#indepedent reader

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Teacher's Pet [Aaron x Reader]

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

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

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

Category: hurt/comfort 

Word Count: 12K

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

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

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/l/n = your last name 

a/r = age range 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: Checking-In 

Good afternoon, Ms. y/n,

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

Aaron Hotchner 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

Subject: Re-Checking-In 

Good afternoon, Mr. Hotchner, 

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

Ms. y/n. 

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

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: Re-re-Checking-In 

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

Aaron Hotchner

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

To: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

From: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

Subject: Re-re-re-Checking-In 

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

y/n y/l/n

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

To: y/n.y/l/n@_____ISD 

From: Aaron.Hotchner65@gmail.com 

Subject: [Re]-Checking-In 

y/n, 

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

Aaron Hotchner 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[isasweetie]

track iv. THE MAN! (feat. ceo!rafe cameron and indepedent!reader)

“i’m so sick of them coming at me again, ‘cause if i was a man, then i’d be the man”

your boss was simply insufferable. rude, strict, slimy, arrogant, and worst of all? handsome. and you had absolutely no issue telling him that — the bad things, anyway. every time he’d offer help for such a simple task, you’d push him away with a glare or a ‘get out of here, mr. cameron!’ thinking he was simply being condescending. but my god, he thought your attitude was hot.

the day he asked you if you needed help cleaning your coffee mug was when you snapped. you’d already had an awful day, and you couldn’t take him and his demeaning behaviour anymore.

“mr. cameron, it’s a fucking mug! do you think i’m that stupid just because i’m a woman? is that it? i wear skirts to work so i can’t wash my own mug!? you’re a condesending asshole!”

he takes a breath as to not yell back. “woah, hey, hey. uh, i’m gonna need to see you in my office. ten minutes, give you time to fuckin’ chill out. is it that time of the month?”

you go to lose it at him and he cuts you off. “don’t say any more shit unless you wanna lose everything, hm?”

ten minutes later, you hesitantly enter his office, admittedly a bit nervous. “mr. cameron, i just wanna say—“

“no, no. too late now for an apology.”

“but i’m really sorry—“

“show me that.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “what do you mean? how?”

he stands up and grabs your shoulders gently, then his hands slide down your arms and to your wrists. you blink, confused and having your boundaries violated.

“uh— so you don’t get me fuckin fired, let me ask you something, a little formality,” he starts. “do you consent?”

“to what?”

“not an answer. do you consent?”

having a strange burst of butterflies in your stomach, you know what’s coming. “mhm,”

“yeah, that’s what i thought,” a ghost of a smirk as he smiles and guides you by your wrists to the wall. with no hesitation, his hand is going under your skirt. “mhm. fuckin’ soaked, makes sense,”

“you’re so arrogant, it’s insufferable.”

“i’m just stating a fact baby,”

“don’t call me that, m’not your ‘baby’,”

he breaths out a laugh. “yeah, whatever you say. starting to think you’re more arrogant than me,”

“not arrogant, just don’t like you,”

“tell that to this pussy,” he cups it and you squeak, suddenly feeling extremely powerless against your man child of a boss.

“don’t wanna do this like this,” you say fastly, stopping it. “lemme— lemme do it,” he stops, hands in the air in mock surrender, taking a step back.

he certainly isn’t expecting you to drop to your knees in front of him. in his mind, a blowjob is a surrender, letting him take control. you fiddle with his fly. he goes to help and you paw him off. “don’t need help for something so fucking simple, get your slimy hands away,”

you undo it and waste no time taking his dick out of his pants. you hate the way your mouth waters. “oh.” you try to keep your composure. “thought it would be small. you give that energy,”

“gee, thanks,” he huffs. “c’mon, get going.”

“ask nicer,”

“jesus,” he sighs. “i’ll pay you extra to get going, huh? that nice enough?”

“you’re gross. talking about a ‘please.’”

he scoffs. “no fuckin’ way, you kidding me? not begging to get off, i’m not a woma—“ he cuts himself off.

all you do is harshly pinch his tip with your long acrylics, making him gasp in pain, before standing up, scoffing. “good one, really funny. sure your friends will get a kick out of it,” you dust yourself off. “you’re disgusting,”

as you walk away, you can hear him silently begging for you to come back and suck him off.

for once, you feel like the man.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter two

summary: you decided to meet luca, taking him up on his offer to return the favor, and it gives the both of you the opportunity to get to know each other better.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2777

a/n: for an america's indepedence day, have a hot brit and a love story that takes place in denmark lmao. okay so now we're all caught up with what i wrote for the headcanon and boy do i have some surprises in store for you next. thank you so much for all of the reactions to chapter one and the headcanon. this story has weaseled its way into my heart and has taken over my brain. i'm writing it for me but it's nice to hear others are enjoying it too. anyways, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

“You have to go!” Jesper insists with the kind of conviction of a damn good lawyer. 

“I don’t have to anything,” you reply, making sure to emphasize the word ‘have.’

“No, you have to go,” Mathilde chimes in, a little softer, a little kinder than her brother’s earlier encouragement. 

After your post-shift meeting, everyone had gone home, save for the three of you – the Mikkelson twins cornering you about Luca’s thank-you-card proposition.

“Well, since you both keep harping on it, why don’t you come with me?” you suggest, in an attempt to shift the focus off of you. 

Your eyes scan their faces, trying to get a read on the both of them as Jesper and Mathilde exchange a pointed look, having the kind of non-verbal exchange that only comes from having shared every moment of their lives together.

“What?” you ask, looking back and forth from Mathilde to Jesper again.

“It wasn’t addressed to us,” Mathilde points out with a shrug, a sly look on her face. “It was only addressed to you.”

“Looks like someone has a crush,” Jesper adds with a smirk. 

“He doesn’t have a crush!” you protest without hesitation, your heart seizing for a moment. 

“A talent crush,” Mathilde reasons, knowing that anything more than a talent-crush would talk you out of going entirely. 

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he did?” Jesper continues, much to both you and Mathilde’s chagrin. “I mean, when was the last time you got-, ow!”

Sharply cut off by an elbow to the rib, Jesper glares at his sister before returning his attention to you. 

“I’m just saying! He’s sexy. He’s a chef at one of the best restaurants in the world. You could do worse for yourself,” Jesper clarifies, earning another glare from his sister. 

He has a point, but you ignore it, because you’re not really sure if you’re ready to go there just yet. You think it over, and after giving it another moment, you open your mouth to speak again. 

“Alright, I’ll go,” you sigh in resignation, earning a few celebratory comments and gasps from the twins. “Are you both happy now?”

And that’s how – after at least an hour of stressing out about what to wear to a place like this – you find yourself standing in front of a closed restaurant on a day where almost everything is closed in Denmark. You’d settled on a pair of wide leg denim pants, a square toed boot appropriate for navigating the Copenhagen cobblestone, and a white and black striped sweater, slightly tucked into the front of your jeans that hangs loosely from your frame. 

Classic. Put-together enough for a two-starred Michelin restaurant on closed day. Certainly not a date kind of outfit.

Luca proves once again to be punctual as ever as he greets you at the front door, right on time. He wears a blue t-shirt that seems to emphasize his already intense blue eyes with a navy-colored apron layered over top of it. 

“You came,” are the first words he says to you, a wide smile spreading across his lips as soon as he sees you.

“Yeah I uh-, thank you. For inviting me,” you stammer, nervously searching for the right words. 

“Thank you for coming. Well, c’mon then!” he encourages, nodding towards the inside as he holds the door open for you. 

“Did you find the place alright?” Luca asks you, as you follow him. 

He leads you into the vaulted basement – the space that makes up the Danish-style, fine dining restaurant that’s been a leader in innovation. You follow Luca through the closed dining room, back into the kitchen, and then into the pastry room as you answer his question, mentioning that it wasn’t too long of a walk and that you found the place just fine.

As soon as you see what he’s been working on, it renders you near-speechless. You can see that he’s been hard at work – on his day off, no less – almost as if he knew you would come. 

“Would you like to have a seat?” he offers, gesturing towards the pastry bench. 

“Uh.. yeah. That’d be great. I-, um… thank you… again, for inviting me,” you answer, watching as he brings a stool over to it, setting up a little space for you. 

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. It’s really the least I can do. Think after this we’re uh… what 5 to 1?” he replies casually, in reference to the fact that he’ll only have fed you once in comparison to the amount of times he’s come to the restaurant. 

You chuckle, returning with a playful, “Well, I don’t think anyone’s keeping score.”

He sends a crooked smile your way, one that you know you’ll be thinking about for the rest of the week, before exchanging a laugh with you. 

“Just think of it as a thank you. For the great meals. For the hospitality,” he continues, as you watch him plate his gelee-focused dish. First the chocolate, then yellow, white, and green. A carefully tweezed wafer on top. 

“This is a shiso gelee with a chocolate mint ganache, finished with a thin slice of marzipan, and a caramel cracker. It’s from our current menu,” Luca introduces, walking you through the dish like you walked him through your crispy rice and trumpet mushroom dish. 

He pushes the plate-that-looks-more-like-a-pedestal towards you for you to try, his eyes meeting yours. Luca studies you carefully as you pick up the fork he’s set out for you, cutting through the gelee for your first bite. He watches as you scoop up a little of the ganache, making sure to get a bit of the cracker as well. 

You’re creating a perfect bite – one with a little bit of everything – just like he’d done with the first dish of yours he had a month or so ago. 

As you raise the fork to your lips, taking your first bite, the vibrant flavors hit your tongue with surprise and brilliance that you weren’t expecting. It’s somehow new, innovative, yet nostalgic all at once. 

“Oh my god,” you say with a sigh of pure bliss. You savor each and every flavor, taking your time with your first bite before continuing with: “It’s almost like-.”

“A minty snickers bar?” he offers up with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

“That’s exactly it!” you cry out with joy. 

He smiles proudly, “Yeah, it’s a nice dish.”

“So how long have you been doing this? Cooking…? Or have you done Pastry the whole time?” you ask, digging into the rest of the gelee. 

“About fourteen years… give or take. Started when I was a kid… just washing dishes… was a bit of a rebel…. The kitchen gave me a place to land,” he shares with an ease and charm that makes you feel like you could tell him all of your secrets. 

“Yeah, no I-, I get that,” you agree, enjoying your second bite of Luca’s shiso dish. 

“Gave my mum a little peace of mind. That’s for sure. Don’t think I was an easy kid to raise,” he continues as you listen. 

“Didn’t start pastry till about three years ago or so. Went mostly the fine dining route… worked my way up to sous position at a really great place, but wasn’t interested in moving up the ranks in that regard. Decided it was time to try something different.”

You nod with respect for his decision for change. 

“Where’d you grow up?” you ask curiously, watching him wipe down the pastry bench with a clean towel as he begins to prepare for a second dish.

“London,” he answers. 

“Oh! I uh, lived there for a few years, actually,” you say, sharing a familiar smile with him. 

“What about you? Where’d you grow up? And how long have you been cooking for?” he asks, shifting the focus of the conversation to you. 

“Boston,” you reply. 

He hums in response, “I’ve never been. What was that like?”

“Boston is great. Good weather, great food, interesting people. ‘S actually where I learned how to cook. My mom’s a single parent so… I spent a lot of time at our neighbor’s house… and their restaurant. They still own this Italian restaurant that’s like… been in the family for a hundred or so years and I practically grew up there,” you explain, sharing parts of yourself – of your story – in return. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, an amused look on his face. 

“Yeah, we hung out there a lot when we were kids – me and my best friend. Then when I was old enough to work, I marched in one day after school and pitched myself for a job, demanding that I cook and that I’d accept nothing less” you reminisce trying your best to recreate the bold confidence of your fifteen year old self.

Luca chuckles in response, “That’s incredible,”

“I was a rather precocious child,” you add, laughing with a fondness for that previous version of you.

He smiles, “Yeah, I know the feeling well.”

Luca clears his throat, pulling out a clean bowl and beginning to plate something new. He explains that this one is a savory dish, starting with a fermented sourdough cracker as he walks you through the flavor profiles of each component, mentioning that it’s got to be one of his favorites on the menu so far. 

“I’m up for sharing if you are,” you suggest, in response to his last comment. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

You watch as Luca picks up another fork, digging into the dish with you. There’s an intimacy that comes from sharing a meal with someone – eating off the same plate, enjoying the same sensory experience, quite literally breaking bread – that makes Luca feel less and less like a stranger to you with each bite. You still can’t believe that he’s done this for you – that you’re here – and while you’re not sure why, you lean into a softness, allowing yourself to enjoy it while it’s happening. 

“Did you go to culinary school?” you ask him, over your last few shared bites.

“No, what about you?” he replies quickly. 

“No, I actually majored in business,” you answer, earning a hum from him. 

“Huh…” he sounds, with a raise of both eyebrows in surprise. 

“I know…” you groan, with a playful eye roll more so directed at yourself. “My first career was in finance… account management. Then I did the whole investment thing for a while… it was uh… really sexy stuff, I know.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who would’ve been happy doing something like that,” Luca observes, only surprising you a little that he’d be able to pick up on something like that so quickly. 

“Oh no. I wasn’t. I was miserable,” you echo in agreement. You take a breath, and a beat, before explaining. “It was more of… a wish fulfillment thing, I think. For my mom. I mean, it wasn’t my dream, by any means. But having stability was important to me, to my mom…. To my partner at the time.”

“And now?”

You wait a beat before answering. 

“And now… I’m just… figuring it out as I go.”

Your eyes flicker over the ‘every second counts’ sign that hangs on the wall while Luca busses the table once again, sharing that he’s got one more dish he’d like for you to try. You settle into a quiet rhythm as you sit back and allow him to provide an experience unlike any other you’ve had. You watch him carefully as he moves around the kitchen prepping for his last dish, taking in each and every tattoo visible on his arms. 

“Every second counts,” you speak out loud, returning your attention to the sign. 

“Yeah,” he nods, turning his attention to where you’re looking. “It’s uh-, something an old head chef of mine used to say. Really stuck with me.”

You nod in agreement as he pulls out a final dessert plate. 

“‘S actually what brought me to you,” he continues, in reference to the sign. “An old friend of mine called me for a favor. He’s opening a new restaurant and wanted their patissier to come stage here for a bit.” 

Luca begins plating his final dish using a few pastry rings, a clean pair of tweezers, and berries left macerating in a deli container with a laser focus that you’d expect from a pastry chef at a two-starred Michelin restaurant.

“We got into… this whole conversation about inspiration. How to find it. Where to find it. I told him he’s gotta be open… to everything. To things out there. That that’s how you succeed in this industry – how you set yourself apart,” Luca adds, impressing you with his precision of plating while sharing something so personal. 

“It reminded me that… it’s been a while since I’ve opened myself up to… well… anything outside of this place.”

“No, yeah, I totally get it. It’s easy to get lost in it – it being the four walls of your restaurant. Running a restaurant is relentless. One minute you put your head down and the next…” you empathize with him. 

“It’s three weeks later.”

“Yeah.”

“Which leads me to why I asked you here,” Luca segways, as he finishes his final dish. “I ran into a little bit of writers’ block – or rather, chef’s block, if you will – working on our Summer menu.” 

He presents the dish towards you, earning a gasp from you as you take in the stunning creation.

“Knew I needed to get out of here for a beat. Get out of my head. Get some new perspectives.”

“Is this for your new menu?” you ask, your eyes devouring the cake-based dish first. 

“Maybe… just something I’ve been working on – something that’s been floating around in my head a while,” he shrugs, watching you carefully as he tries to search your face for any kind of reaction. 

You dig your fork into the spongey, tea-soaked, circular layered cake, raising it to your lips and immediately finding pure joy as you taste it. 

Yuzu. Earl Grey. The cake is almost like a lady finger – tiramisu-like in the way that it eats – filled with a yuzu curd in between each layer of cake, then finished with what you can only assume is a sort of black sesame dust that he’s sifted over top of the dish. 

“Woah,” is all that comes out of your mouth.

“Yeah?” Luca questions, unable to hide the smile that spreads across his lips. 

“Yeah uh… Why does this feel so familiar? It’s like… you’re reading my mind with this one,” you ask, your eyes wide savor each note. 

“Well, it should. Feel familiar, that is. It’s inspired by you,” Luca explains, treading carefully around the last few words. 

“What do you-?” you begin to ask, before the words leave you. 

You half expect him to tell you he’s joking, and you can’t tell whether or not it’s a blush running across his high cheekbones that you spot, as he turns his attention elsewhere. He begins moving around the kitchen, eager to begin cleaning up after himself to recover from the sheer vulnerability he feels from sharing this with you. 

Was this why he’d invited you here? 

“Luca,” you say, your words stopping him as he turns back to you. 

“What’s up?” he asks, so casually, as if he hadn’t just called you his muse. 

"All of this... you did all of this for me…. Why?" you muster up the courage to ask, the words falling out of your mouth with a weight you don’t expect. 

He takes a beat, afraid of coming on too strong, considering you’ve only just met, yet wanting nothing more than to tell you the truth.

Luca sighs, choosing the latter, before laying it all out on the table.

 "Your food is inspired and I don’t think I’ve had something this inspired in a long time,” he explains before pausing. “Your passion for Italian cuisine… weaving in the bits and pieces of yourself and approaching it from different culinary perspectives? You inspired me.” 

He takes another beat. 

“And as chefs, this is what we do. We feed each other." 

You’re speechless, but you can feel yourself nodding in agreement as you mumble out the most reverent ‘thank you’ that you can muster. You can feel it – that this is the beginning of, well, you're not quite sure what – but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.

“Luca?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. 

“Cheers.”

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Advice For Disabled Characters

Lesson One: GO HARD

When I see disabled characters who have symptoms that "just so happen" to be totally convenient and not problematic I want to fight you!

Write disabled characters whose burn scars actually come with nerve problems!

Write disabled characters who don't have a "tasteful beautiful and oh so symbolic" scar and just write "neutral scar that is beautiful not because of it's shape but because of the person it's on"!

Write disabled characters whose disability doesn't allow them to live totally indepedently! Maybe you can actually write mentally disabled characters who have caretakers and not have this be a flaw?

Write disabled characters who have "gross" symptoms such as urine/fecal incontinence!

Write disabled characters who don't have amazingly perfect friends who are respectful/understanding 100% of the time but they're trying!

Write disabled characters whose symptoms occasionally prevent them from doing the fun dangerous stuff because their mobility aid can't function properly or their chronic fatigue syndrome is acting up!

Keep this advice dear readers and writers: Disability is not a handbag that you can pick up and put down. Yes, disability is not the worst thing that can happen in a character's life BUT it's not a walk in the park.

If you can't handle representing disabled people in their not conventionally attractive and "easy" state then you don't want to write disabled people! You just want to write diversity brownie points that allow you to fawn over a hot "Technically Disabled" guy but not a "Real Life Disabled Person"

[ariel-seagull-wings]

Hey Ariel!

A thing I really like about X-Men: The Next Mutation (and in fact, most other X-Men fanfics) is the fact that we actually get to see The X-Men in their downtime.

In the comics, that’s become incredibly sparse.

Hell, we hardly ever see these guys outside of their costumes.

Actually, in Next Mutation, we only see The X-Men in their uniforms in like two of the six episodes we’ve gotten so far.

Not only it is just really fun and sweet to see and reminds us of the strong bonds between these guys, but it also reminds you that these guys have actual lives outside of being superheroes and that in spite of their incredible power, they’re just normal people.

In a sense…..

That’s the kinda stuff that makes characters relatable.

Not having their lives being misery porn.

Seeing their relationships, their hobbies, their interests.

Like, when was the last thing we saw Peter Parker on his down time and not being a miserable loser?

Ever since the last 2000s, there’s been this notable increase of not seeing superheroes in their civilian identities.

Because there was this mindset that civilian identities were stupid and pointless.

Not sure who was the one responsible for this, but I heard that one major contributor was Iron Man (2008), which famously had Tony reveal that he was Iron Man to the whole world, whereas in the comics for a long time, he kept his identity as Iron Man a secret and used the excuse that he was his bodyguard.

And given how successful that movie was, it seemed like everyone wanted to follow the leader.

But in the case of this, Marvel definitely has this the worst.

Like, the only characters we actually get to regularly see in their downtime (that wasn’t making us feel sorry for them) are The Fantastic Four and some of the street-level heroes.

@s10127470 @rei-ismyname

I recomend if you want a lighter Marvel read, T.E.S.T Kitchen: Is about a cook named Anna Ameyama, who after having her food truck destroyed in a fight against Fing Fang Foom, is hired by Tony Stark to be the chef of his residence, and takes her to cook for his superhero friends when they aren't dealing with threads, while at the end of each story, Anna shares recipe of a different dish with readers.

This comic is all about exploring what makes heroes human and relatable trough food and the social interactions they provide, and we see that in the eyes of the civilian Anna, who is a very compeling character in her own right indepedently of superpowers.

Its available online in Read All Comics.

[nightsdreamgates]

Well if we’re blessed enough to have Sage x reader,,, can we get Saiph x reader hcs too?? 🤔

Author's Note: OH MY GOODNESS I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT RESPONDING TO THIS EARLIER, HAPPY LATE, VERY LATE CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEARS Y'ALL LMAO— BTW if you guys get weirded out a bit bcus this post won't have much of dividers and headers, I had to do a clean up on my cellphone so... Yeah.... I lost the cute dividers :( ... But that still won't stop me OH NO. Ehehe...

—. * `

A Brief Description: For those who aren't familiarized with Saiph, she is my very first NiGHTS into dreams OC, back then she used to be called Arthemis, and from my old blog, she used to have a far, TOO FAR, different design than she is nowadays.

Appearance sheet:

As once posted here, Saiph is one of the five guardians of nightopia, known also as the guardians of the ideyas, each of them representing each essential element of the dream world. Saiph is the holder and the corporation of hope, having this fairytale-like looks, expressing elegancy, magic, softness and security.

So with that small description started, let's start with a general headcanons towards romance about Saiph x Reader!

— * , ` . 💗

# Saiph X Reader + Romantic HCs:.

* Reader pronouns will be gender-neutral, as well as the species will be open, either can be a visitor, nightmaren or a nightopian.

Saiph when she gets a crush on you, she always make sure to send signals at the subtle yet sweetest ways, such as always complimenting you, helping and simply be there to give company;

She isn't shy to approach, don't get her wrong, mostly like she is just cautious to not break any boundaries and lose every opportunity of being close to you;

Not big fan of fast burns, she loves to take progress to meet someone, so this way she could fall even more and remember every little detail about her beloved;

Saiph favorite love languages are actions, gift-giving and words of affirmation! She loves to fill her loved one with encouraging words that can raise their faith and give her partner their favorite snacks, so be ready to be all fluffed up by love and cuddles from this love bug;

As much as she loves companionship, she values indepedence and responsability, so as a ruler and a protector of dreams, she has tasks to do. It means the world to see someone as supportive and values hard work and pro-activity as she does, even if you aren't the most active person alive;

Saiph. Will. Give you. Pet names. There is no escape. If you are a visitor? She'll give you cute names based of your quirks and the fact that you are a traveller from her world! Now a nightmaren, nightopian or mepian? She'll name you cheesy things like "Peek'a'boo", "Little butterfly" and "Preciousity". Besides it, she never loses the opportunity to tease when in public;

Now, understand, her in comparison of her subordinates and kind, she is usually the tallest one, because of it, she got used to always give a image of silent strength, leadership and grounding. But when someone gives her the trust, comfortability, so she can feel vulnerable, treating her like a soft, delicate flower that must be protected. This would make her literally MELT;

Upset her? Wanna apologize? Easy answer: give her shortcakes. Girl is the marie antoniette of nightopia, cannot see a cake and want to CHOMP on it. So get used of her calling you a sweet piece of cake;

Don't trick yourself over her frivilous, pompous and pointé looks, she knows how to be a little trickster at times. Especially if is to make you blush. She has a pretty wit and sharp ways to make her partner's eyes widen up! But is all for fun and games!;

Whenever you feel down, and Saiph senses that words are not necessary, her fairy wings would surround over your body, as it slowly envelops around you two like a blanket, as she coos and shoos, drying your tears and hugging you closely;

Nightopians can shine naturally, through the dark they are like little flying lamps, their only disadvantage is that, they don't have night vision. And Saiph is AFRAID of the dark, but never admits it out loud, except around you. She expresses it differently though, just as holding your hand tightly while she walks a way out of the cave for example. She feels more safe and relaxed when is around those she loves <3;

Saiph loves to talk about ANYTHING, and if you are a visitor? Oh... Be ready to answer everything you had learned about humanity this whole life. Just don't traumatize her with too much information LMAO;

Now to finalize this, Saiph might be a pretty princess, but she is a fierceful warrior when is to protect those she loves. Her battle type is ballet dance moves style. And whenever she is on a fight and you're there to watch, oh... You have no idea how much your presence both boost and tenses her, the fear of you getting hurt, but also the audacity to give a special performance as you watch... just for you??? Just perfect. Besides, if you know some dance moves or fight or both? Get ready to dance with her while you both kick some bad guy's asses!

Sorry if this is somewhat short, I was rushing a little because I am on low battery and bit sleepy. If you want for me to create a part 2 or a specific scenario you'd like to explore, pls let me know! Thnx for your patience, hope you enjoyed this 💕

[dearest-siblingtwst]

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Rules Art Request

-• Idea ! / Rambles

• Idea about Older!Spade and Twin! rosehearts fic Wattpad

• Imagine Trey x Older!Rosehearts

• TWST Wattpad Recommendation / Reader not Yuu or Prefect

• Deuce x Twin!Rosehearts Scenario song

• Silver x Draconia!Reader Scenario Song

• Reader being Riddle twins with Sweet and gentle personality

-• Wattpad Book

• Gardenia Perfume (TWST x Pomefiore!Reader)

• Ligones'Ce Spade-S (Twst x Reader!spade)

• Cherish Roses! (Twst x Reader!Rosehearts)

• Pocket Watchy (Twst x Rabbit isekai!Reader)

-• Drawing

• Riddle Rosehearts younger sister

• Indepedence indonesia day with SEBEK

-• works

• Admiring or in Love (Deuce spade x Reader!twins!Rosehearts)

[waklman]

Like A Princess

summary: more glimpses into your relationship with rooster where you give him the princess treatment instead.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x female reader.

warnings: very brief allusions to sex. 18+ blog in general.

a/n: continuance/epilogue to princess treatment (read for context!) missed this duo so i decided to bring them back but more extensively this time :). indepedent bf x princess treatment gf trope.

word count: 2.8k

something ‘bout you masterlist.

“Get on.” 

“What?” Bradley watches in confusion as you turn your back towards him. But he quickly catches on once you start to bend your knees, lowering yourself in front of him. You want to carry him into the house.

“Nope. Absolutely not,” he shakes his head, waiting for you to get back up. But you don’t. “I am not getting on your back. Are you kidding me?” He scoffs, sounding almost offended. 

“You saw me bring in twenty bags of groceries just last week, without making a second trip back to the car,” you proclaim proudly, still squatting in front of him. “So c’mere,” you call out to him again, blindly reaching behind you, searching for his legs.

“So?” he huffs, pushing himself further in the car, moving away from your yearning hands. Bradley’s well aware that putting up a fight is going to get him in trouble, but there’s no way in hell that he’s letting you transport him inside. “If you give me a piggyback ride, it’ll send us both back to the hospital again,” he protests. 

You stand back up at his statement, spinning on your heels to face him, with two hands planted on your hips. 

Bradley gulps, seeing your fingers drum against your hip bone–you don’t plan on taking no as an answer. “Tell me how you’ll get inside with that ankle then,” you press him, eyes drifting down to his injury. 

The kind nurse—who you spent most of the night with, tightly bandaged him up, but it’s obvious that his ankle is still swollen under the wrappings. 

Bradley takes notice of the glint of remorse in your eyes as you assess his sprained ankle. The ‘playful’ wrestling from earlier had taken an unexpected turn once you sent him flying off the bed, resulting in a last minute trip to the emergency room. 

And though Bradley insisted that it wasn't your fault, you still found it hard to swallow back the guilt you felt every time you looked at him. 

Bradley sighs, carding a hand through his hair—unsure of how to talk you out of this, he knows you're just trying to make up for the accident, in your own strange way. “Honey, if you lift me, we’re both going right down,” he tries to reason with you. 

“You don’t think..I’m capable?” You pretend to deflate. If insisting won’t work on him, maybe some light manipulation would. 

Bradley begins to sputter–just as you predicted, reeled in by your pout. “What? No of course not–Honey I just–”

Bradley bites down on his tongue—not wanting to say the wrong thing. 

You take it as a chance to cleverly bat your lashes at him as he gives you an empty stare, trying to weigh the decision in his head. 

And like always, Bradley can’t muster up enough willpower to combat your pleading eyes. “Let’s give it a try,” he sighs, admitting defeat.  

You automatically spin around before he can change his mind, biting down on your bottom lip as your mouth stretches into triumphant grin.  

“But if you can't even lift me, I’m walking on my own, okay?” he clarifies, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your neck. You hum, agreeing to his rule, attaching his legs onto each side of your hips–clamping two hands around the back of his thighs to support his weight. 

After sucking in one deep breath, you easily lift him up in one go. 

Bradley can barely process what’s going on as you begin taking determined steps towards the intended destination. “What the hell?! How are you—What?!” Bradley gawks at your strength, snapping his neck to look behind him, seeing his precious Bronco grow further from his vision.

“Holy shit, have I been dating the she-hulk this whole time?” He asks in disbelief, hung onto your back like a koala. 

“..I told you..I could…do it,” you answer through short breaths, lugging him up the front steps. “Yeah…remind me to never get you mad," he lowly mutters, resting his chin on top of your head. The vibration of his throat can be felt against the back of your head.

You’re both in front of his door now. “Bradley,” you whine. “I would never lay my hands on you.” 

“Okay? So who had me in that deadly headlock earlier?” He scoffs, still sour that you won the round with that move. 

You give his thighs a quick squeeze through the denim. “Okay? So who wanted to fight like WWE wrestlers in the first place?” You remark. 

Bradley blows air through his nose. “Whatever," he whispers under his breath. You don’t even have to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes too. 

“Whatever," you mock him, imitating his deep voice.

“Now let’s get you inside, princess,” you finally declare—putting an end to the bickering. You hoist him further up your back, and Bradley gladly lets you, despite his protests from earlier. 

While you remove one hand from him, searching for the keys in your pocket, Bradley moves to press a ‘sorry i’m being so stubborn’ kiss to your cheek. 

You smile, feeling him rest his cheek onto your shoulder next. “..Thank you for takin’ care of me babybear," he shyly mumbles in your ear.  

“What do you think you’re doing back there missy?” Bradley asks, eyes still trained onto the tablet in his hands. 

“Nothing..” you mutter, halting all movement. But there’s really no point–your hands are already half way up his back, lifting up the back of his shirt. You’d been slowly trying to slip off the cotton tee–since getting him hooked onto the romcom, How to lose a guy in 10 days. 

After strategically placing the device in his hands, it didn’t take long for Bradley to start making comments on how Matthew Mcconaughey’s character is a jerk for being annoyed by his girlfriend’s purposeful attempts of sabotaging their relationship. ‘Baby I’d so let you name my dick Princess Sofia if you wanted to–I don’t get this guy’s problem with it. He’s mad for no reason,’ he said.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s most likely the only man on earth that would let that slide.

Bradley’s attention is momentarily pulled away from the movie dialogue, feeling you move your hands around to his stomach, playing with the pudge there. Bradley hadn't been on base recently, due to his ankle–so he hasn’t been keeping up with the extensive workouts that came with being an aviator either.

His abs were quickly replaced by a little pouch, which you loved. “Can I rub your back?” You ask, looking over his shoulder to see his reaction to the scene.

Bradley purses his lips, reading over the subtitles. “Is that why you’re tryna’ distract me with this?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“So can I? Rub your back?” You ask again, pinching his belly, seeing that he’s fully absorbed with the movie's climax point now.

“Only for a few minutes...” he absently mumbles, not realizing how you easily coaxed him again. You let out a light laugh at the face he makes towards the screen, the two characters are currently in an intense argument, there’s a spout of harsh words being thrown back and forth—and it’s causing Bradley clear distress. 

You tug at the hem of his white tee, and Bradley swiftly pulls the shirt over his head, giving you free range with his naked back. The piece of fabric is quickly forgotten on the floor as he reaches for the tablet again, eager to see what happens next. 

You start by working out the knots located on his shoulder blades first. The way he instantly rolls back his shoulders, leaning into your touch, makes you smile. 

He doesn’t notice how much time has passed. You’ve been kneading his back in sections for more than just a few minutes at this point.

“Not there. A little higher please.”

“Look who’s enjoying himself,” you tease, kissing over the spot you just rubbed your thumb over.

Bradley frowns, dropping the tablet as the credits begin to roll. He reaches behind him, peeling your hands off his shoulders, now aware of how long you’ve been massaging him. “You spoil me,” he lets out a breath. 

He adjusts himself on the couch, so that he’s facing you now. Bradley wastes no time, reaching his hands under your shirt, swiping his calloused thumbs over your tummy. “Your turn,” he says, grinning down at you.

“Hey.” You squint at him. “You just want my shirt off.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at you. “So you will take your shirt off?”

“I think the stache is okay now, honey.” Bradley tries to convince you again, making sure to not move his lips too much. 

You’re perched onto the bathroom counter, with him standing between your legs—Bradley’s hands are playing with the waist band of your shorts while you trim his grown out facial hair. 

After learning that his first day back to work is tomorrow, you were set on preparing him for the special day, as if he was going back to school–and not preparing to join in on a serious mission instead. 

“I want it to be perfect,” you coo, trying to line up the scissors to his mustache again. 

Bradley’s gaze drops down to the tongue that cutely sticks out your mouth, you’re razor focused. “Doesn’t have to be,” he lamely replies. 

“Yes it does,” you pout. “Wanna make it look just like your dad’s,” you settle, looking back down at Bradley’s phone on the counter. You made him pull up a picture of his father, so you could replicate the shape of the mustache onto his face. 

Bradley tries to match the smile his dad is sporting in the picture, hoping it’ll get you to see the resemblance in facial hair. He squeezes your hips with his large hands, wanting to hear approval from you.

“Nice try,” you detect his ploy with squinted eyes, grabbing his jaw. 

“It looks fine to me,” he retorts, shifting his view to the mirror behind you, checking himself out. 

You furrow your brows, noticing a stray hair you forgot to trim off. “Not yet.” You slip your fingers back into the scissors again, snipping off that one piece of hair. 

He replicates his dad’s smile at you again. “How do I look now?” 

“Pretty. Like a princess,” you answer, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. 

Bradley can’t help but to crinkle his nose, you kiss him so softly that it tickles the skin there. “Thank you for doing this for me,” his eyes soften, voicing his appreciation for you.

“I could spend the rest of my life doing this for you, if you just asked me to,” you answer honestly, sweetly smiling at him. 

Bradley just blinks at you in response. The rest of my life. The simple confession that slipped your mouth rings out in his head, making him feel dizzy. 

You start to play with the hairs of his mustache, brushing your fingers over the little bristles there, unaware of how your statement made Bradley feel like he got shot by cupid’s arrow. “I packed lunch for you by the way baby. Make sure to grab it before you leave tomorrow,” you remind him. 

“..Bradley?!” You’re alarmed—not by his silence—but by the way his skin suddenly flares up. He’s completely flushed all the way down to his neck, and his pupils are severely dilated. 

You panic, pressing your cold palms against the red splotches of his cheeks, holding his face in your hands—desperately trying to cool down the hot skin. “Hello? Earth to babygirl?” 

“What’s for lunch?” 

Bradley unwillingly scoots over, making room for Hangman to squeeze himself between him and Bob. “Nothing for you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bradley grunts, defensively moving his lunch away from the blond. 

“What did she pack for you, babygirl?” The blond taunts, slapping a hand against Rooster’s back. 

Irritated by Hangman’s use of your pet-name for him, Bradley briefly gives him a look, before returning to his food, bringing an outstretched hand over his lunch box, obstructing Jake’s view of his meal for today.

Natasha coughs in her cup, pulling it away from her face. “Babygirl…? I thought she called you princes—”

“Protein wrap and strawberries cut into hearts.” Bradley abruptly announces, shoving the largest strawberry he could find into Phoenix’s already open mouth, shutting her up. 

She roughly swallows the massive piece of fruit, throat bobbing as it travels down to her stomach. “Hint taken,” she says through clenched teeth, elbowing Bradley’s side. But it doesn’t affect him at all, he barely moves at Phoenix’s rough jab. 

Everyone else at the table starts to snicker amongst themselves, reminded by the pet name they overheard you call him in the car awhile back.

“I think it’s sweet,” Bob speaks up, coming to Rooster’s defense, patting his mouth down with a napkin. 

Every pilot at the lunch table snap their heads to Bob, intrigued by his decision to join in on the conversation.

Bob clears his throat, trying his best to not mind everyone’s eyes on him. “It looks like she was careful enough to pack something healthy for him, plus it’s the correct portion size to fill someone of his stature too. My momma—she uh, always said making food for someone should be considered a love language in itself.” Rooster smiles at him appreciatively, in which Bob timidly returns the gesture. 

This had to be the most the quiet pilot has ever contributed to a conversation, and it causes a stir amongst everyone having their lunch break. Bob’s shared perspective makes everybody think to themselves—When was the last time someone packed them a lunch?

The rowdy table of aviators has fallen quiet, until Hangman decides to speak up first. 

“Hey so, you and your girl,” he starts. Across from him, Coyote is desperately trying to catch his best friend’s attention, making faces at him, begging him to stop his sentence there. 

“Have you guys thought about havin' a third?” 

At first, Rooster doesn’t react. He just absently looks ahead at Fanboy, who starts sweating bullets, as if he was the one who asked the question.

Everyone else at the table pretends to be busy, deciding to watch the scene unfold from the corner of their eye, silently chewing on their food. 

It’s spine chilling—the way Bradley starts to slowly twist his head to face Hangman. For a second, Natasha expects his head to spin all the way around, like the girl from the seventies horror film, The Exorcist.

“If I wasn’t freshly healed, I would mash you into Payback’s potato salad to the point no one could detect what chunk is Jacob Seresin and what chunk is a piece of potato,” he warns, coldly—causing Payback to drop his fork at the imagery.

"..So that's a no."

"It's a no." Bradley reiterates.

“Now where did you find a girl like her?” the familiar voice fills his ears.

Bradley knows exactly who it is, smiling to himself as Maverick slips onto the bar stool besides him. “Not sure, but I sure feel lucky.” 

“Two beers then?” Penny asks, seeing the two men wait together. 

Maverick nods, smiling politely at her before looking over to where Rooster has been staring off at. 

Across the bar, you’re laughing along with the rest of the team. Each person has a rose tucked behind their ears, which you individually placed. This is your first time meeting his team, and you wanted to make a good impression, bringing everyone a flower as a thank you for looking after Bradley when you’re not around. The scene makes Bradley’s chest warm. 

“She reminds me of dad.” Bradley quietly confesses, recalling the times his father brought his mother flowers to show his love. Bradley might be a carbon copy of his father physically, but you act more like Goose in every other way. 

If this was a couple years ago, this would’ve made Bradley feel sad. Back then, any mention or reminder of his parents made him itch in discomfort, it was a sore spot for him for awhile. But that was until you came into his life. 

You were unlike anyone Bradley’s ever dated. At first you were shy about it, not wanting to scare him away with the unusual way you took care of your partners. 

But after a while, he noticed that you began to buy him flowers at any occasion. You even made an effort to open the door for him instead, refusing to follow the rules of ladies first. And you insisted on driving the Bronco, convincing him that he deserves to be a passenger princess too. 

Bradley came to a quick understanding that you weren't doing it to people please, no. You did it simply because you felt like it, it was effortless the way you loved him. 

At first, it was strange for him, being looked after like that. Bradley wasn't used to receiving gentle treatment. But with time—he learned to love the dynamic of your relationship, because it reminded him of his parent’s marriage. You took care of him the way four year old Bradley remembered Goose took care of Carole. 

“Maybe he sent her your way, kid.” Maverick smiles, seeing the resemblance as you hook Hangman under the flap of your arm, messing up his perfectly combed hair.

And to their surprise, Hangman lets you do it, smiling ear to ear as everyone laughs harder, holding onto their stomachs. “I’m never the best at advice but,” Maverick chuckles. “..you should consider putting a ring on that, she’s special.” 

“I plan to.” Bradley confirms, reaching into his pocket, holding onto the fuzzy box, containing a engagement ring inside.

He could spend the rest of his life with you too.

gif credits

update- happy to announce that this blurb turned into a series, read more on babybear and bradley here.

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

taglist: @pono-pura-vida @teaminator @alana4610 @angellwingsss @nataddz @deliriousfangirl61 @lonelysoul50 @bookchik26 @little-wiseone @blueoorchid

[kirklandsheartsecrets]

England x reader II As long as I’m with you I’ve got a smile on my face. PART 1

link Part 2 / link Part 3

« I don't care how long it takes, As long as i'm with you i've got a smile on my face. »

You looked bewildered in front of the list. When you started your relationship with Arthur, the topic of colonies came up rapidly.

You thought about the 13 former ones, he even reassured you about it not being too difficult as you were a bit overwhelmed about being a « mom ». They were nations, of course, almost indepedent nations, but still. Being a Nation and in a full relationship was not just about the territory itself or humans political matters.

Apart from Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales, the rest saw him as their dad to a certain degree.

England's boss at the time came with a piece of paper, on which a list of more than 13 countries appeared.

Alone in your room you took time to take a look at it. Your finger traced each name counting them, your lips felt heavyly dry and your throat struggled to give more than a whisper out as you tried to pronounce the different names. Your eyes tried to ignore the faces next to the flags, but you couldn't help and stare at the different features of each colony. The only information you had about them was their formal country names, their given human names, the flag and a school picture-like of the nations. Through the white paper you could almost already smile thinking of them, how you would get involved with each one of them. The list ended with the name « Alfred Jones », you knew the American from the time he was still a child, still a colony of the British Empire.

Arthur choose to not mention it anymore. Even 200 years later. Little does he knew what was gonna happen next, and no one knew. Your fingers this time brushed the number circled next to Alfred's name, 1776.

Arthur's hand found its way on your shoulder before sliding off from your arm. The blonde leaned softly from behind you, kissing your cheek in the process. ''Still worried ? » he asked whispering. ''Arthur, 60.''

''Don't look at me this way love, i did not chose it-'' He backed off, but he was now leaning over the table, his two hands steadily on the said table.

His green orbs avoided Alfred's name as he looked down at the list, flat against the wood table, recognisable from its oak wood color.

''Arthur. 60.'' you said again, this time in a severe tone.

Arthur heard through your voice the worry, the panic but also the concern. This concern about your future 'kids-to-be'. His mind wanted to stand up back again, but his body chose to just make his head turn around you.

The blond kept his silence, Arthur knew he couldn't understand your emotions right now. He heard them, he heard you, but he couldn't help but being helpless in that situation. Arthur's right arm traveled to your back, slightly reaching to your opposite shoulder, he grabbed your shoulder blade shaking it softly. Your own body shivered as his motion woke your muscles from their unmoved spot. Arthur smiled, now he was holding your face with his left hand.

''I'm here with you, we're together. I promise to stay until the end.''

You were looking directly into his eyes just like he was into yours. ''It will be fine for us'' he said, but kept talking. ''You're the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

We'll learn. I'll learn. I know the techniques our bosses choose aren't the best but... we'll love each one of them and i'll love you with them.''

[imaginingmanyfandoms]

Hey!! Do you have any headcanons about Demetri having a super indepedent mate since he's a little clingy? 💕

DEMETRI x independent reader

he's so needy

he wants to be touching you all the time; which is fine.... sometimes

but sometimes you just want some personal space

and he would want to do everything for you

if he had his way you'd never open a door again, or even carry anything

he's trying to be a gentleman

you couldn't have the heart to tell him to stop, you love him and you didn't want to hurt his feelings

especially since he's away so much for duties & work

his love language is doing stuff for ya, and it's hard to tell someone to stop that

but he just loves you so much

also.... LITTLE clingy????

[griffintail]

WARNING: this had mentions of panic attacks and sort of angst?

I just thought of some thing while reading your angst (Amazing angst btw, made me cry) i thought of the 'lost ones' serise you have but the readers lost all their canon lives. So here is what i think (some) of the little ones ghosts would be/act (i am so sorry if you cant understanf that, im not english)

Little (F/L): I feel like she would be a Calm and happy ghost that loves listening to disks and spending time with her father

Little Star: She would be in a l'manberg uniform and wouldnt know what happend after her father's country gained indepedance

Little Terror: She would believe that her father allways had time for her and would allways vist dream in prison, if she is not aloud she would simply just go to either gogy or sapnap and she still believes everything is still the same as from the start of the SMP.

Little blue: Ghostbur 2.0. There is not much else to say

Little boo/Enderman: She has worse memory than ranboo and ghostbur conbined she is so forgetfull that she nearly allways forgets her own name.

Princess: Defo hangs around L'manberg and the old citezens that lived there believing that everything is okay

Little Angel: I think she would stay the same but be a bit more nïave and forgetfull

Kit: Hates everyone apart from Fundy. She is very wise as well and can out smart a lot of people. Loves redstone bc she can prank ppl with it

Little bee/Lamb: She forgets her father but remembers Tommy so spends her time near him allways asking where her dad is and when he is gonna get her, she loves to paint with tommy. She also feels very safe with tubbo even tho she cant remember him

Little Blade/Goddess: Only has bad memories and is very paranoied. Only stays with Techno, phill and tommy if anyone else comes near her she'll start to have a panic attack. If she sees an axe she'll forget everything and like dissapear for weeks and only comes back with a LOT OF reansurance

Hopefully its okay and im sorry if i missed any other warnings

- person who wants to be 🎋 anon

Awwwwwwww! Very sad probably all accurate.

And sure you can be!

[anthologician]

happy new year, my love! | gojo satoru x fem! shaman-reader.

|   hello there, welcome to my first ever one-shot. i just recently started watching jujutsu kaisen and i totally fell in love with satoru, it’s one of the reasons on why i decided to make a tumblr lmao. i guess i’m just a big simp for guys and girls with tones of humour though, hehe.

this shot contains:  indepedent portrayal of canon characters. extreme randomness brought to you by nobara and yuji. megumi being a sheepish boy. nationally mediterranean! reader.

Maybe it was because she was growing twitchy with . . . the peace that’s been going on recently. No Jujutsu Sorcerer was fond of standing by and doing nothing when something should be happening. Something always happens in their line of work, be it a curse of b-rank or above. More and more special cases started appearing now with the research of Sukuna’s finger being, somehow, a worldwide knowledge to all the shaman in Japan.

Somehow, the news of someone eating Sukuna’s finger reached the ears of a certain skillful shaman. L/N Y/N was one of the Elite of the Elite, a person who took their job seriously and was certainly looked up to as the good --- best --- example of a sorcerer. She doesn’t have the powess as the likes of Gojo Satoru, but her tactical mind made her a very deadly opponent to go against.

Which is why when she heard that the son of her big sister figure, who’s now long dead unfortunately, was the one to eat Sukuna’s finger, she took the first flight from [southern european place] and to Japan, her will never faltering despite the anxious feeling growing inside her as the minutes passed by.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel so twitchy anymore.

Glaring at the white haired, eye-folded lanky man in front of her, she did the first thing that came to her mind at the sight of him.

She punched him straight in the face.

When the infinity was down.

Crack!

“Fucking asshole of a motherfucking son of a cunty bi-”

“-Happy new year for you too, my love!” Gojo Satoru clutched his, definetely now, broken nose, a shit eating grin breaking out on his lips at the sight of his fuming --- corection: livid --- girlfriend.

“You spent the last month ignoring me, never answering my calls, always leaving me on read, making me feel like shit thinking that we’re breaking up, and the only thing you do is to fucking wish me happy new year, you bastard?!”

“Aww, did y/n-chan missed little ol’ me?” He pouted, which turned immediately into a grimace. The woman could sure pack a punch.

“The only thing I missed was your growing incapability of communicating! What a sudden development.”

Yuji and Nobara, who were standing a few feet away along with Megumi, sweatdropped and backed away from the raging woman. Though inwardly, Nobara looked disapointedly at her sensei, sighing heavily.

“I didn’t pass Gojo-sensei for that kind of guy,” Yuji cupped his chin, observing the accentric couple. “. . . Nevermind, he is careless anyways.”

“That punch didn’t look like your average one.” Nobara yawned, placing her hand on her hip before turning to her black-haired teammate. “You know her?”

He definetely did. “No,” He lied. “Never seen her before... I don’t associate around these kind of-”

“-Megumi! Tell me right this instant where the hell was Satoru this past month of ‘special business’, like myself is not one of the best shaman the world has been blessed with or something, because I swear to God I will break both of your spines!”

Yuji and Nobara shot the Fushiguro boy a deadpan glance, both of them raising a eyebrow. ‘Really?’ their unimpressive stares told him.

The noirette looked away from the with a sweatdrop, looking at the sky like it was the most interesting thing he has ever seen.

At the end, Gojo didn’t take his new years kiss.

And he was single.

His three students never stopped sniggering everytime they glanced at his red hand imprinted cheek.

Serves the bastard right.

|   OKAY FIRST OF ALL, this wasn’t the real one-shot! The year is changing in 3 hours and i thought that maybe a little classic anime humour could do for a first shot since i don’t have time to write it.

the next shot will be more fluffy and . . . smutty. ;) i promise you.

[queenmaracasandlove]

Love Of My Life Series - Ben Hardy x F!Reader - How They Met

Word Count: 4500

Summary: Y/N works in her local hotel when a film crew arrived to stay there, making her take a break from her book. 

Warnings: Mention of break up and layoff.

A/N: The ‘Love Of My Life Series’ will be a series of short One Shots featuring members of the BohRhap Cast x Reader. Although you will be able to read them indepedently, they will all follow the ‘same couple’ if that makes sense. I got a little carried away with this one... Sorry !

MASTERLIST

gif found on @rogermeddow​ ‘s blog

Y/N was not really happy to be working in that hotel, it was not exactly how she had planned her summer. She was supposed to be in Ibiza with her now ex-boyfriend. To be honest she did not even want to go to Ibiza in the first place. She was dreaming of much simpler thing, a road trip in Ireland. But now she was stuck in her hometown, working for the local hotel while Jack was enjoying the trip she had paid for. 

Everyone around her was filled with excitement and all the town was talking about was how a big hollywoodian production was going to be filmed in their modest village. But Y/N was absolutely not thrilled. All she wanted was some peace and quiet, some time to figure out her life and move on to the next chapter. Working in the hotel used to be her summer job when she was younger, she worked there during holidays and whenever she could and was needed from her sixteenth until she eventually finished her studies and found a suitable job. 

She had lost everything in the last few months. First her job, the small company for which she was working faced bankruptcy and only a few weeks after she found out her boyfriend of two years was cheating on her. She had tried to stay in the big city but without an income and with the pain, she had agreed to go back to her parents’ house, at least for the summer.

She thought she would be able to do as she used to, work without really working. Saying hi to the old couples who were used to stay here every summer, greet the new customers here and there, help with cleaning the rooms when there were more than 10 rooms occupied (the hotel only had 24) and spend most of her times reading books behind the reception desk. But now she would have to deal with a full hotel and help with the restaurant during the week-ends. More money but more trouble. 

The crew was supposed to arrive today. Rumours were saying that the biggest stars would stay in the hotel as they would feel close by and the rest of the crew - number of rooms being quite insufficient - would stay in the nearest bigger town. Y/N was not really in the mood for divas and their demands. As much as she pretended like she did not care, she had taken a few extra minutes to get ready on that morning. 

She was so deep into her reading that she did not hear the footsteps in the lobby. Her feet were on the desk and the bookmark between her teeth as her eyes were rapidly going from one word to the next one. 

‘Excuse me’ a voice echoed in the room

Taken by surprise, Y/N almost lost her balance on her desk chair. A blond man was standing in front her. He looked amused and uncomfortable at the same time. Y/N almost cursed but knew how to remain -at least when not taken by surprise- professional. 

‘Welcome to the Katherine’s’ she greeted him with a smile ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’m… Well I’m Ben Hardy. I’m working on a film and…’

‘Oh yes. Absolutely.’

Still smiling, she looked at the computer. This thing was so old she thought, the owners -Katherine and Georges- were nice and their hotel was enough for its regular customers but some things deserved to be updated. Thankfully, she had managed to convince them to invest in better WiFi coverage. He had looked surprised that she did not who he was. But Y/N was not a big cinema fan, she preferred her books and did not care if it had hurt the blond man’s feelings. 

‘Indeed’ she said, spotting his name ‘Room 13’

The rest of the exchange was quick and polite. Y/N kept smiling as she gave all the necessary information and Ben walked towards his room as the next customer was entering the hotel. People kept coming in all morning and Y/N completely forgot about the blond man. 

                                             ---------------------

Everything had been so crazy for the past few days that Y/N barely had any time for herself. She was used to work without really working but now there was an uninterrupted stream of people coming in and out of the lobby. Everybody seemed very busy but to her greatest surprise, most of the crew was also extremely polite, some of them even remembered her name. Still, she was so happy when she heard they all went early when she arrived on that morning. Apparently they needed the morning light for a scene -Katherine was aware of every little detail- and would not come back before the afternoon.

Y/N finally had some time and enjoyed the warm sun on the back terrace, a book on her knees. This new book was not very long and if it was interesting enough, she hoped to finish it before having to go back behind her desk. And indeed it was gripping, so much so that when she finally looked up -the need to go to the toilets being too strong now- her heart skipped a beat upon noticing another person on the terrace. 

It was the blond guy, the first member of the team she had checked in. He pinched his lips seeing her almost falling but she knew he wanted to laugh. She wanted to hide away but she suddenly panicked. What time was it? Had everybody come back already? Did he need anything? It would not be the first time that she would not be behind the desk because she was hiding up here but Katherine probably would not be that understanding this time. She looked at her watch but it had only been forty-five minutes since she had come here and it was only quarter to eleven.

‘I am so sorry’ they both said at the same time

He scratched his head as she played with her bracelet. She was so surprised by him apologizing that she did not know what to say. 

‘I didn’t want to disturb you’ he went on

‘What? No… I thought that nobody was around. I am sorry. Do you need anything?’

‘It’s fine. I wasn’t needed this morning so I stayed in bed quite late. I just wanted to enjoy the sun.’ he smiled

He did not seem upset. Y/N did not move although she wanted to run back behind her cherished desk and pretend to work as if she did not want to hide away for the rest of her life. But it was as if she was hypnotized by the man. She properly looked at him this time, his broad shoulders, his luscious lips and his mesmerizing eyes. For what seemed to last much longer than reality they both looked at each other, without a word being said. It seemed like the sun had warmed their skin all of a sudden, or maybe was it something else. 

‘I…’ she hesitated ‘I should go back inside. If you need anything, please ask’

‘What’s your name?’ he asked

‘Y/N’ she smiled ‘Enjoy the sun’

She almost asked for his name, but before doing so she was hiding behind the curtain of the lobby, her hand over her mouth to hide a smile. She went to sit but was unable to focus on anything for a while, this encounter had got her completely unsettled. She eventually decided to do some work and overlooked the planning of the week. Once it was done she almost hesitated as her hand was reaching for her book but as she was doing so, she saw the man coming back inside. 

‘Mr. Hardy, can I do anything for you?’ she asked as he approached

To be perfectly honest she had checked his name on the registers when he had come back inside, remembering that he was in room 13, one of the best ones. 

‘I was just heading back to my room’ he politely said

‘Of course, yes’ 

‘Is it interesting?’ he asked’

‘Excuse-me?’ she frowned, unsure of what he was talking about

‘The book you’re reading’

‘Oh, it’s alright’ she smiled

‘What is it about?’ he asked, looking truly interested

‘Well’ she started, surprised ‘It’s about two children who are sent to Australia in the 1930s’

It looked as if he was going to say something but his phone started ringing in his pocket. He apologised and answered the call. Y/N looked back to her computer, heat rushing through her body. She could not remember the last time someone had asked her about what she was reading. Usually people did not mention it or told her that she should live in the real world and not in between pages. But when she was reading outside he had just sat, making no noise and truly seemed saddened by the idea that maybe he had interrupted her in her activity. She tried not to listen to the conversation he was having on the phone and he left the hotel before even hanging up and she saw him getting in a car. 

                                                  --------------------- 

The blond guy did not reappear before the end of YN’s shift that day. She tried to no think about it too much but she found herself eavesdropping as she was shopping in the local supermarket. People were talking about the film and for the first time she was interested in what was said. Apparently the actors where quite famous and they had been seen in the village this week, an information that was not particularly interesting to Y/N. She didn't even know what the film was about. She sighed and after paying started heading home. She wanted to pay a visit to the local charity shop before going home for good. She had finished her book as planned and wanted to see if they had received anything interesting. There was something about second hand books that she loved. The idea that this object already had one, even several lives maybe, that this story was being shared. She always looked for traces of the past owners, dog-eared page -although she hated doing this herself-, spilled tea or coffee, forgotten bookmarks, sand -she always imagined these books being carried around during someone’s holiday, most probably unfinished and sometimes, dried teardrops marks. 

The shop was quite small but she knew it so well, most of her purchases in her younger years had been made here. She was greeted by one of the volunteers and made her way towards the books. There were often some recommendations from the people giving their time to the shop but Y/N rarely paid attention to those. Still, one of them intrigued her ‘the book that is being turned into a film in our own little parish’. She raised her eyebrows and picked the book. She knew the name of the author but she had never heard about this particular book, which surprised her. Without thinking she walked towards the cash desk and paid for the item.

Y/N walked back home, thinking about the book. She had not read the summary. It was one of her habit. If she knew she wanted to read the book even though she did not know much about it, she wanted to discover it from with as little information as possible. She kissed her mother’s cheek as she put the groceries away in the kitchen before going to her room. Y/N played with her fingers for a bit, her mouth twisted. She was now thinking about the client from the hotel. She wondered what he was doing in the film. At first she thought that maybe he was part of the production team but she could not forget his charisma. There was something that emerged from him, and his face was so perfectly made, like a greek statue. Y/N concluded that he was most probably an actor. After debating with herself she finally decided not to look at his name on the internet. If she had a chance to, she wanted to discover him without summary, they rarely did justice to the real work. 

                                                  -------------

Y/N had her head in the clouds as she was helping with breakfast on the following morning. This was mainly due to the fact that she had spent the night reading. She had not been able to finish her latest purchase, the book was quite long and she knew she had to work on the next day. She was now obsessed with the idea of finishing the novel. Working at the reception desk was one thing but she had never been very talented with the position of waitress. Usually the little restaurant managed by the hotel owners was only opened in the evening but the film crew had requested catering for breakfast. 

‘Y/N !’ someone called her ‘Order for table 4’

‘Sorry chef, on my way’ she said, grabbing the two plates

She managed to bring them to the table without spilling anything and although she thought it was almost time to close the kitchen, she saw two people walking in, Ben Hardy and a woman. She recognised the woman immediately, she was a well-known actress. She was so bad with actors but her ex could not stop talking about her and now she understood why. She was absolutely stunning. Maybe it was an actor thing, she thought, but her too had this kind of aura around her. She shook her head and moved towards the table. 

‘Good Morning’ she said ‘ What can I do for you?’

‘Obviously same thing as usual, your cook should have my dietary requests by now’ the actress sharply said

Y/N tried not to look too surprised by the remark but she had to prevent herself from saying anything that could get her in trouble. 

‘Of course. I am sorry.’ she tried with a crooked smile ‘Sir?’

She looked at Ben, ready to hear something similar but she perceived a saddened look in his eyes.

‘Scrambled eggs please, with coffee. Thank you very much’

‘My pleasure. I will be back with your orders’

‘Make it quick please. I have to be with hair and makeup in 45’ the actress added

Y/N pinched her lips, preferring not to say anything as she could hear another nasty comment behind her ‘I hate this hotel. I am used to a lot better’. Y/N was now too far to hear what Ben said to her but she imagined that he was agreeing. When she explained what had just happened to the kitchen crew they all laughed. Apparently it was not the first time that she was acting like a diva. Y/N knew nothing about it because she had managed to get Katherine’s personal phone number and only referred to her. There was nobody else in the restaurant anymore and Y/N waited for the order, chatting with her colleagues. She suddenly realised that she had missed quite a bit of drama as she had been determined not to care about what was going on. 

One of the cook, Kevin, was telling her everything he had heard since the film crew had arrived, and there was much to say. Y/N knew the man as they had grew up together, or at least in the same area. She was one year younger than him which meant that they had never been together at school but the village was small enough that they spent some time together. They had started their work in the same summer, but Kevin had never left the kitchen and he seemed to be perfectly happy like this. Y/N was almost sad to see that the order was now ready in front of her. This meant she would not here the end of Kevin’s story and she would have to face the diva once again. She sighed before carrying both to the designated table. 

‘And here you are’ she said with a big professional smile ‘Sorry again for the misunderstanding. Enjoy’

‘Thank you’ Ben said

Y/N had to wait until they finished to get rid of the dishes and she would finally be freed from waitressing duty. She went to a corner of the room, as far as she could to be able to see them and be ready to help if needed without bothering the actors. As she tried to occupy her mind, Kevin’s head appeared and looked at her ‘Hey Wormy, come back when you’re down. I’m making you some special pancakes’. Y/N immediately waved him away before hiding her face inside her hand. She looked at the occupied table to apologize but the woman was already going out, her phone going to her ear. Ben seemed to have finished so she went to clear the table. 

‘I am so sorry’ they both said at the same time

They both laughed a little, it was the second time that it was happening to them. But although Y/N was curious to know why the gentleman was apologizing for, she did not dare to ask. 

‘I am sorry for my friend’s intervention.’ she started

‘Nothing to worry about’ he smiled before changing attitude ‘I am sorry for her attitude’ he added waving at the empty chair ‘It’s just…’

‘It’s nothing’ Y/N said ‘I should have checked. It won’t happen again sir’

‘Please, call me Ben. You don’t have to apologize Y/N, really. So your...’

And before he could add anything, a man came inside the room and asked for Ben to hurry as he was expected to be going on the filming site. Y/N was disappointed without really knowing why. 

‘Have a nice day’ 

‘Enjoy your pancakes’ he waved

                                                         ---------------

Y/N indeed enjoyed the pancakes in the kitchen with Kevin when all she could think about was the actor. He had remembered her name she thought, it was not unusual that regular customers did but they had only talked three times. A few days had passed and their paths had only crossed twice, never long enough so that they could exchange more than just the usual greetings. Once a week, Y/N had a night shift. She did not mind, it was usually her easiest moment as it was rare to see any clients. 

She was reading the same book for the second time. The ending had surprised her so much that she wanted to read it again, paying attention to any details that could have helped her foreseeing the unexpected ending. Suddenly, she heard some footsteps in the stairs and put her book down. Y/N immediately recognised the guest.

‘Ben. May I help you’ she asked

‘Good evening Y/N. Not really, I just wanted to enjoy some fresh air.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry I have closed the door but I’ll open it for you’

‘Oh non don’t worry. I did not know it was closed’

‘It’s not usually.. It’s just, well I’m alone and it’s quite late so I thought’

‘Naturally’ 

He sounded like he truly understood and patiently waited as she grabbed the keys behind the desk and went to open the double doors. The air was fresh but not cold and Y/N embraced it, closing her eyes for a second. Ben was patiently waiting behind her and she moved on the side to let him out. She stayed against the frame, watching the stars. Ben had fetched his cigarettes in his pocket and lit one before looking at her. 

‘Are you waiting for me?’ he asked

‘No. Sorry I did not want to stay. Please, take as much time as you need’ she answered, ready to go back inside

‘Do you have much to do?’ he sounded like he wanted her to stay

‘No, not really. Nights are rather quite’ she admitted

‘Were you reading?’ he enquired

‘Well, yes’

He looked absolutely gorgeous under the moonlight. They were lucky enough that it was a full moon so that did not need any artificial light. His blond hair looked like silver and as he was drawing on his cigarette, a red light reflected in his beautiful eyes. The shivers that were running down her skin, Y/N had not felt them for a very long time, even when she was with Jack. She could barely remember when her ex-boyfriend had made her feel like this. It was stupid she thought. He was just a customer and probably felt sorry that she had to spend the night alone. 

‘Is it the same book as last time? The one about Australia?’

The fact that he remembered what the book was about warmed her heart a little more and she decided to join him, going completely outside. 

‘No in fact… It’s… It’s the book that your film is adapted from’

‘Oh, interesting. What do you think?’

‘It is an amazing story. To be honest I had not read a book that surprised me this much for a while. The style is very peculiar, but I like it. At first the rhythm was a little slow but it really helps you get into the story. The characters are well developed and you never feel like the author is saying too much or not enough. And the subplot is so intelligent and yet, so well balanced. I am reading it for the second time because I read it so fast the first time I wanted to enjoy it again’

She finished talking and suddenly realised that she had got carried away, as she always did when she was talking about a book that she liked. But he was not looking at his phone or staring at her as if she was crazy. She was used to it, especially with Jack. But he was smiling timidly.

‘I am glad you liked it. To be honest when I read the script I immediately bought the book. I really wanted to be part of the project’

‘Is it as good? I mean, I don’t know much about cinema but… I feel like it could make a good film’

‘I hope it will. But I think so’

And they started talking about the project. He told her about the film, how they changed a few things. The author was no longer alive but they had asked for advice on the adaptation. In fact, it was the first time he was part of the production of a film, he truly believed in it. She felt at ease with him, he acted so so warmly. They both sat one next to each other, facing the moon. It happened naturally, neither of them wanted to go back inside, or at least put an end to this intimate moment. 

‘I just…’ she started ‘I just feel it is weird that hum… the actress that you had breakfast with is playing the main role. She just seems… A lot more confident than the character.’

Ben laughed, but not to make fun of her. He appreciated her candour.

‘You know that our job is to play different character Y/N? And… even though she can be… well let’s say she can be a lot. She is an amazing actress.’

‘Sorry’ she quickly said ‘I didn’t want to be mean. And I don’t really think you look as mad as your character’ she joked

‘Enough about this film and me. Tell me about you’

‘There is not much to say’ she looked at him, disconcerted

‘Do you live here?’ he asked, brushing away her remark

‘Yes, no… Well. I used to live in London but… Life happened.’ her voice suddenly lower

‘I’m sorry’ he apologised ‘I didn’t want to make you feel bad.’

‘It’s alright. It’s just so cliché that’s it’s laughable. I lost what was the closest thing the job of my dream, was cheated on by a stupid guy that never really loved me and now I’m back in the little village, living with mom and dad. Pathetic’ she sighed

He looked at her, not with pity in his eyes but with true sadness. 

‘It’s not pathetic’ he assured ‘I am sorry it happened to you. But you don’t give the impression to be someone who give up that easily.’

‘Thank you’ she simply replied, grateful that he sounded sincere

‘What is your dream job?’

‘I want to be a book publisher. I mean… I was working in a very small publishing house but it was great. Unfortunately they bet a lot of money of dreadful book and… they had to put an end to the story’

He kept asking questions about it. On the one hand he was not surprised to see that her life revolved around books and she could not help but smile seeing that he found it remarkable rather than sad. She asked him about his work. On the other hand he was surprised that she did not know who he was, but not in a bad way. So he told him about his career, how he was not seeing himself becoming an actor but how life found a way. 

‘Of course you were in EastEnders’ she exclaimed ‘My nan love this show, I was sure I saw you somewhere’ 

He laughed. She was so spontaneous. He was glad she had left her ‘professional’ attitude at the door. They kept talking, on and on. And then the sun started to rise and they realised that they might have been talking for a little bit too long. She apologized profusely. 

‘It’s fine’ he said ‘It was probably going to be a sleepless night anyway. I am glad I spent it with you’

‘What do you mean?’

She thought she might have crossed a line but they had spent an entire night talking after all.

‘Acting can be quite a lonely life’ he simply replied ‘And sometimes loneliness is a lot’

‘Loneliness is a bitch’

He smirked. They looked at each other and they saw, that they both knew what they were talking about. How hard it was not to have someone to talk to. Not a friend, no. Someone special, someone who cared. Someone who listened carefully and held you in their arms. For a few seconds they stayed like this, wondering if they should make a move. But they exhausted and it had been a long night. Still, Ben came closer to her and once hugged her. She let her face rest on his muscular torso as she enjoyed the embrace. They parted and smiled. 

He eventually made his way towards the stairs, wishing a good night, or a good day, he was not too sure anymore. Y/N went back to close the door, taking a deep breathe of fresh her before doing so. For the first time in a while she felt like the outside world was more exciting than what she could read in her books.

[bibliophilecats]

Shelf history tag

❀ This tag is for those books that came to you in an unusual, interesting, funny, or sweet way. Pick 5 (or more if you want) books from your shelf and tell us the story of how you came to own that book. If you’re a public library user and don’t really own any books, you can still participate. Just tell us the most interesting/funny/sweet ways you came to find a particular library book.

Tag your posts #ShelfHistory so I can see them all!

When you’re finished, tag 5 (or more) readers whose Shelf-History you’d like to know about! This one can easily be done on any blogging/vlogging platform so feel free to tag cross-platform if you really want to. ❀

Thank you @anassarhenisch for tagging me. Talking about books is always fun :-)

1. Arrows of the Queen by Mercedes Lackey. I first came across M. Lackey in one of Marion Zimmer Bradley’s fantasy anthologies (picking up those books now, it is astounding how many fantasy authors can also be found in her antholgoies, sometimes prior to publishing their own works). And my dad used to get a catalogue of a shop that sold mostly “modern antiquarian” books (I am not sure if this concept is also present in the English speaking world. Here it refers to books that have just gone out of print or books still in print that have dents etc. and the publisher sold them for cheap. They are not “proper” antique books*.). They had the first Valdemar trilogy for cheap (I do not remember, probably around 5-10 Deutsche Mark) and I bought it. Later on, I exchanged the German translation for the English books. Which actually leads me to my next point ...

2. The Last Herald Mage trilogy by Mercedes Lackey. After having read and liked the Arrows of the Queen trilogy in its German translation, I was sad to learn that no more books by Mercedes Lackey had been translated. So I bought the next trilogy in the series from amazon (these were the very old times, when amazon was still a little bookseller on the internet and pretty much the only place I could get English language books). The trilogy was in fact the second time I bough books in English. And I was devastated to note that I did not really understand anything. I think I was around 16 at that time and had had 5 years of English lessons in school so far. Looking back, me not understanding the books was probably expected but I was still really disappointed. So I left them on the shelf for many years before I picked them up again. Then I loved them and bought even more books from that series.

3. Wintersmith by Terry Pratchett. My memories this time are not linked to my edition especially but to the story. My sister started reading T. Pratchett way before I did and she always told me about the books. So, one time, during university, I found a beautiful, German hardcover edition of Wintersmith again in the “modern antiquarian” books* section. It was reduced heavily in price and I remember calling my sister on my (at that time) pretty new mobile phone and asking if she already owned that book. She did not and I bought it for her. I think it has since been replace by a beautiful English edition, and I myself also own the English version but I always have to think of this whenever I pick up the book.

4. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’ Stone by Joanne K. Rowling (in Germany, she was always “Joanne K.” and not “J.K.”). I had an appointment at the dentist and afterwards, with an aching left side of my face, I went to treat myself at the local, indepedent children’s bookstore in my hometown. The Harry Potter series was just about to take off, and only books 1-3 had been published so far. I cannot completely remember why I picked up the book but I do remember that I thought it was a crime or mystery novel more than a fantasy novel (which, in hindsight, is not even that far off). I think it had to do with the German cover, which features the chess game (see here). I read the first book and within days, bought books 2 and 3 as well. Later, I again switched to the English version but I gave my German copies to my sister who has since read them to pieces (literally falling appart). The original German cover art will always be my favourite.

5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by Joanne K. Rowling. This time at last I am actually talking about the original English, Bloosmbury edition. We were on a class trip to Munich in 2000 and we had an hour of free time to explore the town center. So, of course my goal was the big, four storey bookstore (coming from a small town, I had never seen a bookstore this big). Among others, I found their section of English language books and the Harry Potter book which had not yet been translated into German. I did some research and apparently the class trip must have been between July and October 2000. This does fit my  memory because I remember it being a really hot day. After our free hour, several museums etc. were scheduled, so I had to carry this hardcover (plus another hardcover book) through Munich for the rest of the day. It was a pretty warm day and my shoulders were really aching in the evening. But it was worth it. On the way back, I had to ask my teacher what the German word for “scar” was. It was the very first book I read the English version without having read the German translation prior.

I am tagging @the-head-in-the-clouds @bookslight @belle-anne-the-book @freckles-and-books @manuscripts-dontburn @lettersfromthelighthouse and everyone who wants to do this! I am interested in hearing about your bookish memories.

*This has all to do with the German system where books have a controlled price, set by the publisher. I.e. a German book will always and everywhere cost the same amount of money. This is protected by law and only under certain circumstances is it allowed to change the price. This is why we have a big section of “modern antiquarian books”, books that are sold cheaper because they have just gone out of print (in that edition) or “fell of a lorry” and packaging unit is marked as “damaged” and sold for cheaper.

[japanwords]

誠 (makoto) “truth”

I left out a few lines here and there because some truths should be self-evident.

Happy belated Indepedence Day to my American readers :)

[nerdyangeldetective]

“Can’t you die faster?” [Ramsay Bolton x Reader] (Modern AU)

Requested by the lovely and amazing @kreylo-solo ♥

“  OMG YOU WRITE FOR RAMSAY BOLTON?! I LOVE THAT SADISTIC ASSHOLE lol. Can I request a modern AU Ramsay story where he's taking over the Bolton mob empire, and the reader is his gf and his most trusted hitwoman/assassin? Please. <3333 Feel free to make it fluffy or smutty or angsty, whatever works for you. XD “

A/N: I HOPE YOU’LL LIKE IT. The Reader is totally a copy of Ramsay but hey, I like psychopath. c: I might do another part of this, I really liked the idea. :v

Words count: 1.586

Warnings: Murder - smut - mention of torture - blood (also the gif might kill your ovaries tho’. LOOK AT THAT SMIRK. ♥)

A gunshot, and then another one and nothing was heard after that, except a laugh, well, two laugh. You were playing with your now empty gun, blood on your hands, clothes and a few drops on your face. You turned your head to see your beloved boyfriend that you loved so much with the kind of look nobody could ignored. "Ramsay.." you said, telling him to come near you with one finger. Killing people always aroused you so much that you needed something right after a murder. "I'm coming sweetie." Kneeled near a body, he finally found the USB key he needed that contained some information about the future of the Bolton's mob, his father one.

"Come on, don't make me wait or I'll punish you." getting annoyed by waiting, you removed your pretty black dress, letting your cute red lingerie show. "I have a surprise for you." Ramsay's sight was an annoyed one but it stopped when he put an eye on you and your perfectly curved body. "Oh." He got on his feet and nearly ran to you, wasting no time in kissing your pink lips that needed him. Making love around dead bodies lying on the floor, how sweet, hu ?

But that was part of your habits. Your parents were drugs dealers, so you've always been in this kind of world and your first murder was when you were only twelve. Someone was threatened your parents with a gun and without any hesitation, you sneaked behind him and slit his throath.. You've never seen your parents so proud of you. After few months in school, you dropped it because it was annoying and you were caught dealing drugs in the corridors during break time, but hopefully Ramsay covered you with some kind of lie he told to the principal. That's when you two met and understood that you were involved in a dangerous world, both of you, you were only 16. You also learned that he was a bastard who hated his father despite making it look the contrary, and that he wanted to be the boss of his mob because his father was really bad at the job. Every decision he was making was stupid and sometimes, it leads to deadly fights and a lot of loss.

After a year of working together, you found yourself being in love with him. You loved his smile, you loved when he was torturing a poor guy because he was part of his father's gang, you loved it when he killed people in front of you and one day, after one of his victim passed out from the pain during a torture session, you couldn't contained it anymore. You just jumped on him, totally turned on and kissed him, making out for what seemed to be hours. Since this day, you've been inseparable.

After your little -sexy- break, you two decided to burn the bodies and get to work. Tomorrow was the big day and you both needed to rest. The next night, you were dinning with Ramsay and his father, who loved you despite you being indepedant and not in his mob.

"So, what's new between you two ? Any heir planned ? It's been a few years since you're together. You should start thinking about that, Ramsay.", said his father, Roose Bolton, looking straight into his son eyes.

"I don't know why you keep pressuring me to have an heir, since I'm not even recognised as your true son, father. I'm not even the one you will succeed you." Ramsay took his napkin, cleaning his mouth with a little smirk on his lips. The kind of smirk that turned you on everytime.

"Speaking of it, you're maybe aware that my right hand was killed by, what we supposed, another gang last night ? His body is nowhere to be found but we know he's dead. That means that I have no one to succeed to me when my time will come."

Everything going according to the plan, you took Ramsay's hand under the table, stroking it with your thumb, a little smile on your red lips. "You proved to me that I was wrong about you, Ramsay. That's why I'm giving you the title of Right Hand, you'll be the Bolton's boss the day I'll disappear. You're a true Bolton now. Don't disappoint me."

Ramsay's hand was shaking from excitement, his eyes were full of anger but also full of excitement about being the soon-to-be leader of the strongest mob around. "I'm honored, father. Let's celebrate. I've bring a rare red wine.. Well, I stole it while I was in duty, but it's a really expensive one." His father nodded and Ramsay was pouring wine in the glasses of everyone. You took yours and slowly bring it to your lips being careful not drinking any, like Ramsay. Both of you got your look on Ramsay's father who was drinking his wine in one stroke. You let out a laugh and put your glass on the table, your boyfriend following your moves. After a few seconds, Roose started to choke, he wasn't able to breath anymore.

Ramsay got on his foot and came behind his father's chair, putting his hands on Roose's shoulder. "Well, I guess your time has come, Fa-ther." he said while smirking, his look was full of darkness, you loved it so much. "Come on, can't you die faster ? I really really want to fuck your son beside your body." Putting your elbows on the table, your hands on your cheeks and pouting, you were annoyed by how long he was taking to die.

"Don't be so impatient sweetheart." he was kind of warning you that one wrong move, and you'll be punished tonight with no rewards. "This poison takes forever to work, but I want him to suffer. You know, you were always a disappointement for me." His father looking at him, a hand on his throath. "Y-you-...y-" Ramsay laughed. "Shh, don't speak." probably annoyed by how much time he was taking to die, he took one of the knife on the dinner table and stab him on the heart with it. "Sleep well, father." He looked at you, smiling even more. "Come here sweetie, I have a job for you."

You got up and clap on your hands, knowing what was the "job". You went upstairs, a knife on your gloved hand, and here you are, playing with Roose's wife who was pregnant, stabbing her, torturing her.. Yup, you and Ramsay where the perfect one for each others. During this duty, he was looking at you, every moves you made, every sounds, everything until she was also dead. You sighed. "Seriously!? She's already dead !? What the fuck !?" you throwed the knife on the all, angry by how fast she took to die. "What a bitch !" Crossing your arms on your chest, you were pouting again and went in the arms of your beloved boyfriend.

"You will have a lot of work soon, don't be sad. I don't like that." sensing something hard poking your thight, you raised and eyebrow. "Oh.. Someone is happy." quickly, a smile appared on your beautiful red lips that Ramsay loved so much. He kissed them gently. "Everytime I see you I got a boner by the end of the day." slapping your butt with his big hand, you laughed.

"Hey ! I didn't gave you the right to touch this perfect butt." your shocked tone amusing him, he was gropping it hardly, making you moan. "Hm ? What was that ? Look like you're liking it to me." You kicked his chest, a smile growing on your lips. You put a gentle kiss on his lips, your hands going on his dark and messy hair you loved so much. Looking into his deep blue eyes, you whispered. "I love you, Ramsay."

Falling on the floor with him, and on him, you were surprised. "I love you too, (Y/N). Now, you have some work to do." Nodding, you were more then aroused to start this "work" you loved so much.