know for sure.”

It was silent, you could barely hear Rafe’s breathing, before he continued, “Just that I’m wasting my time. And I’m gonna come running back to him when I can’t get a job with this pointless degree.”

Which, where the fuck do you even start with that. Then, you remembered, scrambling up, you told Rafe to hold on while you grabbed your laptop and pulled up Spotify. You’d found a song and been saving it to show him, but there was no time like the present.

“Listen to this song I found.”

He hummed in agreement as it started up.

Don’t tell me this is all for nothin’ / I can only tell you one thing / on the nights you feel outnumbered / baby I’ll be out there somewhere

You felt unsure as the song went on and he didn’t react. The song played on, you tapping your fingers against your knees anxiously. Normally you could tell what Rafe was thinking based on his facial expression, and you wish you’d switched to FaceTime before starting the song.

There’ll be days when it’s difficult / but I ask you never leave behind the reciprocal / we’re past that / love is not designed for the cynical / so we have that

Rafe didn’t speak again until the end and it sounded a little choked up, “You found that one for me, huh?”

Slamming your laptop shut, you hit the FaceTime button and waited to respond until you saw his face. Rafe’s eyes were red and his cheeks looked wet and you just wanted to hug him.

“Yeah, that was for you.”

“I love you, you know?” he asked, “probably should’ve waited to tell you in person, but.”

You laughed, “Probably so, but I love you too, Cameron.”

“I’m coming home tomorrow instead of Sunday, come over?”

Settling into your bed, you smiled at him, “Yeah, just let me know.”

His soft smile was burned into your memory that night as you fell asleep restlessly, ready for him to be home with you again.

[cherrybracelets]

Politics & Violence (one)

masterlist | requests

summary: Your father is one of the most progressive presidents in history, and many praise you and your family for all the good you’ve done for the country. But there is a select group of radicals who plans to take the entire administration down, and the threat to you and your family is growing every day. Your father takes matters into his own hands when he hires individual body guards for each member of your family.

pairing: bodyguard!a. hotchner x presidents daughter!reader

words; 11.5k warnings: this fic will be 18+!!! lots of heavy stuff, drugs, alc, depression, sex, guns, violence, death 

song inspo: politics and violence by dominic fike

an: hey this is my first hotch piece and I’m super nervous so please let me know what u think!! i will be making a full playlist for this fic and a moodboard so keep ur eyes peeled; this is also obviously non canon and the backstory hotch has here is completely made up by me also this is gone be two parts ok bye

Being the daughter of the president was hard enough, it doesn’t make it any easier that you’re fucking your bodyguard. You wouldn’t trade Hotch for the world, but it was exhausting keeping up with this life sometimes. You never thought of yourself as someone who would get entangled up into a secret like this. You felt it weighing on you all the time. Every secret glance between you two in the hall, every ‘accidental’ touch at an event, the secret kissing in the closets with the door locked and the lights off. It was a thrill, but also added unneeded strain to your life. 

Hotch saw the effects he had on you, too. Both negative and positive. He knew that the love you two shared, the passion between you, would be unmatched with any other person. But he also knew how hard it was to keep that love a secret, to not hold hands in public, to lie to all of your friends and family. Most importantly, to lie to your dad. Loving him, being with him, it was a sacrifice. 

Your dad had spent the past 23 years of his life doing everything he could to protect you. He hated that he brought you into this life; he hated this life himself. All he wanted was to help people, and he thought the best way would be politics. But he didn’t know that with his more modern takes, many people would hate him. And it got so bad that last year you started receiving death threats. A group of radicals had recently started sending individual letters to your whole family, making it clear how much they hated you and what your family stood for. 

It was terrifying. And you were tired of it. You had been dealing with it your whole life, as he had been an important politician for a long time before winning the presidency. The cameras following you everywhere you went, never having real relationships with anybody because people just wanted the clout that came with knowing you. You were miserable, and were only finding happiness in the darkest of places, ironically. Partying, alcohol and drugs had taken over most of your nights, with a group of people who you wouldn’t really call your friends, but people who had allowed you to be miserable with them. 

You had never really had friends, besides your siblings. People always wanted to be your friend, but almost never for genuine reason. And when someone was being genuine, which was rare, you had a hard time trusting and ultimately hurt the person to avoid being hurt yourself. It was a terrible cycle that you’d been dealing with for... a long time. Twenty three years to be exact, because the night of your twenty third birthday was when it all changed. 

Your dad had called everyone to the house for a family dinner. At the time, you were living in some tiny studio across town, and your brother was shacking up with some girl he knew from college. It was pretty rare to get all of you together in one place, but for you and your brother, Matt’s birthday, it was extra important that everyone was there. 

Your father always blocked out his schedule for birthdays, they were a big deal to him. And although you were dreading having to put on your happy face for an evening of passive aggressive comments and awkward small talk, you did it for him. He was the only member of your family who deserved even a second of your time. 

So that night, you drove to your parents house, reminding yourself that it’s only a few hours and everything will be fine. There won’t be any issues, you and Matt won’t fight, the two younger siblings won’t fight, mom and dad won’t fight. No one will fight, you promised yourself. You’ll hold it together. You practiced your smile as you pulled in the driveway, hoping to not be too disingenuous when you saw everyone.  

None of them were especially bad people, they just all had a lot of problems, and were especially bad at dealing with them. But, so were you. Comes with the territory of being a high profile political family, apparently. You already saw Matt’s car there as well, which made you nervous. Matt and your mother being alone together for very long without you to interject was never good. It could already be a disaster as soon as you walk in. 

You got out of your car and walked slowly to the entrance, your head down. You didn’t like making eye contact with the secret service, they always made you incredibly nervous. They stood so still, but their eyes always followed you like a haunted painting. Someone opened the door for you, and you stepped through the entrance to an empty hall. You assumed they were in the dining room already, waiting for you. 

As you walked there, you noticed an unusual silence of guards and other employees. Most people at least said hi to you as you walked by, but there was nothing tonight. Every face you passed was buried in paperwork or their phones, looking worried. When you finally arrived to the dining room, you walked into an unusual silence. There were quite a few guards that you hadn’t recognized, one specific one watching you intently as you greeted your family and sat in between your dad and Matt.

“Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence, princess,” Matt grumbled, raising his eyebrows in discontent as he shifted in his chair. 

“I’m like, five minutes late dude, can you relax?” You protested, crossing your arms in frustration and avoiding looking at him. 

“Guys, please don’t do this, not tonight for God’s sake,” your father interjected, his teeth tightly clenched together as he stared daggers at the two of you. His forehead was sweating, and his nails were bitten down to the point of bleeding. It had been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him, but he was not like this before. Something was happening, and you felt your stomach turn as you looked around the rest of the table and realized you were the only one out of the loop. 

“What is happening with everyone right now?” You looked at your dad first, hoping he would step in and explain the obvious elephant in the room. 

“Someone is trying to kill us all,” your little brother, Charlie, blurted out. He was young, only ten, and clearly didn't understand the gravity of the situation. 

“Jesus, Charlie, way to freak her out,” your sister yelped, pushing him slightly. 

“Charlie, Dani, both of you shut up!” Your mom yelled, slamming her fists down on the table loudly and making you all jump.

“Everyone, relax, okay,” your dad instructed calmly. It used to be you, mediating every fight and solving every issue. But you couldn’t do it anymore, and your dad knew. He needed to step up and fix the shattered remnants of your family. Unfortunately, that was a harder job than being the president. 

“There have been some… issues, with this radical group based in Virginia. I get threats all the time, but, they are threatening each of you now. And I’m not going to put up with that. So, there’s going to be some changes around here.” 

“Yeah, go ahead and tell her about how we have to move back home,” Matt objected.

“What?”

“It’s only temporary, (Y/N). We are doing everything we can to catch the guys who are doing this. But for now it is safest for all of you to be home.” 

“I have a life, Dad. I can’t give up everything because you did some things that pissed people off.” 

“Don’t be so selfish, (Y/N), this is about all of us, not just you.” Your mom took a long sip of her wine and sat back in her chair, preparing for the yelling that was about to ensue. 

“You all each have a personal bodyguard as well, with high levels of combat training. They will be with you all day, everywhere you go. At night there will be a rotated shift of guards outside your doors.” 

“Oh, wonderful.” 

“Aaron, why don’t you come meet my lovely daughter,” your father muttered, motioning to one of the men standing behind him. As you suspected, the man who had not taken his eyes off of you since you arrived took a few steps forward, nodding respectively at you. 

“At least yours is hot,” your brother whispered to you, rolling his eyes. 

“My name is Aaron Hotchner, and I will do everything I can to keep you safe.” He stuck his hand out to you, and you grabbed it reluctantly, shaking his hand lightly. His touch was gentle, but his hands were strong and large compared to yours. He definitely looked the part. 

“What about my trip next week?” You questioned, turning away from Hotch and back to your dad. “I’m supposed to go do that college campus tour in California. I leave in two weeks.” 

“We all think you should still take that trip, it’s only a few weeks and Aaron will be with you the entire time. I don’t think the jet is a good idea, though. We’re going to have you fly commercial.”

“First class, I hope?” Your brother and mom both collectively rolled their eyes, and you just ignored them and continued to stare at your dad, awaiting his answers. 

“Of course, darling.” He smiled politely, hoping to end the conversation here and get on with dinner. You decided it wasn’t worth pressing it, seeing how clearly your dad was falling apart, you didn’t want to add anymore stress to him. 

The rest of the dinner was uneventful, for a change. You all made small talk, caught up on work and school- pretty boring stuff. The whole time, you felt his eyes on you. When you looked at him, he dragged his eyes away slowly, as if pretending he wasn’t watching your every move. You weren’t sure why he kept looking away when you noticed him- it was his job to watch you. It was almost as if the thought of your eyes meeting scared him. 

The most exciting part about a dinner with your family was when you could finally leave and go home- but tonight, unfortunately, you did not have that luxury. Your bedroom here was already prepared, and you always had a few spare pairs of clothes here. You knew there was no way you could convince any of them to let you go home. 

And you definitely could not go out with your friends. But they were blowing up your phone, talking about their plans to go out to some new club with some amazing new party drug. You looked around the room nervously, trying to plan an escape somehow. There had to be a way, you basically had a PhD in sneaking out. 

“Well, it’s getting late, I think it’s time for us to get Mr. Charles to bed!” Your dad teased, making funny faces at your brother, who just laughed in return. It was nice seeing him so full of joy, still loving life. He hadn’t hit the rough years, yet. You missed that feeling, the feeling of not knowing that every day, no matter what, would be miserable. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna head out. Breakfast tomorrow, Dani?” 

“Really,” she sat up, tilting her head in confusion. She was 16, now, and was more miserable than the rest of you. Being sixteen and living this life is utterly exhausting. She looked up to you highly, and you always paid her extra attention. You didn’t want her to end up like you.  

“Of course.” You kissed her on the head and hugged your dad, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone else. You walked through the doors quickly, a reluctant Aaron Hotchner following close behind. 

“I thought you left me alone at night.” 

“Once you’re safe and I’ve secured you in your room, I can pass my duties to another guard. I don’t see you safe in your room.” 

“Okay, dude, I got it,” you rolled your eyes, watching him get closer to you with every step. He was right beside you, now, your arms both at your sides, your hands accidentally bumping together as you walked. The moment his flesh touched yours, you felt your whole body fill with heat, your throat feeling tight as the forbidden flesh touched yours. That was the first time you knew you wanted him, the first time you felt like you could lose yourself in him. He smelled of strong coffee and vanilla, pulling you in like a flower shop in a Spring day. 

You stayed silent the rest of the walk, coming up to your bedroom door. “Honey is secure, send in the first shift.” 

“Honey?” 

“Code name.” He responded sternly.

“What does it mean?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know. I just picked it when I saw your picture.” He seemed caught off guard, as if nobody had asked him that question before. You were pretty sure nobody had a codename like Honey.

You saw the other guard approaching, and Aaron seemed to relax a little as he saw the man. This man was a lot younger, and you didn’t feel nearly as protected with him. Which was probably why he was the night guard, and perfect for your plan. Aaron and the other man spoke secretly for a moment, before he turned and walked away without saying goodnight. You felt a little hurt, but also knew that it was his job to protect you, not to get close with you. 

You went into your room and closed the door behind you, praying to God you had something cute to wear somewhere here. You searched around the closet, pulling garments off of hangers in frustration. Luckily you found an old dress that somehow still fit. You wiggled your way into it and fixed your hair a bit, hoping the low light of the club would cover for your bare face. You threw a robe on top of everything and shoved your heels into each pocket. You realized it was still pretty early, and decided to work on your presentation for your college tours. 

You were pretty proud of your program actually. You had created a program for colleges to help get students to care more about politics, helping them to register to vote, understand laws and policies, amongst a million other things. It ended up being very successful, and your dad even credited you for helping him to win the presidency. Most of your life felt like you were stuck inside the darkest cloud to ever exist- but when you were working on this, doing your presentations for people just like you… it gave you something to live for. It was one of the few reasons you had to keep going, in all honesty. 

And by the time you looked up at the clock, it was already almost 11, and your friends were on their way to the secret exit to pick you up. Yeah, there were plenty of hidden exit spots around the building that weren’t patrolled. You and Matt pretty much discovered that the first day you moved in here. You let your friends know that you’d be out soon, and you got yourself ready to go. You quietly opened the door to see the guard standing silently, turning towards you when he heard the noise. 

“Hey, super sorry, my mom just texted me to come to her room. I’ll be right back!” You smiled confidently, closing the door and trying to start walking before he questioned you. 

“I should probably go with you,” he requested.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. There’s a million of you guys on the way to her room. Plus, what if someone tries to sneak in my room. How will you know?” 

“Oh… alright,” he muttered, awkwardly. “Just don’t take too long.” 

You nodded in agreement and skipped down the hallway, people stopping to look at you momentarily before ultimately deciding they had something more important to do than worry about you. When you got to the back secret staircase, you dropped your robe and slipped your heels. Your friends were waiting for you at the door, greeting you with squeals and hugs. 

“The uber is right outside the gate, let’s go!” One of them said, sprinting to the exit. You all followed quickly, laughing and twirling in the warm summer air. That was weirdly easy. You had never had such an easy time getting out. You slowed down a bit, your friends brushing past you. Something felt off. But right now, you were out, and you could at least enjoy it while it lasts. You shook your negativity off and ran to catch up with them, exiting the gate and running up the street. You stopped at your Uber and slid into the back with two others. When the doors were all closed and the car started moving, your friend in the passenger seat turned around with a handful of small blue pills. 

“Have one!”

“What is it?” 

“It’s a whole lot of fun, that I know for sure.” He raised his eyebrows goofily, giggling as you shrugged and took a pill. You washed it down with a swig of vodka from someone’s flask. You winced at the sharp taste of the alcohol, feeling it burning your throat and descending into your stomach. 

The music on the radio was bumping loudly, each beat of the bass shaking the car. You felt everyone moving around you so quickly, but you were frozen. Your body wouldn’t move. You didn’t feel scared, though. You almost felt that if you couldn’t move, if all you could do was just sit there and listen, no one could possibly hurt you anymore. You were finally safe. 

But then a hand touched yours, and the reality of your pause in time came crashing down. Your whole body jerked, and you snapped back to reality to see your friend trying to drag you from the car and into the club. She hadn’t even noticed your temporary disconnect from reality, or if she did, she didn’t care. She, just like all of you, just wanted to party. The last thing you wanted was to come face to face with your problems. 

The club was dark and smoky, blurring the faces of those around you, everyone just becoming silhouettes of themselves. Someone passed you something to smoke, and you took a drag without hesitation. You got swept up into the crowd, your body moving with theirs like seaweed in a flowing ocean. Your feet were attached to the ground, but your body floated as if the wind was carrying it in her hands. Someone came up behind you, wrapping their hands around your waist and tracing their lips up your neck. Their body moved in sync with yours, the universe holding you together like a moon to it’s orbiting planet. 

“Shots!” A voice nearby called. You instinctively recognized the voice, and trailed off to find the rest of your friends passing around a bottle. You joined excitedly, wrapping your arms around one of them and reaching for the bottle. You took a long swig, not even tasting the overpriced tequila, just letting it pour straight down your throat and into your body. The walls around you turned into stained glass, the sunlight pouring in a shining a beautiful rainbow of light on the crowd around you. You remembered the blue pill you took in the car, and felt happy. He was right, this was a whole lot of fun. 

The music picked up a bit, and you felt each beat pulsing through your body as if it were your own heartbeat. You dragged a person from your group out to the dance floor, needing to move your body. Luckily the rest of the group followed, dancing with you, the blue pills pulling you all into the same universe. You loved moments like this, where you lost yourself, where you couldn’t even remember what real life was like even if you tried. The thought of that scared a lot of people, and you understood why. For many people, their reality was way better than anything a drug could create for them. But for some people, and for you, you needed to disappear into another existence in order to survive. 

You had no idea how long you had been dancing, it felt like only seconds but your body felt like it had been moving for hours. You were still slightly lost in your mind, the drug slowly wearing off and bringing you down to the harsh reality of the come down. You felt a hand grab tightly onto your wrist, and you yelped. You couldn’t see who it was, but they were tugging at you harshly, and you couldn’t resist much longer. Your body was tired and weak, and this man was strong. You finally felt yourself moving through the people and towards the exist, still no sight of who had their hands locked to you. 

If you someone snuck out and died, your dad would be so pissed. You started feeling scared, not enough drugs left in you to block out the reality of the situation. You panicked, trying to pull your hand away and scream. But no one noticed, everyone was lost in their own universes, completely away from reality, where you needed them. That was the downfall of this lifestyle, of course. Sometimes people could lose themselves a little too much. 

You managed to get pulled out the door, the fresh air smacking you harshly right in the face. You felt dizzy, the lights of the city around you spinning wildly. You sat down on the pavement, pulling whoever took you out down with you. You tried to look up at him, but felt queasy when you moved your head. 

“Just take a deep breathe,” a man whispered, placing his hand on your back and rubbing slowly. “Here’s some water.” He handed you an opened bottle, your fingers touching lightly and instantly making you feel better. His touch was almost healing, like he was pulling the pain right out of you. The longer he kept his hand on you, the better you felt. You sipped slowly on the water, the cold liquid flowing through you and cleansing your body. 

“We need to get going,” he instructed, pulling at your arm to get up. 

“Hotchner,” you muttered, finally realizing the mystery man that was stealing you away into the night. 

“It’s Aaron.” 

“I don’t like that. Doesn’t fit. I do like Hotch-” you hiccuped. “Hotch, actually, that’s pretty bad ass.” You giggled loudly, Hotch helping you into the front seat of the car and buckling you in. He went around the front and got into the drivers seat, starting the car with a grunt. 

“How did you find me?” 

“How long do you think Cooper would’ve waited until he realized you weren’t with your mom.”

“That’s not what I asked,” you sat up, taking a deep breath and looking over at the man. “I knew you’d realize I was gone. How did you find me?” 

Hotch moved his lips uncomfortably, his eyes shifting back and forth. 

“Why would you go out when you know how much danger you’re in? You’re an extremely intelligent woman on paper, (Y/N), but you are clearly so incredibly stupid.” 

You gasped in awe, your heart racing and heat flushing to your cheeks. You were blushing like a strawberry, digging your nails into your palms to refrain yourself from screaming at him, or punching him, or just getting out of the car at the next red light. 

“You don’t know anything about me, Aaron. Don’t pretend you know me from reading a few of my daddy’s notes.” You sat back in exhaustion, feeling your eyes fill with tears. You willed yourself to not cry in front of him, to hold it together until you were alone. The last person you wanted to break down in front of was him. 

“We’re stopping somewhere, before we get you home.” His voice was calmer this time, clearly realizing you were upset. He didn’t look at you the rest of the ride, staring ahead at the road, focusing intently on the cars around him. You recognized the street as he started to park, realizing you were at your apartment. 

“What are we doing here?” You muttered in confusion, looking around at the familiar buildings. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

He turned the car off and got out, walking around to you and opening your door. You reluctantly got out, and walked slowly to the front door of your building. You realized quickly you didn’t have your keys, and turned to him. As if he read your mind, he held up your keys in his hand and nodded at you. He walked to the door and typed in the code to unlock it, revealing the lobby of your apartment building. You were on the second floor, and the two of you walked slowly up the stairs to your place. He continued to stay silent as he unlocked your apartment door, opening it hastily as he braced himself to walk into your place. He shuttered uncomfortably as he stepped inside. 

“Can you tell me why we’re here now?” You insisted, shutting the door loudly behind you and locking it. You were still feeling kind of uneasy, and needed to reassurance of a locked door if someone happened to come look for you here. 

“Get your things. Everything you need.” He crossed his arms, a look of authority overcoming him. You realized now that he was dressed down- wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. His arms looked stunning in the cut off sleeves, the nicely displayed muscles in plain view. 

“Why… why do I need my things?” 

“Because, you’ve lost your privileges to privacy. Since you want to act out, you no longer have your own place. Take everything you need and say goodbye, because we’re not coming back here again.” He had raised his voice quite loudly, his arms uncrossed and at his sides. He had gotten closer to you as he spoke, now only a foot or so away from you. 

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am trying to protect you. Do you not care at all about your own life, or your families? You are being incredibly selfish, you know that. You have an amazing family that loves you, millions of people around the country that adore you. If something happened to you, the world would be devastated, and yet you are so reckless with your life? It’s… I truly don’t get it, (Y/N).”

You stood in awe, unsure of what to say to him. You felt like a thousand pound weight just dropped on your chest. No one had ever spoken to you like that before, especially not someone who was hired to protect you. You stepped away from him, stumbling over your steps as you rested yourself against the wall. 

“What… what about you?” You muttered, looking up at him. “You want to talk about recklessness with life? You don’t know me, or care about me at all, and you’re here ready and willing to die to protect me. Don’t you think that’s a little fucked up? Or, what is it, Hotch? Do you have a hero complex?” You cocked your head at him, grinning. Your moment of sadness had passed, and now you were pissed. Nobody talked to you that way. And now you wanted to piss him off. 

“No, you’ve got me all wrong sweetheart,” he chuckled, walking closer and closer to you until he was inches away and you were completely backed against the wall. He moved his arms to the base of his shirt and ripped it over his head, revealing an unsurprisingly ripped body. He had multiple scars across his chest and abdomen. 

“I’ve been in and out of foster homes my whole life. Switched schools constantly so I never had many friends. Went right into the Marines after high school and kept to myself for the most part there, too. I have no one, (Y/N). If I die, nobody would blink an eye. If you die, the whole country would shut down. Do you see these?” He pointed to his scars, touching them gently as if taking a moment to remember each one. “I’ve taken bullets for many before, and I’ll do it for you if I have to, Honey. That’s why I do this. I’m not reckless with my life. I have no one, no life outside of this. I can give up that to protect someone like you.” 

His hand was resting on the wall behind your head, his body towering over you. He was breathing heavy, trying to relax himself. 

“That is so…” you took a deep breath, bringing your hand up to his flesh and tracing your fingers over his scars. You gently circled the rough skin, watching him look down in confusion as you touched him. “Incredibly sad.” You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as your hand still pressed against his bare chest. “I’m so sorry nobody has made your life feel worth it. You don’t deserve that,” you whispered, your face only inches from his. You realized now the vanilla scent that rolled so deliciously off of him was his cologne, because it was much stronger as you got closer to the base of his neck. 

“We need to get out of here. Get you home.” He muttered, turning away from you harshly, and looking around to find his shirt. 

“I’m… I didn’t mean to upset you, Hotch.” 

“It’s Aaron,” he barked, his eyes filled with fury as he scrambled around for his missing clothes. 

“Why don’t we just get my things tomorrow? I promise I’ll stay in the rest of the night.” 

“You won’t have the chance to sneak out again, I can promise you that.” He said sternly, putting his shirt on quickly and heading for the door. You followed quietly behind him, your head racing and your body flushing from being so close to him just moments ago. He ushered you into the car quickly and slammed the door behind you. His energy had changed so dramatically from moments ago, but you were still feeling so drawn to him. 

You remembered the way his bare skin felt to your touch. Even one small brush on your fingertips against his flesh made him melt, as if he couldn’t remember the last time somebody had touched him with such pure intentions. 

He was driving quite recklessly back to the big house, not saying a word as you stared silently ahead, replaying the moment over and over in your head. You wanted to say something, trying to come up with the right words to handle this situation. But your brain came up empty, and you continued to stay silent the rest of the drive home. 

Hotch parked the car in the garage, sitting back in his seat for a moment as if he wanted to get something off his chest before going in. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell anyone you’d snuck out. I’ll cover for you this time, but don’t count on it if it happens again.”

“I’m sorry I made you come get me,” you whispered, fully realizing how dumb and selfish your actions were. He was right, you were reckless with your life. But you’d never really cared about it, or even thought about it, until now. 

“That was, um,” he shifted, clearing his throat. “That was unprofessional of me to talk to you that way. I apologize.” 

“No… I… you were right. I kind of needed to hear it. And, again, I’m sorry that you feel the way you do.” You slowly reached your hand out and grabbed onto his, your delicate hand resting gracefully amongst his strong, tired ones. It was almost comical, the difference in the sizes. 

Your fingers intertwined in his, your palms meeting as you sat silently in the car. You looked up at him, his eyes staring deeply at your hand in his. His thumb grazed gently over your skin, his silent way of acknowledging your touch. You knew, in that moment, that your feelings towards each other were the same. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, despite every element working against a relationship. And you both knew that. It could never work, and nothing could ever happen. 

He tore his hand away with haste and looked out the window, refusing to verbally acknowledge the moment you just shared. One of many moments you had shared since you met. 

“You need to get inside before anyone else realizes you’re gone. Cooper is inside the door. I’ll see you in the morning.” He refused to look at you, his body backed up into the door as far away as he could get himself. You nodded silently and opened your door, getting out onto the concrete and beginning to walk to the door. You turned back to look at him, and he was watching you, as always. 

“I want to make sure you get in safe,” he muttered through the cracked window of his car door. 

“Thank you, Hotch.” You smiled at him, and were hoping to catch a grin from him, too. But he didn’t seem like the type of man to smile very often, and this definitely wasn’t the right moment. He continued to watch you until you got in the door, an angry Cooper ready to lecture you as he walked you back to your room. You did your best to ignore his taunts, your mind still on Hotch.

You fell asleep quickly after you got back to your room, your body craving the healing powers of sleep. Your dreams were fluttered with thoughts of him, his touch. You could not even escape him in your solitude, your soul, your subconscious, was so encapsaleted by him. They would not let you forget him, even if your slumber.

You finally woke up around eleven the next morning, confused and dehydrated, your head throbbing. You clearly had a wicked hangover, and were still feeling pretty laggy from the drugs the night before. You crawled slowly out of bed and into your connecting bathroom, sticking your head under the sink and slurping down faucet water like a child on a hot summer day. The cool taste felt refreshing on your throat, but the minute it hit your throat you felt nauseous. You clipped your hair back so it was away from your face, which was still rocking last night's makeup. You finally opened the door of your room to a different man, one you hadn’t recognized. 

Seeing a stranger made you startled, especially standing right outside of your room. You instinctively wanted to call for Hotch, pleading for him to come sweep you off your feet and save you. But, there was nothing to save you from, as this man was just the third shift night guard. He confirmed that when he muttered, “Honey has left her room. Send in A3.” 

You waited for him to greet you, say anything at all, but he stood silent and waited for him commanding guard to relieve of him his duties. You started to walk towards the kitchen, the nausea you were facing earlier now turned to hunger. You were stopped by his arm, blocking you from going any further. 

“You have to wait until he gets here, Miss.” 

“Right, sorry.” He had already turned away, you weren’t even sure if he had heard your apology. You didn’t know how long you’d have to wait until Hotch came and released you from your prison cell, so you scrolled through instagram in annoyance as you waited.

“Good morning, it’s wonderful of you to join the living. Long night last night?” Hotch was smirking at you, a look of contempt as he clearly saw the misery of the previous night sweating right out of you. His mood clearly changed to despising you, again. And if that’s how he wanted to play things this morning, you were happy to play right along with him. 

“Not all of us have no life at all, Aaron. Sometimes people, ya know, do things.” You rolled your eyes as you walked passed him quickly, trying to get down to the kitchen before all the food was gone. 

“Not all of us have death threats hanging over our heads, either,” he snapped back, his voice sharp and stern. “Where are you going, (Y/N)?” 

“Breakfast. I’m hungry,” you shrugged, continuing to walk fast and not get too close to him. Everything felt so hot and cold, you honestly had no idea what he was feeling. The times where you were close, where you felt him, it was so genuine. You knew there was a chemistry between you. But his anger towards you also felt so real. If he was somehow faking, if it was an act or a defense mechanism for his true feelings, he was doing an incredible job. 

“All the food is gone. They won’t be back till lunch in another hour.” His smirk came back, as if he was excited by the idea that you now couldn’t eat. “We could go get food, though. If you’d like. If you can’t wait.” 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea actually. There’s a little diner right near my place that has the best chocolate chip pancakes I have ever had.” Your thoughts were racing, the idea of delicious food filling your brain. You did that, sometimes, just lost yourself in your thoughts or an idea. You caught him smiling, maybe at you, maybe at just a passing thought. But the feeling of him watching you, seeing your beauty, and smiling. It made your heart race.

“Let’s get to the car, we don’t wanna be gone too long. You’ve got a lot to prepare for your trip coming up.” Hotch motioned towards the stairs, and you remembered the current state of your wardrobe and stopped in your tracks. 

“I can’t go looking like this… I mean, this is bad,” you laughed, pointing at your messy hair and smudged mascara. 

“Maybe nobody will recognize you if you look that… well…” he chuckled, raising a brow as he looked you up and down. 

“Well that’s a little rude.” You both laughed together until silence ultimately fell on the room. You felt like there was more to be said, but you weren’t sure what. You stood still, waiting for some instruction on what to do next. Why was it that you could never figure out what to do with yourself in situations like this? 

“I think you look beautiful,” he observed, a slight comical tone to his voice. But the way he looked at you, the way he said it, for a slight moment, it felt real. His words felt real. And you would lose yourself in the chaos of it all if you had to spend every day decoding his words, trying to figure out what is real, what is truly him, and what is a facade. You couldn’t fall for him, you couldn't put yourself through that. But each moment with him drew you in more and more, you almost felt that you would be unable to escape him if things went any further, if the small flirtatious comments and slight forbidden touches when you were alone. 

“Let’s get to the car, go get you something to eat,” he instructed, beginning to walk away. You followed him close behind, not sure why you craved the security of him so much. It was his job, but he really did make you feel safe. You followed him down the garage silently, and hoped into the passenger seat of his SUV. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, trying to program the address into the GPS. He looked up at you for an answer, his eyes wide and childlike, the simple act of asking you for assistance making you melt. 

“Uh, Ruby Street Diner,” you stuttered, watching his hands diligently as he typed in the address. He turned on the radio and started driving, and you stared eagerly out the window as you drove. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you heard him humming with the music. It was those little things that reminded you he was still human, and that was the last thing he was supposed to do. The more human he became, the more he showed you of himself, the harder it would be for you to walk away. 

The drive was silent, but you didn’t mind it. It didn’t feel awkward. Neither of you had anything to say, and sometimes that’s okay. You watched him out of the corner of his eye, watching his face, the way he studied the world around him. Sometimes it seemed like he saw everything, like he saw you watching him. If he knew, he didn’t care. He would glance over at you ever minute or so, maybe to just check if you’re still safe, still breathing. Maybe because he, too, was wondering how he could walk away from you. 

He parked his car on the street across from the diner, and checked his pockets and gun before turning the car off. He looked around him, checking for anything suspicious and out of the ordinary. He clearly didn’t see anything to worry him much, because he opened the door quickly after and got out of the car. He walked to your side and opened your door, checking for oncoming cars as he did so. You were used to people opening doors for you, but something about him holding it open and grabbing your hand as you stepped out of the large truck was hot. 

You walked into the diner and were quickly seated at a small booth in the corner, per his request. It was never a good idea to be in the center of the scene, he said. You nodded in understanding, looking around at the crowd, which wasn’t anything to be worried about. The scene at a diner at noon on a Thursday was never very eventful. 

“Thanks for taking me out,” you whispered, your eyes lazily scrolling over the menu even though you already had your heart set on those chocolate chip pancakes. 

“It’s my number one duty to make sure you are safe and satisfied.” 

“Satisfied? I don’t feel like that’s really a part of your job description.”

“Of course it is. If you’re unhappy, angry, sad- you’re more likely to rebel, lash out, sneak out.” He chuckled softly, taking a sip of the hot coffee the waitress just poured for you both. You ordered your food, and Hotch ordered some wheat toast and a fruit bowl. You rolled your eyes at his order, knowing you were about to stuff your face. 

“So, are you saying the only reason I go to party is because I’m unhappy?”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions about your life. It’s just, in my experience, people turn to that life if they aren’t satisfied with their normal existence.” 

“Is anybody happy with their normal existence?” You questioned, sighing loudly as you sat back in the booth. He watched you for a moment, his eyes paying special attention to your rising chest as you started breathing heavily. He set his arm down on the table, laying his palm out as he looked up at you. 

You stared at his exposed hand, a sudden remembering of your fingers intertwined in his car last night. He needed your touch, then. He needed a pull back to humanity, a remembrance that nobody is truly alone in this life. And now, you needed it. You needed somebody to hold your hand. And he knew. 

You reluctantly placed your arm down on the table, looking around at the people in the place. No one was even paying the slightest attention to you. A rare moment where nobody cared who you were, or what you were doing. Your fingers moved towards his, and you grabbed on to him slowly. It was a slight touch, nothing that would be noticeable to anybody passing by. But it was enough for both of you. It was enough to mean something. 

“I would like to think that everybody has a chance to be happy. It’s just a matter of finding your happiness.” His fingers moved closer to yours, his thumb slightly rubbing your fingers. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, his illicit touch sending sparks through your whole body. 

“Alright, you guys ready to eat?” Your waitress cheerily interrupted, causing you to both instinctively rip your hands away and put them at your sides. It didn’t appear that she noticed anything but your heart was still racing and you could tell his was, too. 

You ate your food quickly, avoiding eye contact with him as he nibbled on pieces of toast. You only seemed to have two types of moments with him; ones where neither of you could think of any words, or ones where words flowed out of you like a poet. You felt like you could tell him anything, but at the same time you were afraid to say anything. 

“I think we should go,” he quietly muttered after you had finally finished a majority of your food.

“Um.. is everything okay?” 

“This… this is really bad, Honey. What is happening now. It cannot be happening. I apologize for any inappropriate actions I’ve made since we’ve met. I would offer to step down and let someone else take this roll but I spent weeks training on how to protect you, and I don’t think you’d be safe with anyone else. I hope that’s okay with you.” 

You stared at him in awe, a sick feeling overcoming your stomach. You shook your head for a moment, trying to think of the right words to respond with. He was right, this was stupid, and an extremely self destructive act. Besides, nothing had even really happened, and it was probably way better to shut things down now before it went any further. So much of you didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to not know what a life with him could be like. But you thought about your family, your life, and knew it wasn’t smart, or safe.

“You’re right, um, yeah. That's okay. I think it’s smart to keep you on, especially with the trip coming up.” 

He nodded in agreeal, pushing his food away in disgust. You wondered if he felt just as sick as you did, just as heartbroken and miserable as you were. You knew one thing, for sure. That he was just as lonely and disappointed in life as you were. He was living in the same boat you were, and maybe that’s why you connected so easily. Sharing a common pain, it was easy to feel drawn to him. But you had to draw the line, as terrible as it was. 

“Let’s go back home.”

The next few weeks went by uneventfully. There was nothing new to report on Hotch, or Aaron, as he now insisted you called him. There were no passing glances, no secret touches. You had both controlled yourself, and it was much easier than you thought. You were starting to wonder if the attraction was all circumstance, and there was nothing of real sustenance to your ‘relationship’. His touch still existed in your dreams, though. That was one place where you couldn’t control your thoughts. Every morning when you woke up, the thought of you in his dreams made you wonder. 

Today was the day you finally left your trip, and you were flying out to San Francisco now. You sat eagerly in the airport, a crowd of men surrounding you, Aaron sitting at your side. He would accompany you in first class, and the rest of your night guards would scatter around coach to keep an eye on anyone suspicious. You had your headphones in, trying to distract yourself from the upcoming flight. You were quite a nervous flyer, and you were feeling exceptionally overwhelmed today. You couldn’t wait to get seated and have a drink, something to calm your nerves. 

You were leaving pretty late, and would arrive pretty late as well. When you got in, you were all going straight to the hotel and preparing for your first presentation tomorrow. You boarded quickly, being one of the first allowed to get on the plane. Aaron held on to your carry on bags, and his, and followed you into the cabin. The rest of your guards stayed behind until it was their turn to board. Luckily, nobody had seemed to notice or recognize you on the flight, yet. You were hoping it would stay that way, as you were utterly exhausted and weren’t in the mood for small talk with a stranger today.

“You all buckled in?” Aaron asked as he placed your bags in the overhead storage bin. 

“Yep, all safe and secure officer,” you giggled, leaning your head back in the large seat.

“Sounds good,” he smiled, taking his seat next to you and buckling himself in. You sat and scrolled through your phone mindlessly as the rest of the plane boarded, watching your night guards pass you by and give Aaron a slight thumbs up when they passed each other. You faked your way through listening to the emergency instructions, pleasing Aaron as he urged you to pay attention. The plane finally started moving and you settled into your seat, your nails digging into your palms as you prepared for the ascent.

Going up was always terrifying, but what you weren’t expecting was the turbulence as you headed into the sky. There was a storm coming in, and the pilot mentioned it might be bumpy until you get high enough. The shakiness was torture, but an unexpected drop in altitude made you jump and latch onto Hotch’s hand in instinct. Your fingers were locked with his, squeezing tight as the plane leveled out and you caught your breath. 

“Sorry about that, folks,” the pilot spoke over the intercom, his voice light and cheery as if nothing just happened. “Should be clearing out of this storm in a minute or so. Keep buckled.” 

You looked over to him, your hand still clutched in his, your heart finally coming to a normal rhythm. He was staring down at your hands, the remembrance of your touch sending him somewhere he was desperately avoiding. 

“I’m… it was an accident, Aaron. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, trying to pull your hand from his, but his grip was locked around you. 

“Nervous flyer?” He joked.

“Yes. I hate it.” 

“I fly all the time,” he assured, your hand still in his. “You know you’re more likely to die in a car than a plane?” 

“I’m not so much nervous about dying as I am getting stranded on an island like Lost.” 

“Weren’t they all dead in the end, anyways?” 

“I never got that far, but that still doesn’t sound ideal. The whole point of death is to not have to deal with life anymore.” 

Your hands were still linked together, his thumb now tracing circles on the back of your hand. His leg moved closer to you until you were touching, the closest you two could possibly get while sitting in a plane. It was in that moment that you realized whatever you had been trying to avoid with him was no longer unavoidable. You had reached a new level of intimacy, a door was opened that could not be closed. 

“Aaron…” 

“I don’t like that. I like Hotch,” he teased, his eyes twinkling as they met the dim overhead lights of the plane. 

“Hotch… are you sure you want to keep touching me?” 

His eyes widened at your voice, and he instinctively ripped away his hand and pulled his leg from you. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather a thought. 

“Do you want a drink?” You asked, trying to change the subject. 

“I can’t, I’m working.” He turned forward and looked at the stared at the screen on the back of the seat. You decided not to say anymore, clearly realizing the moment had passed and there was nothing left to be said. 

A flight attendant came by shortly after and you finally got your well deserved drink. Hotch stayed silent, watching you sip the forbidden liquid and get slightly more calm with every sip. You had two more before finally falling asleep, the exhaustion of anxiety taking over. You woke up when you felt your ears pop as the plane began descending. You bolted up with alarm, Hotch watching you quietly. You couldn’t remember if he looked over at you after you woke up, or if he had been watching while you slept. 

“We’ll be landing soon.”

“Can I have some gum?” You motioned to your ears, cringing in pain. Hotch handed you a stick of mint gum from his bag, which you chewed happily as you watched your descent into the night. The lights from the city were beautiful, and you felt extremely happy to be back doing what you love, in one of your favorite cities. You had always wanted to move here, but your father would’ve had a heart attack if you weren’t within 20 minutes of him. 

The plane landed on the ground with a jolt, shaking you awake. You looked to Hotch, who was already turning his phone on to inform your family that you had landed safely. He spoke swiftly to your dad, assuring him that he would let him know when we arrived at the hotel. You watched his every move, the way his lips moved with such assurity at every word he spoke. He knew you, everything about you, truly. He was the one person in the world that was 100% dedicated to you. He would die for you. Holy shit. Maybe you had a bit too much to drink. 

“You ready to go?” 

“Uh, yeah, let’s.” You stood up quickly, without paying attention, and slammed your head right on the overhead. “Shit,” you groaned, holding on to your forehead in pain. 

“Oh man,” Hotch mumbled, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. He reached his hand to your forehead and ran his thumb over the bump. He moved his hand down to your cheek, and looked down into your eyes. 

“It’s a little red, but I think you’ll be okay,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. 

“That’s good,” you mumbled, the tip of your nose brushing against his. You had placed your hand to his chest, playing with the buttons on the hem of his shirt. 

He pulled away from you suddenly, shaking his head and taking a breath. He opened up the overhead and pulled out the bags, not looking at you once again. You felt your legs shaking, your heart beating, and your center throbbing at the thought of his lips. It took all of your strength to not pull him back to you and kiss him. But you couldn’t, not here, anyway. 

You followed Hotch off the plane and stood at the gate for the rest of your men. Hotch didn’t say a word to you, only waited in authority for his men to meet him. He was their leader, they did everything he said. Watching him boss them around was kind of sexy, and you felt your body aching more and more for him. Finally the rest of your team came out and met up with you. 

“I want you guys to wait for Honey’s bags then meet us back at the hotel. There will be cars waiting. I want her out of here as fast as possible, so we’re leaving now. Are we clear?” He nodded at them in clarification, and they all nodded back in agreement. They began walking towards baggage claim, and you followed Hotch the opposite direction. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Secret exit, there’s a car waiting for us there.” He walked steadily at your side, weaving through crowds and shielding you from oncoming people. A few people glanced to your direction with curiosity, most likely thinking “I know that girl from somewhere.” But Hotch rushed you out too quickly for anyone to fully remember you. You passed behind a guarded door, Hotch flashing his badge to the guards as they nodded at him and opened doors. You were rushed down a flight of stairs and out a back door, into the California night air. And as Hotch said, a black SUV with a driver you didn’t recognize was waiting for you. 

“Who’s that?” 

“One of my old men,Derek, a good friend. It’s not safe for me to be driving here. We're in good hands with him, though.” 

Derek rolled down the window and greeted Hotch, a large smile of the man's face. “Nice to meet you, Miss. (Y/N). Welcome to my ride,” he laughed. Hotch opened the door for you and you stepped in the back, him following close behind. Derek started the car and began driving, flashing Hotch’s badge as you went through various gates to get back on the road. The partition was up in the car, blocking Derek’s eyes and ears from you and Hotch. You weren’t sure why he had it up, as most of your drivers usually leave it down until asked. Maybe he just assumed you would be having a confidential conversation or something, right? 

“Thanks for getting me out safe, Hotch,” you teased, placing your hand playfully on his shoulder. 

“Of course, Honey.” He turned towards you, his head tilted as he looked down to you. He rested his hand on your thigh, his thumb teasing your exposed flesh. You shivered at his touch, his hands cold against the warmth of your inner thigh. His fingers continued to trail up your flesh, toying with you as they moved slowly to where you craved him most. You moved your hips awkwardly, trying to get closer to him, trying to get him closer to you. 

He started to play with the hem of your underwear, his thumb grabbing onto the fabric and brushing against your flesh. His other fingers slowly began to touch you, moving rhythmically over your clit. You sighed in relief, finally getting the much needed pleasure. You wanted more, you would’ve straddled him right then and there. But he quickly took his hand away, leaving you defeated and unsatisfied. You turned to him with a frown, only to find a smug grin plastered on his face. 

“Later, Honey.” He whispered, his eyes locked on yours. You nodded, excitement overtaking you as you thought of what could happen next. You turned back forward and straightened yourself out, trying to catch your breath. 

The rest of the drive was torture, craving someone so close. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself together. Right as you were starting to convince yourself to just kiss him, you finally pulled up to the hotel. Derek parked in the entrance and got out of the car to open your door. He opened Hotch’s side, first, and shook his hand as he exited the car. You got out after him, declining for him to walk around and open your door, as well. Hotch had already grabbed the few bags you did have and was holding on to them tightly. You thanked Derek for driving you and assured him you would see him tomorrow. Hotch and him said their goodbyes, and then you followed him into the lobby of the hotel. You stayed behind as he checked you in, not trying to look too conspicuous. 

Hotch walked back over to you and flashed the room keys. “Let’s get to your room, get you settled.” 

You followed him to the elevator, which was an awkwardly silent ride. You rode up to the top floor, where the Presidential suite was, no doubt. Your father always insisted you had the nicest room in the place. It was a bit much, in your opinion, but it wasn’t worth arguing with him about things like that. The elevator finally came to a halt and opened its doors. Hotch left first and you followed him down the hall to one of the suites. 

“Alright, here you go,” he said, handing you your key and dropping your bags to the floor. 

“Uh, are you leaving me?” You questioned, your eyes wide with confusion. 

“Relax,” he chuckled. “I’m right across the hall. I’m just gonna change, I always feel so gross after a plane. Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll check on you in a few minutes?” 

“Alright,” you grumbled, disappointed that your night with Aaron was clearly ending here. 

You opened the door to your room and brought your bags in, Hotch waiting for your door to close until he went into his own room. You laid down with a huff on the bed, sulking into the covers in frustration. What a fucking tease, you thought. You shook your head in anger and jumped off the bed, willing yourself to relax a bit before tomorrow. 

You changed out of your clothes, stripping completely naked and throwing on your silk robe before you got in the shower. You started unpacking your toiletries, placing your obnoxiously expensive hair and skin care in the shower, ready for you to use at your convenience. You searched in frustration for your toothbrush, tossing things around your bags as you looked. You felt like you’d been searching for a half hour when a knock on the door through you from your search. 

You stood up uncomfortably, realizing you were almost naked. You looked around for clean clothes, but were worried if you didn’t answer the door immediately one of those big-head guards would knock the door down. You groaned loudly and ran to the door, hoping to god you weren’t too exposed. 

Hotch was standing in the doorway, a filthy grin on his face as you opened the door. You backed away from the door and he walked in, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked up to you, his body inches away from yours. He grabbed on to the sash of your robe, pulling at the end so that the loose knot would come undone. The front of the robe spilled open, exposing your nude front. Hotch brought his hands to your shoulders and grabbed onto the robe, pulling it completely off your body. 

He brought his hand up to your chest, slowly caressing your breast and toying with your nipple. He ripped his shirt over his head aggressively, and then wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled your face close to his and kissed you, a much needed kiss full of desperation. His tongue invaded your mouth forcefully, his body taking complete and total control of yours. His lips tasted like scotch, which he clearly drank pretty quickly in his room before coming over. Maybe he needed the courage, or maybe he needed to take the edge off. Either way, the taste made you crave a drink. 

You started to push away from the kiss, planning to run to the mini bar and grab a bunch of bottles for the two of you. Hotch just chuckled, grabbed onto your wrist and pushed you on the bed. 

“Hotch, I want a drink,” you giggled, trying to evade his grip. 

“Not now, Honey. Now you want me,” he ordered, biting his lip as he looked down at you. 

“Yes, sir,” you teased, blowing Hotch a kiss. He moved down lower and spread your legs, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes. He spit aggressively on your pussy, and then dragged his tongue across your entirety. He was lapping at your clit sloppily, your body jerking with pleasure as he shoved two fingers inside of you. He started to focus more with the tip of tongue, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm, arching as they went inside to hit your spot. 

“Fuck,” you squealed, arching your back as your body was overcome with pleasure. 

“Are you gonna cum, sweetheart? Are you gonna cum for me?” He growled, pouting his lips as he looked up at you. 

“Yes, keep doing that,” you stuttered. A satisfied smile came over his face, and he went back to eating you out. He focused on your clit, his tongue stimulating it in ways you’d never experienced before. Your body was almost shaking as you finally reached your climax, Hotch licking you up as you finished. You went limp, for a moment, trying to catch your breath from your high. 

“Turn around,” he instructed, slapping your thigh. 

“I need a sec,” you muttered.

“Now. Turn around, now.” His glare was intimidating, but you could still see a gleam of light in his eyes. The dominance was something you hadn’t experienced yet, but it was turning you on wildly. You nodded at him, getting on your knees and bending over. He slapped your ass with a force, making you yelp with an equal mix of pleasure and pain. You could hear him chuckle behind your back, already feeling your skin raising where he marked you. 

You heard him unbuckling his pants, and you’d realized you hadn’t seen his dick yet. You wanted to be surprised, though. You wanted to experience him for the first time inside of you. You felt him placing himself at your entrance, the tip of his dick playing with you. He started to slowly slide in, and you were uncomfortably shocked by his size and girth. You winced as he fit all of himself inside of you, feeling his length overtaking your whole body. He was by far the biggest you’d ever experienced, and you were taking a second to adjust. 

“Oh, poor Honey,” he chuckled. “Am I too much for you?” 

“No, I can handle it,” you replied in defiance. “Fuck me, Aaron. Fuck me.” 

He laughed again, taking your instruction to heart and pounding himself in and out of you, fast. It was too much at first, feeling like he was breaking you. He was so much bigger than you, he could literally overcome you. You felt his presence watching your ass as he fucked you, realizing now how hot it was that he was so big. 

“You have such a tight little pussy, I fucking love it,” he moaned, his nails digging into the flesh on your hips. His pumps were getting sloppier, each thrust you could feel his body getting more tense. He was twitching inside of you, and finally you felt his warm release fill you up. He stayed inside you a moment, both of you catching your breath. He pulled himself out and sat on the edge of the bed. You turned around and laid flat, staring breathlessly at the ceiling. 

You heard the sound of a phone, and you winced as the comfort of the silence was broken. Hotch stood up, his naked body glowing like a statue in the low light. You took in his body, examined it like a piece of art, remembered every bit. You never wanted to forget him. You didnt think you could. 

Hotch grabbed his phone and answered quickly. “What’s going on?... Alright…. Sounds good.” He ended the call and set the phone done on the desk. 

“Get dressed, make the bed,” he requested, rather harshly.

“Ugh, cmon Hotch, can I just have a second?” You groaned, flopping to your side in exhaustion. 

“Do I need to ask again? Get up, put your clothes on and make the bed. Now!” He barked. He was already searching the ground for his clothes, trying to put himself back together after unraveling with you. You got up and did as you were told, putting your robe back on and searching for pants. You made the bed to the best of the ability, although it wasn't really your strong suit. You shrugged, apologetic as Hotch gave you a disappointed look when he looked at your work. 

A knock on the door prevented Hotch from lecturing you on your cleaning skills. He ran to the door and opened it to reveal the rest of your guards. They dropped your bags off in the entryway and shared a few words with Hotch. He turned to you and started to talk. 

“First shift will start now. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Of course.” 

Hotch grabbed his phone and dialed a number, holding it to his ear. He waited a few seconds before the person on the other end answered. 

“It’s me. Honey is secure. I’ll check in in the morning.”

[corpsentry]

behind the taylor swift gundam was in fact another, smaller gundam: a brief inquiry into the events of june 2020

so back in june this year june and i got together and we made this motherfucker of a story with this motherfucker of a thread to keep track of it all. but you already know that! and i’ve already got one foot and three elbows in my grave, so i’ll spare you the long-winded stuff. you wanna know how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks? i’ll tell you how i wrote 93,035 words in 4 weeks-

-by linking you guys to copies of my planning documents because i feel like those words speak louder than any words i can offer in the present day. these are long documents. but they are also historical artifacts. very interesting. very weird. very, uh, full of cussing. so anyway, here’s

BIG DADDY: THE ORIGINAL PLANNING DOCUMENT

for those, like me, who have no motivation left in life to do anything and rely on summaries from others to acquire new knowledge, it all started with a single line.

prince of a fallen kingdom atsumu tries to kill hinata but falls in love with him instead

june, april something, 2020

with that in mind i tested the concept out with a few paragraphs of text, which you can find at the bottom of the Big Daddy document in the graveyard segment, accidentally sold my soul to the image of hinata with epaulettes, and then worked backwards, structuring an entire plot around two images:

a) hinata getting the shit beat out of him, with snark b) hinata and atsumu dancing in an empty ballroom under the stars

if you want a betrayal, you have to have something worth losing. if you want to fall in love with someone you don’t know, you have to meet them. if you have to meet them, there has to be a reason for that meeting, and so somewhere in between atsumu became a sword instructor and hinata the prince with daddy issues. june and i used this method of glancing anxiously over your shoulder to see what you’d missed to fill out the blanks in the story, after which i tacked up a bunch of post-its, typed out the plot, consulted june, typed out the plot again, and then broke the characters down into a bunch of questions, like ‘what do they want?’ and ‘what do they have?’ and ‘what are they afraid of?’

with the plot more or less ironed out, i decided it was time to start writing, and then i decided that i was actually too scared to start writing after all, so instead i set a couple of timers using classroomtimers.com (15-20 minutes long) and i sat down and i wrote about the world that hinata and atsumu inhabited.

each warm-up was 300-500 words long, and for the first few days, i’d write one before getting into writing the story proper. later these evolved into simply picking a scene from the story and launching straight into it, which became useful for opening those scenes later when i got to them organically.

then i got lazy! so i stopped. but these shitty little exercises were really useful for me because, unfettered by plot, convention, or any kind of tradition hovering over my shoulder, i was able to fuck around loosely enough to realize what i wanted this story to be. it was a very contrived kind of trial-and-error, an exploration of the characters, the story, but most importantly, the tone.

RESEARCH, PLANNING, AND VICTORIAN BOUGIE FASHION

this is a loose map of the castle and Important Locations within it, which i drew up at the start so i could keep track of where everything was and how i could get my characters from point A to point B. i wanted the story to have Some kind of internal logic, you know, even if that logic amounted to ‘a compass would function normally in this world whereas kageyama tobio would not’.

99% of my planning and organizing within those five weeks took place in this lovely dotted cat journal which my sister gave me for my birthday and i repurposed into a metaphorical Diary of Suffering while working on juno. i used it for everything from keeping track of narrative threads to clothing consistency checks, but the main purpose was this: each day at about 10 pm i’d crack open the cat book to a fresh page, stamp the date and the day of suffering at the top, and then write down a list of things i wanted to write, address, or fix today. then i’d sit at my laptop and write like a madman until about 7 in the morning. with breaks, of course, for sitting in the bathroom and staring at the wall and sitting in the kitchen and staring at the wall, but mostly i was writing. and complaining about writing. you were there, you probably remember that.

anyway, here are some pages from the cat book.

aside from the fact that my handwriting is complete shit, you can see that i made zero effort for any of this to be presentable. it was mainly a way for me to keep track of my thoughts because i have the attention span of an ikea wardrobe and tend to forget things as soon as i think of them. the lack of structure also mirrored the way that i went about writing juno. while i did proceed, for the most part, in chronological order, i had a lot of weird and useless revelations during lunch, which by this point was happening around 2 am, and in the 5 minutes before the exhaustion finally hit and carried me down to hell. i changed A Lot. again, to understand exactly how much the story evolved from day one onwards, please consult the big daddy document.

in the meantime, here’s something else.

once june sent over hinata and atsumu’s character designs i sat down like the fucking fool i am and spent 2 hours poring over a document about victorian and other fashion movements of the past so i could assign a noun, adjective, and verb to each element of their outfits. i don’t know why i did this. i certainly could have not, but i attempted to make sense of their ‘fits from a logistical perspective and that went into the cat book too. everything went into the cat book. the cat book is a relic of the past now, stuffed with artifacts such as the birth of oikawa tooru, and also his demise.

MEDIUM DADDY: EDITING, PROOFREADING, AND CREEPY MURDER CATS

i finished writing on june 26th, 2020, approximately a month after i’d first started planning, somewhere around may 27th or 28th. at that point i had about 90,000 words’ worth of story and no sanity left whatsoever, so i took a day-long break to stare at a wall and listen to taylor swift’s enchanted on loop.

and then i made a new document, which you can look at using the link above, and i laid out everything i had to do. i’d discovered a fuck ton of plot inconsistencies and general errors while writing and lying awake in bed at 9 a.m., sleepless in seattle, and now that i was free of the demon egging me towards the first finish line, it was time to Deal with them. i speed-scrolled through the draft, which was 200+ pages compressed into one google doc, because i like to tempt god’s wrath, and fixed up all the plot issues over the course of a few days. this was the fun part.

the actual, hard editing was the extremely un-fun part. i reread the entire thing, paragraph by paragraph, line by damn line, from start to finish, paying especially close attention to awkward phrasing, incomplete dialogue, and moments which had fallen flat in my haste to get on to the next one. this was really fucking terrible. i spent more time lying facedown on the floor than actually editing anything, but after a long time (about a week), that, too was done.

SMALL DADDY: TITLES, SUMMARIES, AND GOOD FUCKING BYES

i spent a good eighty days thinking about the title, though hilariously enough we ended up with something that was a blend of our names. june + elmo = juno, which is, all things considered, pretty perfect, but the process of picking the title was Hell, and i Did Not Come Up With The Title until about 2 hours before posting. you can take a look at the haphazard clusterfuck of my title-selecting process in small daddy, which is linked above.

so the title was a last-minute choice. so was the summary. and the chapter divisions. and actually all the songs in the playlist for juno. the day we dropped juno onto planet earth like a newborn baby pitched out of the sky, i spent an hour hunched over my laptop, cutting my 213 page google doc into chapters based on nothing more than a Vibe. two days before that, i also attempted to voice-act the entirety of juno, an affair which ended at the 20,000 word mark with a sore throat and the kind of exhaustion one typically wants to sleep in a coffin for 23 years to get rid of. so in all honesty, i did very little editing, which is why there are definitely minor typos and/or mistakes hanging out somewhere on that chunky ao3 webpage. but whatever.

my attitude by july 5th (was it july 5th? or 4th? somewhere around there) was basically whatever. anything so i could get finish this damn thing, chuck it out of the window, and never see another google doc until the next century. i’ve been asked a few times how exactly i wrote at a rate of roughly 2000-3000 words per day for four weeks straight, and my answer has always been this: i died. what died, you ask? my soul. my spirit. my Will To Live. i’m a creature of fixations, and juno was my fixation for june. will i ever be able to do this again? would i recommend this experience to anyone? is god real? the answer to all of the above is probably no. juno was a fever dream, and so is my cat book. and so are all the lattes i had. and so was my 9 am to 4 pm sleep schedule.

but what we made is real. the research, oikawa tooru, the 4 am conversations in which i was like ‘how the fuck do i end this’ and june was like ‘jade proposal’ (the proposal was her idea. all rise for twitter user atsuhinas. she is the mastermind behind all of the Inch Resting moments in this story; i just flapped a korok leaf in her direction and made sure the air circulation was working properly) are real as fuck, and looking back, there’s a lot i’d change, but i’m lazy. and college is starting. and anyway, i did write 93,035 words in just under five weeks, four if you don’t count the week of Editing Hell, so i think that’s pretty cool.

thank you for reading this to the end, and for following us on our journey through the enigmatic taylor swift gundam fic which quite literally consumed my entire twitter account for the five weeks i spent working on it. retrospectively speaking i really was butt-obsessed so i am frankly incredibly impressed with everyone around me for putting up with a Husk of a Man for a month. thank you for doing that. thank you for indulging my vague tweeting, and our butterfly dns, and for reading 93 thousand words of gay fanfiction set in a high fantasy world with epaulettes and galettes. on behalf of june, once again, we are incredibly grateful for all your support.

if you have any questions about specific aspects of the writing process, or anything you’d like to know in general with reference to JUNO, feel free to drop me an ask through my tumblr inbox, or through my curiouscat over here. i’m aware i didn’t cover everything, but there’s frankly too much to put in a tumblr post without passing away somewhere around the 56% mark, so let me know what’s on your mind, and i’ll try to answer that to the best of my abilities. but anyway, before i go, here are some

TAKEAWAYS

one: don’t try to write 93,000 words in five weeks. seriously don’t fucking do it you will end up jittery and sleep-deprived and you will leave all your friends on read for a month. pace yourself. set realistic goals. you wrote 2k this week? that’s fantastic. you wrote 4k in a day? you absolute motherfucker. i hope you’re taking a long fucking break tomorrow. your story will not run away from you, but if you run too fast, you will get tired, and then you will pass away.

two: you don’t have to know everything about your story before you start writing. in fact if you have a single camera shot of two characters holding hands under a rose garden awning, i think that’s fucking wonderful. if you look at big daddy, you’ll realize that my initial plot draft, and all the ones following that, are not perfectly aligned with the final version of juno. i improvised over half of the scenes in this motherfucker, and to be completely honest, some of the improvised scenes were the best. fucking oikawa tooru was improvised out of nowhere. he only got written in way later, around chapter 8 or something, because i realized i needed a plot device and a source of information to keep the playing table from toppling over. i Sat Down one day and was like ‘okay, it’s time to write oikawa into the introduction. because he matters now. he didn’t matter last week but now he does, and soon he’s going to be the fulcrum of the entire story, because it’s like that with oikawa tooru’. it’s okay to change your mind halfway. it’s okay to go back and rewrite entire scenes or segments. it’s okay to highlight 4 pages of fresh, sentimental writing, and hit delete. writing is a fluid process, and you Will make discoveries as you progress through your story alongside your characters. be understanding of that iterative process. be kind to yourself.

three: You Are That Motherfucker. you, me, your dog, your dog’s friend, your dog’s enemy, all of us are that motherfucker. i never thought i’d be able to write anything longer than the great big map, which was a much simpler, linear story in which the other main character did not appear in the current timeline until like the eighth chapter. juno was different. juno was the motherfucker, and i was scared shitless of it, and to cope with that fear joked constantly while writing that it’d never see the light of day.

but it did. it was a rocky process, and i was awake for 48 hours after posting it because of the sheer adrenalin stuck in my skull, but i got through it. and i wouldn’t have been able to do it without june, who stepped in when i flopped over facedown on the floor and dragged me to my feet like the badass friend she is, and without everyone else in my life, who put up with me talking about The Thing that i couldn’t really talk about, but juno’s up there now. forever, or until the internet collapses and civilization goes extinct. and if the nineteen year old clown with the attention span of an ikea armchair and an a level certificate from hell wrote the 93,000 word long thing, so can you. i mean this completely unironically and with every ounce of genuine emotion i can summon from the cracked asshole of my heart.

writing is hard. writing is scary. writing is an investigation of the world around you and therefore, by extension, yourself, and that kind of honesty is freaky. it’s like going skinny-dipping next to the president’s mansion. who’s going to see you? what if they take a photo? what if you lose your spot at university?

but don’t think about that. our world is overrun with stories the way cereal bowls are full of cereal, but it’s those stories that keep us all sane in the disgusting day-to-day muck of reality, so think about your story. what’s haunting you today? what message do you want to leave printed in font size 666 comic sans across the southern hemisphere of the planet? what will you be tomorrow?

a writer. you’re going to be a motherfucking writer.

[t100ficrecsblog]

an interview with @osleyakomwonkru (she/her) what are you working on right now? Several things! I’m the queen of many WIPs (let’s not even talk about the ones that are languishing in the limbo of old fandoms). But my priorities right now are my own Season 7  and the promptfills that I’m doing for Bellarke Writers for BLM (but not for Bellarke). I started working on my Season 7 fic last summer as soon as 6x13 aired because I couldn’t wait nine months to find out what happened to Octavia, I needed to answer that myself. So I spent months writing and planning and researching and compiling lore so that I could answer that question myself. Started posting it episode by episode at the beginning of 2020. Then pandemic got in the way of me finishing it before the official season 7 started airing, so right now the first 9 episodes are up, and the last 7 will be up after the official season 7 is finished. So if you want a season 7 that has a bit less planet hopping, more Bellamy, more TALKING and characters taking the time to sort through issues rather than the season 7 we’ve been having, then please check it out! what’s something you’d like to write one day? I’d like to actually finish and publish the myriad of original works I have in a state of perpetual incompleteness. I’ve been writing stories ever since I could hold a crayon, and I’ve never stopped. But the past decade I’ve been focused on a lot of fanfic. what is the fanwork you’re most proud of? Well, I love all of my word-babies, and I’m super proud of my S7 fic as mentioned above, but outside of that series, the fic that holds a special place in my heart is “fly away to heal my broken spirit (there might be peace on the other side)”, which is an Octavia-centric character study written between seasons 5 and 6, whereupon landing on the new planet, Octavia takes off on her own and takes the time she needs to heal from the pain of her past. why did you first start writing fic? Well, the reasons why I first started writing fic are perhaps different than what they are now. I started writing fic when I was a child, when I didn’t even know it was something other people did, let alone something people shared with one another (this was back in the Days of Yore before the Internet, so while now I know fanfic was going on at that time, it wasn’t easily accessible). The longest fic I’ve ever written was when I was a preteen, and it was 943 pages, handwritten, and it was a self-insert RPF where I became best friends with Alanis Morissette. Back then, I wrote fic because I wanted more stories, more adventures with the characters I loved, and in the case of that self-insert, I wanted to be a part of those adventures. But now I write fic for different reasons. Now I write mostly because I want to address the parts that canon leaves out. The parts that aren’t “exciting” for a TV audience, because they’re not full of flashy explosions and fights and whatnot, but that I want to see because they’re a vital part of the character journeys - the talking, the healing, the things that should be addressed so it makes sense to go from A to B in the storyline but tend to be swept under the rug. I’m in a fandom for the characters, so I want to see them and their thoughts and feelings addressed properly and not just get shuttled from one Plot to the next. So as this applies in this fandom, that mostly revolves around letting characters take the time to talk to each other, to sort out their issues, stuff like that. Because after everything they’ve been through, they need this! what frustrates you most about fic writing? Too many ideas. I have so much I want to write, but I also don’t want to abandon projects so it hurts to have to put ideas on the backburner. Also - middles. I often know how I want a story to start and how I want it to end, but the part in the middle is always a bit fuzzier. Middles are hard. what are your top five songs right now? Lunatica - Heart of a Lion (perfect Octavia song!) Icon for Hire - Supposed to Be (also a good Octavia song) Beth Crowley - Don’t Think Just Run (ditto) Really Slow Motion - Unbroken (same) Miley Cyrus - Mother’s Daughter (Hope’s theme song) what are your inspirations? Music is a lot of my inspiration. I have an entire Octavia playlist, and Spotify is really good at recommending more songs to go on it. Spotify has the only useful Internet algorithm. Also, just those moments in canon where you go WTF and you’re like… I need to fix this. Or, “there has to be more than just this”. A lot of scenes demand more than what we saw on screen, so I’m here to provide.

what first attracted you to Octavia? what attracts you now? I started watching t100 between seasons 4 and 5. The specific reason why I started watching was Chai Hansen (Ilian), because he’d just been cast on Shadowhunters, and he was hot, so I went looking to see where else he’d appeared and happened upon this show. So I watched some of his scenes on YouTube, and was intrigued by this chick (Octavia) he was with. Then the next scene I saw was Octavia winning the Conclave in 4x10 and making her speech of unity, and I was sold. I was all “I need to know who this girl is and how she got here”. 

So I went back to the beginning, and yes, she was the one. I have A Type when it comes to fandom favourites, and she fits it to a T - the misunderstood badass with a tragic past and a dark side. Octavia Blake, Regina Mills, Magnus Bane, Eliot Spencer, James “Sawyer” Ford, Juliet Burke, they all fit that same archetype. 

 I just love Octavia so much, because she’s been through so much and she’s still standing and she’s grown and changed and evolved and it’s all been beautiful. Even the dark parts. Especially the dark parts. Because without them she wouldn’t be who she is now. I hate it when people say she’s “back to her old self” now. No. No she’s not. She’s a stronger, wiser and more mature version of herself, and she wouldn’t be that without her darkness or without her healing. I could go on more, but for that you can just go to my blog and read all of my meta. BESIDES Octavia, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? Uhhh… well, Octavia’s kind of my brand. So everything does kind of revolve around her. But I also adore Echo, Diyoza (sob!) and Hope, and I’m so glad that canon Hope is like the Hope I wrote in my S7 fic - fearless, reckless, committed to her family and questioning what makes otherwise sensible women willing to die for Bellamy Blake. I ship Niytavia, and a fair amount of my Niytavia fic is written from Niylah’s point of view rather than Octavia’s. I’ve also written some bunker-era Mackson as best friends to Niytavia, but Miller being a jerk in season 6 has kind of soured that ship for me. But after 7x10 I’m hopeful that he’ll pull his head out of his ass so that I can like that ship again, because Jackson is still all kinds of lovely. 

But if we REALLY need to depart from the Octavia sphere, then Murphy’s my man. I don’t have a horse in the race as to which ship he’s a part of, because I can low-key ship him with just about everybody (even Octavia).

why did you decide to start writing for bellarkefic-for-blm? Because I wanted to do something to contribute to the BLM movement, but since I live in a tiny northeastern European country and have no money, going to protests or making donations myself isn’t something I can do. But I can write words so other people donate money, so here I am! 

what’s your writing process like? I don’t have a set process. Sometimes a story just FLOWS and I’ll get it done in a few hours. Sometimes it involves a lot of throwing stuff at the wall and hoping it sticks and days and weeks of contemplation and starting to write and hoping it’ll come together at the end. Same applies regardless of what I’m writing, be it my own idea or someone else’s. what are some things you’d like to recommend? My partner in crime in plotting my S7 epic, who I’ll message at 3 in the morning looking to brainstorm ideas, @easilydistractedbyfanfic . You want Murven? They’ve got you covered. Also, tacos, cheesy pasta, and sushi. Because food is delicious and I’d like to be in a country where I can get tacos again, so if you’re in a position to be able to eat tacos, eat tacos. They’re not available everywhere in the world. You can find @osleyakomwonkru here on Tumblr, or you can find her on AO3 here. If you’d like to request a fic written by her, you can do so via @bellarkefic-for-blm.

[creeksecrets]

Leah on the Offbeat Interview!

Leah on the Offbeat releases tomorrow, and we were able to do a quick interview with Becky! We hope you’re all ready to read all the wonderfulness that is a New Becky Albertalli Book tomorrow! And yes, this interview is SPOILER FREE. 

Hi Becky, thank you soooo much for letting us have another interview with you for The Tumblr! We’re all super excited for the release of Leah on the Offbeat. So without further ado, let’s get this interview rolling!

Can you type out one of your fave scenes from LOTO using only emoji’s?

What’s your favourite part about delving into Leah’s POV?

I loved a lot of things about getting into Leah’s head, but one of my favorites was having the opportunity to completely reframe and reinterpret certain events, moments, and dynamics from Simon Vs. Simon’s cluelessness makes him a very unreliable narrator. Certain aspects of Leah’s story began right under his nose, and he had absolutely no idea.

Was it difficult to write someone who isn’t a Hufflepuff?

It was, at first – and it was especially challenging writing a Slytherin! I think sometimes people assume that I’m much more like Leah than Simon, and that’s not quite true. I pour a lot of myself into all my main characters, but Leah is probably the character whose voice is most different from my own. When I explain that in terms of Hogwarts houses, people tend to get it.

I know you always do your best to use sensitivity readers for your works, how do you take their feedback and enhance aspects of the book?

I’m so grateful to my sensitivity readers – my books have grown so much as a result of their feedback. In Leah’s case, I brought in readers to help me better capture the nuances of my major bi, gay, and black characters in particular, but I also made sure to include readers whose socioeconomic experiences more closely matched Leah’s. So many of the details in the book have been made stronger because of their notes. For example, a reader checking for socioeconomic details made sure I accounted in the text for where Leah got money to pay her cell phone bill. Another reader helped me understand that, while she agreed with the narrative’s message about particular issues related to race, she noticed that many of the conversations themselves centered white characters. That was a major blind spot for me because of my own privilege, and it was hugely important to fix.

You shared with us some characters full names and birthdays, could you tell us Cal’s?

Calvin Samuel Price, March 13th, 1998.

Leah and Cal are both Bi and both like to draw, do you think they’d become friends because of these connections/interests?

I do think they’d get along! They don’t necessarily get to have that moment in the book, unfortunately, just because the circles they run in aren’t 100% the same. But I like to imagine they’d connect as closer friends during or after college. Maybe someone can write me this fanfic?

Do you have a playlist for LOTO that you’d be down to share? Or some songs that you feel totally helped with the creation of the book?

I don’t know that I have an official playlist, but some of the songs and albums that were important to me while writing this:

All I Want For Christmas is You – Mariah Carey

Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) and For Once In My Life – both by Stevie Wonder

Rebecca Loebe’s album, Blink

Driftwood Scarecrow (also known as Chris Greene)

Stills and I Just Want Your Jeans – both by God Help the Girl

Gorgeous Thing – Thao

Breakin’ Up – Rilo Kiley

Why/When did Leah decide to start playing the drums?

In the Simonverse narrative, she started sometime around freshman year – I imagine it had something to do with how good it felt to bang things. Interestingly, though, I just uncovered a notebook with some very early notes and Simon scenes. I didn’t even remember this, but apparently, Nora was the drummer in my initial planning stage.

I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of Anna and Morgan, can you tell us some interesting facts about them?

Anna and Morgan do play a much more prominent role in Leah On the Offbeat! Anna is pretty blunt and no-nonsense. In LOTO, she ends up kind of stuck in the middle of a conflict between a few of her friends. Morgan is pretty idealistic and sensitive, and she considers herself to be an activist.

What would you say are Leah’s top five favourite anime? Her long-time anime crush/crushes?

I’m not sure I’m up-to-date on anime enough to give a real top five, but there are quite a few Sailor Moon references in the book. She’s been in love with Mamoru/Tuxedo Mask for a long time, but I think she’s most invested in the Haruka/Michiru ship.

Is Leah a morning or night person?

Our girl is kind of grumpy in the morning and the night, to be honest.

I feel like we’ll be seeing more of our resident Angel Bro, Garrett Laughlin, so the question is: In your opinion, and without getting into spoilers, what makes him an “Angel Bro”?

Garrett is the original Angel Bro, and he’s even more of an angel bro in Leah On the Offbeat. In my mind, an angel bro always has his bro’s back, is an awesome wingman, and is an all-around amazing friend. One example of Garrett being an angel bro is the fact that he went with Bram to see Simon’s play three times in one weekend. Gotta support his bro.

Could you share a notsuperspoilery quote from the book with us?

“EYE ON THE BALL, GREENFELD,” the coach yells.

And that’s a wrap, thank you so much Becky for doing this interview with us!! 

We hope you all enjoyed this short interview, and we hope you’re all excited for the release tomorrow!

[jessicakmatt]

SoundCloud Mastering: How to Make Music Sound Good on SoundCloud

SoundCloud Mastering: How to Make Music Sound Good on SoundCloud: via LANDR Blog

Modern listeners get their music from more diverse sources than ever before.

In the past it was simple. Music producers knew their fans would mostly experience their work on the dominant medium of the day.

Whether it was CDs, cassettes or vinyl records, mixing and mastering engineers knew exactly what they were shooting for.

Today it’s a little more complicated.

Competing streaming services like Spotify, Deezer and Apple Music have strict standards for the music they host on their platforms.

These high quality paid services have it mostly figured out, but when it comes to free-to-upload platforms, the situation isn’t as clear.

So how do you make your music sound good on SoundCloud? SoundCloud mastering is an important part of the equation.

I’m not saying good mastering will solve everything—you still need great tracks and solid mixes to stand out.

But mastering songs for SoundCloud the right way will still make a big difference.

In this article I’ll go through everything you need to know to get your music ready for SoundCloud.

The importance of mastering for SoundCloud

If you’ve ever followed artists, shared tracks or posted music on SoundCloud, you might know what I’m about to say.

The audio quality of content on the platform varies from clean and pristine to practically unlistenable.

So what makes some songs sound better than others on SoundCloud?

Here’s one important factor—loudness.

Everyone knows that loud and powerful tracks that seem to jump right out of the speakers turn heads.

Everyone knows that loud and powerful tracks that seem to jump right out of the speakers turn heads.

But push it too far and you can easily do more harm than good.

Tracks that go above the maximum possible audio level of the medium suffer from clipping.

Clipping is audio distortion that makes music sound garbled, grating and much worse than other tracks on the platform.

If you’re like me, you’ve come across plenty of tracks on SoundCloud that have this issue.

So how do you make your mixes louder without risking distortion from clipping? The best solution is mastering.

I’ll go over the most effective ways to master your music in a second, but first let’s talk about how loudness works.

Loudness in music production

Loudness in music production is a delicate balance that’s more technical that it might seem.

You might think that you could just push all your faders up in the mix and get the loud and powerful sound you’re looking for.

Every recording medium has a maximum level of signal it can handle before clipping.

Unfortunately, boosting levels this way almost always results in the harsh digital clipping effect I mentioned before.

Every recording medium has a maximum level of signal it can handle before clipping.

In your DAW, that level is marked at 0 dBFS on your meters.

Hot tip: In some DAWs, turning your levels past zero doesn’t seem like it affects anything. This is because of the complicated internal math that powers your channels, faders and busses. Even if you don’t hear the clipping when you mix—it will happen when you export the file if the signal goes above 0 dBFS.

Signals that go above this line get the tops of their waveforms chopped off (or clipped) at the maximum.

Any information in the waveform that gets clipped off this way is lost. The result is a garbled version of the original.

Mastering and volume

So if you can only turn the song up so much, how do you even make it louder at all?

If you’ve been following along closely, you may have thought of a solution—why not just take the loudest part of the track and turn everything up so that single moment is right at the max?

Doing so would make that one passage loud, but the rest of the track would still be below the full available volume.

In fact, this is exactly what happens when you use the normalize function on an audio clip in your DAW.

Normalizing isn’t the answer—not if you want your song to sound the loudest it possibly can without clipping.

The difference between that loud moment and the other parts of the song is known as the dynamic range.

The difference between that loud moment and the other parts of the song is known as the dynamic range.

To get maximum volume, you need to reduce that dynamic range.

That means making the quiet parts louder while keeping the loudest parts at the maximum.

So how do you do that, and how do you know when it’s just right for platforms like SoundCloud?

Dynamic range

You might know about dynamic range if you’ve ever used a compressor plugin before in your mixes.

Compressors work by measuring the input signal and reducing the volume when it goes over a certain level.

Tweaking the dynamics of an entire mix is similar—but unfortunately it’s a lot more complicated too.

How do you reduce the dynamic range without destroying the sound? How do you know how far to go? And what happens when you get close to the edge?

The truth is, these are the nitty gritty technical details that mastering takes care of.

Mastering solves these problems so that your fans hear your songs properly on SoundCloud.

The bottom line is—if you want your music to be as loud as possible on SoundCloud and still sound good, you need mastering.

The best way to master your music

When it comes to mastering, there are a few options depending on your needs and budget.

In the past, you’d be forced to pay an expensive engineer for even basic mastering tasks.

You can still hire a mastering professional to do the job. In fact, this is probably how to get the best possible results, but it’s also the most expensive option.

If you’re just getting started with music production or you’re working with a limited budget, hiring a pro for every single track you produce isn’t realistic.

Your next option is to try a dedicated mastering plugin and hope for the best. This kind of technology has come a long way, but it still has a steep learning curve.

Plugins like this can easily do more harm than good when you don’t know how to use them. And spending all that effort learning and tweaking presets takes time away from your creative flow making music.

Your third and easiest option is to use AI-powered mastering.



Think of it like a virtual mastering engineer that listens to your tracks, analyzes them scientifically and makes the best possible decisions to prepare them for release.

That includes making your music louder—and getting the levels just right for Spotify, Apple Music, SoundCloud and others.

LANDR’s AI mastering is the best in this category by a wide margin. It features the most sophisticated and best sounding mastering engine out there.

And it’s not just a one-size-fits all fix either. LANDR includes the kind of customization options that you’d get with a real mastering engineer.

All that makes LANDR the quickest, easiest and best sounding solution for making songs louder on SoundCloud and other streaming platforms.

Loud and proud

Loudness is a major factor in the sound of modern music. Without the right levels, your songs aren’t competing on a level playing field.

Now that you know the basics of loudness and dynamics, go find out what mastering can add to your tracks on SoundCloud and anywhere else your fans listen.

The post SoundCloud Mastering: How to Make Music Sound Good on SoundCloud appeared first on LANDR Blog.

from LANDR Blog https://blog.landr.com/soundcloud-mastering/ via https://www.youtube.com/user/corporatethief/playlists from Steve Hart https://stevehartcom.tumblr.com/post/619467803148288000

[smartrapper]

Help me out by giving a listen :) Rob Level - Built Like This (Song From The Intro) https://ift.tt/2XgYpYi Built Like This (Lyric Video) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=at_U4DT9vYI Get Your Music Played On The Radio To Millions Of People (No Joke!) https://ift.tt/2XgYr2m How To Dub In A Vocal On A Messed Up Rap Line In this video I am going to show you 2 SOLID reasons why you’ll probably NEED to dub in vocals on a regular basis and how powerful dubbing vocals into your song can truly be for your fans and listeners. Most people don’t think like this, but this is Smart Rapper and you’re about to get smarter. Now you might be where I used to be as a new rapper, I used to fear for years if I messed a line up I wouldn’t be able to match the line or even when I did add it in it didn’t sound the same so it would mess up the flow or sound weird. Then you’d overthink it and hate it every time it played back, am I right? It would sound like this to you.  In this video I am going to show you how to dub in vocals to match as closely as possible so if you make a change it doesn't sound weird or out of place. And I’m actually going to do it LIVE in a song that I need to do a dub in anyways so why not show you as I’m doing it anyways, right? I’m Rob Level, this is Smart Rapper the NUMBER 1 Source for upcoming rappers, in the world… 200,000 subscribers please hit that sub button for me.  I’m going to show you how to avoid the dub in issue, how do this perfect and right every time as well how powerful this is for making you more lyrical… believe it or not…  By the way the song in the intro is my new song I’ll put a link for it on Apple Music, Sound Cloud and Spotify below. Check that out.  Spotify - https://ift.tt/2Xn0xTl Lyric Video - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=at_U4DT9vYI Genius Lyrics - https://ift.tt/2Xn0qHp The Power Dubbing In Vocals Now let’s talk about dubbing these vocals in.  First BEFORE I show you HOW TO DO IT, I want to show you WHY it’s so important and powerful.  That song that played in the intro, this is actually the session for the song right here and I’m going to show you the spots I dubbed in vocals to fix lines AND show you how to dub them properly. Now you may have a song where you LOVE the hook or the verses But you randomly want to change a whole bar, a word or even a set of bars.  And this could happen to you all the time, And here is a perfect example of what I had to do with my new Song Built Like This.  FOR THE FULL ARTICLE: https://ift.tt/2Z4BlNX On Our Instagram You Can Win REAL Radio Play And Shout Outs Weekly If You’re Following https://ift.tt/2XIhg2G https://ift.tt/2p4anVL https://ift.tt/2LcVfPZ https://twitter.com/TheRapperGuide $400+ In FREE STUFF - A&R Contacts List, Making Money As An Rapper And More https://ift.tt/2GHkxmZ Need To Know If Your Song Is Good? Get A Professional Song Review https://ift.tt/2XIh7wa Music Marketing Materials For Getting Your Music Heard https://ift.tt/2XIhcjs My Main Music Channel 140,000+ Subscribers https://ift.tt/2v7F0y0 Spotify Playlists By Smart Rapper That You Can Get On (Follow Them) https://ift.tt/2J4JRqI Spotify Marketing Company We Recommend https://ift.tt/2XdP9E7 The Best Beats I Recommend https://ift.tt/2XIhiYm https://ift.tt/2XgYuey https://ift.tt/2XyZOhd Tools For Beat Makers And Producers Submit your beats to be on Smart Rapper and get heard by thousands of rappers. https://ift.tt/2XgYuLA My Home Studio Gear Manley Reference Microphone: https://amzn.to/2Pp9C6z API 512 C: https://amzn.to/2PlA14Z Universal Audio Apollo Twin USB: https://amzn.to/2OR1uL0 Pro Tools: https://amzn.to/2vZ2aa2 Audio-Technica ATH-M50x: https://amzn.to/2MpOZJy Neumann KH120A Studio Monitors: https://amzn.to/2N1mE8t Triad-Orbit T2 Standard Tripod Mic Stand: https://amzn.to/2vUsiD2 12 Pack Acoustic Panels Studio Foam Wedges: https://amzn.to/2nPXU89 Acoustic Foam Bass Trap Studio Corner Wall: https://amzn.to/2nOe4PA XL Column Acoustic Wedge Studio Foam: https://amzn.to/2MELgH6 by Smart Rapper

[russellthornton]

How to be More Confident with 12 Simple Daily Self-Love Habits

It’s normal to be a little insecure at times but if your lack of confidence is crushing your life, it’s a problem. Here’s how to be more confident.

The older you get, the more confident you are. That’s how it’s supposed to work, anyway. But sometimes that’s not always reality and, as adults, we have to learn how to be more confident when life gest us down. Because there are many aspects of life that do get us down.

You may have been insecure as a teen and then confident at some point and then lost all of it due to something that happened. You may also be someone who has never really had that confidence to begin with.

And maybe you’re just someone who wants to gain even more confidence than you already have. No matter what your reason for wanting to learn how to be more confident, you can still do the same simple daily tasks that form into self-loving habits.

Without self-love, your life will be a lot harder

When we’re not happy with who we are, things tend to get rough. We don’t think we deserve a great partner, we don’t go for that promotion at work, and we end up missing out on great opportunities. Life is just easier and better when you can learn to love yourself as a whole. [Read: How to discover self-love and happiness]

How to be more confident with some simple habits

Once you get the hang of these, they’ll be very simple. Getting started, however, is a little more difficult than you’d like. The problem with a lack of confidence is that it can happen very easily but it’s hard to build back up. These tips and ways to learn how to be more confident are your best bet for getting to a place of full security.

#1 Think more positively all the time. Being confident isn’t just about exuding an air of, “I’m great.” It’s about being positive even when you don’t feel awesome about yourself. In order to do that, you have to force yourself to see the bright side more often.

Every day, focus on the good that’ll come and then at the end of the day, think about the good that happened. This changes your mind’s default over time so you’ll think in a more positive manner later on. [Read: How to be more positive and increase the quality of your life]

#2 Focus on bettering the aspects you don’t like. If there are key things that make you unhappy with yourself and you can do something about them, then work on it. Go to the gym if you’re overweight or out of shape. Focus on bettering your drive and ambition if you feel lazy and unfulfilled.

Not only does working on yourself actually make you more confident, but eventually those things will be great and you won’t feel insecure anymore. It just takes time of doing this every day.

#3 Look at your life from a new perspective. Oftentimes, we feel bad about ourselves or our lives because we lack perspective. Your life might actually be amazing in someone else’s eyes. Make a point to think about all you have from an outsider’s perspective and you might feel a lot better.

#4 Be grateful for the things you have. Many of us feel insecure because we don’t have the things we want. Whether that’s a specific job, or a certain lip shape, or a nice home, wanting what we don’t have often makes us feel back about what we do have.

And that’s very toxic. When you stop recognizing the great things in your life, insecurity takes over. If you take a step back and look at the amazing thing you do have, you’ll feel a lot better about yourself and your life. [Read: 20 things to remember to be grateful for]

#5 Eat well and live healthily. Your body deserves better. Chances are, if you’re not very confident, you probably aren’t treating the problem from the inside out. You may not feel great about yourself and instead of trying to fix it, you just pig out and feel worse.

Try adopting a healthy lifestyle. Your body reacts to what you put in it and how you treat it. If you’re not eating well or giving yourself exercise, you won’t feel good about yourself.

#6 Write in a journal. I know it sounds lame, but there’s a reason it’s suggested as a means of coping. Jot down your insecurities and read it back when you’re done. Sometimes you can learn a lot just by looking over your thoughts in a physical form. Plus, it can even help you see how silly some things are. [Read: How to be happy and live life to the fullest]

#7 Do it anyways. We often get insecure and then stop doing stuff we love or that we know will be good for us. But those are the things that make you happy! And when you’re happier, you feel better about yourself naturally. So even if it’s hard, still do the stuff you know you like.

#8 Boost yourself up. Yes, give yourself some pep talks. It’s perfectly fine to talk to yourself to feel better. Reassuring yourself of how amazing you are does actually work. It rewires your brain to think those things and the more you say it, the more you’ll think it regularly.

#9 Shut down negative thoughts and ramblings. This is probably going to be the hardest thing to do but it will make the biggest difference. Every single day, make it a habit to shut down bad thoughts about yourself. Stop your thought-process and replace it with positives. Doing this regularly will rewire your brain to choose positive thoughts as a default. [Read: How to stop negative thoughts that drag you down]

#10 Do something that scares you. If there’s one thing that makes us more confident, it’s conquering a fear. No matter if it’s talking to that cute barista about more than just your order to wearing those bright pink boots you think are too edgy for you, it’ll help you feel more confident. Just do it and don’t think about it.

#11 Talk to friends about it. Believe it or not, your friends might know exactly what you’re talking about. Even the ones who seem to love themselves to the end could have insecurity issues you don’t even consider. And the best thing? They could offer sound advice and even help lift your spirits. [Read: 8 types of friends everyone needs in their life]

#12 Listen to feel-good music. First thing in the morning, turn on some music that makes you feel amazing. Better yet, create a playlist you can listen to while you get ready. Starting your day off on a positive note can do more for our self-esteem than you realize. Avoid sad songs and choose upbeat, happy songs that make you want to sing along.

[Read: 20 life-hacks to help you be more confident]

Knowing how to be more confident is all about staying positive, highlighting your strengths, and accepting what you can’t change. Use these daily tips to build up that confidence and you’ll feel great in no time.

The post How to be More Confident with 12 Simple Daily Self-Love Habits is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.