#none of them liked the JET that lived across from me

[ptersparkers]

reckless (aaron hotchner)

summary: After two years with the BAU, you get the feeling that Aaron Hotchner isn’t your biggest fan. That’s too bad, because you really like him.

notes: hello. this is singlehandedly the longest fic i’ve ever written (like 21.7K words). i didn’t intend for it to be this long and i tried to see where i could break it up, but i think it flows better if it’s in one piece. happy reading! x 

(edit: adding in that the reader is fem)

a huge thank you to @hotchsdoormat​ for being the best person alive and for listening to me rant about this piece. love u forever.

warnings: typical criminal minds speak, kidnapping and mentions of broken arms and ribs and typos, probably. 

***

Years of dreaming of becoming a federal agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit led to the beginning of an illustrious career solving crimes and traveling across the country. It had only taken guest lectures by none other than the BAU themselves for the idea of catching killers and outsmarting them to do so to seep its way to the back of your mind.

You just wish you liked your job.

You like your work. You like walking into the office with a sense of purpose and you like profiling bad people and saving the good ones. You even like the shitty coffee that never seems to run out and you don’t mind the early call times and the sudden departures. 

What you don’t like, however, is your boss. But you know that’s just because he doesn’t like you. 

In your two years with the BAU, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Aaron throw a smile in your direction if it wasn’t meant for someone standing next to you. Two years of Aaron being dismissive and choosing to sit farthest from you in the conference room and on the jet. Two years of watching him foster friendships with your coworkers without sparing you a second glance. But work is work.

You’re an outsider. It’s almost what you expected. 

Emily’s the first one to tell you that you don’t need to take it personally. Her rocky start with the BAU and stories of learning that trust takes time eased your worries for a while, but Aaron never seemed to give you the time of day aside collaborating with the rest of the team. Everyone says he’s notorious for being stoic and intimidating, but you don’t see it that way. In your mind, he loathes you. 

Which is unfortunate, because you liked Aaron the most.

The guest lecture had sent you into a spiral of researching recently closed BAU cases and watching hours of press conferences led by Aaron. You appreciated the way he spoke about his work. He spoke about it like it was his due diligence and you liked that he treated each victim and their loved ones with grace and kindness. 

It kills you to know that he doesn’t trust you despite doing your best in the field. Your six month review approached and you passed with flying colors, earning a short-lived celebration from Erin Strauss before she exited Aaron’s office. But he kept quiet the entire examination, aside from putting his own input with how you acted in the field. He said you were diligent, followed orders well enough, and could listen to directions. It was the most you’d ever heard Aaron speak about you, but the swell of pride didn’t last long.

Sometimes people compare the two of you when it comes to your worth ethic. Last ones to leave, can’t be bothered when focused, and the need to excel in your career field while downplaying your contribution. Perhaps the need to do good in the world catapulted you into considering a role where you’d be actively helping others instead of a career where it would be too late. 

But every time you sit at your desk, opposite of Aaron’s office, you find yourself frowning. The blinds are always closed and you always wondered if Aaron could feel you staring at the emblem on his door when you wondered how you managed to keep your job. 

“I can hear your brain all the way from here,” Derek says, leaning against the stall of your desk. You avert your eyes from the door to his voice. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you say.

Derek gives you a look. “I know it’s not nothing, sweetness.”

“Just tired,” you lie, “I slept poorly last night.”

Your gaze focuses on the files in front of you and Derek looks between you and Aaron’s office. He does his best not to let you know it’s been affecting him too; everyone’s noticed how Aaron’s been giving you the short end of the stick and that his wavering trust hasn’t disappeared like it had for the rest of them. It doesn’t do any good for team morale. 

For a moment in the beginning of your time with the BAU, you think he’s asking you to prove yourself. You’re new, you need to get used to team dynamics, and you need to prove yourself capable before he can trust that you’d have everyone’s back. You understand that. 

What you don’t understand, however, is why he treats you like a first-day agent after your contributions. 

“Alright,” Derek says, knowing better than to pry you out of your work. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

He leaves you momentarily when Aaron steps out of his office. You try not to look up, but it’s hard to ignore him when your desk is pointed in front of his door. He’s wearing a classic black suit with a red tie, belt and shoes to match. You know what the look on his face means–there’s a case. 

“Everyone in the conference room,” Aaron pointedly says.

Derek finishes pouring two cups of coffee and brings it over to the room where he sees you sitting in front of the screen. You thank him for the cup as he sits beside you and Reid gives you a small ‘good morning’ before everyone files into the conference room and their attentions are focused on the faces on the screen. 

“Two children have gone missing in Los Angeles, California,” Penelope begins. “Gracie and Olivia McCormack, four and six respectively, were last seen in their shared bedroom last night and LAPD has contacted us to help find them.”

“Looks like the mother reported going into their bedroom to wake them up, only to find them missing,” you say, frowning. 

“Is the father in the picture?” JJ asks. 

“Jaqueline, the mother, divorced Scott McCormack before her youngest was born,” Penelope informs.

“New flame?” Emily wonders. 

“Yes ma’am. Logan James.” Penelope presses a few buttons and Jaqueline and Logan appear on the screen. “This is where it gets tricky.”

“It looks like both Scott and Logan were abusive towards Jaqueline during their marriages,” David reads from the file. 

“Jaqueline’s pretty familiar with the local hospital,” you mutter. 

“We can talk about the file and start to strategize on our way to LA,” Aaron says, packing his file in his go-bag, which is already in hand. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

***

The six hour plane ride doesn’t feel as nauseating as you had predicted. Your second cup of coffee sits on the table in front of you as your file is displayed on the surface, along with everyone else. Departure wasn’t terrible, mild turbulence followed but nothing you couldn’t handle. The armrest becomes your best friend on these flights. 

“Did Scott kidnap Gracie and Olivia because he wants his kids?” Derek says aloud. 

“Most likely,” Reid adds. “Scott’s a migrant construction worker. I can’t imagine anyone letting him raise two children without a steady home or income, though.”

“So he’s angry at the loss of his children and wants them back,” Aaron says. “Garcia, does Scott have any background of domestic abuse prior to his marriage with Jaqueline?”  

“One count of domestic battery with a former girlfriend, but his childhood tells us a whole different story.”

“What is it, babygirl?” Derek beckons. 

“Scott was born to heroin addicts and they’d leave him in hotel rooms for days while they tried to rob local convenience stores for money, presumably for their next high. Poor kid, he never stood a chance.”

“Damn,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine growing up like that.”

“He was put into the care of his grandparents on his mother’s side until he was six and–oh, ouch–he apparently caused too much trouble for himself that his grandparents gave him to the foster care system.”

“I can imagine that abandonment took a toll on Scott,” JJ says.

“Take the kids away from Jacqueline as punishment,” adds Rossi. “Makes sense, especially when Jacqueline was the one to file for divorce.”

“What about Jaqueline’s marriage with Logan? Haven’t we established that Logan was abusive during their marriage?” you ask. 

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “What about it?” 

“I think it’s important to consider him in all of this, Sir. If Logan was abusive to Jaqueline throughout their marriage, maybe Scott sees this kidnapping as some sort of effort to save them from harm.”

All eyes are on you now. It makes your skin crawl and you hope you don’t say the wrong thing.

“Go on.”

“If Scott really did take his kids, I don’t know if he did it to get back at her by kidnapping them. It makes more sense that Scott would want to save his children from an abuser. I mean, he knows what it’s like to live with abusive and absent parents. What if Scott wants to protect his children from suffering what he went through?” 

“Interesting,” Dave hums. “You’re theorizing that Scott considers this kidnapping as rescuing?”

You nod. “It makes sense. Maybe he has some animosity towards Jaqueline for letting Logan into their lives and retaliates by taking his children away from her because he thinks he’s saving them.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Aaron says pointedly. 

“I’m just spitballing,” you say. “I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes.”

“Well, let’s keep it that way.”

You shut your mouth and revert your eyes back to the file that’s in your lap, desperate for any minute distraction it can give you. The rest of the team is stunned in silence and Spencer tries his best to fill in the awkward silence by reviewing all of the facts that have been listed in the report. 

At this moment, you feel small. Aaron’s dismissive attitude makes you feel somewhat inadequate at your job and you find it difficult to remind yourself of all the cases you’ve helped close when your boss has just undermined your work in front of your colleagues. 

His coldness towards you is what you don’t get. Aaron has a reputation for maintaining professionalism, which you can appreciate, but it seems like his stoic tendencies extend far beyond keeping it civil in the workplace. It feels like you’ve been isolated and boxed out from day one and despite having gotten to know the rest of the team on a deeper level, you still walk on eggshells around Aaron. It makes you wonder why he hired you at all.

From the other side of the plane, Aaron takes a seat in an empty chair and looks out the window pensively. He knows he’s being hard on you and he knows it’s unfair that he’s treating you much harsher than the others, but Aaron knows that it’s for the best. 

When you walked into his office for your initial interview, there was no doubt that you were the perfect candidate to fill in the role as a new profiler. Your past experiences had clued you into profiling and he promised Strauss that your addition to the team would benefit the BAU as a whole. 

And Aaron was right. Cases were closing at a higher rate than previously, your quick thinking and problem solving skills aided the capture of many prolific criminals, and it almost felt like you’d been with the team since the beginning. 

What Aaron didn’t account for, however, was developing feelings for you. 

All it took was a simple undercover operation to see you in a completely different light. The unsub had targeted women who looked like you and you were more than ready to step up to the plate to catch him. It took seeing you in a sleek black dress to make Aaron’s heart lurch out of his chest and make him feel like he was a teenager in love all over again, and he hated it. 

He hated feeling this way towards his coworker. For weeks, his mind bounced around the idea of what it might cost the team; your respective positions might cause an interference because of the dating policy set in place and how it would look from the outside. Aaron didn’t want to jeopardize your career by making it seem like you were providing unprofessional favors if news were to come out that you were romantically linked with him. He didn’t want your career to be damaged just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. 

Moreover, Aaron hadn’t felt like this towards anyone since marrying Haley.

He had dated casually but never thought about the possibility of anything serious coming out of it. Aaron thought he might’ve come close to it when he had dated Beth for a while, but her career taking her across the country made him realize how unstable his life already was. Dating became a question of who gets along with Jack and the rest of his family and who is able to handle his frequent absences. His marriage to Haley showed Aaron the downside of traveling all the time and he’d be damned if he made that mistake again.

The idea of liking you in any capacity that wasn’t professional scared Aaron to death. He hates that he’s willing to find any excuse to walk by your desk or strike up a conversation with you if time permitted. He hates that his mind often wanders to a life of domesticity with you. The only logical possibility for him to combat his feelings for you is to keep you at arms length and treat you like he would any of his coworkers, which means keeping your personal lives separate and maintaining professionalism at all times.

It works a little too well and Aaron doesn’t realize it. He misplaces his anger—the frustration of knowing he can’t have you the way he wants you—and you’re at the receiving end. Aaron thinks he’s doing his best by delegating and separating you from him in the field, but he doesn’t realize that it’s causing professional tension because you constantly think you aren’t doing enough to help the team solve cases and catch criminals. 

Aaron spends the rest of the flight looking over reports the precinct sent over before the plane lands in Los Angeles. You elect to keep your nose buried in your reports for the fear of looking like you aren’t working hard enough.

***

The Los Angeles weather has cooled down when you land and Aaron has ordered everyone to head to the precinct first thing after touching down. The detectives are kind enough to reserve a room for all of you to work out of and you waste no time setting up the white board with the missing girls and timeline of the abduction. 

The stakes are high and you can feel the tension in the room. You aren’t a stranger to cases like these and you know that everyone is trying their best to keep themselves together for the sake of the department and the family of the victims. You try not to read into Aaron’s coldness to you too much. You’ve convinced yourself enough times that it’s the stress of the job and being away from his home that keeps him running on pure stress and adrenaline to prevent you from overthinking your position on his team. 

Aaron has you and Spencer stay behind in the precinct to work on the profile and piece together a timeline of the abduction, and you’re more than grateful you don’t have to spend time in the field with him. The relaxation enters your body the section you see him step out of the precinct and Spencer can’t help but pry. 

“You okay?” he asks.

You turn around from the white board and your sleeve smudges the freshly written text. The annoyance bubbles up in your chest and you hastily erase the mess you created and rewrite it before turning your attention back to Spencer.

“Stressed out, but otherwise I’m good.”

He pauses. “You’ve seemed that lately, though.”

“Can you blame me?” you ask defensively. “Our job isn’t exactly low-stress.”

“It’s just that every time Hotch enters the room, you stiffen up and you seem to lose your voice, and you play with your nails. It’s your biggest tell, actually.”

You give Spencer a pointed look. “Reid, I did not ask to be profiled.”

“Sorry,” he relents. “I just…look, I care about you and I hate seeing that you feel like you can’t share your ideas with us. Is something bothering you?”

You know Spencer knows. You’re sure the team knows why you’re apprehensive about your work and second guess yourself every time you bring forth a new theory or concept. But it’s hard to admit it out loud when all you’ve done is complain about him in your head and push your feelings aside for the sake of solving cases. 

But you know Spencer has always looked out for you after the first time you took a bullet for him a week into the job after barely getting to know each other. It’s the same way that he looks out for you in the field, protecting your cover and being the first to volunteer partnering with you when Aaron asks. He’s keen and perceptive, and you know you can’t hide your feelings from him unless you want to jeopardize another relationship with your coworker.

“I feel like Hotch doesn’t like me,” you say earnestly. “And I mean it in a way that seems almost personal.”

“He’s been pretty distant,” Spencer adds.

You shake your head. “It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgment or values what I have to say unless one of you backs me up. I can’t really tell you when I started to feel this way, but I’ve always felt like I have to walk on eggshells around him or else he’ll fire me.”

“No one’s going to fire you,” Spencer reassures. “You have an exceptional skill at finding unsubs and getting into their heads. It’s quite impressive how you’re able to put yourself in their shoes.”

“Thanks, I think,” you say with a laugh. “But you saw what happened on the plane. Hotch shot down my theory and told me not to jump to any conclusions even though I was just theorizing. I feel like he doesn’t want to listen to what I have to say because he doesn’t think there’s any value in it.” 

Spencer pauses. He sees your grip on the dry erase pen and knows how frustrated you feel. He knows you, the way you think, your work ethic, and just how badly you want to save these girls. He also knows how to distract you from your own feelings.

“Then tell me about your theory,” Spencer chides. 

“Scott might’ve taken his children as a form of punishment against Jaqueline. Sure, I think that’s a plausible theory to go off of, considering she was the one who filed for divorce. But he was never abusive towards the girls, whereas Logan was abusive to all three of them.”

He smiles when he knows it’s working.

“So you’re thinking that Scott is trying to rescue Gracie and Olivia from further abuse?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “As a parent, I can’t imagine tolerating a stranger abusing your kids. Maybe in Scott’s mind, Jaqueline was allowing Logan to abuse them without realizing he was doing the same to her.”

“The wife had full custody of the kids too,” Spencer adds, opening a case file. “He was only allowed supervised visits with a social worker present if she allowed it to happen and in the time they’ve been divorced, she hadn’t let Scott see them since she and Logan got together.”

“Okay, so Scott had enough and wanted to take matters into his own hands. If his ex-wife won’t take care of the kids and neither will her new husband, it’s up to him to take care of the girls.” 

“It looks like Scott’s had a problem with authoritative figures his entire life,” he says, frowning. Spencer turns the case file towards you. “His grandparents were physically and emotionally abusive and social workers did nothing about it. Looks like he was also a truant during his time in foster care.” 

“Get this. He’s been fired from multiple construction sites because he couldn’t follow orders,” you read. 

“Jacqueline was also the breadwinner of their relationship. I think Scott resents people who hold authority.”

“Scott wants to raise his kids,” you say, snapping your fingers. “It’s a rescue mission because he thinks he can raise them better than she can.”

Spencer grabs his phone and dials Aaron.

“What is it, Spencer?”

“Y/N and I talked more about her theory on the abduction. I think she’s right.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything. You’re almost sure he’s going to tell you to change the profile.

“We’ll meet you at the precinct in fifteen.”

***

You consider yourself lucky that Spencer backs your theory with claims and evidence. Your voice wavers multiple times when Aaron asks you to make your case, and the way he’s looking at you makes you doubt yourself. 

But everyone comes to the realization that you’re right. A few conversations with Jacqueline and an interrogation with Logan convinces Aaron that your theory had been the correct one all along. You should feel happy, but you don’t. 

You feel like you have to piggyback off of your coworkers and get them to support you before you can make your case heard. You feel like the smallest person in the room when you stand next to seasoned profilers who you’re sure Aaron values more than you. The weight of the world is on your shoulders and you carry it with you every time you formulate new ideas you want to share with the team. 

But you don’t dwell on this too long. 

Aaron has Spencer comb through security footage of local gas stations while Emily and David talk to Scott’s most recent employer. Derek and JJ are searching his last known whereabouts and searching for the girls, which leaves you and Aaron.

You’re barely able to hear his command. He wants you to talk to Jacqueline and try to coax more information out of her while he connects with Penelope about financial records and possible places he’s hiding the girls. She’s your age and he figures you might connect with her better than JJ did.

Jaqueline is understandably crying when you walk into the room. You hand her a box of tissues upon entering and she doesn’t say anything. She starts to open up after you tell her about yourself, your nieces and nephews, and you show her photos of them to prove yourself. You let her know you’re not a mother and can’t imagine the immense pain she’s going through, but you know what it’s like to care for people and how much it hurts when something bad happens to them.

Slowly, Jaqueline begins to talk. You ask her about her relationship with Scott and Logan, and all the important places that hold significance between the two marriages. She lists off a few and you make a note of it for later. Aaron calls you from the interview when Jaqueline has started to close herself in. He lets her go and gives her his business card in case she wants to talk, but tells her they’ll be in contact soon.

He doesn’t say a word about the interrogation. He just tells you to see if Derek and JJ need help canvassing more area. 

Two days later and the team is nowhere near finding Jaqueline’s children. Scott’s previous employer had less than stellar things to say about him and you’re beginning to panic at the thought of your ability to catch him and save the girls. Penelope calls with a development and thinks one of two locations is where Scott might be hiding the children. His trailer in East LA or a small house a friend of his owns. 

Aaron dispatches Dave, Emily, and JJ to the trailer while he commands you, Derek, and Spencer to follow him to the house. It’s located off of the freeway off the beaten path and you have a bad feeling about what’s about to happen.

Aaron’s driving like he knows something you don’t. You’ve taken a seat in the back with Spencer and listen as Derek points Aaron in the direction of the house. It’s getting dark outside, the sun is just barely above the horizon, and you know everyone has to be quick in order to save the girls if they’re in the house. 

LAPD officers drive behind the SUV. Aaron pulls over and you can hear the gravel underneath the tire. You swing the door open with all your might and draw your gun out as the rest of the team does, following Aaron’s orders to follow behind him as they explore the house. 

It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

The floorboards creak underneath you and Aaron tells you he’s going to clear the back of the house while you take the front. Everyone calls a distinctive ‘clear’ and you’re about to breathe out of frustration and ask Aaron if they’ve found the girls at Scott’s trailer when you hear the faint sound of someone crying from behind you. 

You’re careful not to step too loudly despite the hardwood floors. Derek finds you and calls out your name but you put your finger to your lips and he silences himself. The sound of feet shuffling sounds incredibly quiet, but you swear you can hear footsteps somewhere behind you. 

Spencer and Aaron join the two of you after hearing silence despite calling your names. Derek tells both men to silence themselves as you walk about the room, unsure of what you’re looking for. For the most part, nothing looks out of place. That is, until your hand falls on a set of books that feels much too hollow to contain any pages. 

“What is it?” Derek asks from behind you.

“I don’t know…I think this is a false backing.” 

And you’re right. You pull the books to reveal a small hidden entryway that’s dark, and it looks like it doesn’t lead to anything. Aaron’s halfway through telling you to let another police officer look through the crawl space because you have to take off your vest and gun to fit, but you’re not hearing it. 

“Hotch, I’m the only one who’s small enough to fit through here,” you say. “I’m shorter than the rest of you and all of you are men. I don’t think Gracie or Olivia want to see someone who looks like their dad.”

“She’s right,” Spencer mumbles. You don’t wait for Aaron’s approval, venturing into the crawlspace. 

Gracie and Olivia are understandably scared until you tell them their mother’s waiting for them at the police station. You help them out of the small room they’ve been kept in and notice how relatively furnished it is–a mattress, blankets, pillows, and coloring material–and make note of how your profile was right. 

You don’t spare a glance at Aaron, too invested in making sure the children are safe with EMTs while they’re being checked for harm. Olivia asks you to stay with them and holds your hand, and you don’t bring yourself to leave them. When the EMTs let you know they aren’t injured and can visit the police station without going to the hospital, Aaron reluctantly lets you accompany both of them back to the precinct. 

It’s well after dark by the time both children leave with Jaqueline. JJ and Emily have worked out a deal with local police to keep them under surveillance and protection until Scott has been captured and are instructed not to let Logan near the three of them for the time being. 

You aren’t able to say goodbye to the three of them, instead recounting your story to the local detective who needs your statement for the paperwork while it’s fresh in your memory. You’re on a high after seeing the two girls reunite with their mother and the entire team congratulates you on a job well done when Aaron storms into the office, angry.

“Y/N, go back to the hotel.” 

Aaron stands tall, his hands on his hips and his mouth etched in an angry frown. His voice is low and you can’t believe the words you’re hearing. 

“To the hotel? Hotch, you can’t be serious.”

“You made a reckless decision to abandon your gun and vest. That could have gotten you killed,” Aaron says. “You are not capable of working under pressure.”

“You told the entire team to use our instincts and that’s exactly what I did. I saved two little girls, for God’s sake.”

“You are hot headed and have this overwhelming urge to prove yourself when nobody cares how well you perform,” Aaron says angrily. “The entire time you’ve been with the BAU, you’ve barely contributed aside from piggybacking off of someone else to reach a conclusion.”

That, you know, is a lie. Aaron just wants to hurt you.

“At this very moment, you are incompetent and can’t hold yourself together for the sake of the victims and their families.”

“We have to catch Scott.”

“You can’t do your job, go back to the hotel.” 

“That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have to be.”

“Hotch.”

“I want you gone, Y/N,” Aaron says firmly. “Go back to the hotel or hand in your badge.” 

Unbelievable. 

You don’t spare Aaron another glance. Your feet carry you out to the lobby and your breath is so uneven that you need to step aside into an empty interrogation room to calm yourself down. Your jaw clenches and you ball your fists to gather some sort of relief, but you don’t find it. Instead, your nails dig into your palm until it turns white and you let go, exiting the room without another word.

The keys to the SUV are still in your pocket. You don’t necessarily care that the team will have to squeeze into the remaining vehicles and you don’t care enough to let one of them know you’ve made it outside. 

Your hands shake when you reach into your pocket. The warmth of the metal is familiar and your hand pulls it out when a stray tear falls from your face and splashes onto your cheek. Hastily, you enter the car and slam the door shut and lock it when you feel yourself overcome with sadness and anxiety. 

The tears fall freely at this point and you bow your head to the steering wheel, your breaths hot and mouth wet from crying. The back of your sleeves are soaked as you try to wipe away your tears to no avail and your vision becomes too blurry to drive. 

You allow yourself a few minutes to cry. The sound of your gasps echo throughout the care and your shoulders feel heavy with every sob. The weight of the world is truly on your shoulders now and you aren’t sure if you have a job when you go back to Quantico. 

But you pull yourself together and drive back to the hotel. It feels much longer than it needs to be and you sit in the driver’s seat for a moment when you park the car. You hate that you feel incapable of being a member of the team without Aaron breathing down your neck. You hate that you can’t live up to his expectations and that you try to in the first place. Working at the BAU wasn’t supposed to be a nightmare. 

You exit the car and lock it behind you, another stray tear escaping. You feverishly rid yourself of the tear and walk to the entrance of the hotel when you feel someone grabbing you from behind and an acute sense of pain at the base of your neck. 

It’s black after that. 

Back in the station, the local police have distracted themselves with their case files and other happenings while the rest of the team looks at Aaron in shock. Spencer's looking at the empty space where you stood and Emily is looking at Aaron like he’s grown a second head. 

“Are you serious?” she begins. “Hotch, we need everyone on this. We need Y/N.”

“She’s too hot headed,” Aaron replies. 

“Oh yeah?” Derek chimes in. “And how about you?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“You know damn well that Y/N adds as much value to this team as the rest of her. Two years with the BAU and stellar reviews from the board has proven that. Why are you still treating her like a first-day agent?”

“Y/N needs to learn to let go of her ego,” Aaron retaliates. “I don’t need to explain myself to any of you.”

“You’re wrong about her not contributing anything,” Spencer says. It surprises Aaron to hear Reid defy him on your behalf. “For the cases that we’ve worked on with her, she’s been the one to take lead on the preliminary profiles for most of them. Some of our biggest leads have come from her.” 

Aaron breathes and doesn’t say a thing. He looks at his team and knows they don’t approve of his choice to send you back to the hotel, but he stands by it. David looks at him like he’s almost disappointed in him and JJ holds his stare. 

He knows why he’s being extra hard on you. He knows he’s pushing you to your limit by keeping you at arm’s length. Aaron doesn’t want to admit that he sees you as anything other than his subordinate and coworker, but he does. He doesn’t want to be the reason why you don’t advance within the bureau and why there might be a future workplace ban on relationships. Even if he disagrees with how you handled things tonight.

Aaron doesn’t communicate any of this with the team while he stares them down. Instead, he fixes his posture and clears his throat. 

“Get back to work.”

***

When you come to, you’re acutely aware of the handcuffs around your wrist. 

The air is cold and you realize you’re bound to a pole in a barn, and you’re not sure where you are. Everything is suddenly hazy and your vision blurs until you blink rapidly with the hope that you’ll regain full consciousness.

The first thing you can feel is a headache. Your head’s pounding viciously and you wince at the pain, inadvertently tugging in your wrist and against the handcuffs. The metal is cold and it sends a chill up your spine when you realize you’re alone. You try your best to recite what you can sense over and over again in your mind.

The air is cold. You’re sitting on a hard floor with straw and other debris around you. The air smells like manure and hay. You can hear crickets and wind blowing just outside of the barn, and you can see hardware tools towards the back of the building.

The influx of emotions that creep into your chest is enough to make any person an anxiety-ridden mess. Your heart feels like it’s going to lurch out of your chest with every second that passes by because your reality becomes more real; this isn’t a nightmare you’re desperately hoping to wake up from. 

“Look who’s awake.”

It’s Scott. 

He flickers the lights on and that’s when you realize he’s holding a gun. 

“You took quite a while to wake up, actually. I’ve been waiting here for two hours wondering when you’d return to the land of the living.”

Scott dons a smirk that you wish you could wipe off with both of your fists. His right hand grips the gun haphazardly and he waves it around as he gestures while speaking, and the fear of dying has finally crept into the forefront of your mind.

“Where are we?” you ask. 

“South of Los Angeles,” Scott replies. “Far enough that your little team won’t find this patch of land.”

“Why’s that?”

His smirk widens when you stay quiet.

“You know, Agent, I find you interesting.”

“There’s nothing remotely interesting about me,” you say. You try your best to remember the profile and give him what he wants. He hates authority and between the two of you, you legally have all of it. So, you downplay yourself, 

“I beg to differ,” he laughs. Scott takes a step towards you and you recoil. “I’ve been watching this investigation unfold because I need to keep tabs on what’s happening so that I don’t get caught. It’s worked so far, but you were just lucky to have found my little girls.” 

“We found them because you made a mistake,” you chide. “You slipped up.”

Scott’s smirk turns into anger, and he takes another step towards you. 

“I made a mistake because I wasn’t thinking far ahead, Agent.” 

He takes another step and he’s by your thigh. Scott bends down to your level and you’re aware of how close his gun is to your abdomen, and you pray that you don’t say the wrong thing.

“I wasn’t thinking far ahead because I couldn’t see the bigger picture. But it came to me a few nights ago when I realized that you and I are people that don’t naturally get to be in the spotlight.” 

Scott caresses your cheek and you shudder underneath his fingertips. He retracts and stands up, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“See, you and I are people who don’t get enough credit for our work. All it took was one moment watching your horrendous boss dismiss you for your work. I knew you’d be the key in getting my girls back to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Scott leans forward. “You’re smart enough to figure it out.”

Unfortunately, it comes to you quickly.

The team had gathered around the house that Jaqueline and Scott had lived in when they were married. Penelope had clued the team in on this location. A new couple lived in that house with no connection to Jaqueline and Scott but you thought it was worth checking out.

Aaron disagreed. That house hadn’t been occupied by either of them for years since they got a divorce but your gut had been telling you to visit the property to look around for extra clues that might’ve turned up. Your insistence angered him, who accused you of disobeying orders, and it was David who had to intervene and remind Aaron never to leave any stone unturned.

Reluctantly, Aaron ordered the team to the house and you successfully convinced the new owners to let you look through their property with the promise that nothing would be disturbed. Two hours into searching and Aaron was ready to write your mishappenings in the file report when he returned to Quantico, but your sudden interest in the backyard piqued everyone’s interest.

You had discovered a well-hidden doorway to an underground room. The new family would’ve never seen it, as it was tucked away with roots and other invasive plants that covered the wooden doorway. When you and Morgan entered the space, it was clear that Scott had been there recently.

Unbeknownst to you, Scott has been hiding out a few houses down watching everything unfold, including the way Aaron distrusted your judgment. He’d been using that bunker as a living space, careful to work around the new family so as to not get caught. It was far enough that they couldn’t see him from where the windows were placed unless they were out in the backyard the same as he was.

“Remember now?” he asks.

You nod, complying. “You watched my boss reprimand me for wasting everyone’s time.”

He nods. “You and I are overworked and underappreciated. We don’t get credit or recognition even though we deserve it.”

“You knew we’d find Gracie and Olivia.”

Scott’s jaw locks but he agrees.

“I knew there was no way I’d be able to get to my girls in time to move them someplace else. So, I let you find them because I knew that I’d have no other chance to get them back if you arrested me.

“Then I followed you all the way back to the precinct so I could keep tabs on you and see where you were staying. It was just my luck that I happened to hear your boss yelling at you because of an open window. I knew my chance was when he ordered you to go back to the hotel.”

“How do I fit into all of this?” you ask.

“You, Agent, are going to help me get my kids back from Jaqueline and cover for me.”

“No chance in hell.” 

Scott doesn’t like that answer. He lunges towards you and tugs on your hair, enough to make your scalp feel like it’s being set on fire. 

“You don’t have a choice. I want my kids back and you aren’t in the position to make any demands.” 

He doesn’t say much after that. Scott looks into your eyes with a murderous expression before letting you go. Your head hits the pole behind you because he pushed you away with enough force that it makes you dizzy again.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Scott says from the barn’s entrance. “I need some sleep and so do you.”

He doesn’t uncuff you and you’re left wondering how you can sleep when you’re being held captive.

***

When the team leaves the precinct, everyone is too drained to continue talking about the case on the ride back. They’d only been there two hours after you left but Aaron gets the feeling that the rest of them aren’t happy with him dismissing you. 

The ride is silent and everyone retreats to their rooms respectively. He tries to forget the aching feeling in his chest and goes to sleep. 

He wakes up to a cold sweat. 

Aaron’s still not happy what perspired last night. He nearly made the choice to knock on your door and apologize for being harsh in front of the team and the local police, but he doesn’t. It’s better to put distance. It’s how he rationalizes how he’s treating you because he’ll fall apart if he imagines the consequences of being in a relationship with you. 

You’re the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up. He’s surprised he didn’t hear you knocking on his door to give him a piece of your mind, but he was too tired to consider that you didn’t. 

His clock reads six A.M. and he’s sure the rest of the team is waking up and heading to the police station like he is. Aaron feels more tired with each day passing and it feels like his body is on autopilot mode with how fast he’s able to change and get to the precinct. 

The team trickles in one by one and everyone makes their coffee before picking up where they left off last night. Penelope had sent the team a list of possible places that Scott might be and Aaron wants to cover as much ground as possible.

When he’s more awake, he mentally groups the team and the other police officers to search each property. 

He stops when he realizes you’re not in the precinct. 

At first, Aaron feels annoyed because he thinks you’re late. It isn’t completely out of character for you, as he’s watched you stumble into the office a few minutes before debriefing. Still, he prays that you’ll show up so everyone can move on with their day. 

But you don’t come in. Every person that walks through the door isn’t you and Aaron’s annoyance becomes a question of curiosity with fear at the end of it. 

“Where’s L/N?” Morgan asks from beside him. 

“Probably slept in,” JJ snorts. “She sleeps like a brick.” 

Everyone laughs at her comment in good fun because they know it’s true. You’re a heavy sleeper. But Aaron isn’t convinced. Something doesn’t feel right to him but he can’t quite place what it is. 

He gives it another ten minutes. Aaron’s bouncing from leg to leg, anticipating your arrival. He’s waiting for you to hastily apologize about not hearing your alarm and he’s waiting for you to jump right where you left off because of your tardiness.

But you never walk through the door.

“Something’s wrong,” Aaron mutters. Spencer nods at his disheveled expression from where he sits and Emily looks down at her phone.

“I know she’s a heavy sleeper but there’s no way she’d be twenty minutes late with the stakes this high,” Emily points out. 

JJ walks out of the room the BAU is occupying and inquires with everyone outside if they’ve seen you come in, but all of them say they haven’t seen you since last night. JJ walks back into the room with shaking hands and she’s almost reluctant to tell Aaron that nobody has seen you yet.

Emily tries to call your cell phone one more time with no luck. Aaron sends Derek to check on you at the hotel and doesn't bother to respect the speed limit on the ten minute drive to the hotel from the station. The receptionist is more than willing to give him a key to your room when you don’t answer your phone. 

When he walks in, he notices that you aren’t sleeping in the bed. Your room is clean. The bed is made and there’s no indication that you slept in it last night. Your go-bag is perched on the table and a few clothes are haphazardly thrown on the chair beside it. Nothing seems out of place. 

It’s when he walks back outside to return to the station that he hears a phone ringing from the bushes. Derek walks towards the sound and his breath catches in his throat when he realizes the phone is yours. He curses and picks up the phone to see Emily’s contact.

“L/N?”

“It’s me,” Derek says through your phone. “L/N’s not here and her phone was tossed in the bushes.” Metal catches Derek’s eye. “Wait a minute.” 

He walks forward with caution and his heart drops when he realizes it’s a discarded needle and your gun right next to it. 

“What is it?” Emily asks from the other line. She hears Derek sigh and she knows it can’t be good. 

“It’s a needle and her gun, Prentiss. L/N not showing up to the precinct and her belongings being discarded can’t be a coincidence.” 

From the police station, Emily panics. She hangs up when Derek lets her know he’s coming back and her panic rises when she sees her teammates looking at her quizzically. The lump in her throat grows when she realizes everyone is looking at her for an answer. 

“Did you find her?” JJ asks. Emily doesn’t speak for a second. 

“Morgan found her cell phone in the bushes by the front of the hotel,” Emily explains. “He also found a discarded needle...and her gun.” 

Aaron’s attention shifts from the file he’s holding to Emily, who’s fidgeting with her hands. 

“Her gun?” Dave asks for clarification. “Found outside of the hotel room?” 

Emily nods. “Morgan picked up L/N’s phone and said he found it tossed aside.”

“And none of us saw her when she left the precinct?”

Nobody says anything. 

“I think she’s been kidnapped,” Reid says abruptly. “None of us saw her when we got back to the hotel nor when we arrived at the precinct. Scott must know Y/N was the one who rescued his daughters and he’s either kidnapped her out of revenge or because he wants them back.”

Aaron doesn’t like that answer. 

His hands feel warm and his heart is racing too quickly for his liking. Aaron can feel his exterior start to wither away with the realization that you’ve been kidnapped and he doesn’t second guess himself when he calls Penelope and asks her to track Scott’s cell phone and to triangulate his last known location.

This is now a rescue mission and he hates that you’re the victim. 

The team doesn’t spare a second in finding a third location he could’ve taken you too. Penelope foregoes any of her other responsibilities to find you and Aaron can hear the frantic pace of her keyboard typing as she speaks. Derek and Spencer are visiting locations that hold significance to Scott in the event that he’s returned, but Aaron's doubtful that he’d make that mistake. 

It’s when JJ explains what’s happening to the lead detective does Aaron feel like his world is crumbling around him. He’s put himself at arm’s length so much as to push you away from him and right into the arms of the unsub, and he feels like he might pass out in the middle of the precinct. 

Emily and Dave pick up how quiet Aaron’s been ever since Penelope hung up. He’s too busy staring at the white board and it doesn’t help that your handwriting is all over it. Aaron’s throat is dry and he’s a second away from starting to blame himself for your disappearance, but he knows that he doesn’t have enough time to feel sorry for himself if he wants to find you.

When Derek comes back and tells the team there’s been no luck in finding you, Aaron’s heart sinks. He’s running out of options and he knows his head isn’t where it should be, but he can’t help it. Aaron does his best to keep himself composed when Spencer tries to piece together your timeline and he hates that they’re treating you like a abduction victim because you should be in this room with them. Instead, you’re God knows where and Aaron doesn’t bring himself to imagine that you might be dead already. 

It’s Spencer who makes the connection between you and his children. He theorizes that Scott must’ve been present when you had rescued the children and kidnapped you for one of two reasons: to exact revenge or to force you to help him get his children back. JJ suspects that it’s the latter because of your profile. Scott wants to get his children back and he’d do anything to do it. 

Dave wonders why Scott would risk kidnapping a federal agent and how he knew you’d be at the precinct or the hotel, and Spencer doesn’t hold his tongue when he said the only common link between the two of you is the way you’d both been treated by your superiors. 

The room goes quiet and Spencer thinks he’s overstepped, but he doesn’t regret his choice of words. 

Everyone looks at Aaron, who’s been silent the entire time. He thinks about how angry you were last night and how he convinced himself he didn’t see you shed a tear as you passed him. The guilt of sending you home and not checking in on you when he got back to the hotel is eating him alive because you’ve been missing for twelve hours and nobody knew about it. 

“Reid’s right,” Aaron says. He feels his voice start to break. “We know why he’s taken L/N but now we need to understand how he’s going to use her in order to get his children back.” 

Aaron’s phone rings and he’s grateful for the distraction. Penelope informs them of a house that was paid in all cash and purchased under a false identity a few months ago, and confirms that it was Scott who paid for the property after speaking with the realtor and showing her a photo. Aaron wastes no time ordering the team to head to the house and he feels like he’s running out of time when Penelope says the property is seventy miles from the precinct. 

The ride to the property is agonizing. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is lethal and he’s swerving between every car with the hopes that he’ll reach you in time. Emily’s sitting in the passenger seat and she knows there’s nothing either of them can do except hope that you’re alive and well.

“We’ll find her,” she says after a long period of silence. “You know L/N. She’s strong and won’t go down without a fight.”

Aaron hesitates to speak. He gulps and he feels like his mouth is far too dry to hold a decent conversation because while he knows that Emily’s right, he can’t help but feel utterly hopeless on the freeway while you’re being held hostage by Scott. 

“I shouldn’t have told her to go to the hotel,” Aaron says. “I should’ve left it at reprimanding her for going in alone. We could’ve avoided all of this.”

“You of all people know you couldn’t have predicted that Scott would’ve done,” Emily said. “It wasn’t in the profile. Neither of us could’ve predicted that he’d kidnap L/N.”

“I know.” Aaron signals and passes three cars who are driving far too slow for his liking. 

He’s silent again, which doesn’t surprise Emily. Aaron sits in the driver’s seat, a million thoughts racing to the front of his head but he can’t seem to choose the right words to speak. He knows how unfair he’s been to you and all the anger and frustration about not being able to be with you has transpired into this mess he’s found himself in. He should’ve never let his feelings get to this point nor let his frustration shift from the forbidden relationship onto you. 

“I’ve been unfair to her,” Aaron croaks. He hears the crack in his voice as it starts to falter, but he keeps talking because he thinks he might go insane if they sit in any more silence. “I’ve pushed her aside and made her second guess herself as an agent of this team all because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check.” 

“What do you mean?” Emily asks. Aaron sighs and he grips his steering wheel, embarrassed that he’s been an unfair leader and that he’s admitting it to one of his colleagues. 

“L/N is an exceptional agent and it’s no wonder why I fell for her.” 

Emily’s quiet and Aaron’s sure he’s made a mistake by confessing that to her. He wishes he could take it back and lie instead of being honest with his friend, but he can’t take back the words he’s said. And he stands by it. 

“I’ve been so busy trying to pretend like I don’t have feelings for her but every day I’m scared that something like this could happen to her. I hate it when she’s reckless and disobeys orders because I’m afraid that it’ll get her killed.

“I know what it looks like on the outside to see me and my subordinate in a romantic relationship. She’s young, career-driven, and I’d hate to stand in the way of whatever’s next for her. I don’t know how to act around her and I thought that pushing all of this down would help me lose feelings for her, but I haven’t.”

“You sound like a teenager,” Emily says. It shocks him and when he looks at her quizzically, Emily chuckles. “What, you think I couldn't see how hopeless you were when it came to L/N? Hotch, you’re like a kid in a candy store when she’s around. The rest of us were ready to start placing bets on you two until you started giving her the short end of the stick.”

He feels awful. Aaron’s guilt causes him to flex and rev the engine. 

“I never meant to hurt her,” he confesses. “But that doesn’t matter now.”

“What matters is that we’re on our way to rescue her and there’s nowhere else she could be,” Emily reassures. “Scott wants his kids back and he knows they’re in LA county. There’s no way he would risk taking her somewhere else when he doesn’t have Gracie and Olivia.” 

“Right,” Aaron says, clearing his throat. Neither he nor Emily need to chide him for how he’s been treating you. He knows he’s wrong and Emily knows it too. 

“L/N is the strongest out of all of us. She’ll make it through this.”

Aaron has a sneaking suspicion that Emily’s trying to convince herself, but he doesn’t say anything. 

When the team reaches the property, it’s notably quiet. The next neighbor is two miles down the road and Derek’s ready to search the house when Aaron steps out of his vehicle. 

“More backup’s two minutes out,” Aaron explains, “but we’ve got enough people to start the search. Reid and JJ, check the backyard. Prentiss and Rossi, check the house. Morgan, you’re with me. We’re checking the garage.” 

Aaron orders the police officers to check elsewhere before he and Morgan make their way to the garage. With his gun and flashlight in his hands, he approaches the enclosed space with caution and his heart spikes with anxiety. Before he can think about the worst that could happen, two police officers manage to open the garage door as he and Derek search the place. 

It’s empty. 

Aaron curses under his breath as they check the confined space but find nothing out of the ordinary. The rest of the team relates the same information and Aaron feels like he’s losing hope because he doesn't know where else you could possibly be. 

“Guys, there’s a barn across the landing,” comes JJ’s voice from the communications line. “There’s a truck parked outside and I’m willing to bet it’s Scott’s.”

Aaron’s heart stops beating for a moment. 

“We need to search that barn,” Aaron commands. “Everyone pull your resources and let’s head out.” 

It feels like slow motion to him, the way he diverts his attention to the barn that JJ pointed out. He feels like he’s watching the scene unfold in front of him from another person’s perspective and desperately prays that you’re in there, safe and alive. The grip on his gun is falling from how his hands are trembling but he reminds himself that he has a job to do. 

Dave touches the hood of the car and says it’s warm, which means Scott is most likely inside of the barn. The lead detective is ordering his team to secure the back entrance and surround the building so that Scott has no place to run and Aaron instructs his team to do the same at the front. Under hushed voices, he can almost make out the faint scout of scuffling coming from behind the large wooden doors and feels his throat close. 

Then he hears a gunshot. 

Everyone rushes inside and he’s overcome with dread when he walks inside. Aaron’s heart is racing; he can feel the grip of his gun slipping because of how unsteady his hands are and he’s nearly tripping from all the hay that he’s stepping on. He fears the worst when he enters and does his best to prepare himself to see your lifeless body.

But you’re laying on your stomach with a gun in your hands. 

You don’t process the ringing in your ears until Aaron moves beside you to reach for the gun in your hands. He’s tossed it aside and maneuvers you to check for any injuries. Aaron glances at your face and notices a deep bruise forming on your left temple with scratches and smaller bruises adorning your face, and he hates it. 

He hates that your body and face is covered in Scott’s blood. He hates that your hands are still shaking with fear. He hates that there’s nothing he can say or do that will make everything better for you. 

The shirt you’re wearing is covered in Scott’s blood spatter and you’re barely able to process that you’ve most likely broken a few ribs. You don’t say anything. The overwhelming urge to cry resurfaces and this time, you don’t stop yourself. 

Aaron catches you before you hit your head onto the ground and moves his body to sit behind you. You’re stationed between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as you slump over and grab his arm for support as your tears wet his dress shirt. Aaron foregoes all standard procedure and lets you cry in his arms instead of calling for the EMT to whisk you away from the hospital. 

You don’t care that your cries are almost louder than the ambulance sirens. Your adrenaline makes the blood pump loudly in your ears and you grip onto Aaron like you’re afraid Scott will come back to life and kill you if you let go. 

His free arm is secured around you. Aaron’s eyes become glossy as each second passes by and his heart breaks in two when he hears your continual cries.

“You did so good,” Aaron whispers. “So good. You’re safe now.” 

Aaron doesn’t let the EMT get close to you when you’re trembling in his arms. He tells them to wait a moment and they try to argue with him, but they relent when they see Aaron’s stern expression. His voice cracks when he tries to speak upon hearing your soft whimpers. Your eyes are screwed shut and Aaron strokes your hair as you bury yourself further deeper into him.

Dave and Spencer canvas the scene and look around for anything out of the ordinary to report. Derek's speaking with the EMTs while JJ and Emily are patiently waiting with blankets and bottles of water for you. But you don’t get up. Your legs feel numb from sitting down and Aaron’s grip on you is so tight that you feel like you’ll fall back down if you try to stand up.

Your sobs have turned quiet and you almost feel like you’re at peace. But then you remember your bruises and the blood still on your body. You remember Scott’s body and find yourself crying even harder.

“Let’s get you to a hospital,” Aaron says in your ear. “We can get you cleaned up and on your way home. Does that sound good?”

His voice is like honey. Sweet.

You nod and you try your best to sit up to no avail. Aaron tries to help you up and the EMTs catch you before you can fall back onto the ground. He reluctantly lets the EMTs take you to the ambulance where JJ and Emily are waiting. He watches as they drape a blanket over you and as you’re wheeled up into the vehicle. Emily offers to follow you to the hospital and JJ steps away, letting the ambulance drive off.

Aaron doesn’t process anything. He doesn’t hear the sirens, the police chatter, or Dave approach him with a concerned look.

“She’s gonna be okay, Aaron.”

Dave’s voice is nothing but a hollow shell to Aaron. It feels like an empty promise even though he knows you’re going to make it out alive. Still, Aaron doesn’t say a word.

“Let’s go meet her at the hospital.”

***

The doctor explains that you’ve suffered a concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, a broken arm, and a grazed bullet wound. You’ll be relatively fine, but Aaron’s heart is racing and can't get past seeing you covered in blood to pay attention to anything the doctor is saying. He hasn’t had time to beat himself up for sending you back to the hotel without accompaniment and he hates that the guilt is crashing in on him when you need him the most.

Aaron looks down at his sleeves and they’re covered in blood, dirt, and your mascara. He stares down in shock and his mind flashes to the barn, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s ever seen you cry before. It breaks him.

The doctor explains that they needed to sedate you because of your sudden adrenaline rush. Your shock had caused you to lash out when a nurse had grabbed your wrist, and through your clouded judgment, you’d swung at him with all of your might. Your fretful apologies made you uncontrollably sob afterwards and the nurse could only look at you with sympathy. 

Two hours later, the team was still waiting in the waiting room. Under the guise of wanting to get you something to eat other than stale hospital food, Aaron leaves to buy you a meal. But he needs to get ou and get fresh air before he suffocates. 

Aaron’s guilt eats him alive. He walks aimlessly towards a deli and scolds himself over and over again for making you drive to the hotel unsupervised. In hindsight, Aaron knows his personal feelings came into play when he berated you for your recklessness. He knows he was unfair to you because he would’ve done the same thing if he were in your position.

When he returns, Dave’s looking at him like he knows what he’s thinking, but doesn’t say anything. Aaron appreciates his friend’s concern but the guilt doesn’t relent. He fidgets in his seat and tries to calm his spiking anxiety but nothing seems to work. His mind retracts to the moment he found you covered in Scott’s blood and your cries are enough to make Aaron feel like he might shed a tear in front of his teammates.

His thoughts are disrupted when he sees your doctor approach the group. 

“She’s a little out of it,” says the doctor, “but she’s conscious. You’re all welcome to say hello, but only for a few minutes.” 

When the doctor directs the team to your room, she explains what happened after you reached the hospital. Aaron can’t process anything she’s saying. His ears are ringing and he feels like everyone around him is talking too loudly for him to be able to hear anything the doctor is saying. All he can pick up is “dehydrated” and “concussed.” 

Everyone hastily walks to the room you’re in. JJ files into the room first. It takes Aaron a few breaths to find the courage to step inside of the room and he’s sure Emily’s the one who helped him take the first step.

“What’s the prognosis?” your croaked voice asks. JJ sniffles and laughs at the same time, and the rest of the group watch you try to prop yourself up.

“How you’re able to joke at a time like this is beyond me,” JJ gushes. She takes a pillow from the bed and helps you sit up.

“What, a few broken ribs and a concussion? I’m lucky the bullet only grazed me.”

Nobody laughs but you can tell they’re trying their best.

Aaron towers over everybody easily and he’s in between trying to catch your gaze and trying to avoid it. Emily hands you the sandwich from the local deli and you waste no time, opening the wrapper and letting the aioli slide down the side of your mouth.

It’s easily the most adorable and most heartbreaking thing Aaron has ever seen.

“Slow down, Tiger,” says Derek. He grabs a nearby napkin and wipes the sauce away while you smile sheepishly.

“Sorry,” you mutter, taking slower bites. Spencer’s next to hug you and you welcome the way he refuses to let you go.

Everyone looks at you under the harsh lights of the hospital room and you feel like you’re being observed. The sedative you’d been given is enough to make you feel somewhat normal because no matter how hard you try to panic over the last few hours, you can’t. 

You feel like you’re numb to your experiences and the pain Scott inflicted. Staring at your team feels eerily normal and you almost forget that you’re sitting in a hospital gown with enough injuries to put you out of the field for a few months. 

“You broke my heart, kiddo,” Dave chimes in. He grabs your free hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, accompanied by a kiss to the back of your hand. JJ pulls you into a mother-like embrace, kissing the crown of your head. You lean into her touch and Aaron wishes he were the one comforting you.

“I feel like shit,” you confess. “I woke up feeling groggy and I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“We’re so glad you’re okay, Y/N,” Emily says. 

“Thanks, Em,” you say. You take another bite. “This sandwich is good.”

“Aaron bought it,” Emily speaks.

You look at him. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged his presence since he walked into the room.

“Thanks,” you mumble behind the sandwich. “I could eat five of these.” 

“I don’t want to deal with you puking on us,” Spencer jokes, and it makes you feel somewhat normal.

You don’t like feeling as though you’re a delicate piece of glass that’s close to being dropped. You hate feeling useless and pitied. Everyone’s looking at you with sad eyes and it makes you feel like you’ve let your colleagues down, even though you know there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent what transpired.

“I’m really sleepy,” you say, haphazardly throwing the wrapper on the table next to you. It isn’t a lie, but you say it with the hopes of being alone.

“We’ll be back in the morning,” JJ says. She looks at the clock in front of her and doesn’t realize that it’s four in the morning. You squeeze her hand when her eyes well up. JJ wipes her eyes and blinks her tears back and you lean against her side.

Aaron can’t help but stare. You look so vulnerable at this moment and you’re doing your best to keep yourself awake, but the sedatives are making you drowsy. The team says their goodbyes and reluctantly trek back to the hotel, but Aaron can’t bring himself to walk into the building once he’s parked.

“Get changed,” Dave says after a brief moment of silence. Aaron looks at him in confusion. “Take a shower, eat something from the vending machine, and go back to the hospital.”

“She doesn't want me there,” he says slowly. 

“She’s asleep,” Dave dismisses. “She’s not going to know you’re there and I’m sure she’ll want to see a familiar face when she wakes up.”

“I’m not sure I’m the person she wants to see.”

“You were the first person she reached for when we entered the barn,” Dave explains, “and I know you won’t be sleeping a wink tonight unless you’re by L/N’s side. Go get changed and get back to the hospital, Aaron.”

“I just–”

“I know you feel guilty. Whatever feelings you have towards her never went away and that’s why you’ve been so hard on her.” Aaron’s not surprised that he’s picked up on this habit. “I don’t have to agree with how you handled it, but what matters is that she’s alive and she’s resting. We got her back, Aaron. She’s here and Scott isn’t.” 

Aaron knows Dave is right. He thanks him for being a good friend and trudges back into his hotel room, hastily freshening himself up before returning back to the hospital.

***

You wake up later in the morning with little to no recollection of how you got there. You feel extremely out of it, like someone removed a ton of bricks from your chest after keeping it there for a fortnight. You look to your left and see a window that shows you a gloomy D.C. morning. You look to your right and see Aaron Hotchner slumped over in a seat, asleep. 

This wakes you up. You’re blinking the sleep out of your eyes when you realize he’s snoring. It’s soft and unassuming, but you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him sleep. 

The chairs must be uncomfortable, too. You do your best to sit up—which is when you notice the sling on your arm—and manage to prop yourself up on the pillows until you’re sitting upright. Aaron stirs in his sleep at the sound but he’s still asleep.

You’re not close enough to reach him and wake him up. You aren’t sure that you want to either, for the fear that he might start telling you a laundry list of all the things you did wrong throughout the case. 

The doctor from last night walks in and knocks on your door, which shifts your focus. Aaron’s still asleep and the doctor, who reintroduces herself as Dr. Aguta, gently walks around Aaron and to your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” she asks you while holding a clipboard. You notice her colorful print skirt first and it’s a contrast to how grey it is outside. 

“My head hurts,” you say with a croak. It’s the first thing you’ve said since you woke up. “And I realized my arm’s broken. But other than that, I feel fine.” 

Dr. Aguta gives you a pleasant smile. “I’m glad to hear that you’re doing okay. The sedatives we gave you last night seemed to help ease your pain, though I’ll be giving you a prescription for the rest of the month when it wears off.”

She hesitated before speaking again.

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

Unfortunately, you do. You remember Scott, the gun, and Aaron coaxing you to go with the EMTs. It’s mostly a blur and you can’t remember the details but you remember enough. The softened expression is a dead giveaway and Dr. Aguta doesn’t press any further.

She sees your gaze shift to Aaron, who still hasn’t woken up.

“He came last night and insisted on staying with you,” Dr. Aguta informs. “Typically I’d only let immediate family stay overnight, but your boss seemed extremely worried about you.” 

“He did?” you ask. It’s news to you.

She nods. “When I saw him for the first time last night, I could tell he’s a man of few words and the leader of your team. But last night he was a stuttering mess and I let him stay overnight with the condition that he doesn’t wake you.”

You don’t say anything. Aaron’s mouth is partly ajar and you know he’s going to wake up with a lot of back pain from how he’s positioned. Dr. Aguta performs a routine check up on you and lets you know that you’ll be discharged from the hospital the following day. You thank her profusely and she can only give you a reassuring smile. You ask her to wake Aaron up for you just before she leaves.

Aaron blinks and remembers he’s not in the hotel. Dr. Aguta excuses herself to give the both of you privacy and he sits upright, stretching his back unpleasantly. 

“Morning,” he says, clearing this throat. “How do you feel?”

You’re getting tired of answering this question but you humor him.

“Better,” you say honestly. “Aside from my broken arm and concussion.” Aaron’s gaze shifts to your arm and he almost winces.

“Did you sleep well?” 

“For the most part, but I think the sedatives had more to do with it than anything.”

“Good, I’m glad.” 

An awkward silence falls over the both of you. Aaron desperately tried to pull himself together by waking himself up and you’re fiddling with your hands. You noticed he’s changed since you saw him last night, now in slacks and a quarter zip, and you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him look so casual.

Aaron’s trying to think of the right words to say. As your boss, he wants to tell you that none of this was your fault and there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it from happening. He wants to tell you he shouldn’t have ordered you back to the hotel, not without anyone accompanying you.

But as someone who has deep feelings for you, Aaron wants to say he was scared to death and thought he might lose another person he cares for. His anxiety skyrocketed through the roof when he saw what you had done to Scott and he wishes that you didn’t have to work through this trauma.

But he doesn’t say anything. You watch as he swallows and you know his brain is working overtime by how often he pulls his eyebrows together. You don’t have it in you to be angry at him like you were the night he sent you away. The sedatives, along with your exhaustion, leaves little room for anger. 

“I’m getting hungry,” you say to break the silence. 

“I can get something from the cafeteria,” he offers immediately, touching his pocket to make sure his wallet didn’t fall out. 

“That would be nice.” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t touched by the offer.

Aaron leaves for a short while and you try your best to process what just happened. He chose to stay with you overnight. He offered to buy you breakfast. You didn’t think Aaron would care for you like that.

He comes back a while later and apologizes for both the sandwich (that looks haphazardly made) and the time it took, as there was a long line. You thank him politely and eat the meal, and you’re grateful that you have anything to eat at all.

Aaron watches you and feels like he’s invading your personal time. He bought himself a fruit cup, knowing Dave would reprimand him for not eating if he were able to buy something. 

“I shouldn’t have told you to go back,” Aaron says softly. You almost didn’t hear him say it. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I did the wrong thing and it got you kidnapped.”

You don’t tell him that it’s okay, because quite frankly he’s right. He shouldn’t have sent you home, but you know it’s not his fault that you were abducted. 

“It’s not your fault that Scott took me,” you say matter-of-factly. Aaron can sense what you’re trying to say and his eyes hang in shame. “But I’m alive. I’m going to have one hell of a transition back to work, but I’m alive. I’m here. That is, if I still have my job.”

Aaron’s eyes snap to you.

“The job is yours for however long you want it,” he says immediately, and he means it. “What you did was reckless but I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing.”

This makes you smile a little and Aaron soars when he sees it. 

“I didn’t mean what I said back at the precinct either, Y/N. You’re a fantastic agent and we’re lucky to have you.”

There are a million things you want to ask him. Why have you been second guessing me? Is my work not satisfactory enough? Why did you stay in the hospital with me? 

But you don’t. There are too many things you want to say to Aaron that it ends up turning into a frustrating mess every time you think of the right question to ask. Aaron doesn’t seem to notice your lack of conversation. Or if he does, you think he’s trying to fill the awkward silence like you are.

“I don’t mean to be a burden,” is what you settle on. “I don’t purposely challenge your authority or how the team operates. I know I haven’t been here as long as everyone else but I like to think I make enough contributions.”

“You do,” Aaron says. “You aren’t a burden.”

You don’t believe him. “I just…lately I feel like I've been getting in the way of things.”

“You haven’t.” Aaron means that honestly but you don’t pick up on it. “You’ve shown immense critical thinking and problem solving skills. This case alone has proven that.”

You don’t disagree with him, but your mind reverts back to Scott and you start to deflate. 

Aaron knows he needs to apologize for how he’s been acting towards you. The abduction and his guilt is eating him alive and it forced him to be truthful with himself about how harsh he’s been treating you upon realizing he likes you more than a colleague should. But he doesn’t know whether this moment is appropriate or not. Ever the professional.

Both of you are saved by Dave showing up unannounced. He’s dressed casually too, with jeans and a sweater for an unusually cloudy day in Southern California. His knocking brings both you and Aaron out of your heads.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dave laments. He enters the room after you beckon him in and gives you a gentle hug on the side that doesn’t have your sling. “I won’t ask how you’re feeling because I’m sure you’re tired of that.”

“Thank you.”

“But I did want to check up on you,” Dave continues. “The rest of the team are slowly waking up, I imagine.” He turns to Aaron. “I assume we’re grounded here until Y/N can fly back.”

“That’s right,” Aaron says. “Tell the team they have the rest of the week off. I don’t think Strauss wants us spending more of our budget on flights.”

“Already done,” Dave says with a smile. “You had us worried for a while there.” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, even though you know you have nothing to be sorry for. “I didn’t mean to make any of you worry about me.”

“We always worry about you, kid. It’s our job.”

“Are the girls okay?” you ask him. 

“Safe and sound. That’s actually why I came to visit, other than to check up on you.” 

You blink out of confusion.

“Jaqueline called the precinct and asked to speak with you,” Dave explains. “Long story short, she got in contact with me and wanted to know if you’d be willing to speak with her. She wants to thank you in person.”

The thought never crossed your mind. Saving her children had always been your first priority, even when Scott threatened to kill you if you didn’t help him. You’re not a mother by any means, but Jaqueline is around your age and you have plenty of nieces and nephews to get an understanding of how difficult this whole ordeal was for her.

And if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to make sure Jaqueline would be okay. 

“Absolutely,” you say immediately. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” Aaron asks. “You just got to the hospital.”

“I’m sure,” you confirm, turning your attention back to Dave. “They can come visit me here if they’re willing to. I don’t think I have it in me to go to the precinct.”

“Of course,” Dave says with a small grin. It’s almost like he knows this will heal the both of you. He leaves the room and tells you he’ll be back later this afternoon.

Aaron sits in silence and he’s in awe of your resilience. He’s sure it’s the shock and sedatives talking, but he’s always known you to be someone who puts other people first. 

“I should call Strauss and let her know the situation,” Aaron says. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, and you’re strangely reluctant to let him go. But you do anyway and he walks out of the hospital room, leaving you with your thoughts. 

***

Dave lets you know Jaqueline is here with the girls a few hours later. 

“Agent Y/L/N?” a voice says from beside you. The young mother knocks on the door as two children hide behind her legs. You beckon them inside, with Aaron and Emily supervising from beyond the threshold.

“Jaqueline,” you say, propping yourself up to seem more presentable. “Hi. It’s great to see you.” 

“I’m sorry for barging in like this,” she apologizes, but you’re already waving her off when you see the two children emerge from behind her. “I wanted to thank you in person. For saving my kids.”

“It’s no problem,” you downplay. 

But Jaqueline shakes her head and rushes to grab your hand. She pulls away when she thinks she’s crossed a line, but your grip is devastatingly tight when you squeeze hers. Jaqueline looks at you and tears slip from her eyes, and her children hug her legs like they know something’s wrong.

Jacqueline composes herself and brings Gracie and Olivia in front of her, who each have hand-decorated thank you cards made of colorful cardstock paper, stickers, and glitter. Your heart swells at the gesture and you will yourself not to alarm the family in front of you with your tears, so you promise yourself you’d cry when they leave.

“Hi, Munchkins,” you greet. “What’s all this?”

The girls shyly give you the cards, the eldest taking initiative to put them in your hands.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Mommy says you were very brave and saved us.”

“We drew these last night!” the younger one exclaims. “Mommy let us stay up late because we couldn’t sleep, so we made these for you.”

“They’re beautiful,” you compliment, looking at the colors below you. Jaqueline hasn’t let go of your hand. “You girls are very talented.”

“Thank you,” the young one says bashfully. “I hope you get better soon.”

Your heart swells and Jacqueline squeezes your hand again before letting go. You watch her lips flutter and as her children become preoccupied with their dresses, Jaqueline surprises you again.

“Would it be alright if I called you from time to time?” she asks. “To let you know how we’re doing. That we’re okay.” You reach for her one more time.

“I’d love that,” you say honestly.

Jaqueline doesn’t say another word, but the look of gratitude and her quivering lips is enough to make all the hurt from the past few days disappear.

You watch as they leave the room and as the young girls save goodbye. David escorts them to the front of the hospital, which leaves Aaron awkwardly standing in the threshold with his body leaning against the doorframe.

Aaron watches you. Your eyes glaze over and the cards in your hand are slipping through your fingertips, and your lips move as if you’re trying to find the right words to say. But nothing comes out. Aaron listens as your breathing becomes shallow and watches a stray tear slip from the corner of your eyes.

Before he can think, he rushes by your side and envelopes you in his arms.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, somewhere between wanting to give you enough space and wanting to pull you against him. Your fingers are tight on his forearms when he hears your labored breathing become erratic and as your tears soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

Aaron takes the liberty of moving you in front of him, his back against the pillows you were sleeping on. He looks at your frail body in front of him; you always carry yourself as a strong-willed, independent agent on the field, and now he sees that he mistook your brazen character as recklessness when it was false bravado.

His heart aches when your grip on him tightens. Aaron reaches out to move the cards to the side table and pulls you against his chest, thankful that this bed is barely enough to fit the both of you. Aaron notices your craned neck, bringing the hand that isn’t wrapped around your frail figure to your head and gently moves your head to his chest.

Your soft whimpers are enough to make Aaron’s heart break all over again.

“You’re an amazing person,” Aaron says. “You are selfless, caring, and generous.” His words compel you to cry even harder and Aaron lets you weep in his arms until your eyes are dry and you’re hiccuping. 

Aaron doesn’t let you, not for a second, feel embarrassed about breaking down in front of him. His thumbs are drawing soothing circles on your arm and he’s wiping away your tears with a tissue, allowing you to unravel before him. 

Your dry heaving doesn’t bother Aaron, but he coos into your ear and tells you he’s going to get you a bottle of water when you grip his arm. He pries your fingers off of him and melts when you snuggle your head closer to him, but he knows you’re thirsty and the best thing he can do for you is keep you healthy. 

“I’ll be back in two minutes,” he promises. “I’m all yours after that.” 

You nod reluctantly and let him go. The bed feels empty when he leaves and you feel pathetic for hanging onto him like he’s your lifeline, but you don’t care. You just want to be held.

True to his word, Aaron comes back a few minutes later and uncaps the bottle for you. A soft ‘up’ utters from his lips and you sit up straight. He brings the bottle to your lips and tilts your head back enough to let the water slide down your throat. 

Aaron puts it aside when you’ve signaled that you’re done and slides into the spot next to you once again. He puts his arm around your shoulder and brings you to his chest again. 

You don’t tell him, but you feel his heartbeat. It’s irrationally fast and you don’t know what to make of it. You tighten your hold on him as you start to fall asleep and you miss the way Aaron rocks you to sleep. 

***

When it’s time for your discharge, you’re feeling better than you did a few days ago. The team welcomes you back on board once you’ve been cleared to fly and it feels like nothing’s out of place. 

JJ bought a bunch of pastries from a local cafe and everyone (save for Aaron because he was with you the entire time) has written little messages on a decorated card. It’s Spencer who frets over you the most, bringing you cups of tea and asking if there’s anything he can do to ease your pain. You’re quite touched. 

You know you’re in no shape to drive home when you land. Your dominant hand is broken and your car sits in its designated spot, no doubt gathering dust and debris. The team is tired from the trip and everyone checks in on you one by one before leaving, and you don’t know how you’ll get home until you realize your car keys are still in your desk drawer.

Aaron watches you for a moment. He notices your apprehensiveness and the way you look at your car keys, and he puts two and two together. Before he can register what he’s doing, Aaron’s making his way to you and offering to drive you. You start to tell him you don’t need a chauffeur and that he should go home instead, but he’s more worried that you might hurt yourself inadvertently. He persists and you reluctantly say yes because you know he’s right. You could barely open the door to the building, let alone drive home. 

The car ride to your apartment is quiet, save for the sounds of cars passing by on the freeway and the sound of gravel underneath the tires. You look up at your apartment complex when you tell Aaron the code to get into your garage and he parks in the visor spot after you’ve directed him.

The sling on your arm is a nuisance and you already can’t wait to get it off. You’re able to unbuckle yourself with your free hand and you’re surprised that Aaron opens the door for you.

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

“It’s not a problem.” You can tell he means it.

When you get to your apartment, you’re somewhat surprised that you haven’t lost your keys. You struggle to put them into the lock correctly with your non-dominant hand and Aaron can see the quirk of your eyebrow and how you’ve bit your lip out of frustration.

He fears he’s overstepping. He takes the keys out of your hands gently and opens the door for you anyhow. 

When you walk inside, you don’t think you've ever felt happier to see your small one bedroom apartment. Aaron sets your go-bag on the kitchen counter and you stand still for what seems like an eternity until he brings you out of your haze and encourages you to change out of your clothes and take a shower. 

But you don’t move. You stand in the middle of your living room and stare blankly out of your window, unable to appreciate the breathtaking view of D.C. like you always do. Your throat feels dry and your feet feel like they’re permanently planted on the hardwood floor beneath you.

Aaron comes to stand beside you and he leaves distance between the both of you. He looks at the sight before him and makes a comment about how he’s jealous of your view, but not even that gets a reaction out of you.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you mumble after a long pause. “I-I can’t be by myself right now.”

Aaron knows Jack is at sleepaway camp for a school trip and doesn’t get back for another few days. He doesn’t have to think about keeping you company so you don’t feel alone.

“I can stay with you,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You turn to look at him and the offer is enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

Aaron sounds so soft, caring, and unlike himself. Your heart tugs at his caring nature and you’re overwhelmed with the notion that he’s caring for you like he cares for your colleagues.

“Please,” you croak.

Aaron nods. He puts his hands on your arms and ushers you into the hallway and you point him in the direction of your bedroom. He’s acutely aware that this is the first time he’s ever been in your apartment, let alone in the room you sleep in, and tries not to dwell on it for your sake. 

“You should take a shower and sleep,” Aaron suggests. “It’ll help clear your head.”

You follow Aaron’s lead. He guides you to your dresser and you grab an extra change of clothes and he accompanies you to the bathroom next door. 

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” he says. “Don’t be afraid to get me.”

“Okay,” you say meekly. Your voice is far too dry to speak normally.

Aaron closes the bathroom door and you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. You’re sure you look like a mess, despite being taken care of in the hospital back in Los Angeles. But you feel sticky from the flight and the sudden change in temperature, and you want nothing more than to cleanse yourself of the memories from LA.

You remove the sling from your arm and try your hardest to take your clothes off but you find it exceptionally difficult with your arm being in a brace. It hurts to lift your arm and you nearly cry out of frustration and exhaustion when you realize you can’t take your shirt off by yourself.

Embarrassed, you contemplate on showering with your clothes on, but ultimately know you’d need to take them off anyway. You open the door and call for Aaron, and you hear his steps as soon as you do.

“Are you okay?” he asks when he realizes you’re still in your clothes.

“I can’t, um, take my clothes off,” you say, clearing your throat. “I can’t bend my right arm and my left one is extremely sore. I can’t take my fucking clothes off.”

Aaron isn’t offended by your defensiveness. He gathers that it’s your coping mechanism because you feel embarrassed, but Aaron doesn’t care. He doesn’t say anything but he nods like he knows what you’re going through and you have a suspicion that he might.

“I’ll close my eyes and take your clothes off for you,” Aaron says. He says it in a way that’s so sincere but it still makes your cheeks redden at the innuendo. Aaron tries to ignore it because he feels a blush coming.

“It’s so pathetic that I can’t do this by myself.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he reassures. “You have a broken arm and your body’s still in pain. Let me help you.” 

You don’t say anything and Aaron takes it as a cue to move closer. True to his word, he puts his arms on your waist and turns his head away from you, careful to not hurt your broken arm. He maneuvers the fabric until it’s free from your body and he’s acutely aware that he’ll need to touch you in order to take the rest of your clothes off.

Aaron’s surprised when you move his hand to the button of your slacks. He clears his throat while you look up at the ceiling and bite your lip, pretending that the situation you’re in is completely normal to keep yourself from blushing too much. Aaron’s fingers work on the button and he’s careful not to put his hands where it’s inappropriate. He almost laughs at the thought, considering he’s your boss and he’s helping you take off your clothes.

You shimmy out of your slacks as Aaron slides it down your legs. He blushes at the thought of what’s to come next and swallows hard. Aaron returns to his stance and finds his neck is sore from craning, so he keeps his eyes closed and faces you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “I-I don’t think I can unclasp my bra.” 

You wince at your words, but it’s true. You tried to reach behind you when Aaron worked on taking off your pants, but the ache in your shoulder was too much. 

Aaron doesn’t say anything and you’re afraid that he might leave you. He’s so quiet that you can barely hear his breathing and you look at his closed eyes and see that his jaw is clenched. He mumbles and you’re barely able to catch it. Aaron lifts his hands to find your shoulders and you nearly shiver underneath his warm hands, despite the fact that your body might be just as hot. 

Aaron reaches behind you and searches for your clasp. You can feel his fingers on your back as he feels for it and he’s incredibly aware that your gaze is on him. It takes all of his willpower not to open his eyes. He’s imagined undressing you before, but not like this. Aaron’s fingers find the clasp and he’s slow to undo it, afraid of tangling the metal.

You feel yourself free from its constraints and Aaron slowly moves his fingertips from your shoulders and down your arm. You comply the best you can with your sore arm and your broken one, and your breathing hitches.

Aaron ignores how fast his heart is beating when he hears your bra drop to the floor. His mind is in overdrive and he bends down again, his fingers immediately coming to your waist and gripping them with gentle care. You look down at him and your mouth is wide open with your jaw hanging when you realize he’s on his knees in front of you. Aaron’s fingers hook on the material of your underwear, but you can’t bear to see him take them off.

“Wait,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily. 

Aaron forces himself to keep his eyes closed and he can hear your shallow breathing. His fingers are wrapped around the fabric of your underwear and suddenly he’s aware that it’s an intimate piece of clothing. Aaron’s cheeks redden and he’s desperately hoping you don’t notice.

“I can do it,” you say. Your voice wavers and you aren���t sure that you won’t be in pain when you take them off, but seeing Aaron on his knees with his hands practically down your underwear is too much for you at this moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, clearing his throat. His fingers detach themselves and he abruptly stands up. Aaron keeps his eyes closed still.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, and you mean it. “I really appreciate you helping me out…I’m sure this has crossed a lot of boundaries.”

Aaron wants to tell you he doesn’t mind it one bit, but he holds his tongue to refrain from making you uncomfortable. His eyes feel heavy and he stumbles when he stands up but catches himself when he feels the doorknob behind him.

“Like I said, I’m here if you need anything.” 

Aaron stands still for a moment and it feels like the both of you had the air knocked out of your lungs. He doesn’t want to overstep or make it seem like he’s taking advantage of your vulnerable state, so he exits the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

You lock it immediately and pin yourself against the door. Your heartbeat is irrational and you turn the water on, fixing it to your desired temperature. Bending to take your underwear hurts and your shoulders feel like they’re about to pop off, but you manage.

You’re acutely aware that Aaron’s in your living room, no doubt trying to rid himself of the awkwardness. You aren’t sure if you’re grateful at what transpired because while it’s enough to help you forget about Los Angeles, it makes your cheeks flare into a hot mess and you feel uncomfortably turned on.

Aaron, too, feels the same way. He feels filthy sitting on your couch and results in pacing around the room. His shoes are discarded by the door and it feels all too domestic. Aaron’s tie is suddenly too tight so he tugs on the knot to loosen it. He rids himself of his suit jacket and places it neatly on the arm of the couch, and thinks about anything but you, naked in the shower. His slacks feel a little too tight, so he takes out his phone to check his email. It works for a while,

A while later, Aaron realizes you’ve walked out of the bathroom and you’ve managed to change without his assistance. You comment about how the shower loosened your muscles and you were able to get your clothes in relatively painlessly, but all he can think about is how cute you look in an oversized shirt and sweatpants.

He’s too preoccupied admiring how undone you look because it’s the complete opposite from how he sees you at work. In Quantico, you’re somewhat put together, always wearing appropriate office attire and taking your caseload with grace while the rest of the team complains to no end about the amount of paperwork that needs to be filed.

Now, you’re standing in front of him with wet hair and an old shirt that has lost some lettering. It’s domestic and Aaron loves it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about offering you the bathroom,” you say timidly. 

It’s nerve wracking for you to be in Aaron’s presence because of what happened a few moments ago and because you’re not sure why he’s been so nice to you. It’s fresh and strange at the same time, as you’re used to him looking over your shoulder.

But you don’t feel like he’s being domineering. 

“I’ve got a few shirts that might be your size,” you announce. “And a bunch of sweatpants too.”

Aaron’s heart flutters at how welcoming you are considering all that happened to you, but he’s also found himself standing with jealousy when you mention that you have men’s clothing. Are you dating someone? Does he know he’s there?

“I love thrifting and sleeping in big shirts,” you explain, overcompensating for how awkward you feel to be standing in front of your boss looking like a disheveled mess. “I tend to thrift for clothes in the men's section because you guys have really good clothes for dirt cheap.”

Aaron’s worries are quelled and he doesn’t know why he feels so relieved to know you aren’t seeing anyone. 

“That would be great,” Aaron says. 

You nearly skip to your room and huff at your awkward demeanor, pulling out a large shirt from your dresser and a pair of sweatpants you hope is big enough. When you walk back to the living room, Aaron is still standing in the same spot and you’re somewhat touched that he’s nervous to be in your apartment.

“You can change in the bathroom,” you instruct. “Take as long as you need. There’s an extra toothbrush on the counter and a towel on the rack.” 

Grateful, Aaron scurries into the bathroom and you walk away before you can think of imagining him getting undressed. Instead, you busy yourself by fetching extra blankets and pillows for him. There’s an extra thick blanket in your closet and you pull two pillows from your bed, unsure if Aaron’s the type of guy to care about his pillow count. You find yourself stumped for a moment, each hand two with pillows as you debate on how many to give him, before you realize how idiotic you must seem if someone were to take a peek inside your head.

You settle with two pillows. 

You’re fixing a cup of tea for the both of you when Aaron walks out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. You know he likes to drink chamomile tea on the plane when you’re coming back from a case late at night. You’ve seen him make it a million times. It feels weird to be making him a cup, but you figure it’s the least you could do after he helped you change out of your clothes. 

“I made you tea,” you say lamely, setting the cup down on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. Aaron walks towards you and he feels the hardfloor beneath him and how hot the mug is when he touches it. Thinking about this distracts him from your broken arm and the swell of guilt he has in his chest. 

“Thank you,” Aaron says. 

“I put in a little bit of honey. I hope it’s not too much.”

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “How’d you know I liked honey in my tea?”

“You drink it a lot on the plane,” you explain. “I see you make it a lot. You always scold Spencer every time he puts too much of it in.”

He can’t help but smile, but he hides it behind the cup.

Neither of you say anything. You don’t know what more you can say. The words cause you to choke every time you think about what happened back in Los Angeles. Realistically, you know there’s no way Scott can hurt you anymore, but it doesn’t stop you from panicking at the thought of being alone in your apartment. 

But you look at Aaron, who’s looking at you, and you’re able to let your guard down for a little while. 

“Thank you,” you muster. “For taking care of me back at the hospital and back at the barn. It…it meant a lot that you stayed.” 

“Of course,” he says a little too quickly. “You’re a member of this team and your safety is my top priority.”

Your gaze drops to the floor. You aren’t sure what you were expecting. An apology? A confession? Truthfully, you don’t know what you want to hear from Aaron but it hurts knowing that he views you as just another colleague.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t made you feel that way in a long time,” Aaron starts when he realizes you’ve grown quiet. “A member of the team, I mean.” 

“I-I just felt like I should’ve been doing more,” you confess. 

“You’re doing everything right, Y/N. You’re an exceptional agent and an outstanding person. Any part of the bureau would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly. 

“Absolutely.” Aaron means in.

You finish your tea and it all becomes too much for you. The pain of your arm is quelled by the medication your doctor prescribed and Aaron helps you open the bottle. It makes you feel silly that you need someone else’s help to do something so simple and you feel your frustration get the better of you. 

“I’ll be out here if you need anything, okay?” Aaron reassures. “Please don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I promise,” you say and it’s one you’re planning on keeping.

You close the door behind you and turn off the lights. It feels weird to be in your apartment because you feel like everything should be back to normal, but it isn’t. In your years with the BAU, nothing as serious as this kidnapping has ever happened to you. You’ve been trained to deal with kidnappings before and how to talk to the victims and to the survivors, but you’ve never thought you’d have to deal with the aftermath yourself. 

You can’t sleep on your side because of your cast and your body feels like it’s constantly being run over by a stampede. The soft mattress is a contrast of how stiff your body feels and it all feels like it’s too much. 

Aaron can’t sleep either. He’s been staring at the door for the past thirty minutes as he tries to fall asleep. His phone is plugged into the wall behind him and he checks in with Dave, who texted him as he drove you back to your apartment. Aaron briefly thinks about Jack and his heart softens for a moment, but then he hears your soft cries from the room.

Aaron lies completely still and hears your whimpers. He hears you sniffle, blow your nose twice, and he’s acutely aware of the fact that he has no idea what to do. He has half a mind of barging into your room to comfort you until you’re asleep, but he doesn’t want to overstep his welcome more than he already has. Aaron feels frozen on the couch and doesn’t know if you’re too nervous to ask him for comfort.

He’s surprised when you walk outside. You don’t turn the lights on and he can barely make your face when you step into the moonlight. But you look frail, broken, and like you’ve been tormented by your memories. Aaron hates that.

“Aaron?” you call out. Your voice is small and his heart cracks. “Can you keep me company?”

Aaron doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He lifts the blankets from his legs and follows you into the bedroom. You sit on the edge of the bed and sniffle. Aaron sits next to you and carefully puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

It’s comforting and it aches. The pain of trauma and knowing that your life will never be the same again makes it seem like you’re never going to recover. Aaron doesn’t say anything, letting you cry into his shoulder and ignores the way your tear stains have soaked through the fabric. 

He’s imagined being in your apartment before; he often wonders what your decor looks like and how often you spend time here. He’s imagined cooking breakfast for you before you wake up, making you cups of your favorite tea, making the bed after you’ve both woken up, and kissing you goodbye when you walk out the door. Being in your bedroom like this feels too intimate, but if he was being honest with himself, Aaron doesn’t really mind it. He likes that he’s the person you choose to lean on. He feels like this is the first step in holding himself accountable for how he’s treated you in the past. 

Your shoulders are shaking and Aaron does everything he can think of to coax you through your sadness. He whispers praise and allows you to cry when you keep apologizing for your behavior, and he keeps telling you that he’s not going anywhere. 

When you manage to calm down, you’re tired. Aaron lets you climb underneath the covers and tucks the blanket under your chin. His hand brushes your skin and he blushes, though he’s sure you can’t tell because of how dark it is. Aaron bids you goodnight and starts to walk back to the living room but you reach out for his hand before he gets the chance to leave. He turns around and feels your soft grip on him. 

“Could you sleep with me?” you ask. “Or at least stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course,” Aaron says. He throws all caution in the wind and starts to walk to the other side of the bed and he’s surprised when you open the covers for him.

Your mattress is soft and your blankets smell like you. He tries not to think about it and leaves space between the both of you.

“Did you know I joined the BAU because of you?” you ask in the darkness.

“What?” Aaron says of shock.

You laugh lamely. “You guys held a few seminars at my alma mater and I knew then what I wanted to do with my life. I applied to the academy the next fall.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say. His cheeks are hot and you’ve rendered him utterly speechless. In your tired state, you push yourself as comfortably as you can until the back of your head is leaning on Aaron’s chest, mindful of your broken arm. 

Aaron’s stunned and his body stiffens. But he thinks of all the times he’s thought about laying beside you like this and decides that he’ll cherish it as much as he can. His arm snakes itself underneath you as he tugs you closer, and he whispers a soft goodnight.

***

D.C. is a little cloudy when you wake up. The light peeks through your blinds and you’re made aware of the man sleeping beside you when you realize your face is buried in his chest. Your good arm is beneath you while the other is on top of the blanket. Aaron’s arms are encircled around you and when you feel his warmth. 

You don’t rush to wake him up. Being here with him somehow feels right despite the part of your brain telling you he’s your boss and nothing more. But Aaron wouldn’t stay with you if he didn’t want to, right? 

Part of you thinks he’s doing it just because he feels guilty. You know that there’s some truth to that, but you wonder if it’s the only reason he elected to take care of you. But you decide it’s too early to think about this. Instead, you close your eyes and bask in Aaron’s warmth, and fall asleep again. 

This time, Aaron wakes you up twenty minutes after you fall back asleep. His arms are numb from your weight and he feels like he might try to kiss you if he doesn’t wake you up. 

Your eyes flutter open and you bury your head in his neck. Aaron doesn’t bring himself to push you off of him. He pulls you against him and the both of you lay in silence for what feels like an eternity. 

Eventually, Aaron has to leave because Jack’s coming home from a sleep away camping trip. He apologizes a thousand times over because he knows he said he wasn’t going anywhere, but you tell him that Jack is more important. An unrecognizable expression flashes across his face before he’s out the door, promising you that he’ll call to check in once Jack’s home.

And he does. Aaron calls you a few hours later when Jack’s in the shower and asks you how you’re feeling, if you’ve taken your medication, and if he needs to do anything for you. You decline for his help despite desperately wanting him back in your apartment.

When night falls, Aaron lets Jack stay up an hour later than usual. They’re watching cartoons from the nineties when Aaron gets a sudden idea. He pauses the television and turns to Jack.

“Do you remember Y/N?” Aaron asks his son.

“Of course I do,” Jack says. “She’s the one who buys me snacks when I come to visit you.” 

“That’s right, buddy.” Truthfully, Aaron didn’t know you’ve continuously done that for Jack. But he rolls with it. 

“Is she okay?”

Aaron knows Jack can tell something’s up.

“Not really,” Aaron replies honestly. “She got hurt real bad in our last case and broke her arm.”

Jack opens his mouth in surprise. “Oh no. Do you think she’ll get better soon?”

“I hope so. She needs a lot of help right now because she lives alone.”

“Well she can stay with us until her arm is better,” Jack says as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. Aaron can’t help but smile through his shock. 

“I’ve gotta ask her first, but I think that’s a great idea. That’s actually what I wanted to ask you.”

“It’ll be fun!” Jack exclaims. “Me and Y/N can watch cartoons while you’re at work and she can help me with my homework. She’s nice like that.” 

“Yes she is,” Aaron says, nodding. 

“Do you think I should make her a card so she feels welcomed in our home? I think I have leftover paper and glitter. Girls love glitter.”

“Y/N would love that. I’m going to talk to her first and if she agrees to stay over, you can make her a card.”

“Yay! This is gonna be the best sleepover ever.” 

Aaron’s ecstatic that Jack’s receptive to the idea. He calls you the next morning and proposes the idea of staying at his place until your cast comes off. When you lament how long that’ll be from now, he insists and tells you Jack was the one who came up with the idea.

You can’t say no to Jack. 

Aaron helps you gather belongings from your apartment and tells you that he’ll drive you back here or pick you up any time you want or need to. You double check that you’ve packed enough clothes for a week.

It’s a gradual and awkward start. You feel out of place as you try to navigate his apartment and where he keeps everything, not wanting to feel like you’re already welcomed in his home. But Aaron keeps reminding you that his home is your home and you don’t need permission since you’ll be here for a while.

Jack is sweet, too. He helps you by telling you where everything is stored and goes so far as to hold your hand while doing so. He insisted on tucking you in while you slept in the guest bedroom just to make sure you were comfortable on your first night, and you thought you might start crying in front of him.

At first, you walk on eggshells. You tiptoe around the boys and feel like a burden when Aaron brings home dinner for three or when he buys extra groceries, especially when he refuses to let you chip in. Jack tries to ease your worries after sensing your discomfort by asking you to build legos with him and you do your best despite the pain in your arms.

Aaron reminds you of your medication (and in turn, Jack asks you if you’ve taken your pills), cooks your favorite comfort meals, and drives you to mandated therapy sessions whenever he has the time. It warms your heart at how helpful he’s been since you know how busy he is typically, and you’re not sure what to make of your emotions. 

Time passes by and suddenly staying with Aaron feels somewhat normal. You’re off of work until your arm is healed and you’ve seen your therapist a number of times, and you know you have a couple of months of doing whatever you want until you go back into the field. Against the advice of Strauss, you continue to help with cases and the paperwork load so Aaron can spend more time with Jack.

Gradually, you start to feel comfortable when you’re alone. You use his kitchen, clean his dishes, and busy yourself with tidying Jack’s messes. You explore his neighborhood and have found a few cafes and restaurants you’d like to try out. You feel more comfortable lounging on his couch instead of keeping yourself in the guest bedroom.   

It feels domestic and you can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing. There’s still so much left unsaid, including how you’ve felt being his subordinate prior to your abduction. Aaron’s apologized over and over again, has given you time to heal from it and chooses not to ask for forgiveness in lieu of letting you find it yourself. It means a lot. Deep down, you know Aaron isn’t a bad person. You just wish you knew why you were different.

A week turns into two, then into three, and soon enough you find yourself caring after Jack. You feel useless if you sleep in and start waking up early to make breakfast as best you can for everyone (limited to cold breakfasts until you start to feel confident using your dominant arm when it’s out of the sling). Aaron walks into the kitchen to see you making oatmeal one day and you’re worried that you’ve overstepped, but he thanks you profusely.

Jack waddles in and he takes the oatmeal without question and asks if you can put brown sugar and fruit in it. You look around and see apples and blueberries, and Jack chooses the blueberries. He watches as you fix him a bowl and eats his breakfast in silence.

It becomes a routine for you after growing tired of doing nothing all day. Helping Aaron’s around the house as best you can, working remotely on cases, and spending time in his neighborhood feels like you’re recording.

Jessica, Jack’s aunt, has been informed of your stay by Aaron. You’ve met her before in passing but have never spoken to her in depth before staying with Aaron. She picks him up and drops him off, making small talk with you about her life and about your work. It goes so far as coffee dates when she’s available and it feels like your life is getting back on track.

Meanwhile, Aaron realizes he’s bit off more than he can chew when he sees you every morning. He hears your morning voice and finds himself wanting to wake up to it every day. He sees the way you are with Jack, how thoughtful and helpful you’ve been, and thinks it’s where you belong.

And it hurts. It hurts to know that all of his suppressed feelings are suddenly coming to the surface.

Your cast is coming off later today and you’re due for another mandated therapy session and a psychological evaluation before you’re able to return to work. He’s elated, but that means you’re okay to return to your apartment and he’ll have to get used to the house being empty.

Aaron’s parked his car at Quantico and he glances at you in the passenger seat. Your arm sling and cast are gone and you look as good as new, but he’s reluctant to step out of the car. You look back at him, hands fiddling in your lap.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you begin. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Jack.”

“You’d be just fine,” Aaron assures. “But it was nice seeing you recover. Is your arm doing okay?”

“It’s like I never had a broken arm.” You flex it in front of him for emphasis. “My shoulder’s still a bit sore but I think my physical therapist has expedited the healing process.”

Aaron smiles. “Good. I’m glad.” 

A brief moment of silence falls between the two of you before you both get out of the car. Your therapist had asked you whether or not you were ready to integrate yourself back with the team and was scheduled to supervise your initial day back in the office. You’re apprehensive, however, because you know that you never perform well if you’re being watched closely. 

JJ’s the first to greet you when you walk through the doors. The office smells the same and it looks the same, but it doesn’t feel the same. You spend a few extra seconds embracing JJ and gather that she needs this hug more than you do.

Everyone files in and it’s barely eight in the morning. David congratulates you on recovery, Derek and Penelope bombard you with jokes that make your stomach hurt, Emily shows you photos of Sergio upon your request, and Spencer gives you a side hug and tells you he’s glad you’re doing better.

The therapist arrives soon after and you’re on your best behavior without making it seem like you’re trying to be. 

In the end, she permits you to return back to the BAU with the promise of continuing therapy. She refers to you to a few others and tells you that you should try to go in at least once a week, or however frequently your job lets you. You’re clear to fly, yield your gun, and you’re reinstated as a profiler with the BAU.

Aaron drives you back to his place to pick up your belongings before he drives you back to your apartment. He and Dave had been kind enough to drive your car back to your place, where it’s been sitting untouched.

The ride is filled with music from the eighties and you’re so elated from your first day back at work that you don’t mind singing in front of Aaron and pretending you’re shredding on an electric guitar. He takes his time getting home, taking the long way instead of the direct route, and he doesn’t think you notice. Aaron hopes you don’t.

But he arrives at his place and Jessica’s greeting you at the front door, happy to see you’ve recovered before she goes home. The sun has barely set and Jack walks out behind his aunt, asking you what’s for dinner.

You’re stunned for a moment as the realization that this all ends tonight. Staying with Aaron, falling into a life of balancing work and domesticity comes to an end when he drops you off at your apartment. Jack’s tugging on your elbow and Aaron scolds him because you might still be in a little bit of pain. He apologizes sweetly.

Aaron beckons you inside where you've started to pack your belongings. The luggage you've brought seems smaller than when you brought it, as you find it difficult to pack everything. You make the bed and set the room as you found it (to the best of your recollection), and you’re ready to put your shoes on when Aaron rounds the corner.

“I was thinking we could have one last meal here.” He clears his throat. “To celebrate your recovery.”

You don’t hesitate. “I would love that. I finally get to show you my cooking skills.” 

Aaron smiles and Jack runs to your legs, beckoning you to the kitchen. You settle on making oven baked chicken with mashed potatoes and honey glazed carrots, all of which Aaron had in his refrigerator. Jack asks how he can help and you’re touched when he brings a stool to perch on, and you tell him he can help you by rinsing the potatoes. 

Aaron offers to help and you look at him with a silly grin, letting him prepare the carrots while you prepare everything else. Halfway through the process, Jack becomes somewhat irritable because of hunger and because the entire kitchen smells like a Thanksgiving feast. But he relents and waits for the meal to be done when you tell him the food always tastes better when it’s cooked longer.

You almost forget it’s your last time with Aaron and Jack when you eat your meal together. You forget it when Jack insists on ice cream for dessert and when Aaron makes you a cup of tea just the way you like it. You forget about it until Jack asks his father if he can be there when he drops you off at your apartment. 

Your heart breaks a little. Aaron agrees and lets you grab your belongings while he buckles Jack in the car. Your luggage is in the trunk by the time Aaron is done and he opens the passenger door for you before getting in the car himself. Jack talks the entire ride, thanking you for dinner and lamenting how much he loved spending time with you. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is tight and he doesn’t think his heart could swell any bigger.

Eventually, the boys walk you up to your floor and Jack lunges at your abdomen after the three of you have walked into your living room. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Jack mumbles in your sweater.

“You’ll see her around, buddy. She’s not leaving the team,” says Aaron.

“But I’ll miss Y/N at home. I like spending time with her there.” 

You and Aaron share a look. You can’t tell what he’s thinking but you know you’re unable to control the influx of emotions that will eventually spill out of you when they leave. 

“Me too,” Aaron says quietly. 

They leave soon after that.

You spend an hour crying in your living room and you haven’t unpacked your suitcase. Living with Aaron and being so close to him made you realize how your feelings for him, albeit complicated, have always been there. 

You love him. You love his generous nature. You love the adoration he has for Jack and for his team. You love how he knows your beverages of choice and how gentle he’s been with you. You love the way he says your name and you love that you feel right at home with him.

It’s ten o’clock when you grab your phone and you know Jack’s been asleep for at least an hour. You dial Aaron’s contact and in your anxious state of mind, nearly regret your actions. But he picks up and you hear the sweet melody of his voice through the phone. Your voice falters at first, but you push through them anyway. You’re sure Aaron can hear your voice post-crying because of how raspy your voice is, but you don’t care.

You tell him you think you love him and it’s not because he’s been taking care of you. You pour your heart and soul into this speech and you panic when he doesn’t say anything.

“This’ll be one hell of a story we tell Strauss.”

And you laugh. You laugh because you know Aaron feels the same and you laugh because facing paperwork and recounting this conversation to Strauss doesn’t seem like the most frightening thing in the world anymore.

But just for good measure, Aaron tells you he loves you too. 

***

AAAND WE’RE DONE X 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotchner sceanrios #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner oneshots #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner #SSA aaron hotchner #criminal minds #thomas gibson #my writing #reckless #yall if no one reads this im gonna scream ok bye enjoy #fem reader

[wileycap]

The Stupidest Things In Netflix's Avatar The Last Airbender: A List

a.k.a.

a whiny rant from someone who has dedicated far too many of their already limited number of braincells to atla i know it's just a tv show but come on this is what tumblr is for let me whine

For your consideration, with many spoilers:

5. Katara Being Smug After Kicking Jet's Ass

In the original, Katara is betrayed by Jet. You can feel the raw emotion in the words "I trusted you! You're sick, and I trusted you!" immediately followed by her concern for the innocent people Jet has seemingly murdered. It's not a triumph, it's a wound, and the next time she sees Jet, her first reaction is "kill on sight".

This is great. It's heartwrenching, it's humanizing, and Katara using violence against Jet isn't a victory for her. It's just pain.

In the live action, Katara very mildly chastises Jet for trying to kill innocent people, which is... an interesting characterization for her, to say the least. Jet then tries to grab her, immediately followed by Katara throwing him and freezing him. She then just tells him goodbye. Her tone is placid, almost unaffected.

And then Jet says "Look at the power you have. That's because of me!"

Katara: "That wasn't you. That was me."

And then she strides off with a small smile, and that's the end of that. Sokka and Aang are not present. It's an incredibly hokey moment that's meant to emulate the style of feminine empowerment, but it has none of the substance. It glosses over any human feelings of hurt and betrayal. All that the it ends up doing is removing a story beat for Katara.

4. The Badgermoles

"They're blind! They sense feelings and react to them! Anger, fear... but mostly love."

Katara and Sokka hold hands in a cave and it makes the badgermole stop attacking them.

The blind badgermoles. Navigate by... love.

Yeah.

Do I need to say anything? Can we all see (pun intended) how stupid that is?

3. Bumi Makes Aang Choose Between Killing Him Or Letting Himself Die To Make The Dumbest Point Imaginable

Remember Bumi? Aang's old friend, a fun, kooky king? Well, here he's an actual fucking psychopath.

He collapses part of the roof onto Aang, and Aang holds it up with airbending. Another part of the roof collapses on Bumi, and Bumi just... shrugs his shoulders, fully intending to die. Aang holds that one up as well, and Bumi, instead of helping, makes the dumbest fucking point I've ever heard about "making tough choices", and urges Aang to let the boulder crush him.

Again. Bumi, the fun, wise king, wants Aang to kill him.

The situation is defused by Katara freezing a little strip on the floor so that Sokka can very slowly slide on it and tackle Bumi to safety. I can not emphasize how slow his slide is. Running would have been faster. Bumi has time to look at him and say "Huh?" as Sokka slowly slides across the floor. Oh, yeah, they were led onto the scene by the love-sensing badgermoles.

Then it's Aang's turn to be dumb. He says "you CAN rely on your friends" and hands Bumi a friendship rock. Bumi is pacified for now, but there is no telling when his next Saw trap will activate.

This made me actually feel bad. I just. I kept expecting for it to turn into a secret lesson, like Bumi in the original show, but it never did. Bumi's just a spiteful psychopath who is easily swayed by the gifting of rocks.

2. Koh The Face-Stealer Has A Backstory Now

Why? Mother of Faces? What? No.

No.

Iroh Is Intimidated By Zhao, And Then He Kills Zhao

Ah, Live Action Iroh. The most ineffectual man on the planet.

So, Zhao has the Moon Koi in a bag, and is ready to stab it with his special stabbing implement. Iroh is standing right behind him. RIGHT BEHIND HIM. Iroh has been there the whole time. Iroh does not want Zhao to kill the fish.

Iroh says: "Whatever you do to that spirit, I'll unleash on you tenfold!"

Remember how in the original, where that was like a big, shocking moment that he got angry? And how Zhao immediately let go of the fish, only to then have his anger get the best of him? How Zhao attacked the spirit by surprise?

Well, here it's a little different. For one, like I already said, Iroh doesn't come in suddenly, he sort of gets bullied into looking for the spirit by Zhao. Then he looks for the spirit, and after Zhao finds it, then he decides that he really has a problem with killing the spirit. He did protest before, but then he kind of just caved and helped anyways.

He threatens Zhao, and Zhao just... brushes him off. "Spare me your empty threats." Then the firebenders next to Iroh sort of... glower at him menacingly, and Iroh looks worried.

Zhao offers Iroh a place at his side once he becomes Fire Lord, which, uh? Okay. Fine. I actually don't have a problem with Zhao wanting to be Fire Lord, that seems to be entirely on brand for him, but everything he does to get to that goal is just stupid.

Aang arrives, they talk, Aang says "I don't matter", and then Iroh, who has sidled past the Glowering Firebenders Who Do Nothing Else, shoots the fish out of Zhao's hands. And then, as Zhao is on the ground, reaching for the fish with his special stabbing implement, Iroh forgets that he can shoot fire out of his hands, and lets Zhao stab the fish.

AND THEN Iroh, who literally stood by two different times and let Zhao kill the fish, decides to kick everyone's ass. And the Glowering Firebenders do nothing. One of them just stands in the background. Iroh doesn't even attack that guy.

In the original, Iroh immediately leaps into action after Zhao kills the spirit by means of surprise attack, takes out Zhao's guards in about a second, and Zhao escapes.

Here, he doesn't do anything at first except help Zhao find the spirit he doesn't want to see killed, then back down, then do something, then back down again, then do something again, then forget that he can do anything, and then he does something again.

It's just... so dumb. (So dumb it's brilliant!) No! It's just dumb!

And then, fifteen minutes later, after Zuko has dueled Zhao, Iroh kills him. Iroh just barbecues him by striking him from behind. Gee, Iroh, if you were willing to do that, why not just do it when Zhao was holding the fish?

Dishonorable mentions:

The fact that all of the actors fit their characters so well and have some great moments, but the show just doesn't support their performances at all. I feel so bad for all of them, being robbed of a chance to shine by some truly awful writing, editing and direction

The Ocean Spirit making Godzilla noises

June flirting with Iroh (didn't they say that they wanted to remove iffy stuff from the original? Well, that whole thing was iffy in the original. Why didn't you cut it entirely?)

Zuko doing the jazz hands to charge an attack

All the clunky and unnecessary exposition (for example: after Aang turns into the Ocean Spirit, Yue immediately turns to Sokka and narrates that Aang has turned into the Ocean Spirit, for almost 30 seconds)

The fact that Aang can only communicate with each Avatar at their shrines

The Ice Moon

The Cabbage Man literally turning to shout his line to the heavens while fire rages around him

The Secret Tunnel song being shoehorned in for no reason

Iroh's entire backstory being shoehorned in for no reason

Ozai being a caring dad actually

Zuko being shocked that Ozai prefers Azula

Gran Gran's speech

The fact that they showed Gyatso being killed by Sozin (literally nobody needed a big action scene, because that's what it was, predicated entirely on the genocide of the Air Nomads)

And finally, the fact that Sokka and Yue's reason for going to the Spirit Oasis is that Momo was fatally injured.

#avatar the last airbender #atla netflix #netflix atla #netflix avatar #aang #zuko #iroh #katara #jet #sokka #atla spoilers #atla zhao #fire lord ozai

[marksmelodies]

I need like need a fic for your last jisung post when the members still think he's a virgin and he brings his gf over and the members are playing games and suddenly hearing moaning from Jisung room thinking it's just him and they open the door (to tell him to quite down but also to embarrass) seeing his gf on top of him

yess omg i love this idea!! i hope you enjoy

warnings: mentions of sex, sexual intercourse, cussing

minors dni

“hey baby” jisung says opening the door to his dorm as you take your shoes off and shed a layer of clothes due to the cold winter weather outside the walls of the heated dorm, you follow jisung into his room, as you pass the living room the boys are too focused on the game they’re playing to notice your presence, once you get to jisungs room you close the door behind you before engulfing your boyfriend into a big hug “i missed you” your voice is muffled as you hug him “i missed you more babe” he says lifting your chin to look up to him as he places a kiss on your lips before dragging you to the bed

the night before

“idk man i just feel like i can’t have sex unless i’m in love with the person, i can’t do hook ups” mark says drunkenly as the rest of the guys share their opinions “im in a dry spell right now, i feel like im going crazy, i haven’t had pussy in over a year” haechan groans. the boys had just come back from tour the night before, with jet lag still in their system none of them could go to sleep, the members decided to drink together. that’s how they got on the topic of their sex lives

“jisung you’re so lucky you’re still a virgin, once you know how it feels to have sex you’re done for, it’s addictive” jaemin states as the rest of them drunkenly agree

jisung didn’t say anything, he wasn’t drunk, he was a little tipsy but not enough to lose control of himself, he sat there repeating what jaemin had said “do they really think i’m still a virgin?” he asked himself trying to wrap his brain around it

jisung has been in a pretty long term relationship for the past three years, and although he never told his members about his sex life he thought it was safe to assume that at this point in his relationship with you it was obvious that he was no longer a virgin

“ji” you wave your hand across his face to gain back his attention “yeah” he sits up looking at you “you were staring into space” you giggle scooting closer to him as the movie you had chose plays on the screen, the two of you cuddling together in bed made jisung slightly turned on especially after not seeing you for a while since he was on tour but when your place your hand on his lower abdomen is when jisung loses all control of himself, he turns his head looking at you as you watch the television, jisung begins to kiss your neck and trace shapes into your inner thigh “god you’re so pretty baby” he whispers against your neck sending shivers down your spine, jisung pulls your jeans and your panties off leaving you completely bare from the waist down he then inserts his middle finger into your pussy causing you to gasp at the sudden action, jisung locks eyes with you before adding another finger as you try to hold back your moan “i gotta prep you baby, i haven’t seen you in so long, i have to make sure you can still take me” he kisses you again, you take his shirt off along with yours leaving you now completely naked “im ready ji, i need you” you whisper kissing his lips as you straddle his waist grinding your hips down onto his hard cock “fuck baby i’ll cum in my pants if you keep this up” he chuckles moving you aside quickly to pull his pants and boxers down causing his dick to spring up hitting his stomach “i always forget how big you are” you smerk at him before lining your hole to his member as you slowly sink down into him causing jisung to softly moan, you stay still for a moment getting used to his size before moving your body up and down his shaft “fuck oh my god” jisung moans as you bounce on his dick, he takes one of your boobs into his mouth sucking and biting on it, the bed slightly squeaks at your actions

on the other side of the wall the boys sit on the couch hearing jisungs whimpers “no way he’s jerking off in there” chenle laughs as the rest of the boys have a shit eating grin on their faces “ let’s go infiltrate and tell him to keep his volume down” haechan says laughing, the six of them come up with a plan to walk in on jisung “let’s embarrass the fuck out of him” chenle laughs as they all silently pile around jisungs door. chenle quickly swings the door open as they all shove into the room

to their surprise you are completely naked on top of your boyfriend who’s dick is inside of you, jisung quickly rolls over covering you both with the blanket “ what the fuck guys, are you fucking stupid or something” jisung says “holy shit” “oh my god” “we are so sorry” the members say scurrying out of the room closing the door behind them “ jisung has sex?” jaemin questions as they stand in the hallway trying to wrap their heads around what they just witnessed, jisung opens up the door in nothing but his boxers “seriously what’s your issue” he whisper yells to them as they stand outside his door “you’re not a virgin?” renjun blurts out, jisung furrows his eyebrows looking back at you who is still laying on the bed and then looking back to the members “no obviously not, i haven’t been a virgin since i started dating y/n three years ago” he says annoyed, the members stand there shocked “you’ve been sexually active for three years why didn’t you tell us?” mark asks “unlike you guys i like to keep my sex life private” jisung sighs “could you please just let me continue having sex with my girlfriend” he begs the members “yeah dude of course” they all say before jisung shuts the door. “i’m sorry babe, this is why i don’t like fucking in the dorms” jisung walks back over to you “ it’s okay ji, i just can’t believe they thought you were still a virgin” you laugh “yeah they’re idiots, could we maybe continue what we were doing?” he asks as you nod, smashing your lips onto his

#nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct dream #nct scenarios #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct #jisung fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream fake texts #nct dream reactions #nct dream jisung #nct reactions #nct fake texts #nct texts #jisung nct #jisung x reader #jisung smut #nct smut #nct dream drabbles #nct drabbles

[tothosewhoyearnforit]

stress relief - itzy yeji

-word count: 3245 words (longest to date :D)

-the yeji fic from many weeks ago. i finally finished it. i have something special that's nearly done. (i promise this time. it was a collection of spare time over a few months)

-dom!yeji, aggresive blowjob, riding, doggystyle, sweaty sweaty sweaty, facial

The stale stench of the air conditioned office clung onto you as you entered the bar.

Being in the bar was the last place you’re supposed to be this month. After just receiving a promotion at your workplace, the workload placed on you gradually kept snowballing to a point of no return. But you couldn’t just give up. Well, first of all, you really needed this job. It paid well, now that you had the promotion. Furthermore, times are changing, there really isn’t very good job stability now and getting fired and being “free” was not to be an option. 

You should’ve been at home, working and completing the reports due next Monday and getting ready for the presentation on Wednesday. Then taking note of all the shipments and settling the deal with the customer from Italy. But eh, it was a Friday, one night wouldn’t hurt right ? 

Or so you thought.

Three quarters through your drink, at around what was probably 11pm, a show begins.

The lights were cut for a brief moment, before spotlights focused onto the pole in the middle of the room. And out comes 5 gorgeous vixen clad in jet black costumes. Then, the music cues. 

Guess who loves you, naya na.

It’s a really, really catchy song and it made the atmosphere super stiff, as if all five of the women were demanding attention and silence as they performed. 

Do I show you? Noya-no.

Okay, this is actually really good music. And good lord those women are gorgeous. 

Ajik time-i anya nan

Jom deo gakkai jom deo gakkai geureoda gapjagi ssak

The choreography too, jesus christ.

But in particular, one of the women is catching your eye. The way her luscious firey orange hair, jewelry embedded within, moves in perfect tandem with her body, which by the way, is absolutely killing it. Every single dance move, to the smallest body pop, is quite literally perfect. Flawless. She’s wearing a sleeveless top and it’s really turning you on. Her arms are so gracious, and you’d love to feel them all over your body. Her collarbones and neck, they’d look so much better with your lovemarks on them. And the little bit of breast peeking out from the top. It’s more than enough to get your heart racing, and you take another sip of your icy cold drink to properly brace yourself for whatever they have left in store.

Imma steal it mameul humcheo

You are gonna love me.

That’s absolutely incorrect. You’re more than loving them, you’re fucking captivated by them.

Gyeoljeongjeogil ttae ippareul deureonaeneun type 

And suddenly, the orangehead takes the stage. 

The lyrics become an absolute blur to your ears as all your mind is fixated on is the absolutely stunning woman. God, she fucking looks like a cat too. Those damn fucking eyes are so… succubus like. And after twirling her fingers in your direction, she suddenly does a slut drop, squatting while spreading her legs apart. Now your eyes are staring at her milky thighs that are on full display under the spotlight. A million things are running through your mind right now, and none of them was related to your work life in any sort of way.

You’ll never know.

Her left thigh moves,snapping you out of your momentary hypnosis and your eyes quickly dart back up and you see her staring at you, a smirk dashed across her face. 

The rest of the song plays on but your mind is now playing that same slut drop moment over and over again. Eventually, the song ends and all 5 of the women are panting, sweat starting to collect at their foreheads. They retreat behind the stage quickly and the rest of the club goes on like the performance of their lives didn’t just happen. 

.

.

Give or take 10 minutes, you are on the way back from a toilet trip. At your table, you are greeted with a very much welcome surprise. The same fiery haired girl is sitting in the seat opposite of yours, watching you make your way back to your seat. 

“Hey there oppa.” Her voice is a knife full of confidence, laced with venom. 

“H-hey. Nice performance out there.” You grab your drink again, needing a punch of ice to hide your nervousness. But it’s so hard to maintain composure, especially when your eyes are looking at everything but her own cat eyes. 

“I know. You clearly enjoyed it. Or rather, you enjoyed me.”

“Was I really that obvious?” That was definitely the alcohol talking. You would have said something like “Sorry” or “I didn’t mean to.”, but no, you were playing the fool, like an absolutely rizzless bastard.

“My group has 5 members, yet every time I moved position, your gaze was glued onto me.”

“Well, you are really, really hot.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Bring the glass to your mouth again, shit. It’s fucking empty.

“So, what’s a young office worker doing in our bar?” She asks, elbows on the table, her head supported by her cupped hands as she leans in. 

“Well, to be fair, I walked in thinking it was a regular bar. I just needed a drink to take my mind off of work.”

“Are we not a regular bar? Anything special about this bar?” She asks, clearly trying to poke at you, like a cat playing with a ball of yarn.

You take another awkward sip of your drink, which was just melting ice at this point.

The conversation continues hazily and you guys chat for what must be hours until the distance between both your faces was probably the size of your drink.

“Can't imagine how stressed you must be.” Her right hand falls into your left, fingers tracing your forearm as she whispers. “Want to get out of here? I’ll get rid of all your stress for you…”

Ah, an offer you couldn't refuse. Now that’s some business I don't mind getting done right now.

“Say less… Um, I didn't catch your name?”

“Name’s Yeji. Don't worry oppa, you're gonna be moaning my name all night.”

And in a flash, you're both out of the club and in your car. You don't waste a single second. Foot on the pedal and you're on the streets of Seoul, zipping past the buildings of the city. 

Yeji, in the meantime, has other plans.

She takes your hand, and places it on her thigh. You can feel her gaze, waiting to see what your next move is. Were you gonna retract your hand and focus on getting home quick and safely? Or were you gonna start the study of Yeji’s body right then and there?

Obviously the latter.

Your hand roams around the silky smooth skin of hers. Pinky occasionally dipping into the gaps in her pants and rubbing against her inner thigh. You hear Yeji suck in a deep breath, the horniness evidently getting to her.

Fuck, fucking red light!

You seize the opportunity to look at Yeji, she’s now grinding against your exploring hand and you can't help but sneak a finger into her pussy. 

Green light. And your foot is back on the pedal. Finally, you reach the last turn into your apartment.

As soon as you get out of the car and into the elevator, Yeji pounces on you. Your hands catch onto her thighs for stability. Your lips crash against one another, her teeth biting your lower lips. 

Ding. Elevator door opens.

Door. Open. Bedroom. Bed.

No time to even register a logical sequence of actions. You toss her against your bed. Yeji is now a panting sweaty mess, but it doesn't matter. She looks even more gorgeous with the thin layer of sweat across her skin. Collarbones, arms and armpits glistening with sweat. You pin her hands above her head and nibble on her neck. Then, tongue out, you start collecting the sweat, from her armpit, across her chest and then from the middle of her neck to behind her ear, where you whisper, “You taste fucking amazing.”

“I know.”

You reach behind and pull down the zipper leading right to her tailbone, then help the foxy girl out of the one piece top. You pause for a moment to take in the sight before you. A smoking hot dancer is lying on your bed in nothing but a strapless bra and a thin black thong and some knee high boots. Yeji’s body is fucking picture perfect. Tight midriff, perky breasts, juicy thighs, not to mention her pretty face.

“Let me put on a show oppa. Just for you.”

She gets off the bed and you take her spot on the edge of the bed. Yeji turns around and takes off the bra, placing it on the ground next to her. Then, she bends over, putting her perky ass on display for you as she pulls off the lacy thong from her slender toned legs.

“You know, I should charge extra for this performance.”

You wouldn’t mind paying any amount to see this performance if you were being honest. 

“Boots on or off oppa ?”

“On.”

Yeji then smiles, tosses her thong onto your face, allowing you to grab a deep whiff of her sex. In front of you, Yeji is back in her slut drop position, but this time it’s even more erotic because she’s wearing nothing but the boots. Her pussy is on full display as she spreads her legs open, with just a little bit of hair going down the middle.

“Fuck, Yeji…” Your cock was throbbing within the confines of your pants with her tiny little strip show.

“Told you you’d be moaning my name.”

Yeji then straddles your lap, looks into your eyes while unbuttoning your shirt. 

“Let’s get all that stress out of your body, oppa. Think about nothing but me, okay?”

“You don’t even need to ask Yeji-ah.”

You pepper her neck with kisses as she peels your shirt off. She then lowers herself, hands grazing across your body, down to your pants which she pulls down. Finally free, Yeji purrs when she sees your length. 

“Wow, it's huge, oppa. Can’t wait for it to be deep inside my pussy.”

She gathers some spit on her hand and uses that same hand to stroke your cock, taking a cold fingertip across your sensitive tip each time she reaches your head. Each swipe across sent you nine realms ahead. It wasn’t clear if it was the alcohol or Yeji’s pure skill at this, but all you could hear was the loud hammering of your heartbeat. Or maybe that was the lewd sound of her saliva being spread over your length. Then, after spontaneously deciding that your cock was ready for the onslaught that was to come, Yeji pushes both your legs off the ground and onto her shoulders and lets the front portion of your cock rest in her mouth. Your balance is shifted. You’re now staring at the ceiling, stimulation after stimulation speeding down your nerves from your cock to your brain. You feel her mouth bobbing up and down on your length, her skillful tongue working its way across its veiny landscape. You try to will yourself to get up to watch the spectacle happening before your eyes but the pleasure drags you the fuck back down and all you can do in response is let out weary breaths and sinful moans while your toes curl and leg muscles spasm. 

And your cock isn’t even all the way through.

Yeji plunges her head down like a vulture diving into the carcass of a dead buffalo, and you feel that sharp nose of hers bump into your pelvis. The sudden action takes you by surprise and, from god knows where this submissiveness came from, you arch your back and let out a sound that you swear to never to make again. You feel saliva coating your nutsack now but when Yeji slowly removes her mouth from your cock, letting the cool wind graze your cock, all you want to do is beg Yeji to put your cock back inside her mouth. But that need not be done, because as you have a brief moment to register the influx of sensations, she hungrily goes back down onto you. Her prey. You would kill to see her eyes right now, staring straight into your own as she watches you submit to her. But then again, from the amount of noise you were making, it was pretty evident that she had you in the palm of her hand. It was just twice. Just twice that the whole length of your cock was engulfed by her mouth, but it drived you to the absolute edge and you felt like your first load was about to come.

“Fuck, Yeji. I- I- I’m gonna fucking…”

Maybe you shouldn’t have given her the verbal cue. Because just as you feel the gates of heaven about to open, she quickly withdraws. The feeling of the climax fading away throughout your crotch. You look at her with a face of discontent, displeasure and anger.

“Can’t have you busting so soon,” she says, chuckling to herself as she climbs over your vulnerable naked body after kicking off her boots, rubbing circles on her slickening pussy. “I'll let you cum deep down my throat some other time.” 

She climbs over you and hovers above your crotch. Grabbing your stimulated, twitching cock in one hand, she lines it up with the folds of her pussy and in one fell swoop, with no prior warning that she was going to go all the way down in one shot, she sits on your pelvis, practically impaling her pussy with your cock. 

“Anggh! Fuck!” A sharp, shrill moan of pleasure erupts from her mouth as her ass rests on your pelvis. Your hands wondrously find their way to her toned sweaty thighs, grazing the muscle on it in pure wonder and amazement. 

“You’re so fucking hot Yeji ah, and so freaking tight!” The fiery redhead doesn’t say a word, but she continues the ride. Hands on your pectoral muscles, Yeji displays her body isolation skills learned from dance. Her gaze fixes onto yours once again as she moves her hips up and down and you can only imagine what her ass looks like as it does this motion. But imagination always becomes reality when Yeji is around. The sexual chemistry between the two of you is just perfect, or maybe Yeji just knows what you so desperately want but is too shy to voice out. She turns around, her hands resting on your legs this time as she does the same vertical wave motion with her hips once again. Her beautiful butt is like a hypnotic pendulum, your eyes fixed on the gorgeous peach in front of you, it’s just irresistible to slap. And so you do. 

Slap! 

“Angh!” Crimson locks of hair get flung up into the air as Yeji throws her head back in response.

You bring a palm down on the flesh and watch how it ripples in response, a red handprint faintly appearing at the spot that was struck. Such a goddamn vixen. Is the only thought that runs through your mind, perhaps the only thought that has been running through your mind the entire night as soon as you laid your eyes on the foxy woman. Her pulsing butthole intrigues you as her hips work their magic, and you can’t help but take your index finger, and slowly slide it into her puckered hole. As your finger snakes its way in, her anal walls clamp down on it until your whole finger up till your knuckle has been engulfed. 

“Holy shit! Just like that oppa! Stuff both my holes up!” 

You withdraw your finger and this time, using both your index and middle finger, you embark on yet another tight fit into her anal cavity. Yeji’s hips start to slow down as she reaches the pinnacle of her stimulation. 

“Fuck-ah! Cumming!”

Her body convulses violently and you feel her muscles contract around your submerged fingers and your cock. You give her alluring buttcheeks another firm slap that echoes throughout the darkness of the night and watch as she slowly climbs off of you.

“You haven’t cum yet oppa…”, she whines, still in her lustful trance. “And my pussy is still yearning for a good pounding.” She wiggles her hindparts in front of you in a doggy position, spreading her pussy lips for you to see. You line yourself up behind her, give that gorgeous ass of hers another firm slap before sending your cock back into its rightful embrace. 

“Oh fuck…” Your cock’s reentering of Yeji’s tight pussy is like getting back into the swimming pool after being exposed to the cool air for too long. Warm. Wet. Refreshing. Her vaginal muscles are still so full of vigor despite having just came, almost as if they were desperately trying to wring you dry. Her scarlet nails dug into the bedsheets as you picked up a steady pace of thrusting your hips. From the back, you bunched up her fiery hair into a makeshift ponytail while your other hand rested nicely on her hip.

“That’s it! Fuck me harder! Use me as your fucking stress relief toy oppa!” That entire dialogue was more than a green light to you. Tightening your core to its limits, you picked up the pace, slamming your hips ever so desperately, with Yeji letting out a raspy moan with every smack that reverberated throughout the night. 

“Holy- Angh! FUCK! I’m gonna cum oppa! I’m gonna fucking cum!” Yeji cries out. Her pussy constricts around your cock for the second time of the night, this time an erotic geyser of squirt ensues, covering your thighs in her slick. Your own orgasm starts to surface. Pulling out of her pussy, you flip Yeji onto her back and climb over her. You point your cock at her and aggressively jerk yourself off to the finish line. 

“That's it. Cum for me. Cover me in your cum oppa. Paint your slut in-”

Yeji is interrupted by streaks and streaks of cum erupting from your cock in what must be your biggest orgasm to date, painting her sharp features, her chin, nose and eyes. The sweaty, panting mess sticks out her sharp tongue in an attempt to collect some food samples. 

“Oh, fuck… Yeji ah.” is all you manage to squeeze out as the last drops of your semen land on her face. 

“Gosh, you sure came a lot.” 

You collapse beside her, both of you sweaty messes. “What can I say? I had a lot of stress pent up inside me.”

Yeji gets up, and walks away from the bed. You still lay there, utterly spent, watching her hypnotizing body sway from left to right.

“Where are you going?”

“To the shower you dummy.”

A brief moment of silence follows as you are unsure of how to reply. Do you join her? Maybe she’s tired and doesn’t want round two.

But your thoughts get interrupted as she makes the choice for you.

“Oppa, are you not joining me?”

Suddenly, your body is full of vigor once more as you imagine the two of you soaped up together in the shower, feeling each other and exploring more of each other’s body. You excitedly hop off the bed and scurry to the shower. It was going to be a long, long night.

#smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader #itzy smut #yeji smut

[confused-pyramid]

Tell Me Some Things Last | s3

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 23.1k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 3x01, 3x02, 3x03, 3x06, 3x08, 3x09, 3x14, 3x16, 3x17, 3x19, and 3x20

a/n: season 3! The slow burn continues:) This was really fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it! (and I promise the chapters won't keep getting longer, this one just got out of hand LMAO) Title is from Heal by Tom Odell

series masterlist

"Excuse me?"

Section Chief Strauss doesn't falter. "You can't expect me to believe you think Agent Hotchner has done an effective job leading this unit."

"You can't expect me to believe that you think I'd willing spy on my unit chief for you."

She sighs and you want to throttle her. "Agent L/N, I know you two share a history, but this is bigger than that. People have died on his watch."

You have been trying to remain neutral since you were called into her office, but every word that comes out of her mouth makes you see red. Yes, this past year has been tough, but none of it was in his control.

"I think you know my answer," you say coldly, straightening your back in her chair. "I have to go, we have a case in Arizona."

She holds your gaze for a second, before nodding and turning back to her computer. You stand up and leave her office without another word, hastening your pace to a light jog the moment you're out of her line of sight.

You want to talk to Hotch as soon as possible, but by the time you get back to the bullpen, the whole team and their go-bags are gone. Grabbing your own bag, you rush over to the airstrip where everyone is settled inside the jet.

He glances up with a thin smile when you take a seat across from him, and you return it, not wanting to raise his concern when everyone is around.

The Flagstaff police meet you at the airport when you land, and everyone jumps into the awaiting SUVs to get to the crime scene as soon as possible.

The victim is another brunette woman on the college campus, but luckily her body was found after curfew, so students aren't milling around.

You step closer to examine the woman's body as JJ glances down at her hand. "She had her Mace out, but she didn't use it?"

Morgan nods, looking around. "And it's well-lit. He's not afraid of being seen."

A bus stop sign catches your attention and you turn to Detective Griffith. "How often do the shuttles run?"

He answers immediately. "Every 10 minutes."

"Were all the other victims posed like this?" Reid asks, bending over to get a better look. "With their arms crossed."

Griffith frowns. "Yeah. Why?"

"It's a classic sign of remorse," Morgan responds, stepping in to take over the explanation. "The unsub kills the victim then immediately feels bad about it, so he poses them like this, so they'll rest in peace."

"You can tell that just by the arms?"

"It's why you called us here. To build a psychological profile of your killer."

After inspecting the crime scene, Gideon and Morgan leave to talk to the dean of the school, and JJ and Reid go to meet with the students living in the victim's dorm. Hotch is still back at the station, and you haven't gotten a chance to talk to him since meeting with Strauss, but you push it out of your mind as you accompany Emily to the coroner's office.

You're so lost in thought that the drive over is entirely silent, and it's not until you've parked that you realize she didn't say a word either.

When the coroner leads you to the victim's body, you notice how much clearer each of the markings and cuts are. Hotch doesn't assign you to speak with the coroners very often, usually sending Prentiss, because of her incredible attention to detail, but not that you're here, you appreciate the second chance to examine the victim.

"Did the other victims have this much overkill?" she asks, pulling out her camera as you flip open your notebook.

"Death was caused by a single, very forceful stab wound to the heart," the coroner confirms.

You lean in closer to see the insertion point and notice the lumpy discoloring on the victim's chest. "Yeah, it looks like he broke through the breastbone."

"And after that he just lashed out at random," he adds.

Emily hums in agreement before snapping a couple of photos. "Well, no defensive wounds. She didn't even hold her hands up to fight him off."

"The first two victims were the same."

A shudder runs through you as the two of you leave the cold room and emerge into the warm sunlight. "Why is it almost harder to look at the victims when they're cleaned up and no longer covered in blood?"

Emily considers your question for a moment. "Maybe it's because they look less human that way."

You remember Jeff's funeral, how lifeless he seemed in his casket, and how you could barely look at him during the proceedings. It was somehow worse than seeing him at the crime scene, blood everywhere. At least then, you could still see the warmth in his skin. Later, he just looked cold.

"I think you're right," you tell her just as her phone chirps with a call.

She stiffens imperceptibly when she sees the number, but you only notice because of how hyper-vigilant you have been about your own tells since speaking with Strauss. "I need to take this. Give me a second."

She walks away from you and answers the call, her tone hushed so that you can't hear her. You know it could easily just be a personal call about something private in her life, but there's something almost familiar about the look in her eyes when she saw the number.

"Everything okay?" you ask her when she returns, but she just sighs and starts walking to the SUV. "It's nothing."

You haven't known her for as long as the other members of the team, but it's not hard to tell that she's hiding something. She looks distracted as she avoids making eye contact, and when you remember how you did the same with Hotch on the plane, the pieces fall into place.

If Strauss gave her the same assignment she tried to give you, then you need to keep an eye on her. You don't believe that she would sell out the team, but you also know how terrifying you thought Strauss was when you first joined the bureau.

***

The profile leads you to take Nathan Tubbs, one of the campus security guards, into custody, and while Gideon interrogates him, you walk with Reid, JJ, and Emily through the quad to get back to the station.

"Everyone is so much younger than I remember being," JJ says, as you all pass through a crowded part of campus. Word must have spread that the team arrested someone, because you can't imagine why else there would be so many students hanging outside after dark.

"Yeah, it's a weird age," Emily chuckles. "You want to be treated like an adult, but you're still used to someone else solving your problems for you."

"All I remember is trying to figure out who I was."

That makes you laugh. "I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was in college."

"Didn't you go to college with Hotch?" JJ asks, her eyes twinkling. You expect she's hoping for an embarrassing, or at least interesting, story from those years, but your past with him feels almost like sacred territory: something you can't breach when he's not around.

"Not college," you correct, "just everything else before and after."

"What was he like then?" Emily asks, genuine curiosity in her tone. You still can't believe that she would spy for Strauss, but you also can't help your suspicions.

"He was completely different, but also the same." You smile as you think back to the early years of your friendship. "He was kind of a cool kid in high school, but he was just as focused and determined as he is now."

"Hotch was popular?" Reid asks in disbelief.

JJ snorts. "Why can't I imagine that at all."

"He was trustworthy," you shrug, "and kind. Even when people weren't kind to him."

The three of them go silent, and you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious, but you're saved when your phone rings with a call from Derek. "Hey."

"There's been another murder."

***

The case ends in a murder-suicide that a part of you believes Gideon should've seen coming. JJ calls the jet to take off at first light, and everyone looks exhausted when you arrive at the airport. You sleep most of the flight back, but when you step into the field office again, you know you can't ignore the talk you've been avoiding all day.

You go to his office in the hopes of having this conversation privately, but he isn't inside when you look through the open door. You turn back with a frown and are about to head down the stairs again when you see him leaving Strauss's office across the hall.

He spots you immediately, and before you can say anything, he says, "I just got suspended."

Your mouth falls open. "What?"

"Two weeks."

You blanche as you follow him into his office, where he immediately starts packing up his essentials into his briefcase. "Hotch...I have to tell you something. Something I should have mentioned yesterday."

"What is it?" he asks, his voice slightly distracted.

"StraussaskedmetospyonyouandIthinkshealsoaskedEmily!"

He blinks. "Can you say that again?"

You press your lips together, before trying again, slower this time. "Strauss asked me to spy on you, and I think she also asked Emily."

He closes his eyes for a beat, but it feels like years. You can feel the disappointment wafting off of him, but he doesn't say anything, giving you the time to explain in more detail.

"She asked me right before we flew to Arizona," you tell him, your chest aching at the defeated look on his face. "I told her I wouldn't do it, of course, and that you are the perfect leader for this team. But I was watching Emily the whole time we were there, and I think Strauss might have threatened her or made her some kind of offer."

His hands pause their packing and for a moment, you're worried that he's going to be angry you didn't come to him sooner, but then he just sighs, a deeply dejected sound. "I figured she would. It's basically in the FBI playbook."

"You knew?" you say, your voice almost like a gasp.

"I didn't know for sure," he amends, "but I believed so. And I'm usually right about these kinds of things. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. You guys will be fine without me."

You want to shake him; to reach forward and rattle his shoulders until he realizes that this is it. This is exactly why he makes such a great unit chief.

He doesn't get angry, even when he may have cause to be. He trusts his team so wholeheartedly that even under the suspicion of spying to the higher-ups, he still treats everyone the same. He puts the team above himself in almost every aspect, and the intermittent calls you get from Haley when you're in the middle of a long case prove that it may be to his own detriment, but he still does it. Because he cares so deeply, about each of you, and about each victim, and about catching each killer.

"We need you," you say, emphasizing your words as though that will make him understand you better.

"Morgan and Prentiss will be fine," he says pointedly, as though trying to prove a point. "I'm sure they'll even be better off. And Reid and JJ can look to you for guidance. It's practically what they do already."

"Fine," you sigh, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "They'll be okay. But what if I need you?"

He looks at you then, and there's a sadness behind the stern set of his eyes. "You'll be okay."

***

You have to drag yourself out of the house the next morning. The knowledge that Hotch (and most likely Gideon) won't be at the office sucks the motivation out of you, especially because you have no idea what will happen once the team is given another case. Will they assign you a new unit chief? Will they temporarily promote someone on the team?

You push your questions out of your mind as you mindlessly get through security and flop down at your desk. There's a palpable difference with half the team gone, especially since Emily doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight either, and the emptiness of the office somehow feels more claustrophobic.

You finished all of your paperwork the night before, because you couldn't sleep after hearing of Hotch's suspension, so sitting at your desk now, you have nothing to do until a new case arrives.

Reid and Morgan dive into their own paperwork the minute they sit down, and they don't look up except to grab a new pen or refill their mugs.

You can see the tension lining everyone's shoulders, the stress about the future of this team, with its two senior-most members gone.

When you can't take the lack of work anymore, you head over to JJ's office, where she is poring over a stack of case files so tall that you can't see her face until you step in front of her desk. "Hey, JJ."

"Oh, hey," she says, looking up at you. "It's been really quiet out there."

You nod, dropping onto the sofa across from her. "Half the team's gone. It doesn't feel the same."

"I wish I could come out there and sit with you guys, but I have so many new case files to look over."

"Need any help?"

She looks up in surprise. "Actually, that would be great. Can I leave you with a few of them? There's a checklist for what I need you to note down at the top of that stack."

"Of course," you say before she hands you a thick stack of files. "I'll get them back to you soon."

"Take your time," she says, waving you away. "I have like a billion more to go through anyway."

When you're back at your desk, you set down the stack with a small thud and open the first file. You're bombarded with gory images of men who have been brutally stabbed to death, and you read over the case history quickly before opening the next one. This time, the images are of live women, all of whom share a skin tone and hair color, and have been kidnapped in the last week.

You slam the file shut and close your eyes in an effort to keep your head from spinning. You don't understand how anyone could classify these cases. How they could decide that one of these unsubs is worse than another. But there aren't enough teams like yours to cover every case that comes through the door, so someone has to.

You glance up at Hotch's office again, a force of habit, and the darkness in his doorway reminds you of the emptiness in the office. It's the same with Gideon's office, and Emily's desk.

You miss them all.

***

The first week of Hotch's suspension is hell. Gideon still hasn't turned up, and you can see his absence clawing at Spencer, who hasn't gone more than an hour without glancing at his office since he left. Derek doesn't admit it, but you can tell he misses Hotch's leadership over the team.

Strauss has come by periodically to "check in" on your team's work, but with the other units available to take on any new cases, she hasn't assigned you anything. You know she doesn't trust your team, but you're surprised that even with Hotch gone, she's still treating all of you like extensions of him. Not that she's wrong about that.

Without getting called in, you stay at home for the first few days, and even get some use out of your Peloton for once. You've been missing him all week, but it's not until the following Monday that you decide to actually do something about it.

Grabbing the files JJ gave you to look over, you stuff them in your bag and drive up to his house. Both cars are in the driveway when you arrive, and you belatedly realize that you should have called first.

You knock on the door hesitantly, and are surprised to see Jack in Haley's arms when she opens the door. She looks excited to see you, but you still feel bad about just showing up. "I'm sorry, I should have called."

"Not at all," she says, opening the door wider for you to enter. "You know I love seeing you."

"Y/N's here," Haley announces as she leads you into the kitchen and sets Jack back into his high chair. She shoots you a pointed look. "And she's not here to talk about work."

"Of course not," you say with a laugh. "I just wanted to see how the suspension was going. The team really misses you."

He acknowledges you with a small nod, and you take a seat opposite him at the table, where he is feeding Jack his cereal.

"I miss everyone, too," he says, "but it's also been nice to have some extra time at home."

"This suspension has been a blessing in disguise," Haley jumps in, ruffling Jack's hair. You don't miss the way Hotch's jaw twitches.

You aren't sure what to say to that, but Haley just pulls Jack out of his chair and turns to the doorway. "I'm gonna put him down for his nap. It was nice seeing you, Y/N."

"You too, Hales," you say earnestly, before smiling at Jack. "Bye, buddy."

When she's out of the room, you shoot Hotch a look that makes him lean back with a frown. "What?"

"You miss work, don't you."

He huffs, and you take that as an admission. "I've loved being home," he says, his words slightly more emphasized than necessary.

You can hear the candor in his voice. You don't doubt that he loves spending time with his family, you just also know the pull of the job. The fulfillment of saving people from unimaginable horrors, and the desolate ache that comes when you know you aren't doing everything you can.

"You can feel both things," you whisper as he exasperatedly runs his hand through his hair. He got a haircut.

The thought pops into your head against your will, and you glance up at his hair as you realize this is the shortest it's been in a long time. It suits him, but it also emphasizes the hard furrow of his brow.

"Haley doesn't understand that," he says simply, no ill intention in his tone, "but I can't expect her to. I barely understand it, and it's what I'm feeling."

To the outside listener, his words could be construed as complaints, but there's nothing but deep empathy in his voice. He loves her so much, and even though they're having differences about his work life, she loves him too.

You spend the next half hour talking him through each of the cases that JJ left you with, and when Haley returns to the kitchen after putting Jack down for his nap, you pull out a chair for her and tuck the files away.

"We need to have you over for dinner sometime soon," she says as soon as she takes a seat. "I can't believe we haven't done it yet." She looks to Hotch with an earnest sigh. "I guess Jack has been kind of a handful, but I can't believe this is your first time coming to the house since he was born."

"It's been too long," he agrees, draping an arm over the back of her chair. The sight of their casual intimacy is a reminder of what you once had, but the usual mistiness doesn't come when you think about Jeff. Your chest just fills with a liquid-y warmth that feels like melted chocolate and syrup.

"Likewise," you smile, patting Haley's hand. "I don't know if I can handle another night out, even with the mid-evening interruption."

She laughs heartily, and you see Hotch's lips curve up involuntarily. "I think I'm partied out for the year."

His arm slips down to rest against her waist, but she doesn't lean into him like she usually does. You avert your eyes, glancing up at their kitchen wall clock and faking a gasp. "I've taken up too much of your family time. I should go."

"It's okay," Hotch assuages at the same time that Haley says, "I'll walk you out."

They share a small glance, and you suddenly feel intrusive in their home. "I'll see you in a week."

He nods and you follow Haley to the door, where she gives you a quick squeeze and another promise to have you over for dinner soon. The sun starts to set as you drive home, and before you can second guess yourself, you're turning into a local farmer's market that is about to shut down for the night.

You rush through the stalls and stop in front of the flower shop, where you buy a dozen pink carnations. The vendor ties the bouquet with a silky ribbon and you hold the flowers close to your heart as you walk back to your car and start driving.

This time, you're more aware of the direction you're headed. You don't stop your car until you're in the parking lot and you don't stop moving until you're past the front gates and up the grassy hill where Jeff's headstone sits stoically under the waning sunlight.

You take a deep breath as you sink down to your knees, blissfully unaware of the grass stains coloring your slacks. You set the flowers down in front of his headstone, which you haven't seen in months.

                                                 Jeff Adler

                               Beloved Son, Husband, Brother

                                        Until we meet again

The carnations look bright against the gray stone, and you arrange them neatly so that they don't get blown away.

He loved flowers. He knew they were impermanent and likely a waste of money, but he still loved all of the different emotions they symbolized, and how beautiful they could be for as long as they lasted.

He brought you a bouquet of heliotrope almost every week after you got married, and when you asked him what it meant, he insisted that it was something you had to find out in your own time. That time came a quick Google search later, and when the words 'eternal love' flashed on your screen, you knew you had picked the right man.

You brush your finger against the petals of the pink carnations you brought, remembering the rest of what the search yielded. Angelica for inspiration, calla lily for beauty, and pink carnation for gratitude.

You're so grateful you met him. So grateful he loved you as much as you loved him.

"I love you," you whisper, suddenly needing to say the words out loud. There's no one around, and the sun has set far enough that there's barely enough light to see, but your words feel strong as they come out of your mouth. "Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for giving me 10 beautiful years."

You wipe away the tear that falls from the corner of your eye. "Goodbye."

***

He takes his time as he walks through the halls of the Virginia field office on Monday morning. He hasn't been inside in two weeks, and after he and Haley agreed that he should request a transfer, he likely won't be back again for a very long time.

When he walks past the glass doors of the bullpen, he spots you at your desk, pointing out something to Morgan in a case file. He hastens his pace so you don't see him. He still doesn't know how to tell you that he isn't coming back.

"Good morning, ma'am," he says when Strauss beckons him into her office.

"I was hoping you'd do the right thing," she says, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Have you given any thought to what department you'll request?"

He shakes his head. "I was under the impression that if I left the BAU, I'd have my choice of posts."

"Well, I'll consider it after I fully complete my investigation."

She pauses before looking at him again. "You were a prosecutor. What about heading up a white-collar crime task force? That'll get you home at night at a reasonable hour."

That sounds like exactly what Haley wants for them. They spent hours over the last week discussing what the best path forward would be post-suspension, and after countless late-night arguments, they finally agreed on a transfer. It would be best for the team, and best for his family. So why does he feel so guilty?

"Sorry to interrupt."

Prentiss barges into the office, as though she had an appointment. She glances over at him, and he can't read her expression. "Sir, I've decided to resign from the FBI, effective immediately."

"I don't understand," he frowns, taking in her rigid posture. He remembers your suspicions, as well as his own, but this can't be where it ends.

"I'm taking the foreign service exam. With my connections, I'd stand a good chance of landing in the State Department."

"Prentiss," he urges, trying to convey his understanding in his tone. "I think that's a mistake."

She shakes her head with a sigh. "Well, don't try to talk me out of it. Garcia saw my name on the list, and she already tried."

That makes him pause. "If she can't talk someone out of doing something, no one can."

"Sorry for the interruption, but, sir, it's good to see you back." She turns her gaze to Strauss, even as she continues speaking to him. "The team needs you."

She stalks out of the room after a quick "Ma'am", leaving him alone with Strauss, who looks like she's up to her last nerve. "I'll be overseeing this next case until I can assign your replacement."

"You don't have any field experience, do you?" He doesn't mean for the words to come out so critically, but his emotions are a jumbled mess that he can't decipher well enough to fix his mood right now.

"My job is to protect the Bureau. If I have to hold the team's hand for one case, so be it."

Hold the team's hand. He can't imagine that Strauss will be of much help in the field, but he keeps his mouth shut. He's been around enough authority figures to know when to keep his criticisms to himself.

"Ma'am," he says gently, hoping he can turn his thoughts into useful advice. "In order to function effectively, this team needs stability."

She clasps her hands together on her desk, and he knows it's done. There's nothing he can do to fix this for the team, at least not on this case. "The BAU has some very talented people, and they're Bureau assets, and I believe it's time that they were out from underneath the leadership of you and Jason Gideon."

***

Hotch was supposed to come back today. It's not until you're on the plane that Derek informs the team that he's requesting a transfer.

"What?" you burst out, unable to keep your composure even with Strauss seated a few rows behind you.

"He didn't tell you?"

You shake your head with a forlorn frown, and Derek jumps back in quickly to remediate the situation. "I only found out because I ran into him on the way to the jet. He didn't seem like he was in the mood for talking."

But he tells you everything. At least you thought he did.

"It's okay," you say, forcing your face into a neutral expression. "This isn't about me. I just can't believe he's leaving."

"Yeah," JJ grimaces, "and I can't believe we're stuck with her now. You know, from this angle, she looks almost human."

You all glance behind you, but thankfully, her face is still buried in the case file.

"Emily didn't come in today, either," you point out, turning to the empty seat next to you. "We're down two agents, and Gideon's MIA."

Reid blinks, and you curse yourself for being so cavalier. You know how hard Gideon's absence has been on him.

He recovers quickly and leans in to the center console with a raised eyebrow. "Has Strauss ever even been out of the-"

A chorus of shushes come from Derek and JJ and he shuts up as Strauss walks down the aisle and sits across from you all. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it's protocol to brief everyone before we arrive at the crime scene?"

JJ turns red and she nods hastily, opening her file. "Yes, ma'am."

Strauss has only been here for ten minutes and you already want to strangle her. JJ explains the case details succinctly, and when the plane lands, you all head over to the crime scene to find Detective Wolynski, who called your team in when the murders got out of hand.

Within minutes of meeting them, Strauss manages to ruin your relationship with the local police by questioning their decision to wait so long to call in the BAU. JJ immediately takes matters into her own hands as she explains that we have to work with them if we want to be included in the investigation at all, but she doesn't seem to care.

You get a call from Penelope as you're heading back to the SUVs, and you step aside to get out of Strauss's earshot. "What's up, Pen?"

"I tried everything I could," she wails. You can hear the distinct clicking of her keyboard in the background. "I tried to convince him to stay, but he's so stubborn."

You sigh, glancing over at the scene, where Strauss looks positively nauseous. You can empathize with her emotions, because you know how hard it was for you to see your first crime scene in person, but this just further proves how unfit she is to understand what being on this team really means. "If he made up his mind, there's gonna be no changing it, unless he changes it himself."

She huffs, before audibly perking up. "I gave him the Milwaukee case file before he went home, and I also, uh, saw that his transfer hasn't passed through the system yet."

You're almost certain she had something to do with that, but your mind immediately starts going through the possibilities of what this could mean. If his transfer isn't in the system, then that means he technically still works on this team...which means him not being here is in dereliction of duty. If there's anything that can convince Hotch to show up, it's duty.

"You've been more help than you know," you tell her, before hanging up and hopping into the SUV.

***

When he arrived at his house with the case file Garcia gave him, he immediately stuffed it in his bag and tossed it onto the floor. He definitely didn't think about reading it the entire time he was changing out of his suit, and making a quick lunch for Haley and himself. When she went upstairs to put Jack down for his nap, he couldn't help himself any longer.

Reaching into his bag, he pulls out the file and flips it open slowly, being careful to angle the gruesome photos away from the stairs in case Haley came down without him noticing. Women taken in the afternoons and killed. Bodies dumped in the morning. Hearts cut out of their chests. The words pop out at him as he skims the page, and he's so engrossed in the material that he doesn't hear her until she's standing over him. "I thought this was over."

"It is," he sighs, closing the file. "I'm just curious." He doesn't know when he started lying to his wife, but he doesn't like it. The bitter taste of it in his mouth.

He can see her gearing up for a fight when their home phone rings. He picks it up and clicks the button to answer, but even after saying 'hello' a couple of times, no one responds. For a split second, his mind flashes back a year to the Fisher King and the secret message left on his home phone, but he pushes the thought away.

He clicks the phone off, looking up at Haley again, but then a shrill ringing sound starts again, this time from her purse across the living room.

An unfamiliar queasiness fills his stomach, and he maintains eye contact with her as her eyes flicker back and forth a couple of times. He promised himself he would never profile his family, but the analyses come before he can shut off that part of his brain. Shifting eyes. Rigid posture. All indications of lying and shame.

"What did the Section Chief say?" she asks, her hands going to her hips. Stance of power to overcompensate for-

He shakes the line of thinking from his head. "She suggested that I transfer to a white-collar-crime task force."

"Would you have to travel?"

"No, I'd have a nine-to-five life."

She nods, and he can see the finality in her stance. "Then, it's a no-brainer."

***

You haven't been able to focus as well as you'd like to with the knowledge that Hotch isn't coming back hanging over your head. When you get a spare moment at the station, you step out of the conference room where all of the evidence has been scattered around and press the first number on your speed dial.

"Hello?" It's Haley.

You stumble over your words as you say 'hello' back. You weren't expecting it to be her who answered. She clearly wasn't expecting you either, because she sighs dramatically when she hears your voice and you hear a quiet "It's Y/N" before the phone is handed over.

You can understand where she's coming from. When Jeff was about to start his undercover assignment, you were so angry at him for choosing to be away from you for so long. But then rationality won over, and you remembered why he was doing it...for the same reason you are.

"Hey."

He sounds guilty. You can imagine.

"Hey," you say simply, waiting for him to fill in the gaps. He owes you at least that much.

"I'm sorry," he says after a long pause, "but you knew this was coming. You know Haley hates what this job turns me into, and you know sometimes I hate it too."

That wasn't really the explanation you were expecting. Not willing to let him off the hook, you turn your face away from the conference room windows to hide your expression and lower your voice. "You should have told me, and you know it. That's why you're hiding behind this false justification...but I guess you know that too."

There's a small rustling sound over the receiver and you can imagine him running his hands through his newly cropped hair. "This doesn't change the fact that I'm leaving."

Sometimes you forget that he was once a young boy with an alarmingly developed moral compass that didn't always point in your direction. It's times like this that remind you.

"Fine." You feel like an irritable teenager again, but you can't contain yourself around him. Even when you want to hide a part of yourself, you can't.

"How's the case going?" he asks finally. His voice has gotten softer and you know he feels bad about how this call has been going, but with neither of you willing to concede, you decide to ignore it for now.

"Well, Strauss just offended the lead detective 45 seconds into her first crime scene."

He chuckles softly. "I'm not surprised."

"This isn't about to get any better, is it?" you ask, huffing out a forlorn sigh.

"I doubt it," he agrees. "I'll keep looking at the file from my end. Any idea how he's getting control of these women? Is he blitzing them or coercing them?"

"So far, we're coming up blank," you admit, glancing back at Morgan and Reid, who appear to be in a productive debate.

"All right. Keep me posted."

***

Another victim turns up and you're not any closer to figuring out who the unsub is. Derek steps away from the group a few minutes after you and you see him pacing the halls of the precinct, his phone pressed to his ear.

A break in the case comes when Garcia identifies school records of children who exhibit signs of perfectionism and co-dependence, leading you to a profile for the unsub. You're all listening to Garcia as she reads off the records when the door opens, with two figures standing in the entrance.

"Look who's here," Morgan grins, shaking Hotch's hand. Emily looks sheepish as she glances over at Strauss, who is downright fuming.

"How fast can you get us up to speed?" Hotch asks without another greeting.

Morgan scoffs. "How fast can you sit down?"

Strauss opens her mouth to say something, but Hotch beats her to it as he takes a seat next to you. You ignore the gesture. "We're only here to help."

She sighs. "We'll deal with this later."

With two more members back on the team, at least for the time being, the SUVs are split more evenly, and you join Emily, JJ, and Strauss in the first one as you head to the crime scene. Strauss is the first one to walk up to the scene, but the moment she sees the mangled body, she breaks down, her face contorting into a sob that she tries and fails to hold in.

You make a move to go and help her, but you're surprised when Hotch is the first to step in. "If you need a second, take a second. This is what it is. Just don't let the public see you break down."

He's so kind to her, even though she's the reason for all of his professional stress. You suppose she's not the only reason, but that isn't something you get to have an opinion on.

The devolution of the dump sites leads to an update of the profile, which gets you an address for a young boy who left school early with the nurse on duty. It doesn't take long to get to the house, and Derek and JJ coordinate some of the local police and SWAT as you strap on your kevlar vests.

After an initial argument about the probable cause of entering a house you don't know is dangerous, Emily pipes up with an idea. "Let me go in alone."

"Wait..." you start but she steamrolls over you, clearly needing to compensate for not being here before. "The boy's in the family room. He's looking for female authority figures. If he lets me in, I can signal as soon as I see anything that gives us cause."

"Technically, you're not even in the FBI," Reid points out.

She nods. "All the better."

Strauss steps in with a frown, to no one's surprise. "She's interfering with a federal investigation."

"Well, if I'm no longer in the FBI, then you have no authority over me." Emily shrugs and turns to Hotch for the approval she actually wants. "I'm just a civilian knocking on a little boy's door."

He nods and she pulls her hair back into a ponytail. Derek hands her his gun, and you suddenly remember that Hotch doesn't have his gun either. Reaching into your other side holster, you pull out your second firearm and hand it to him without a word. He doesn't lift his hand at first, but then he nods at you and takes the gun, his eyes filled with an earnest gratitude, and you know you've forgiven him.

Once she goes inside, you all wait in silence for the signal to breach the home. It takes almost too long, but eventually your earpieces fill with a loud beeping, and Derek yells "Go!"

You find her in a back room, where she's on the floor, her forehead bleeding from a thick gash. You enter just in time to see Hotch leap forward and take Emily's weapon from the little boy, before lifting him up and carrying him out of the house.

"I can't officially approve of how that transpired," Strauss says when you all come outside. You sit next to Emily and squeeze her hand as the paramedics patch up her forehead.

Hotch shakes his head, clearly done with the bureau politics. "The arrest was clean. It would be a mistake to break up this team."

She looks at him pointedly. "None of you will ever move up the chain of command, you know that."

"Why would I ever want to leave the BAU?"

You almost believe him. It's not that you don't think he wants to stay. You know he does. You just also know how much his family means to him, and how thin Haley's patience has worn.

Morgan asks if he means it, and he gives a vague answer that you expect, before turning to look at you.

"Here." He reaches into his waistband and pulls out your gun. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

His hand brushes yours when you take it back, and the warmth of his skin makes you shiver against the slight breeze. "You're welcome."

***

When he gets home, the lights are off.

"Haley?" he calls out into the empty silence. He tries to convince himself that he didn't see this coming, but after her last words to him before he left, it's a futile exercise.

"Make sure to give your son a kiss before you leave."

He left, even when she begged him not to. Now his wife has left, and she took their son with her, and once again, he is utterly alone.

***

Gideon's resignation comes through and you find yourself missing him more than you thought you would. If Hotch is the backbone of the team, he was the stoic foundation. He formed the roots of the BAU as a unit altogether, and you owe your life's work to his intelligence and foresight. But more than that, you can't help but remember the fact that out of all the members on the team, Gideon knew Jeff the best.

He attended countless lectures about past unsubs that Gideon put on at the academy, because he believed understanding why people do things was just as important as knowing how or what they were doing. He even went to Gideon's home for the occasional dinner, and he brought you along once after you got married.

You're not sure what the team will look like without his guiding hand, but you don't have to wait long to find out when JJ calls you with the notice that you're going to Portland.

Spencer is reading a piece of paper over and over again when you get to the office, and when you peek over his shoulder, you see the familiar scrawl of Gideon's handwriting.

Taking a deep breath, you reach forward to put your hand on his shoulder for a moment of comfort, but think better of it and pull back at the last second. Derek sees your indecision and cocks his head towards him.

You walk over to his desk and perch on its edge with a sigh. "I can't believe he would leave just like that."

"I can," Morgan shrugs, his eyes hard with contempt. When you shoot him a look, he softens. "I just mean that he's been showing signs of withdrawal for a while now. It still sucks for the kid, though."

You both look up at Reid across the aisle, where he is still scanning the letter. "At least he got a letter." You try to bring humor into your tone, but it doesn't work.

"It's not about us," Derek says gently, in a show of empathy for the older agent that is unfamiliar coming from him. "He did what he had to do to keep himself sane. We just have to let him."

You nod, just as JJ emerges from the hallway with Hotch on her heels. "We're starting the briefing."

***

"You must be the BAU."

A handsome man with a thick East Coast accent comes forward to introduce himself when you all enter the Portland field office. "Special Agent Bill Calvert."

"Hi, Jennifer Jareau," JJ smiles, extending her hand. "This is SSA Aaron Hotchner. This is Dr. Reid and Agents Morgan, Prentiss and L/N."

He smiles at each of you but his eyes linger on yours for a moment before he takes JJ's hand. "I appreciate your help on this case."

"You're from Boston?" you ask, trying to place his accent after having heard nothing like it since you landed. 

"The accent's kind of hard to miss in Oregon, right?" he grins, before reaching his hand out to you. "Agent L/N, was it?"

You shake his hand, shooting him a thin smile. You can already see Emily and JJ's smirks behind your back.

"We'd like to take a look around Jenny Wittman's apartment," Hotch steps in, moving forward to stand beside you.

Calvert nods. "I'd take you myself, but I'm waiting to meet her family, so I'll have another agent drive you."

"Thank you." Hotch rushes off with Reid and Morgan, and you stay back with JJ and Prentiss to work the victimology.

"Can we set up in here?" you ask Calvert as you start moving the boxes of case files and evidence onto the conference room table.

"Of course," he says, before leaving the three of you alone.

The first ten minutes of looking through the evidence is silent, and for a second, you nearly let yourself believe the other women won't bring up the elephant in the room, but then JJ lets out an involuntary giggle and they pounce.

"He's definitely into you," she says, making no effort to hide her gaze as she unabashedly stares at Calvert through the window. You want to retort immediately, but after seeing her check her phone about a dozen more times a day than she usually does, you suspect she may actually know what she's talking about when it comes to love these days.

Emily nods, biting her lip. "He couldn't stop looking at you."

"You're profilers," you argue, tossing the file in your hand onto the table. "You notice all kinds of insignificant stuff."

"So are you," JJ points out. "What do you think, then?"

They have you boxed in, and you can't think of any answer that would sufficiently appease them so you just groan.

"She's into it, too," JJ grins at Emily, who replies with, "I can't believe Y/N's gonna date someone from Portland."

Without thinking, you huff. "He's from Boston." All three pairs of eyes widen as you realize your slip in not denying her statement.

Emily laughs. "Ohh, it's so happening!"

***

When the men return from Jenny Wittman's apartment, Hotch instructs JJ to televise a statement warning possible future victims who fit the unsub's victimology. When Emily and Derek later find an ad hung up in a local laundromat that suggests he's been killing for longer than you'd previously thought, you decide to head back to the trail where the first bodies were found.

When you arrive on the scene, a dozen new bodies have been found further down the trail and near the water.

"How did we miss this before?" you think out loud, not realizing that Calvert has come up behind you.

"The trail's 40 miles long."

You jump when you hear his voice, and he apologizes after a small chuckle. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Special Agent Calvert," you say, your voice slightly airy as you catch your breath. "No need to apologize."

"Okay," he smiles, turning to stand in front of you, "and you can call me Bill."

He's a good looking man, and you don't dislike the feeling of someone showing interest in you, especially as clearly intelligent and qualified as him.

"Sure," you say, returning the smile. "I'm Y/N, btw."

"That's a pretty name," he says, his eyes glinting with mischievousness, before he turns back to the scene before you. "They dug up eight new graves before you got here."

You frown. "So the unsub didn't stick to the pattern."

"Guy had a busy year."

You nod, pondering what this change in M.O. could mean, when Bill interrupts your thoughts. "I'm interested to hear more about how this profiling thing goes."

You give him a quizzical smile, and his lips quirk up. "I took a class in criminal psychology in college, but I don't remember enough to be useful in this area."

"We observe human behavior," you explain, ignoring the subtle smirk Emily is flashing you from behind his back. "Profiling is about making connections and predicting future actions based on history, victimology, and behavior."

He takes a moment to digest your words before huffing out a laugh. "Sounds to me like we called in the right team."

When another agent comes by to ask him about the crime scene procedure, you take your leave and walk up the hill of mulch by the open graves. You are nearly to the SUV when you spot Morgan beelining towards you.

"Not you too," you sigh, rolling your eyes dramatically as you stalk away from him.

He catches up to you easily and throws an arm over your shoulders with a grin. "I'm not gonna give you the giggly girl talk that JJ and Prentiss clearly have covered. I just wanted to say one thing."

You look at him expectantly and he brings you both to a stop by the cars. "You're a catch, L/N." You start to roll your eyes again, but he shakes his head. "You are, so if you want to have a little no-strings-fun, then I'll have your back through and through."

You have no idea what no-strings-fun would look like, but you glance back at Bill, who is speaking animatedly with another agent about the change in digging patterns of the graves.

"I don't know what I want," you admit as Derek drops his arm and turns to face you.

"That's okay," he says, before the corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. "But figuring that out can be just as much fun too."

***

He would be lying if he said he hasn't noticed you talking to the Special Agent on the case. Calvert, he remembers as he thinks back to the capture and subsequent suicide of the unsub from the roof of his old therapist office.

They were able to find the final victim before she died, so even with the unsub's death, the case feels like a victory, and the whole team looks light on the way back to the jet.

He has been trying to keep himself light too, but every time he gets a moment to himself, his mind reverts back to the silent darkness of his home after he returned from the last case. The reminder that he hasn't seen Haley or Jack in days.

When he reaches the tarmac, he spots you talking to Calvert again, but the conversation looks different than before. The special agent looks nervous, and he tries to gauge whether you seem comfortable, before realizing how relaxed you look.

When he gets closer, he catches the end of a question that likely started with "Can I have your number?" You smile at the man, and he turns away, trying not to eavesdrop.

He can't tell what he wants you to say. He knows it's been enough time since Jeff's death that real dating isn't out of the question, but he can't reconcile the protective instinct flickering in his gut.

Regardless of the distance he tried putting between you and himself, your voice carries over the tarmac, and he hears you say, "I'm sorry." before the rest of the sentence gets jumbled in the breeze. Something that feels alarmingly like relief settles in his chest and he frowns at the foreign feeling of it coursing through his veins.

He boards the plane and purposefully chooses a seat with an empty spot next to it, knowing you'll choose to sit beside him after he practically ignored you all day. He really wasn't trying to shut you out, he just doesn't know how to broach the topic of separation with anyone, let alone someone who had as stable a marriage as you did.

When you board the jet and take your seat next to him, he glances over at you sheepishly and murmurs, "I overheard the end."

He's surprised when you laugh lightly. "It's okay. Everyone was going to find out soon enough, especially with how excited Prentiss and JJ were about it."

He nods, glad that you aren't angry about his invasion of your privacy. Then, before he can stop himself, he looks at you and asks, "You didn't want to see him again?"

"I don't think I'm looking to just date for dating's sake anymore," you explain, your eyes flitting around the cabin at the sleeping forms of the rest of the team. "I had a true love...I don't want to settle down again for anything less."

He understands that completely, but he can tell there's something else bothering you, and not just because of the rhythmic bouncing of your knee that you don't seemed to have noticed. "What else?"

You shrug, not meeting his eye. "I used to have my usual excuse, but I can't really say it's too soon anymore, can I?"

He frowns as he notices the visible strain on you that this burden has caused. "You get to decide that for yourself."

"I know," you sigh, rubbing your eye with a loose fist. "I just worry sometimes that I use Jeff as an excuse to keep myself closed off." Your knee stills, and Hotch scoots closer, even with the armrest in the way.

"You don't seem closed off to me."

Your eyes crinkle with laughter. "I'm not sure if that means much coming from you. You're not exactly the picture of openness, Hotch."

He knows you're mostly joking, but your read punches him in the gut in a way he doesn't expect. You must see the shock on his face, because you immediately lean in closer. "What is it?"

He shakes his head, trying to delay for as long as he can. If he doesn't say it out loud, maybe he can pretend that he's still a happily married man. That he didn't fail his wife and son by being as absent as he had wished his father had been, early in his life.

"It's not about Gideon leaving, is it?" You scrutinize him for a moment before shaking your head. "No. Hotch, what's the matter?"

"We agreed not to profile each other," he sighs, gritting his teeth against the pain of having to vocalize one of the lowest moments in his life.

"Aaron," you whisper. Your voice is soft and gentle, and he breaks.

"Haley left."

Your mouth parts in surprise, and he looks down at his lap, taking a deep breath. "And I don't know if she's coming back."

***

You've been waiting in the arrivals lot of the airport for almost an hour. You're assuming his flight got delayed, and you're grateful for the time to get yourself ready to see him, but the wait hasn't made your jitters any better.

You haven't seen Hotch since you left for college last year, and with his pre-law internship that he somehow snagged as a first year, it was a lonely summer.

When he called you last week with profuse apologies for not staying more in touch and a somber tone that had to be about more than his regrettable phone habits, you had told him that you would love to see him, but your winter break doesn't start for another month. After a few hushed breaths and a second of thinking, he told you that he had bought a plane ticket out to California for the following weekend.

That's why it's Friday afternoon, and you're still waiting for his familiar mop of dark hair to appear through the exit doors. A boy walks out right then, with the same raven hair and fit stature, and your heart rate hastens for a split second, before you realize it's not him.

You look down at your car's radio and twist the dial to change the station. It's been playing the same Madonna song nonstop, and you shut off the volume when the other stations are no different. Your shift in focus takes your attention away from the airport exit, so you jump in your seat when a quiet knock sounds at your passenger side window.

He's here. Your lips curve up into a bright smile and you unlock the door, letting him get in.

"Hi," you say, your voice weaker than you'd like.

"Hey, Y//N," he replies, pushing his long hair back from his face. The simple motion sets off butterflies in your stomach and you turn back to your steering wheel to keep your emotions off your face. He could always read you so easily. "It's good to see you."

He grins at you and leans forward to give you a quick, awkward hug over the center console. You involuntarily inhale as he pulls back, and the scent of his natural musk mixed with whatever new cologne he's been wearing smells dreamy on him.

You said you were over it, you tell yourself in your head. He has a girlfriend who he's going to marry, and you are his best friend. At least you were.

You don't really know where things stand between you two now. A year is a long time to go without seeing someone, and you're sure college has changed him in similar ways that it has changed you.

"I have one more class today," you say quickly as you pull your car out of the lot. "It's criminal psychology, so I figured you wouldn't mind coming to the lecture with me."

"Sounds fun," he says, before leaning his cheek against the window to watch the scenery that zips by. "God, the weather here is crazy."

"It's definitely warmer than I'm used to," you agree, struggling not to glance over at him. "We never had 70 degree winters growing up."

"Which do you prefer?"

You grin. "Home, of course."

"Of course."

You look at him then, and his expression is one you don't understand. It's the same look he gets when he's in the library and he finds a book he's been looking for.

The drive doesn't take long, and you bring him to your lecture, where he proceeds to pay more attention to the information being presented than you do. The class usually feels too short for you, but today, the time ticks by, because you can't focus.

It's been so long since you've sat next to him in a class, and the sight of him jotting down notes on a scrap piece of paper takes you back to high school, when he was still the more attentive one.

After the lecture, you both grab a quick dinner in the dining hall and settle back into your double dorm room, which you painstakingly cleaned up before he arrived.

"So, how long have you guys been friends?" your roommate, Katy, asks him as he drops into your desk chair. You've been watching her ogle him since he arrived, and if he's still as perceptive as he was in high school, it hasn't escaped his notice either.

"Forever," he says, looking at you with a grin. "We met when we were eight. When she judged my taste in The Beatles, it was over for me."

You can't help the heat that flames in your cheeks, even though you know this story by heart. Katy keeps glancing over at you as he explains how you guys met, and eventually she gets up and flops down onto your bed next to you. "You're bringing him to the party tonight, right?"

Your eyes widen as you remember that was today. "Oh, I don't know. We might just stay in."

"You have to come!" she squeals, shaking your arm. She turns to him with a pointed look. "We already have outfits picked out."

"I guess we gotta go, then," he smiles at her, before looking at me with a small raise of his eyebrow. You okay with that?

You dip your chin into a nod, and he stands up. "I'll head out for a walk as you guys get ready."

"Sounds good!" Katy says, grabbing your hand and sliding off the bed. "We'll see you in an hour."

Once the door closes behind him, Katy turns to you, her mouth agape. "You never told me how cute he is."

"What?" you sputter, your cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

"You also didn't tell me you're, like, in love with him."

You scoff involuntarily, your usual diversion technique when someone brings up a topic you want to evade. "What are you talking about?"

"Okay," she shrugs, reaching into your closet and tossing you the dress you were planning to wear. "If that's how you want to play it."

You go into your attached bathroom to change into your outfit, but after seeing Hotch, the mini sundress you picked out feels like too much. You hate how much you're overthinking something as stupid as an outfit for a party.

You turn away from the mirror and go back into your dorm, where Katy is applying her signature shade of red lipstick in her little mirror stand.

"He has a serious girlfriend," you whisper, almost too quiet for her to hear you. But she is more perceptive than you give her credit for. "Like eventual marriage-serious."

"Oh, honey," she coos, patting the bench seat next to her. You scoot in until you're side by side and she wraps an arm around your shoulders. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay," you shake your head, leaning on her shoulder. "I just need to get over it. It's a stupid crush that I've had since high school, but it's time. Maybe this party will help."

"Yes, exactly!" she grins, turning her head to look at you. "Nothing that a little music and a few shots can't fix."

"A few shots?" you laugh.

She nods. "Each."

~

You down another shot of whiskey before tossing your cup onto the table and following Katy onto the dance floor. She grinds against her boyfriend as you dance beside them, moving your hips side to side with the rhythm of the music.

Being in Los Angeles, the temperature outside is already warmer than it should be in November, but inside the house, your dress is sticking to your skin from the sweat and body heat surrounding you.

You're feeling the alcohol enough to have a good time even in the sweaty throng of bodies around you, and you throw your head back as you close your eyes and feel the thump of the music vibrating the floor boards.

Meanwhile, Hotch can't find you anywhere. He's drunk enough already that he knows he won't be able to find you himself, but he doesn't know anyone else here, so he grabs a half empty bottle from the drinks table and makes his way to the dance floor, where the life of the party seems to be centered.

He's usually a lot more fun at parties, but lately he hasn't felt like himself. Ever since you left for school across the country, it has felt like something in his life was wrong, like he was missing a limb. Then, things started looking up with Haley, and he pushed you away in the hopes that he would forget about any of the doubts he had, but it didn't work. The more he missed you, the worse things got in his relationship, and suddenly he wasn't sure what his life was supposed to look like anymore.

He takes another swig from the bottle and leans back against the counter as he watches people dance against each other in the dim light of the house. His eyes flicker over the mess of bodies until they catch on someone he almost doesn't recognize.

Your eyes are closed and your hands are in the air as you move to the beat. It's not exactly graceful music, but you have managed to find some semblance of a rhythm as you slide your hands down your thin dress, which is sticking to your body in a way he can't take his eyes off of.

He doesn't realize he has lifted the bottle to his lips again until the liquid is burning his throat, and he tears his eyes away from you as his head starts to spin. Maybe he's had enough for tonight. He puts the bottle down just as your roommate spots him. Katy, he thinks, or is it Sadie?

"Aaron!" she calls, stumbling over to him as a man holds her up with an arm around her waist. "Where's Y/N?"

"Not sure," he lies easily, barely conscious of the way his words have started to slur together. "I may head out soon."

"Don't leave without her," she instructs, her voice suddenly getting serious. "I'm staying with him tonight." She pats the man's arm. "So I won't be going back with her."

He nods with a resigned sigh, and slumps down on a couch in the next room, leaning his head back to stop the room from spinning.

~

When you tire of dancing, you push to the back of the crowd and look around to find any familiar face. You can't see Katy or her boyfriend anywhere, but after exiting the room, you spot Hotch asleep on the couch.

You walk forward with a slanted smile and put your hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. "Hotch, get up."

He groans, peeling his eyes open slowly. "I'm awake. Just resting my eyes."

"Yeah, yeah," you tease, looping your arm through his to help him up. "How much did you drink?"

He shrugs and you wrap your arm around his waist to hold him upright as he stumbles forward. "Whoa there. Okay, let's get you back."

You manage to get him out of the house, and once the fresh air hits, he can almost stand up straight on his own. You keep your arm around him just in case, trying to ignore the way his tee shirt is slowly riding up around his waistband.

You make the walk back in silence, and he falls back onto your bed as you lock the door behind you.

"I'm sorry," he whispers when you perch on the edge of the bed next to him.

"It's okay," you say, huffing out a laugh. He looks so young with his hair falling onto his face, and you resist the urge to push it back off his forehead. "Happens to the best of us."

"No, not that." He rolls over with a groan, flopping onto his back and scooting back so he can lay on your pillow. "I'm sorry I stopped calling."

Your heart skips a beat and you tuck your hair behind your ear, needing to occupy your hands somehow as your mind races with a million questions. "It's my fault too."

"No, it's not."

He isn't slurring his words anymore, but you can still hear the earnestness that only comes when one's filter is completely shattered. He was never one to hide things from you, but you also know how truthful people can get when alcohol takes their mask away.

"Haley and I have been having problems for a while," he mutters, making you sigh. So that's why he flew here in the middle of the school year. "We haven't been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things, and we decided to take a break, but I haven't told anyone, because the only person I wanted to tell was you."

You can't look at him. His gaze is too much, his eyes too full of truth and intensity. "Hotch-"

"I miss you so much," he says, cutting you off. "You're the only person I've ever really been able to talk to, but you know that, don't you? It's the same for you, it has to be."

You don't say anything. The air feels thick with tension, and you're afraid that if you say something, the room will explode.

"She's the perfect girlfriend," he says wistfully, his voice tight with an emotion you can't decipher. "I know it's me who's fucking it up, and I hate myself for it, because she's trying so hard to make this work. But every time it feels perfect, and I think I've finally gotten what I wanted, I just remember-"

"Aaron."

You look at him and his eyes are already staring into yours. You have wanted him to love you the way you loved him for years, but not like this. Never like this.

"You can't fuck this up," you whisper, your voice stronger than you expect it to be. "Call Haley tomorrow morning. Tell her you're sorry, and that you love her, because you do. You know you do."

"I love her," he nods as sleep pulls his eyelids down. "Tomorrow..I'll call her."

You watch him as his limbs relax and his breathing evens out, but you don't fall asleep until the sun starts to rise and you physically can't keep your eyes open anymore.

***

"Happy All Hallow's Eve, folks."

Reid pulls his mask off as Derek looks at him with a frightened frown.

"Are you scared of Halloween?" you ask him, trying to keep the grin off your face.

"I didn't say I was scared," he corrects, glancing over at Reid, who drops his mask on his desk and pushes his hair back from his face, "I said I was creeped out."

"What creeps you out about it?" Emily asks, before grinning at you.

"I bet it's the candy," you joke. "Those muscles probably cower at the sight of anything that isn't meat or protein powder."

Emily snorts and Derek frowns at both of you. "It's the masks. I don't like people in disguises."

"That's the best thing about Halloween," Reid chimes in. "You can be anyone you want to be."

Derek grins. "No, I'm pretty good just being me."

You and Emily share a look. "Yeah, why is it that neither of those points of view surprise me?"

"Guys," Reid suddenly calls out, his voice hushed. "He's here."

You turn around to see Hotch walking down the stairs, accompanied by Agent David Rossi, who you've heard a lot about in your years at the bureau. He was one of the founding members of the BAU, and you can't help but wonder what made him want to come back.

JJ introduces him to everyone, before Reid starts spouting off a list of facts from one of the old cases he solved when he was the chief of the unit.

"Reid, slow down," Hotch says with an uncharacteristic smile. "He'll be here for a while. Catch up with him later."

He nods. "Right, sorry."

Agent Rossi doesn't seem fazed. "No problem, Doctor."

This pleasantly surprises you. It's all too often that new people who meet Spencer don't immediately treat him with the respect he deserves.

"Let's start the briefing."

***

The flight back from Texas is hushed. The case went about as well as you could hope, with them catching the unsub and saving the final victim, but the way Rossi went rogue over and over again has rubbed you the wrong way.

You watch him across the cabin as he pores over his little notebook, and you wish you could peek inside his head. You know that the team aspect of the BAU is a newer addition to the unit, but you don't understand how he can keep all of his thoughts to himself.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Gah," you fright, jumping in your seat. "When did you sit next to me?"

Hotch shrugs, his lip quirking up. "A few minutes ago."

"Well, you should really wear a bell or something, god."

"Y/N," he says, giving you a pointed look. He doesn't let you use your evasion tactics anymore. Given your penchant for aimless talking, you suppose that's a good thing.

"I was just thinking about Rossi," you sigh, glancing up at him again. "Lying to the press to get a reaction from the unsub? Taking over that phone call? I don't like how he works, Hotch."

"He's from a different time," he says, even though you can hear the agreement in his voice, "but he worked with Gideon, and if you remember, it took you a while to warm up to him too."

You heave out a breath but it's the only concession you're willing to give in this moment.

"He's used to an older way of doing things, but he's a great agent."

"He clearly has good ideas," you whisper, "but I just worry that you'll have to work over time to keep him under control."

Hotch ponders this, and you think that maybe he knows you're right. Your eyes shift up and you realize his hair has been shorter for a while now, but you're still not used to seeing so much of his forehead. Not that there's anything wrong with his forehead. It's a fine forehead.

"He was the team leader before he retired," Hotch says suddenly. "He may be tough as a subordinate now, but I'm still glad he's back. We needed someone to fill Gideon's spot, we were low on hands."

"Speaking of, why do you think he's back."

He looks at you with a quizzical frown. "Is it really so hard to believe that he may just want to help us out?"

You think for a second, before shrugging. He laughs.

"I don't know," you concede, with a small chuckle. "I think I'm just expecting things from him that aren't fair."

He turns his body to face you. "Like what?"

You press your lips together, trying to formulate your words properly, so you can clearly articulate the tornado of thoughts in your brain. "I know Gideon wasn't a father figure exactly, but he was someone that Reid and Elle latched onto."

Hotch exhales. "I don't know if Gideon is someone I'd want as a father."

You let out a surprised laugh. "Fair enough."

"How is your father doing, by the way?"

You blink in surprise. It's not that he doesn't talk about your family, it's just that the timing is uncanny. You haven't spoken to him in months. After your mom died, you two were almost inseparable, but then you left for school, and you realized how much bigger the world could be when you weren't always bogged down by your grief. "I haven't called him in a while."

"What did he say after Golconda?" he asks, his voice gentle. After Frank, he means.

You close your eyes, guilt flooding your body. "I never told him."

"What?" You don't look at him, but you can see the shock in the stiff line of his posture. "Did something happen between you two?"

You shake your head, your protectiveness over your family flaring up at the concern in his eyes. "Nothing happened. I just didn't want to worry him."

"That's his job," Hotch stresses, scooting his leg over so his knee bumps yours. "If something like that had happened to Jack, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"That's what I'm scared of," you tell him, your eyes flitting over to the window, where the clouds are dancing across the horizon. Sometimes, when you're on the jet, you like to pretend that the time up here isn't real. That as long as the world looks like a series of splotches and blinking lights, nothing can really hurt you. "My mom's death nearly killed him. I learned to cook when I was ten, because he couldn't leave his room for a month." Hotch knows all of this already, but he lets you vocalize your thoughts, obviously knowing how badly you need reassurance for the guilt you're feeling. "Then, when Jeff died, I stayed with him for a few weeks to have some company, but...but.. I was so glad when I left, because then I could finally let myself fall apart."

He reaches under the armrest and clasps your hand in his, extending the comfort you didn't know you needed.

"I've never told anyone that," you whisper, feeling your voice tighten with tears. "I love my dad, I love him so much, but I just needed the chance to recover on my own."

"He loves you too," Hotch says, finally breaking his silence. "You know he loves you. I still remember the themed sandwich baggies that he packed your lunch with all through middle school."

You choke out a laugh. "You would always steal the Spiderman ones."

He smiles, squeezing your hand once. "Maybe you just need to give him another chance to be who you want him to be. He might just surprise you."

You know he's right. Somehow, he's always right.

You nod, flashing him a small smile, and lean your head on his shoulder as the clouds float past your window.

***

He glances at his watch for the tenth time since he sat down in his office. The plane landed just over an hour ago, and he sent you home immediately with the instruction to get some rest. He probably should have gone home too, but ever since he got his new apartment, home hasn't felt the same.

He used to be able to look around any corner and see a memory: the couch where he and Haley made love on their first night at home, the soft carpet where Jack took his first steps, the doorframe where he measured his height on his first birthday as Haley held him up by the arms. He also remembers that he wasn't there to see Jack's first steps; he was in Pittsburgh, working a case and thanking his lucky stars that Haley had had the foresight to take a photo as his son stood upright all by himself.

He lifts the picture frame from the edge of his desk, running his fingers over the cool glass and looking at the blue drawing underneath. Jack had drawn his favorite cartoon character and left it for him on the kitchen table, a few nights before his suspension went into effect.

Putting it back down, he looks at the photograph of him holding onto Haley as she clutches newborn Jack to her chest in the hospital. He still has the photo of just him and her on their wedding, but he pushed it to the back, behind the pictures of Jack, and the one of you and him at law school graduation.

A knock sounds at his door and he looks up to see Dave standing in his doorway. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," he says, waving him in. He doesn't sit down, so Hotch stands up too, unsure of how he feels about the power imbalance in the room. "What can I do for you?"

"You said out there, 'The team shares everything.'"

He nods. "That's right."

"There is no 'I'?"

He nods again, not liking where this may be going.

Dave glances down at his desk, where his phone sits next to the picture frame of his family. "Seems a big thing to withhold. Separating from your wife, your child."

He freezes, unconsciously looking at the door to see if anyone heard. "What are you talking about?"

"You used to call Haley 10 times a day," Dave says, his voice not unkind. "We've been together 48 hours and I haven't seen you call her once. You haven't mentioned her, and you're not going home now."

He frowns, feeling his brow settle into place like it's a uniform he wears whenever he's at the office. "What's your point?"

"I guess you're just not used to sharing."

He doesn't say anything, but Rossi seems to interpret this the wrong way. "Or maybe it's something else." He looks out the window at the empty bullpen, but the implication is still clear. "Was it because of...?"

"What?" He doesn't know where this is coming from, but he can't stop the anger that rumbles through him at the connotation. Unable to help it, he looks down at your desk, and Dave tuts.

"I won't say anything."

"Dave," he shakes his head, trying to remain calm. "You have it all wrong. She's my best friend...since we were children. It isn't like that. It was never-"

It was never like that. That's what he's about to say, but that wouldn't be true. Rossi is a good enough profiler that he would be able to spot a lie from a mile away, so he shuts his mouth and shakes his head again. "It's not like that."

"Okay," he accepts, lifting his hands in surrender. "My mistake."

Hotch nods, and Dave leaves his office, but he can't get their conversation out of his head until later that night when his head hits his pillow and his eyes finally fall shut.

***

"Hey, Dad."

You called him when you got home from work that night, and he answered on the second ring. "Hi, sweetheart."

"How are you?" you ask, clutching the phone to your ear as you sink down onto the couch in your living room.

He doesn't answer for a moment, and you can hear him taking a breath. "I'm good, Y/N, how are you? Is work going well?"

"It's good," you tell him. "Really good. We were able to save a woman today, before the unsub could kill her."

"Unsub?"

"Unknown subject," you explain, quickly realizing just how long it's been since you've spoken to him. "It's what we call the bad guy before we know who he is."

"Right," he says, and you can practically see him rubbing a hand over his face, his nervous tic. "I knew that. Anyway, how is everything in your life? Do you still work with Aaron?"

"Yeah, I do," you say with a laugh. "He was actually asking about you earlier today."

"That's nice of him," your dad says, his voice brightening slightly. "He was always a good friend to you."

You tell him about your most recent case, and about Gideon and Elle leaving the team, but eventually you can't evade the topic you've been trying to avoid all night.

You're okay, you think to yourself. Frank can't hurt you anymore.

"Dad," you whisper, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. In 1, 2, 3. Out 1, 2, 3. "I have something to tell you."

Then you tell him everything, and he just listens, exactly like you hoped he would.

***

"I met this guy." You didn't even see Penelope approach you, but here she is, looking at you like she's about to say something dirty.

"Hell yeah," you grin, trying to match her energy. "Where?"

"A coffee shop," she smirks. "He was having trouble with his computer, so I fixed it for him, and then he asked for my number."

"Look at you," you joke, giving her a side squeeze, "putting your technical analyst skills to good use."

"Thank you," she huffs, throwing an annoyed glance over her shoulder. "That's more of the response I was looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"Derek," she says simply, and you nod, already knowing where she's going with this. You know they have an uncommon relationship, so you're not surprised that he didn't react exactly how she hoped he would.

"He's an idiot," you tell her, patting her arm.

She laughs. "You don't even know what he did."

"Uh, yeah," you say, turning around to face the bullpen, "I definitely do."

***

The case takes the team to Florida, where an unsub has been feeding women their fingers, killing them, and then carving pentagrams in their skin.

The pentagrams suggest a religious element, so you go with JJ, Morgan, and Rossi to the local church to meet with the priest.

"Rossi, do me a favor," Morgan says just before you walk inside. "You talk to the priest, all right?"

You remember his agitation on the jet when Reid prodded him about his beliefs, and given the cruelty of his childhood, a crisis of faith wouldn't surprise you.

"Hi, Father Marks," JJ greets the priest when you enter the church. She introduces all of you to him, before shaking his hand. "We're sorry we have to be here under these circumstances."

"It's good of you to come," he says, greeting all of you. "Abbey's parents are upstairs in my office."

"We'll go up," Rossi says with a nod, "but Agent Morgan actually has some questions for you."

Your eyes flash to Rossi, but he doesn't return your gaze.

"I have some questions too," you offer, and Derek nods gratefully.

The priest answers the few questions Derek spits out at him, and you watch as his eyes wander around the hall, his shoulders raised with tension. You insert a few of your own questions before heading outside with him to wait for JJ and Rossi to finish up with the victim's parents.

"What happened in there?" you ask when he doesn't meet your eye. "Being rude to Father Marks? That wasn't like you."

"You know what happened to me, L/N," he says angrily, kicking his foot out at a loose stone on the pavement. "I went to church everyday, and I prayed for it to stop, but you know what God did? Nothing."

"I know what a crisis of faith looks like, Derek." You stand in front of him, forcing him to look at you. "But Father Marks doesn't know your story. He's not judging you, he's just showing his faith how he knows best."

His shoulders are still tense as his jaw twitches. "Who does Rossi think he is, throwing me under the bus like that?"

"He's an instigator," you shrug, letting the topic slide for the time being. You'll talk to him again later if he still needs it.

"I didn't love the way Gideon did things either," Derek says, his posture going from agitation to annoyance, "but Rossi might just take the cake. Even if he is better with the victim's families."

"I can't help you there," you almost laugh. "I had the same conversation with Hotch after the case in Texas, and he managed to convince me to give the guy a chance. So...if you can't bring yourself to trust him, just think of it as putting your trust in Hotch."

Derek hums, bumping your shoulder with his. "I guess I can do that."

***

The search party for Tracey Lambert only leads to the unsub taking another woman, and suddenly the ticking clock gets a lot louder. By the time you find his lair and the bodies he has been cannibalizing for years, you're already struggling to keep down even the water you've been drinking. When he reveals where Tracey actually is, you feel so sick, you can't breathe.

When the jet lands back in Virginia, you go home immediately, desperately needing some peace and quiet away from the team for the first time in a while. But that doesn't last long.

You're awoken by the shrill ringing of your home phone. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you check the number and answer the phone. "Is this payback for the last time I called you past midnight?"

"Y/N...it's Garcia."

You shoot up into a sitting position as Hotch explains what happened. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know."

"I'm on my way."

You change into a sweater and a pair of loose jeans before grabbing your keys and flying out the door.

"She's in surgery," JJ tells you when you find them in the waiting room. She pulls you into a hug before returning to her hunched position in an uncomfortable vinyl chair.

"There's no other word," Hotch adds, giving you a quick hug as well. With his cheek pressed against your temple, he whispers, "Police think it may have been a botched robbery."

"Where's Morgan?" Emily asks, standing up from her chair.

"He's not answering his cell."

Reid nods, stepping away. "I'll call him again."

He squeezes your hand before he exits the waiting area, and you glance down at JJ again. Her eyes are red from crying, and her chin is pressed into her palm as she stares at the floor. You watch as Emily sits next to her and pats her hand, before clasping it in hers.

You don't realize you've been staring at the same spot on the floor until Hotch stands next to you and nudges your shoulder. You okay?

"I will be," you say out loud, barely registering that he didn't actually ask you anything. "As soon as she's out of surgery." When you got the call that Penelope was shot, you had been hit by an intense feeling of deja vu. Only this time, the call didn't come from bureau leadership, because she wasn't killed at the scene. Because she's going to make it.

He doesn't seem fazed as he checks his watch again, his frown lines deepening. "It shouldn't take this long to get an update."

"Where have you been?" Reid asks suddenly. You look up to see Derek walking into the waiting room, his eyes wide with panic.

"I was in church. My phone was off."

"There's nothing you could have been doing here," Rossi assures him, before nodding at Hotch and pulling him aside to discuss something with the deputies outside. You use the momentary lull to approach Derek, putting your hand on his arm as an initial test. When he doesn't jerk back, you pull him into a hug that he returns gratefully.

The doctor walks in a few minutes later and explains that Penelope will be fine, but she needs to rest until the morning.

"David and I will go to the scene," Hotch informs, his eyes fixing each of you with an empathetic look. "I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol. I don't care whether we're working this officially, or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this."

When they leave, you pull Derek down into the chair next to you and lean your head onto his shoulder. After a beat, he relaxes in his seat, and lets out a long sigh. "She's okay."

***

Early the next morning, the doctor shakes you all awake with the notice that Penelope's up, so you rush into her room, trying not to crowd her as she blinks awake.

"Hi," she says softly, her voice small. She looks so innocent, laying in her hospital bed with her blonde hair a halo around her head. You can't imagine how anyone would want to hurt someone like her.

"No tears," she smiles as you swallow down your anger. "I'm afraid if I start crying, I'll come unstapled."

JJ presses a kiss to her cheek, before Derek and Emily start gently plying her with the usual questions. When it comes out that the man who shot her was the same man who asked her out at the coffee shop, your anger turns to anguish, and you reach forward to squeeze Penelope's hand in an effort to comfort her.

"I just thought he liked me," she whispers, the pain in her voice breaking your heart.

"We need a name," Emily asks abruptly. You can see her mentally kicking herself at how serious her words came out, but you know Penelope understands the gravity of this situation.

"James Colby Baylor."

She asks you and JJ to stay back for a second as the rest of the team leaves to investigate Baylor.

"What's up, honey?" you ask, smiling at her sweetly as she uses her other hand to take JJ's.

"I feel so stupid," she sighs, her breath turning into a gasp as tears fill her eyes. "Maybe Derek was right about all of it."

"No," JJ says sternly, reaching forward to brush some of her hair behind her ear. "None of this is on you."

"What she said," you echo, nodding at JJ, "and don't listen to Morgan. He loves you, and he's very protective over you, but he's also a man."

She sniffles out a laugh, before pressing her lips together. "One last thing."

JJ blinks. "Anything."

"Please don't talk about me like I'm a victim."

***

The case wraps up back at the office, where Baylor, whose real name is Deputy Battle, was shot in the head by JJ, who doesn't seem as plussed by the situation as you would expect. You tried to talk to her afterwards, but after telling you she was fine, she put all of her attention on Penelope, who has spent the last week recovering at home.

Now, you're sitting in the break room stirring your black coffee, just for something to do. Hotch finds you in there and walks inside, shutting the door behind him.

"It's been a long week," he grumbles, looking longingly at the spot next to you on the worn couch.

You lift your cup and nod your head at the full coffee pot. "That's what caffeine's for."

"We really should sleep at some point," he says, filling up a paper cup and carefully dropping into the spot beside you. The couch you chose is small enough that his thigh presses against yours when he spreads his legs even the slightest bit.

You snort. "Sleep's overrated."

You both sip your steaming coffees in silence as you watch the other agents shuffle back and forth across the bullpen, unaware of your watchful eyes. The break room is the one place in the office to go for a little bit of privacy, but the unobstructed view of everyone's desks isn't unpleasant either. You imagine this is how Hotch feels when he looks out his office window.

Your eye catches on the stapled wood planks that are currently replacing the broken glass door that leads into the bullpen. He must be looking at the same thing, because he breaks the silence and says, "I think we may need to get JJ out into the field more."

His tone catches you off guard and you crack a small smile. "She does seem remarkably well-adjusted, given that it was her first time."

He nods, turning his head to look at you. "Do you remember your first time?" Killing someone, is the part he doesn't say out loud.

"Of course." You take a deep breath and gulp back more coffee. "He was a serial rapist in Texas. One shot to the heart. I wasn't trying to kill him, he just ran at the last second."

"Serial killer in Florida," he responds simply. "Headshot. He died instantly."

"That was your first year at the BAU, right?" He nods and you sink back into the cushions. "I wasn't even in the field then."

He hums, a low sound that you feel as vibrations on your skin. "I worry that I brought you in here too early. Jeff had just died, and I assumed that getting you out of the house and in the field would take your mind off of things, but I wonder sometimes if I made the wrong call."

"You didn't," you assure him, turning your body to face his, even as he doesn't meet your eye. "First of all, you brought me in six months after he died, and by then, I definitely needed an excuse to leave my bedroom."

He sighs, a small concession, and you continue. "The first case I went into the field for after he died, I could barely hold my gun. Every time I pulled it on someone, I would imagine his body...with all of those bullet holes...and I would just freeze up. It took me months to pass my firearm certification again, but I still don't regret it."

"You sure?" he asks, his voice almost timid.

"Positive," you smile, nudging your thigh against his. "Besides, I didn't realize it until later, but it wasn't getting out into the field that helped me through my grief...it was meeting the team. These people became my family in the moment that I needed one most."

You turn back to your coffee and sip it again, though it's no longer as hot as you'd like it to be.

"How are you doing, by the way?" he asks suddenly. "With Garcia, I mean."

An involuntary shudder runs through you as you remember her pale face in her hospital bed last week, but the warmth of the coffee cup in your hands makes it pass quickly. "I'll never get used to it. But she's okay now, so hopefully it'll be easier this time."

***

You're jotting down notes in the margins of a new case file JJ asked you to look over when your cell phone rings. Hotch and Reid are at a nearby prison, interviewing a serial killer on death row for the Criminal Personality Research Project, so you're not expecting a call from either of them. The rest of the team, except for Rossi, is scattered around the bullpen, but you don't expect him to call you either.

After finishing the line you were writing, you check your phone and see a name you haven't spoken to in weeks.

"Haley," you answer after clicking open your cell. "Is everything okay?"

"I know you're busy," she sighs, her voice tight with what you can only decipher as irritation, "but I didn't know who else to call. Aaron hasn't been answering my phone calls."

You get up from your desk and step out into the hallway to get some privacy. "He and Dr. Reid are at a prison right now, interviewing a criminal for this research project. There likely isn't any cell service out there."

"It's not just today, Y/N," she says, her tone getting colder as she inadvertently directs her anger towards the only person she can get ahold of. "He hasn't been taking my calls for days."

"I can talk to him," you suggest, trying to keep your tone light in an effort to keep this conversation from derailing. "I'll tell him to give you a call."

"I appreciate that," she sighs, losing her steam. "I'm sorry for involving you, I just really need to speak with him about something."

"Is everything alright with you and Jack?" you ask her quickly, wanting to make sure that you aren't making the wrong assumptions about why she's calling.

"Oh!" she inhales sharply. "Yes, of course, we're doing great. Well, great maybe isn't the right word, I didn't mean- I just-" She sighs. "You know what I mean."

"I do," you assure her as your heart twists at the sound of her shallow breathing. You know how hard the separation has been on Hotch, but you know Haley too, and she has always been better at hiding her pain that she seems. "Where have you been staying?"

"With Jess," she says, her voice brightening considerably at the mention of her sister. "She's been a godsend. I feel terrible taking up so much of her space, but she doesn't seem to mind."

You smile, remembering the few times you met Jessica Brooks while Haley and Hotch were together. "She definitely doesn't mind. She always loved children. I bet she's already scheming on how to steal Jack from you."

Haley laughs, and the sound is like wind chimes twinkling in your ear. "She totally is."

Her laughter slowly fades, and you both stay on the line for a few moments in comfortable silence.

"I'll tell him to call you," you promise.

"I know," she sighs. "Thank you."

***

The prison was a bust, but Reid got a chance to use his intelligence to get them out of a tough spot without anyone getting hurt, so the day wasn't a total loss.

He is sitting in his office, drafting an email to the project coordinator, when you walk inside and take a seat in front of his desk.

"Thanks for knocking," he says sarcastically before finishing up the sentence he was working on. Once it's done, he saves the draft and turns off his computer. "How was Indianapolis?"

"Good," you say, leaning back in the chair. "Great, actually. Rossi got to close up the case that's been haunting him for a decade, and the three kids are finally safe."

"I'm surprised he wasn't more excited when he got back," he notes, watching your body language. You look wired, but not about this. Something else is bothering you.

"The unsub wasn't exactly the most gratifying arrest," you sigh, rubbing a hand over your temple. "We don't even think he committed the murders intentionally."

He frowns, shaking his head. "Those are the worst kind."

You're silent for a moment before you sit up straighter and look at him. "Haley called me this morning. While you were at the prison."

"Oh?" Something that feels like ice slithers down his spine even though he can probably guess exactly how the conversation went.

All week, he has felt an enormous weight on his chest in the form of a stack of divorce papers that Haley served him with. She had called him right after, with the explanation that they both should have seen this coming, but he really hadn't. He was a profiler, whose entire job was to notice and analyze human behavior, and he truly hadn't been able to let himself believe that this could be a possibility. That his marriage could actually be over.

"She said you've been ignoring her calls."

He had been ignoring them. He knew she would just tell him to sign the papers, and he couldn't bear to hear her say it again. Once was enough.

He reaches into his desk and pulls out the manila folder that he hasn't opened since his initial read-through. He suspects you already know what he's about to tell you, but he also knows that it won't feel real until he says it out loud. And it's about time he came to terms with what his life would be from now on. "Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers, uncontested."

"She doesn't want to involve a lawyer?" you ask, your voice delicate as you walk him through the explanation with clarifying questions. It's the technique they use when interviewing the families of victims, to help them feel comfortable as they talk about the hardest thing they've ever gone through. He's surprised at how reassuring it feels coming from you.

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. It has grown out a bit since he last cut it, but he doesn't think he minds. Haley wanted him to cut it short when Jack was in his grabbing and teething phase, but now, he likes how he can push it back when he wants. "I don't want to sign, of course, but she's adamant that we get this done soon."

"You'll be okay," you say, and he looks up in surprise. "You're a good man, Aaron."

"I'm not," he whispers, heaving out a sigh. "I'm not doing anything right. At home, I was an awful husband and an absent father, and at work, Strauss would replace me if she had even the slightest bit more ammunition. I can't focus in either place. Maybe Haley's right, maybe I'm just selfish."

You lean forward and grab his hand, even as he doesn't look at you. "You're not selfish. You're the farthest thing from selfish. You don't want to sign, but you will. You're giving her what she wants, even though it's the last thing you want."

He nods, but his heart isn't in it. He glances down at the folder again and takes a deep breath as you give him a small smile and stand up.

"I'll see you tomorrow, boss?"

He nods again. "See you tomorrow."

When the door shuts behind you, he flips open the folder, faster than he meant to, but he's afraid if he doesn't do this quickly he'll lose his nerve. Grabbing a random pen from the mug on his desk, he uncaps it and scrawls out his initials on all of the earmarked lines throughout the stack.

When he finishes the last page, he shuts the folder and leans back in his chair, letting out a long exhale. He did it. He supposes he should feel some sort of severing away of his old life, maybe an audible snap as the ties to his marriage get cut, but there's just silence.

His office suddenly feels stifling, and he loosens his tie before reaching forward and lifting the picture frame with him and Haley on their wedding day. Her smile still looks beautiful to him, and his content expression as he gazes at her doesn't make him feel anything different. Their marriage may be over, but he still loved her.

He runs his thumb over the smooth edge of the frame, and then opens his desk drawer, before sticking it inside and pushing it closed.

***

"Thank you for watching him," Hotch says, his voice slightly muffled over the phone.

"Of course," you smile, sitting down on your couch with the pasta you made for dinner. "It was my pleasure. Jack's a total sweetheart."

Jess was out of town for a couple of days, so he had asked you to watch Jack while he and Haley met up to finalize the divorce in front of an attorney. She had been adamant about finishing the process over the phone, but he wanted to ensure that she and Jack would be taken care of after the papers went through.

"Did he eat lunch?"

"Kind of," you say, quickly swallowing the bite you took. "He didn't want a full meal, but I got him to eat some fruit and bread with cheese."

"I'll make him a snack soon," he says quietly, but you can tell he's just thinking out loud. "Alright, I'll see you at the office. Thanks again."

"Always," you tell him, genuinely. "See you."

The phone clicks off and you scarf down the rest of your pasta before doing your dirty dishes and cleaning up your kitchen. You're considering whether to change into your workout clothes so you can crank out a few miles on your Peloton, but then you hear a knock on your door.

You're not expecting anyone, and with Hotch watching Jack, it can't be him. You peek around the corner into your foyer to see who's at the door, and relax when you spot a familiar mop of brown hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't call first," Spencer says when you open the door, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his book bag. "I just didn't know how to ask you this over the phone."

"Spence, what is it?" you ask, opening the door further to let him in. He doesn't step forward, and a pinprick of anxiety enters your system.

"If I come inside, I won't be able to do this," he says vaguely, before reaching into his bag and pulling out a flyer. He hands it to you and you read the title, the tension seeping from your body as the words sink in: Narcotics Anonymous for Law Enforcement.

"I know it's a lot to ask," he whispers, "but would you drive me to the meeting tonight?"

Your heart feels like it's about to crack open. Only a boy who was never looked after, never given the love and care he deserved, would think that something like this was too much to ask.

"It's not too much," you tell him, glancing down at the address. "I'll get my keys."

When he's settled in your passenger seat, you pull out of the driveway, not commenting on the fact that his car is parked on the street beside your sidewalk. You understand the need for company more than most people.

The drive to the rec center where the meeting is being held is mostly silent, but you don't press him. He stares down at his hands for most of the ride, and when you stop in front of the entrance, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you. "Thank you."

"Of course," you smile. "I can wait, if you'd like."

He gives you a thin-lipped smile. "It's okay."

"You sure?"

He presses his lips together and looks at you, his eyes reflecting the question in yours.

"Go on," you say, patting his arm. "I'll be here."

He nods and steps out of your car, and you pull into a parking space to wait in while he's in the meeting. You turn on the radio and it's the same song they've been playing for the last week, so you turn the volume down low and close your eyes for a few peaceful moments.

You must have fallen asleep, because you're jarred awake by the chirping sound of your cell phone ringing. It's a bureau number, so you clear your throat and answer the call. "L/N."

"Hey, Y/N." It's JJ, and she sounds tired. "We have a case. It's urgent, so we're flying to Texas tonight."

You sigh louder than you meant to. "I can be there in 20."

"See you soon."

The line clicks off and you rub the sleep from your eyes. A quick check of your watch tells you that you were only asleep for about a half hour, but that's just half of the meeting time. You know Spencer will come back when he gets the call, so you turn the radio off and sit up in your seat.

A few minutes later, he returns to the car. You saw him just over 30 minutes ago, but he already looks lighter than he did when he got to your house.

"I'm proud of you, Spence," you tell him as you start the car.

He nods, a quick thanks. "This federal agent gave me his one year medallion after I left the meeting. I've only been clean for 10 months, but he still gave it to me."

"He believes in you," you say simply, glancing over at his confused expression.

"He doesn't even know me."

You shrug. "You don't have to really know someone to care about them, Spencer. You just have to see something of yourself in them."

"Is that what you see in me?" he asks, finally looking at you.

You consider this for a moment. Is that why you feel so protective over him?

"I don't know," you say eventually, not wanting to lie, even by accident. "I definitely wasn't as smart as you were, or as focused. I wasn't all that driven in high school at all, to be honest. I was lucky to have Hotch. He gave me the push I needed to get out there and focus on school."

He's silent for a minute and you worry you may have said something wrong. Then: "I didn't have anyone in school." He pauses for a beat, before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. "I was in the library one day, and this girl comes up to me, and she tells me that Alexa Isben wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Isben was, like...easily the prettiest girl in school."

You frown, already not liking where this story is going. "Did she not show up?"

"No, she was there." His voice sounds almost resigned, but there's a note of something darker underneath. Something raw and painful, that likely still hurts after all these years. "But so was the entire football team. They stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post. So many kids were there, you know, just watching."

"No one stopped them?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I begged them to, but they just...they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left." He clears his throat, and the sound is small, like a little boy's. "It was like midnight when I finally got home. And my mom didn't...Mom was having one of her episodes, so she didn't even realize I was late."

"You never told her what happened?"

He shakes his head. "I never told anybody. I thought it was one of those things that I thought if I didn't talk about it, I'd just forget. But I remember it like it was yesterday."

"You don't need an eidetic memory for that, Spence," you whisper, trying to stay focused on the road even as his words swirl into your memories and create an agonizing hurricane of emotions. "I was only ten years old when my mom was killed, but I can still remember every moment of her funeral."

The field office comes into view and you push forward as you scan your badge and slide into a parking spot below the upper garage. When the car is in park, you undo your seatbelt and turn to him. "I know how hard it can be to push away the painful memories, but there's something more important that I need you to remember."

"Remember what?"

He looks at you then, and you reach forward to squeeze his hand. "You're not alone anymore."

***

"Is it always this hot?" You look up at the beating sun through your shaded sunglasses and fan your face with both of your hands.

"Every day, all day," Emily huffs, running her fingers through her bangs to unstick them from her forehead.

Everyone is sweltering in the Miami heat, but then Derek gets off the plane with a wide grin, his skin glistening in the sun, and you resist the urge to throw your bag at him. "South Beach, baby."

He immediately shuts up when he spots the stunning Miami PD detective who called your team in for the recent string of murders. JJ shoots you a smirk before introducing her to the team. "Detective Lopez. We spoke on the phone."

"Tina," she corrects, before shaking her hand. "Thank you for coming down so quickly."

"Hey," Emily says from beside you, making you turn to see what she's looking at. "Isn't that..."

You spot the person she's referring to, and your face splits into a big smile. "Detective LaMontagne!"

"He's here to ID the cop they pulled from the bay last night," Tina explains.

You don't miss the flush in JJ's cheeks as she shakes his hand. "Detective, good to see you."

"How are you?" you ask, giving him a quick hug that he returns.

"Yeah, Charlie Luvet and I worked together for seven years."

Derek frowns. "Sorry for your loss, man."

Tina looks confused, and you don't blame her. "So, you all know each other?"

"Professionally," JJ is quick to add. Will whips around to look at her, and you turn to Emily with an eyebrow raise, feeling like you're intruding on a private moment. You aren't sure why she won't just admit that they've been together since New Orleans, but that's her business.

***

You join JJ and Will at the IDing of Officer Luvet, and you keep your distance as he glances down at the body and affirms the report.

"Yeah, that's him."

JJ looks like she wants to comfort him, but instead she sticks to the professional approach. "If you need help making arrangements, liaising with families is part of what I do."

Will nods, his voice choking up slightly. "I might just take you up on that. Excuse me, I'll be outside."

When he steps outside of the coroner's office, you can't help but notice the longing look on JJ's face as she watches him go.

"Let's go," she says to you softly, her eyes still on the door. You follow her outside, but by then Will is nowhere to be found.

"It's okay, you know," you blurt out. You weren't really planning on talking to her about this, but sometimes your mouth takes over before your brain can catch up. "I know you worry that being around a band of profilers all the time makes you vulnerable."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," she says simply, not quite meeting your eye.

"JJ," you say seriously, trying to convey your pure intentions. "If you keep trying to hide it, you'll lose him."

She purses her lips, and you squeeze her forearm, hoping you aren't pushing past her boundaries. The whole team is sparing with details about their personal lives, but you like to think that you're someone people feel comfortable sharing things with.

"I know you, hon." You flash her a knowing smile, feeling a shot of satisfaction as her lip twitches. "I know that it's enough for you to know that you care about something, but it's not enough for everyone."

She exhales, tucking her hair behind her ears. "He's upset with me, but I don't know what to do. I'm still scared."

You sigh, understanding her predicament, but still wanting her to push past it. "You can let yourself be happy, JJ. You won't always get hurt."

She nods before glancing around the room again, searching for Will even though he's long gone. It's an instinct you recognize.

Later, when JJ finally acknowledges their relationship by pulling him in for a kiss at the police station, you can't help but take it as a win.

***

Your house feels emptier than usual when you get back from Miami. Seeing JJ and Will find each other again reminded you of how much you miss having someone to share your life with.

Deciding to take a night to yourself, you pop open a bottle of red, and pour yourself a glass, which you swirl around before taking a sip. It's drier than you tend to go for, and when you check the label, you realize that's because you didn't buy it.

How can you drink this stuff?

It makes me feel sophisticated.

Jeff would break out the fancy glassware every chance he got, because he didn't believe in special occasions. He used to say that people waste precious moments of their life waiting for the right occasion to come around.

The memory feels warm in the back of your mind, and you take another sip of wine before walking over to your cupboard and grabbing the fanciest wine glass you can find. You pour the rest of your wine into the new glass and place the other in the sink, before swirling it around again. No time like the present.

You bring the glass to the couch with you, where you turn on the television and skip through the first few channels. As the wine in your glass depletes, the loneliness sets back in. You're about to pour yourself another pity glass when your phone buzzes with a call from Hotch.

"Do your television channels suck as much as mine do?"

You smile, muting the television and pressing the phone to your ear. "Definitely not."

He chuffs. "I guess I'm not used to the new tv controls."

Right, his new apartment. After the papers were finalized, he gave the house to Haley and moved into a new place ten minutes away.

"We can share mine," you say, listening to the sounds of his breath over the receiver. "I also have wine."

That gets a laugh. "I'll be there in 15."

You hear a knock on your door exactly 14 minutes later. When you open it, you're greeted with the sight of Hotch in a tee shirt and jeans. "A little underdressed, aren't we?"

He snorts, taking the wine glasses from your hands and following you into the family room. "What are we watching?"

"You're the one with the broken tv," you grin, flopping down on the couch and taking your glass from him. "What do you want to watch?"

He thinks for a minute, before his eyes sparkle with an idea. You cut him off before he can suggest what you already know he will. "We are not watching Top Gun again, Hotch!"

"You asked," he shrugs, hiding his smile behind a sip of wine. "What do you want to watch, then?"

You can see him watching you over the rim of his glass, so you blurt out the first name that comes to your mind. "Footloose."

He looks at you blankly for a moment, before his brow twitches, and your jaw drops. "You haven't seen Footloose?!"

"It came out when we were in high school," he groans, taking one of the throw pillows off the couch and stuffing it behind his back. "Terminator and Dune came out that same year. I remember because you tried to get me to watch it then too."

"It's an amazing movie!" you exclaim, standing up to go dig through your movie cabinet. "We're watching it right now."

He groans and sinks back into the pillows as you find the DVD and start the movie. You've seen it at least a dozen times, mostly because it makes you nostalgic for your teenage years, but the opening still gets you excited.

As the movie plays, you keep glancing over at Hotch, trying to see if he's enjoying the scenes just as much as you did on your first watch. To his credit, he watches the movie faithfully, without checking his phone or straying from the television screen.

"Enough," he grumbles suddenly, startling you.

"What?" you question, whipping your head around to face the screen.

"I'm watching the movie," he huffs, fixing you with a pointed look. "You don't have to keep checking."

You frown, hugging a pillow to your chest. "I wasn't checking, I just like seeing people's reactions to my favorite movies."

"Either way."

You groan, reaching out to thwack his arm.

"Eyes on the screen," he berates you, pointing at the TV. "The dance scene is starting."

You sip your wine bitterly as you try to resist the urge to glance over at him. Eventually, the movie takes over your attention and soon it's the final town council scene where Kevin Bacon gives a speech to the whole town.

"'There was a time for this law'," you quote along with the movie, "'but not anymore.'"

The movie comes to an end, and you click the remote to turn off the television. When you turn to Hotch with an excited grin, you're surprised to see that he has fallen asleep.

His head has fallen to the side, resting on the armrest, and he looks so peaceful with his expression completely neutral. His characteristic frown is nowhere to be seen as he snores quietly through his nose.

Your lips curve into a smile as you stand up and grab a blanket from a basket beside the couch. You drape it over his body, being careful not to wake him, and take the wine glasses to the sink before heading up for bed.

***

"That's because you pick horses the same way you practice law."

You hold your breath as he glances into the crowd for a brief second.

"...by always taking the long shot."

Emily snickers under her breath, and you see even Reid crack a smile as the lawyer starts floundering. The rest of the day in court goes by quickly and you all wait for Hotch in the hallway of the courthouse as he finishes up inside.

"That was impressive," you grin, nudging his shoulder as he walks alongside you. "I can't believe that was my first time seeing you in full prosecutor mode."

"Hardly," he says, rolling his eyes lightly. "I was called to give testimony, it's very different."

"I'm just surprised that prosecutor is still walking after how hard you hit him." He shoots you a look and you raise your hands in surrender. "Metaphorically, of course."

"That was a straight knock out." Derek comes up behind you and throws an arm around your shoulder as he spins you both to face Hotch. "The crowd practically cheered when you cleaned the floor with him."

"Thank you," he concedes, flashing his eyes at you. "Now let's get back to work. We still have to get more evidence for the rest of the trial."

And just like that, everyone switches back into work mode. Derek drops his arm and jogs forward to catch up to Rossi and Spencer, while Emily calls Garcia to get the latest update.

Using the moment of solitude, you bump his shoulder again. "Do you ever wish you were still a prosecutor? Your life would certainly be a lot simpler."

He shakes his head, the answer coming quickly and firmly. "I couldn't do it then, and I still couldn't now. Seeing the murderers come in after they've finished killing...I needed to know I could stop them before they were done."

His sentiment sounds familiar. Your mind flashes back to the little boy who took matters into his own hands, because no one could stop the pain for him.

You blink and it's present day again. You loved your best friend who fought his own battles without asking for help, and, even though he's vastly different, you love your best friend as he is now.

***

"Five shootings in two weeks."

"It's about time we got the call."

The whole team, plus Garcia, flies up to New York, where an unsub has been shooting people around the city, seemingly at random.

"Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office," Hotch explains, glancing down at his cell phone. "She's running point on the case and called me directly."

You have heard of her, which isn't too surprising, but all you know is that she's British and seems to be very good at her job.

"You know her?" Morgan asks him, echoing your thoughts.

Hotch nods. "We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard."

They liaised. You don't know what that implies, but you also know that he and Haley didn't take a single break during their relationship after graduating college, so it can't be anything too personal.

JJ and Emily share a look, but you don't engage with them, instead looking back at the case file and trying to focus on any of the words that aren't 'Kate Joyner'.

***

"Kate."

A pretty blonde woman approaches you all with a smile only for Hotch. "Aaron. How have you been?"

He nods. "Well, thank you. This is my team." He introduces each of you to her, but you don't miss how her eyes linger on you when he mentions your name.

"Thanks for being here," she says, before walking you all through the background of the case. Shootings in different precincts, seemingly random, FBI only brought in after the fourth murder.

After explaining the details and introducing you to the local detectives on the case, she pulls Hotch aside for a private word in her office. You turn back to the team, trying not to let your gaze linger on them as they walk away.

The NYPD doesn't seem happy that SSA Joyner has taken over their case, but even though she comes off as a bit brusque, you can tell she cares about catching this unsub just as much as they do.

"What's your partner's problem?" Reid asks Detective Cooper, the only local officer who has made an effort to meet any of you.

"We're glad the FBI was brought in," he explains with a heavy sigh, "but all of a sudden Joyner's taking meetings with the mayor and calling in you all without us knowing anything about it."

You can understand his hesitation, but you also need his cooperation if you're going to get anything done here.

"We're only here to help," Emily tells him as you turn around to find JJ.

"Has Garcia gotten settled in with the New York tech analyst?" you ask once you find her staring at a map of the various boroughs. She doesn't answer immediately, so you nudge her shoulder. "JJ?"

"Huh?" she startles. "Oh, sorry, yeah. She called a few minutes ago, she's all good."

JJ is usually the focused one who brings you back on track, so you're surprised by how distracted she seems. You nod in acknowledgement, scrutinizing her expression for another second, before heading back to the team. Your eyes involuntarily dart over to Kate's office, and you notice how close together she and Hotch are. You're about to avert your eyes when their body language becomes a bit clearer: each time she leans in to say something, he subtly pulls back.

The dynamic of their relationship is suddenly apparent, and you mentally kick yourself for daring to assume the worst when he first mentioned her. You can't say the same for your opinion of her, though. He's still wearing his ring, for God's sake. Based on how little you've heard about her from him (nothing, you mean), you doubt she even knows about the divorce yet.

Derek and JJ head out with the detectives to check out the last crime scene, while you stay back with Emily and Spencer to build the anti-geographical profile. When another victim is shot, you head to the new scene to see if you can build a working profile.

"It's a different borough again," you sigh after getting out of the SUV and joining Hotch, Kate, Derek, and JJ in front of the body. "Prentiss and Reid are back at the office still working the profile from a geographical angle. We're starting to think maybe we should get officers out onto the high-traffic intersections, and maybe even get some of us out there too."

"Uniforms are rounding up witnesses," Kate jumps in, ignoring you. "It doesn't seem like anyone got a clean look."

You see Derek glance at you out of the corner of your eye, but you don't entertain the look. If she has some issue with you that you aren't aware of, you won't give her the satisfaction of letting her get to you. "The unsub's probably gone before anyone even realizes it's happening,"

Hotch nods, turning to face Kate. "Is this what it felt like during the Son of Sam."

She returns his gaze. "First we realized that if the violence was truly random, there was almost no way of stopping it. Seems like these people have figured that out."

You look up, trying to see if there's anything in the vicinity you can use to ID the unsub. Your eyes catch on a security camera outside one of the delis directly behind you. "From the placement of that camera, odds are the only view they're going to get is the back of his head."

She frowns. "Let's not be too quick to decide what we do or don't have."

This time it's both Derek and JJ that glance at you, but you turn to Hotch, who is avoiding meeting your eyes. Kate steps away to speak with the detectives at the scene, so you grab his arm and pull him aside. "What is her problem?"

He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. "FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn't bring this case home, she's going to be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her."

"Replace her?" you echo, trying to process what he's saying. "I haven't even been in the BAU that long."

"It's not about field experience," he says, angling his body so that you're separated from the others. "You've been with the bureau longer than I have, and your work speaks for itself. It's not a surprise that they'd want to promote you."

You still can't wrap your head around the fact that you could be leading a unit yourself, or that you may have to leave the team you love, so you focus on what you do know. "I thought the bureau was proud of the fact that they stole her from Scotland Yard."

"I don't know," he shrugs, glancing back at her. "Politics here are different."

***

After finishing up at the crime scene, the whole team heads to the hotel to get some rest for the night. You feel more alert than you usually do after a long day of building a profile, and you adjust your bag strap on your shoulder as you dig around the side pockets for your room key. You don't plan on going to bed for at least a few more hours, and you might as well use the time to work on the case, but you need your key if you're going to get any sleep at all.

When your fingers finally catch on the thin plastic card, you look up to see a familiar face that you've been seeing more often than not, as of late. "Wait, isn't that..."

JJ looks up with a start, and she doesn't look distracted for the first time all day. "Will."

He gets up from the lobby chair he was lounging in and approaches her. "Hey, I took a shot and flew to D.C., but when it didn't work, I figured a train ride to New York was only a few more hours."

"Detective." Hotch reaches out and shakes his hand, before glancing at you with a frown that says, Did you know he was coming?

You shake your head imperceptibly and turn back to Will as he looks longingly at JJ. "Look, I'm sorry for showing up like this. I know you're working, but I can't stand you being on this case and me not being near." He pauses for a beat. "Not with what's going on."

That makes you frown too.

Hotch echoes your thoughts. "Is there a problem?"

JJ takes a deep breath and turns around to face all of you. "I'm pregnant."

Oh my God.

"Oh, my God," Emily exclaims, pulling her into a hug, the first of you to regain her bearings after hearing the news. "JJ, congratulations."

"That's amazing, JJ," you grin, hugging her next.

You don't miss how stiff Hotch is as Will shakes his hand. "I've asked JJ to marry me."

"Will," JJ says tightly, a warning in her voice.

He chuckles. "Well, we're working out some kinks."

"We'll give you both some privacy." Hotch turns away from them, his face falling the moment she can't see him anymore. You know he's hurt that she didn't trust him with this information, but you're surprised by just how downtrodden he seems.

JJ rushes after him. "Hotch-"

"JJ, you could have told me," he says softly, his voice both confused and stung.

She looks down. "I know."

"Because I understand if you need to take some time."

"No," she shakes her head, without a look back. "I want to be here."

"Okay," he nods, not looking at any of you. "7:00 AM."

You try to catch his arm as he walks off, but he either ignores it, or he doesn't feel you reaching for him. You choose to believe it's the latter.

***

You all deliver the working profile to the police officers first thing the next morning. While you're explaining an alternate possibility, Garcia calls with an update that a possible unsub was caught on camera shooting someone on a subway platform at one of the intersections you suggested that your team patrol yesterday.

"We could have had that guy," you say, your voice fuming with anger as you turn to Kate with a glare you haven't used in ages.

She doesn't falter. "Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated."

"Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot."

She fixes you with a stare. "I had every available man on the street."

"And I suggested to you that you use this team." You can't believe that her decision to ignore your advice yesterday might have just cost someone else their life. You can see the rest of the team looking at you with some blend of concern or indignation on your behalf, but you don't care. You just need Hotch to back you up.

Instead he just looks at you. "L/N, second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now."

You're so angry, you can barely see straight. Emily reaches for your arm, but you shake her off. "Hotch, how are we supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them, if she won't let us do our job?"

"We're here to present a profile," he says simply, not quite meeting your eye. "That's what we need to do."

You gape at him, your back straightening as you get ready to stand your ground. You don't disagree on things like this often, but when you do, it's usually a civil conversation that gets resolved quickly. You've never felt this angry about his handling of a case before, but then again, he's never not had your back before. "We've got seven bodies, Hotch."

He looks at you then, and you can't discern anything from his expression. It's a blank slate that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's not your place to have this discussion."

"Screw you."

You spin around, shoving away Derek and Emily as they try to talk you down. You stalk past them and out of the field office, where the cool evening air fills your sinuses and clears your head for a moment of silence. You stand on the sidewalk for a few seconds, waiting, and when he doesn't follow you out, you just manage to convince yourself that you're not disappointed, but relieved.

***

You're sitting at the hotel bar when Rossi finally finds you. You only ordered a lemon water, still feeling like you're on the clock, even if there's a good chance Hotch won't let you back into the investigation.

"I know," you huff when he takes a seat beside you. "I was out of line."

"You got too emotionally involved," he says, turning to face you. "I know you and Hotch are friends, but that doesn't mean you get to be unprofessional."

You sigh, your body deflating as all the fight leaves you. "I just felt like he was taking her side. Like he didn't have my back."

"There are no sides here."

You nod. "I know."

"And he does have your back." You look at him then, and he flashes you a small smile. "That man will always have your back. Right now, he's just worried about how Kate is holding up, with the word on the street."

That surprises you. "You know about the promotion?"

He nods. "People talk. But if she were to get fired, it would be because we didn't solve this case."

You frown, lifting your hand in defense. "Rossi, I hope you're not saying you think I want her to fail."

"Of course not," he shakes his head. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I lost my head for a second," you acknowledge, taking a sip of water. "I think I just needed a minute."

"And you got it," he says simply. "But right now, I see someone who wants to get back on the job. Or is there another reason why you ordered a glass of water at a bar?"

You set your glass down, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Where is everyone now?"

You both stand up, and he leads you out of the lobby. "Joyner took your advice. We're spreading out across the city."

***

"Emily, what happened?"

You rush forward to where she is standing over the dead body of a young man. Detective Cooper was taken in an ambulance to a nearby hospital after getting shot, and you only just arrived on the scene.

"He was strangely calm," she whispers as Derek and JJ come up behind her. "It's almost like suicide by cop."

"Why?" JJ thinks out loud. "Why would he do that?"

Derek looks at you. "We need to walk back through this profile."

Hundreds of thoughts are swirling through your brain, but based on the look on everyone's faces, you can tell they're thinking the same thing you are: terrorism.

After the crime scene officials arrive, you head over to your SUV to get back to the field office. Derek heads out to brief Homeland Security, and Reid leaves to talk to the Port Authority police, while Hotch and Kate call with the update that they will be going to speak with the mayor's office.

You start your SUV and pull out into the street when a loud explosion goes off a few streets behind you, the plume of smoke and fire large enough that you catch the high end of it in your rearview mirror.

You screech to a stop, just as your phone starts to ring.

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @sanayikes, @yiiiikesmish, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog (message me to be added!)

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female!reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #david rossi #jason gideon #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner series #criminal minds series #criminal minds season three #hotch fic #criminal minds fanfiction

[jpmarvel90]

Guilt

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Relationship: Natasha x Reader

Summary: Natasha finally finds her sister Yelena. Only to discover she has a friend that escaped the Red Room with her. Distrust causes issues between the trio and leads to a break up of friendships.

Word Count: 8306

Y/n's POV:

Yelena and I were on the run for almost two years before her sister Natasha Romanoff found us. We had managed to escape the Red Room together and had been on the run ever since. Yelena had become like a sister to me. She's a year older than me but we've always looked out for each other. Our last few months in the Red Room were horrible and we went through things that no one ever should have to.

Once we escaped, we had a freedom neither of us thought we'd ever have. Even if we did have to move on every few months, we lived life to it's fullest. We moved across Europe, working any job that we could and always finding some shitty one bed apartment that we could live in. The aim was to save up as much money as we could to get to the US. Yelena was sure that was where her sister Natasha was, and I wanted to make sure she got reunited with her family. In the Red Room, they take everything away from you. Knowing that she was able to keep a hold of her sister, meant a lot to Yelena. She deserved to be happy.

I didn't know Natasha really, other than the rumours I heard whilst I was in the red room. As I was 7 years younger than her, I didn't have much to do with her. She seemed familiar but I put it down to the fact that we had training sessions with the older age groups at times and we probably met then at some point.

After she escaped, Yelena was moved to our section. She was punished for Natasha escaping and I helped to clean her wounds. It's how we became friends and over time, why I started to see her as my sister.

The moment that Natasha broke into our apartment in Budapest is something I'll never forget. I had just come back from the shop to find the two of them strangling each other with a curtain. When they called a truce, it was like none of that had ever happened. Natasha was quick to pull Yelena into a tight hug and apologise for leaving her in Red Room and not going back for her.

When she became aware of my presence, Natasha was quick to point a gun to my head. "No! No! Natasha, that's Y/n. Put the gun down!" Yelena shouted, stepping in front of her sister, and pushing her away. "Who's Y/n?" Natasha asks with a bite to her tone. "She was in the Red Room with me. She helped me escape. She can be trusted Natasha." Yelena tries to convince her. She looks me up and down before dropping the gun. "You look familiar." She grunts as she slips her weapon into the back of her jeans. "She was J block. It's where I was moved to when you left." Yelena explains for me.

"Hmm. I think I worked with them a few times." She thought out loud. She's probably right. They often sent the older kids in to practice their technique on us. I had even seen some of my friends killed by them. I was even almost killed in one training session. They were completely brain washed by Dreykov and his men to do horrible things.

After the reunion in Budapest, Natasha offered Yelena a place within Shield, and with that a place to stay with her at the compound where her and her team lived. Yelena only agreed to go if I was allowed to go with them. Natasha reluctantly agreed and before we knew it, we were on a jet flying to New York.

The whole way there, Yelena and I held hands, excited that we were finally safe, no longer having to stay on the run to keep alive. Maybe we'd even get the chance to take down the red room once and for all. For the whole flight, however, I could feel Natasha's harsh gaze on me. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, but I tried to ignore it. Maybe she was just slightly jealous that I had such a close relationship with Yelena.

Over the next few months, my relationship with Natasha did not improve. In fact, I'm sure it got worse, no matter how hard I tried. She just didn't seem to trust me. And because she didn't trust me, the rest of the team were reluctant to do so either. Initially, Yelena tried to get us to all get along. But I could see that she felt like she was in the middle. So, I encouraged her to spend more time with Natasha. She had been desperately trying to get back to her for years, it's only right that they have time together. I'd be ok.

Over time though, Yelena started to spend less and less time with me. At times she would barely talk to me, it was almost like I was a chore for her. The tag along that was only there to help her escape. Now she has her sister and new family, I'm not needed anymore. I've tried really hard to make friends with the others on the team, but it doesn't seem to be going very well. Especially with Steve, he's always harder on me than the others and I can see he has a hatred for me in his eyes.

I considered leaving, but after talking with Agent Hill and Directory Fury, I found a purpose to stay. I could help to take down the red room. They both trusted me, and I appreciated that. I worked with them a lot on a number of missions to get the intel that we would need to finally put an end of other girls ending up like Yelena, Natasha and me.

Having that purpose didn't make it any easier back at the compound. I still was required to go on missions with the Avengers, but that was the only time any of them would really talk to me now. Even Yelena. It really started to hurt. I thought I meant more to her, but clearly not. I don't know why I ever thought that I would fit in anywhere. I spent my childhood locked away and with no family to help me find my way, I was always going to be an outcast.

After a particularly bad mission, I was on the receiving end of a barrage of abuse from Steve and Sam. I hadn't done anything wrong, but they were looking for someone to blame and that landed solely on me. The whole journey back on the quinjet was torture as they took it in turns yelling at me. I didn't have anything to say in response, I know I would only make things worse. But what really hurt was the way that Yelena didn't say a word to even try to stand up for me. Especially when the next attack that came out of Steve's mouth. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were a double agent really working for Hydra and Dreykov. All these solo missions you do. Are you really reporting back to the enemy?" He spits at me. I open my mouth to defend myself, but he quickly holds his hand up to me. "You don't talk!" He hisses.

He takes a deep breath before turning to me once again. "You're just a trained murderer who will never be able to make up for the red in her ledger. You're not worthy of the place you have been afforded here." I have to choke back the sob that fights to get out. My glossed over eyes look to Yelena who instantly looks away. I'm the same as her, the same as Natasha, yet none of them can give me the benefit of the doubt.

Thankfully, the quinjet lands at his last sentence and I'm the first off, the jet. I rush to my room and start to pack my bags instantly. I can't stay here anymore. I don't feel safe. I know that I don't have the teams support and I'm only a danger to them and myself.

I don't own a lot, so it doesn't take me long until I'm packed up. A miserable depiction of my life. I wait until I know everyone will be having dinner and I'll be able to slip out with no issues. Leaving probably will make them think I'm working for the enemy even more, but I won't stay here any longer.

When I'm ready to leave, I reach up and take off the necklace that has hung around my neck for the last two and a half years. It's a spider charm. Yelena brought us each one with her first pay cheque. It was meant to represent our relationship as sisters. Now it just symbolises everything that I've lost. I place it on top of the chest of draws in my room then I grab my small duffle bag and make my way out. As I sneak past the kitchen, I hear them all laughing together. A family that I'll never be a part of.

When I leave the compound, I make my way to Shield headquarters. Luckily, Fury is still there, and I explain everything that has happened. I practically beg him to let me leave and go as far away from here as possible. He offers me the chance to be free, away from Shield and far away from the Avengers, if I carry out one last mission with Agent Hill. I instantly agree when he gives me the details. If I can do one final good thing to help defeat the red room, then I'll take it. It feels like the only thing that I have left to give to this world.

Nat's POV:

Watching the way Steve and Sam tore strips off Y/n on the way back home was hard to see. It wasn't her fault that we failed that mission. But she was the chosen target for their anger. I could see Y/n getting smaller and smaller with each insult that was flung her way.

But I'm sure I saw the moment her heart actually broke. You'd think it was the moment Steve called her a murder, not worthy of her place. That did damage, of course it did, but the moment her heart broke was when she looked to Yelena for any kind of support, only for her to look away. That was the moment I saw the tiniest bit of light left in Y/n's eyes disappear. I should have said something. I should have stood up for her. If that is how Steve sees Y/n, then that is what he should think of me and Yelena, and I know for a fact he doesn't.

I feel immense guilt as I watch Y/n rush off the jet. I've not made her life easy since she's been here. But it's been misguided. I remember Y/n. Of course I do. She was my target to kill. I had been put against her in a fight to the death. But she was strong. She fought well. I beat her to an inch of her life at the orders of Dreykov, only to be stopped from choking her to death at the last moment. He had deemed her worthy of living for the fight she had put up.

I still remember the fear in her eyes as she thought I was about to take her life away. I knew who she was as soon as she walked into the apartment in Budapest. But I didn't know how to be around her, so I didn't try. The benefit of being the Black Widow, is being able to hide how I really feel. What I didn't realise was how much that would affect the team's thoughts on her.

They believed that I didn't trust her so decided they didn't either. I mean, it's good to know that the team support me like that. But it must have been hell for Y/n. She would try so hard to fit in but was met by cold shoulders from everyone. Even Wanda and she will make an effort with everyone. It made my guilt grow even more, but instead of putting a stop to it, I just started to remove myself from the situation. I would hang out with Yelena as much as I could because she was the one person that could make the guilt disappear for a split second. Y/n represents every bad thing I did in the red room, and I let her suffer for it.

But I know now that I need to fix this. I would observe Y/n and I truly believe she is one of a kind. She has such a kind soul for someone who has been through so much hell. Things were bad when I was in the red room, but they only got worse after I left. Yelena had told me some stories and they always ended with Y/n being there for her. I'm glad that she had someone like her during such a horrible time in her life.

I would find myself craving to get to know Y/n more, knowing that my life would only be brighter to have her in it. But I didn't deserve that, so I shut off any thoughts of that. I could not and would not think of her more than a work colleague. I wish I didn't because I don't think I'll be able to make up for everything that has happened over the past six months since the two of them came home with me.

After we got off the jet, I went straight to Yelena's room. She slammed her bag on to the floor as soon as she got there. "What gives Steve the right to talk to Y/n like that. She didn't do anything." She says angrily, pacing around her room. "She was brain washed. We all were. She was always the best of us, the one who kept the small amount of hope that we would all be ok. He has no right to talk to her like that." She shouts as she drops onto her bed.

I take a seat next to her as she breaths heavily. "We should go and talk to her and make sure she's ok." I suggest, earning a nod from Yelena. When we leave her room, we're greeted by Steve. "Tony ordered Pizza, come join us." He says with a smile. "We'll just go and get Y/n and see you there." I say but he stops me. "She's not welcome. The team don't want her there. Now join us." He says sternly. I just look at him in disbelief.

I'm sure I see smoke coming off of Yelena's head as Steve walks away. "That asshole." She mumbles, clenching her fists in anger. I place a hand on her shoulder. "Let's take a moment and then go to her." I suggest but she snaps her head to me. "Why do you suddenly care?" She snaps, but I don't blame her. My gaze drops to the floor before I decide that now's the time tell her the truth. I guide her back into her room and sit her on the bed. I take a deep breath and explain everything that happened in the red room. How I almost killed Y/n and let the guilt affect how I treated her once she was here.

Yelena sat there in shock after I finished admitting the truth. "She never would have blamed you for that. In fact, one of her best friends in there was someone who shot her. We had to do as we were ordered or we got killed or punished, she never held that against anyone." Yelena tells me, which just makes my guilt grow even more, if that's even possible!

"We need to make things up to her and try and get the team to see she's not a threat. I can't believe that I've let this happen." Yelena sighs, and I can feel the pain radiating off her. "Come on then, let's not waste any more time." I tell her, holding my hand out to her. She gives me a smile and takes it. When we reach her door Yelena knocks but gets no answer. She knocks again. "Y/n/n, it's me. Can I come in?" She asks but is met with silence.

"Friday, is Y/n in there?" I ask the AI before we go barging in. "No Agent Romanoff. Y/n left the compound with her belongings 20 minutes ago." The AI responds. Not wanting to believe what she just heard, Yelena opens the door and calls out for Y/n again. "Please Y/n. We're here to apologise." I can hear the desperation in her voice as she goes into the bathroom and opens the wardrobe to see them empty.

Tears start to fill her eyes and then they land on something on the top of the chest of draws. And this here is the moment I see my sister's own heart break. Her hand shakes as she reaches out to pick up the necklace that is waiting for her. "We vowed to never take these off. They were to show that we were always with the other regardless of where we were. What have I done?" She whispers that last bit as she slides down the wall to the floor. I sit next to her and wrap an arm around her as I fight tears of my own, knowing that I'll never be able to fix this for either Y/n or my sister.

"Director Fury has asked for your presence in the meeting room." Friday informs us. I look to Yelena and we both take a moment to compose ourselves before heading out to meet Fury. The rest of the team are already waiting in there as we take our seats. "Who the fuck wants to explain why my best agent has just handed in her resignation." He yells, hitting his hand down on the table. It makes me jump to see his anger.

"None of us have done anything to Agent Hill." Steve defends but Fury's head snaps to him. "Not Hill. Y/l/n." He says with a fire in his eyes. Steve scoffs at his words. "She got what was coming to her. She's clearly been working with Hydra. How else do you explain all these 'solo' missions she's been doing?" He argues, a venom lacing his voice. Fury lets out a small chuckle and we instantly know that's not a good sign.

"Those solo missions were at my request." He states and the air in the room seems to disappear. It's like everyone has realised what has happened. "B-but Romanoff doesn't trust her." Steve tries to defend. Everyone's eyes fall to me. "I've never said that. I had my own problems that had nothing to do with Y/n but my inability to deal with my past." I admit, but I know some of the blame falls to me as well.

"What even were these missions?" Steve questions Fury, again a bad move. "Know your place, Rogers. I don't think you realise the asset we've just lost." Another scoff comes from Steve. "She's not an asset to anyone." Fury slams his hand down on the table once more which startles us all. "Watch what the next words are to come out of your mouth." He growls and Steve instantly shrinks into his seat. "Y/n was helping me to collect information on the red room. As one of the last known people to escape, her knowledge was invaluable to us. It's because of her, we're the closest we've ever been to taking them out." Silence fills the room as Fury explains what Y/n has been doing before Yelena speaks up.

"But I escaped with her. Why did you ask me to help?" She asks, as Fury gives her a pitying look. "Y/n didn't want you to have to relive what happened to you in there or risk losing your family. She was protecting you." Fury explained. Yelena's mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out as she realises what Y/n has done for her. For us.

Fury turns his attention back to the rest of the team. "She thought if she could bring down the red room, that she could prove to you all that she was trustworthy and earn her place here. Maybe even gain a family. But instead, she's left here believe she is and has nothing. So much for earth's mightiest heroes. You can't even be there for your teammate." And with that Fury left the briefing room, leaving us all shellshocked at his revelations.

I can hear quiet sobs coming from Yelena as I try to fight the sick feeling in my stomach knowing she's out there alone feeling like she never meant anything to us. To me. "She's always put me first. Always protected me. She was my sister but as soon as I came here, I tossed her aside, too scared of losing you. I've let her down. I couldn't even stand up for her against Steve." I go to wrap my arm around her, but she shrugs me off. "Don't. I'm so ashamed of myself, of us. How we have treated her. All she has ever wanted is a family. To feel like she belonged somewhere. But I bought her here just for her to feel like she's a monster." She cries before storming out of the room.

The rest of the team are in shock. I decide to share with them what I did with Yelena. They deserve to know the whole truth. If we're able to bring Y/n back, she deserves this team at their best. They are an amazing family. I just wish I hadn't allowed this to happen.

Steve instantly feels guilty after I explain. "I should never have said what I did to her. I misplaced my anger. I just assumed the worse. I'm sorry Nat. You came from the same place as she did. What I said wasn't only disrespectful to her, but you as well." He apologises. I can see the sincerity in his face. "It's not me that deserves an apology. I've let Y/n down more than anyone here. She is a good person, and we would have been lucky to have her in our lives. I just hope that we can repair this." Knowing there is nothing more I can do. I get up to leave to find Yelena.

As I'm walking past Y/n's room, I hear crying. I open the door and I'm greeted by Yelena hugging her pillow close to her. I slowly get into the bed behind her. I wrap my arms around her and let her cry and express what she needs to. "I let her down Nat. I should have been there for her, but I wasn't. How can I ever call myself a sister to her after I just left her like I did? She deserves better." She laments, the pain evident in her voice.

"She's not safe Nat. They'll know it was her that has been doing these missions. They'll be going after her and if they get her, they'll kill her and it'll be my fault." She turns in my hold and sobs into my chest. I'm crying myself knowing that she's right. I've never seen Yelena like this. She's completely broken. I need to fix this for both of them. I can't see Yelena like this, and I just want to have a second chance with Y/n.

When we finally have pulled ourselves together, we get up and start our search to find her. Tony lets us use anything he has to try and find her, but it's no use. For weeks we try to look for her, but we get nothing. Not even a hint of where she could be. I pray it's because she is good enough to go off the grid like this. But in my stomach, I have this gnawing feeling that she's been captured and killed. It's the more likely answer, but I don't dare say it allowed. She has to be ok. She has to be alive.

Three years later

"I've got something!" Tony comes running into the dining room one evening with the biggest grin on his face. "I don't think we want to know what you've got." Sam jokes, causing us all to laugh. "Funny. But no. I've got a hit on the facial recognition for Y/n." Silence falls over us all at his words. "She's in Pennsylvania." He informs us. I feel Yelena's hand grip my thigh at his words.

We never gave up. These last three years, we have all still been looking for her. Determine to find her. The team have been helping us and we take it in turns to trawl CCTV and all of the databases that we can for any hint that's alive and well. So to hear that we finally have something, a possibility of seeing her again after these last few years is such a great feeling.

"What are we waiting for we should go!" Steve jumps up and orders us. It really affected him after we all found out the truth. He spent weeks reading over Y/n's solo mission reports. What she did was incredible and how she hid some of her injuries I'll never know. But I guess when no one gives you the time of day, it's easy enough to do. "I don't think we should all go in guns blazing. Besides we don't know what state she is in." Tony rebuts which causes Steve to reluctantly agree.

"Yelena and I will go. We'll assess the situation and hopefully bring her home safe. If we need it, we'll call in for backup." I say authoritatively. They all eagerly agree before Yelena, and I head off to grab what we need. We pack a bag as we don't know what we're going into. We need to do this carefully. If she's been taken by the red room, we can't screw this up.

Tony has arranged everything for us, including staying in a hotel in the small town she's been located in. Whilst on the quinjet there, I'm doing additional research to see if we have any intel of there being a Hydra or red room base there. After Y/n left, it became harder for us to find any information on the red room. Yelena and I went on missions in place of her, but we didn't get the same results. The red room is still active, but we are so close to ending it. I just hope it hasn't come at too high a cost.

We arrive in a town called Ligonier, a very traditional US town. We land the jet away from any people and make our way to the town centre and our hotel. Once we've checked in, we set up all our tech so we have communications back home with the compound, as well as the software for facial recognition. I can tell that Yelena just wants to go out and search the whole town for her, but we need to be sensible.

So, we spend that evening gathering as much info as we can, Tony being a great help to us from back home. "The facial recognition I got was from a coffee shop on the main street of the town. It's probably a good place to start. Interestingly, there are either no cameras there, or the ones that are don't work. Almost like someone doesn't want to be found." He starts to explain. "Where did you get her then?" I question as I find the location of the coffee shop. A camera from the town hall across the way. It picks her briefly in the back of the frame." He explains.

After coming up with a plan of action, we head to bed but neither of us can sleep. "I'm excited to see her again." Yelena says from her bed next to me. "But I'm also worried that she's not safe or won't want to see us." She adds on and I can hear the pain in her voice. Y/n leaving affected Yelena a lot. She has carried around a guilt that she wasn't there for her and let her be treated like she was. I've lost count of the times I'd find her in Y/n's room crying, terrified that she was dead, and it was all her fault. Truth is, it would all be mine.

"The main thing is that she's safe. We can work on forgiveness after that." I say and Yelena hums in agreement. "You know. I always thought you liked her at first. It's why I tried to get you to allow her to join us so much. But then over time I just realised you didn't like her at all, and I chose you over her. If only I had known, I could have made things right between you." She chuckles lowly whilst my eyes widen.

I feel Yelena's eyes on me when I don't respond. "Oh my God! You do like her!" She squeals, turning so she's facing me. "Shut up. I don't." I weakly defend. "HA! See it's so clear! You like Y/n!" She teases me whilst I huff, knowing that I'm not going to hide it from her. "Are you mad?" I ask timidly which seems to shock Yelena. "Not that you like her. You both deserve to be happy. Maybe a little mad that if you hadn't put your head in the sand, we wouldn't have been in this position of trying to find her after her disappearance three years ago!" She lightly scolds.

"I always thought whoever would end up with Y/n would be one of the luckiest people in the world. Maybe that could be you." She adds on which causes a smile to form on my face. But I quickly shake my head knowing that we have to find her and earn her forgiveness first.

We eventually fall asleep and wake up refreshed, ready to bring Y/n home. We're up early and head to the coffee shop that she was spotted in. We order our drinks and sit out of the way, but still with a good view of the whole shop. After about an hour, Y/n rushes in through the door apologising. "I'm so sorry Jill. Mia did not want to leave this morning. I'll make up for it." She rambles as she grabs an apron from behind the counter. "Don't worry about it Y/n. It's not busy. Take a breath." This Jill reassures her.

We stay for another hour and make the decision to leave, not wanting her to spot us just yet. Instead, we stay locally, to get an idea of when her shift ends. We go back the next few days and just seeing her so carefree makes me happy. "She looks good. I love the blonde hair." Yelena states as we get into bed that evening. "I thought she had been captured, but to see her alive and well is good." I reply. Knowing that she's safe is such a relief.

The next day, we go to the coffee shop for the end of her shift. We decided that we'll try and talk to her today. We're both really nervous, but I'm hopeful that we might be able to start on the road to fixing this. Whilst sat at our same table, I watch almost mesmerised as Y/n floats around the coffee shop. She knows a lot of the people here and they seem to enjoy her being around. "She looks happy." I observe and Yelena nods.

Just as the clock is about to hit three, we're both startled by the door to the shop slamming open and a little girl running in. "Mama!" She shouts as she sprints through the shop. I smile at how cute the little girl is, but I feel my heart in my throat when she is running straight to Y/n. "Hi my baby." Y/n greets the child, picking her up and spinning her around. "Mama?" Yelena questions next to me.

"Can we go home now?" The little girl asks. "Give me 10 minutes sweetie and I'll be ready to go. I'll grab you a muffin whilst you wait." Y/n responds, sitting the girl at a table. Y/n finishes up her last few jobs before returning to her daughter. Wow that sounds weird. I find myself stuck to my seat not entirely sure what I'm feeling. I've missed my chance.

As her and the girl walk out the door, her eyes land on us. They go wide and she is quickly rushing out the door of the coffee shop. Yelena is far quicker than me and has jumped out of her seat and is chasing after Y/n. When I finally get my sense back, I follow quickly after, to see Yelena just catching up to Y/n. "Please, just wait. We've been looking for you for years." Yelena pleads.

Y/n is now holding the scared little girl in her arms as her eyes stare down Yelena. "We just want to talk. To have a chance to apologise. Please." Yelena practically begs. I can tell that seeing Yelena like this is having an effect on Y/n. She lets out a sigh and slowly nods. "Follow me." She mumbles and turns on her heal.

We follow her to a small little house just on the outskirts of town. The garden is immaculate and when she opens the door, it feels so homely. "Mia, why don't you go and play with your toys upstairs. Mama just needs to talk to these ladies." Y/n instructs the child, who seems reluctant to go. "But they're scary." Mia mumbles which causes Yelena to let out a small chuckle. "It's ok sweetheart. I'll be ok." Y/n reassures her.

Reluctantly Mia leaves and heads upstairs. I start to wonder around the small living space whilst Y/n makes us a drink. There aren't many photos up. Most of them are of Mia, but there are some with Y/n in too. This gives me the smallest bit of hope that it means she's not with someone else.

Y/n enters the living room with a tray with three glasses and a bottle of vodka. "Figured you wouldn't want a tea and I sure as hell need this for whatever you're here for." She says as she fills three glasses. There's a silence as we sit, neither Yelena nor I knowing where to start. The sound of the ticking clock is all you can hear and the occasional giggle from upstairs.

I notice that each time we can hear that, Y/n's face lights up. "So, you have a daughter." Yelena breaks the silence. "I do." Y/n responds shortly. "Were you pregnant whilst you were with us? I didn't know you were with anyone." Yelena questions. "Like you would have noticed anyway." Y/n scoffs. "But no. I wasn't. She's not biologically mine." Y/n admits which takes us a little by surprise. "Oh." Is all Yelena responds with. "Where have you been?" I now ask, wanting to know that she has in fact been safe since she left us. "Why should I tell you? You can't just turn up here and demand answers from me. It's been three years." She says firmly. She certainly got her confidence since she left!

"We've been worried about you Y/n. All we've wanted to do is apologise to you after that day. Well, not even just for that day. For everything, for the way I treated you when I promised you, we'd always be there for each other." Yelena answers, a hint of desperation in her voice. "For three years, I have been so angry at myself for getting so caught up on Natasha and not losing her, that I ended up losing you instead. It was like I felt like I couldn't have two sisters and being around Nat and the others made me feel like I had my family. I was a coward to let them isolate you like they did."

I have never heard Yelena talk so honest and openly about something before. It's obvious she is baring her soul her, and I think Y/n realises that too. "All I ever did was try and fit in with everyone. I knew we wouldn't always be together, but I didn't think that was how it was going to go." Y/n shares, pain in her eyes. "You just gave up on me. You couldn't even defend me to Steve." There's a crack in Y/n's voice, which she tries to hide.

"We both owe you an apology for that. How he spoke to you that day was out of line. We can't change what happened, but I hope that we can work to fix what we broke." I step in now. I know I'm going to have to tell her about why I acted like I did. But I'm dreading it. What if I tell her and she never wants to see me again?! I think that would break me. "I also owe you an explanation for why I treated you like I did." I start, wanting to get this out of the way.

"I know why. You didn't trust me around Yelena." She answers for me. I quickly shake my head. "No, that's not it at all." I defend, looking to Yelena who gives me a reassuring nod. I take a deep breath and explain everything to her. How I couldn't forgive myself for what I did, and I dealt with it all in the completely wrong way. She sat there shocked when I finished. Her silence was so tense. I was sure she was about to kick us out and tell us that she never wanted to see us again.

"Did you want to kill me?" She asks and I'm quick to deny it. "Of course not! I could never want to hurt you." I admit and she smiles. "You were controlled Natasha. We all did things that we didn't want to. But we had to to survive. I would never have held that against you." She tells me with such sincerity, it causes me to start crying. Knowing that she doesn't blame me brings such relief, but it also brings anguish at the thought of how I treated her.

"I'm still here sat in front of you. I'm alive and well with the most beautiful little daughter. You didn't ruin anything that day in the red room." She shares with a wide smile. "Yeah, about that child." Yelena jumps in. "Where did you get her?" She asks and I laugh at her blunt question. "When I went to hand in my resignation, Fury asked me to carry out one more mission for him. In return he would allow me to go free from it all. I instantly agreed. The mission was easy, but I came across a small baby, she was a little over a year old. I have no idea how she got there or what their plans were for her, but I couldn't leave her. When I arrived back at Shield with a baby in my arms, Fury stepped up for me. He helped me adopt her and get this house with a job and a new identity. Somewhere safe where Shield are still able to protect us if we need it." She explains.

If it's possible, it makes me lov-like her even more. She's so selfless. "Protect you. Are you in danger?" Yelena asks in a panicked tone. "Not directly. But with the red room still running, there will always be a chance they come for the both of us." She replies. "You know I never stopped seeing you as a sister." Yelena blurts out of nowhere. Y/n has a small smile on her face at those word. "I never did either. But I knew that the compound wasn't the place for me anymore. It was where your family was, not mine." Hearing those words is hard to take. We should have been the family she deserved but we weren't and it's all down to me.

"Do you have that family now?" I ask but I notice her head drop a little. "Mia and I make do. The people here are nice and look out for us." She responds. "Come home with us." It's my turn to now blurt things out and the request takes both Yelena and Y/n by surprise. "Hey! I was supposed to be the one to ask her that. Cyka." Yelena complains with a pout.

"But she's right. Come back with us. We can be the family you deserve. And you'd be safe too. Mia would never have to worry about the red room." Yelena directs towards Y/n. "I could make sure my niece is safe." Yelena smiles. "Your niece?" Y/n questions with a smirk. "You're my sister whether you want to be or not, so therefore she is my niece." She argues whilst Y/n lets out a hum.

"Mama! Can I have a dwink pwease?" Mia rushes down the stairs out of breath into Y/n's arms. "What did I say about running down the stairs?" Y/n scolds. "Sorry Mama." Mia apologises with the cutest little look. Oh she is going to have everyone putty in her hands. "I'll get her a drink. Milk?" Yelena jumps up, already trying to prove herself. "Please." Y/n nods holding Mia against her.

Mia's big eyes land on me and I smile at her. "Who is she?" Mia whispers to her mama. "That's Natasha. And that loud one over there is Yelena." Y/n responds, earning a gasp from Yelena. "I am not loud!" She shouts which causes Mia to let out a loud laugh in response. Yelena comes back over and hands over the glass of warm milk to Mia who happily sits and drinks.

"So... will you come back with us?" Yelena asks and Y/n sighs. "I don't want to have Mia in that environment where everyone hates her mama." Y/n responds. "They don't hate you. They understand what they did was wrong. Steve has been feeling guilt ever since you left. He was ready to jump on the quinjet with us and be here with us to apologise to you straight away." I tell her, wanting her to know that it will not be the same as it once was. "Besides, I won't let anyone say anything against you. I won't make that same mistake again." I say quietly, almost coming over as shy. "Me too. We'll protect you." Yelena confirms.

Y/n thinks for a while. "Ok, but I promise if anything like that happens again, I'm gone for good. I don't care about me, but I will protect Mia with everything I have." Y/n agrees which makes both Yelena and I jump up in excitement. "Why are they so happy?" Mia asks, placing her glass on the table. Yelena rushes over and picks her up and spins her around. "You're coming to live with your Auntie Yelena!" She shares excitedly. Considering this kid has just met us, she is so excited at the thought. Y/n just shakes her head at their antics, but she looks to me and our eyes meet. I smile at her which she easily returns.

We stay with Y/n for the week whilst she sorts all her affairs out here. We have called the team and told them that Y/n is coming home with us. We may have missed out a small detail of the child, but we wanted to surprise them all. I could tell that Y/n was nervous on the flight home. Mia was asleep, curled up on Yelena's lap, whilst Y/n was staring at the wall, her leg bouncing.

I take a seat next to her and place and hand on knee. "It's going to be ok." I try to comfort her. "I won't let anything happen to you. To either of you." I reassure her. "You've got Yelena and I completely. You're safe." She rests her head on my shoulder and looks towards the two sleeping children. "I think I'm more worried about the influence Yelena is going to have on Mia." She jokes, breaking the tension. "Oh, that I can't help you with. Yelena is a force even I can't control." I joke in return, earning a laugh from Y/n. Something that has become my favourite sound.

When the jet comes into land, Y/n gentle wakes Mia up, whilst I give Yelena a slap on the shoulder to rouse her. Y/n holds Mia on her hip, who is clinging to her mama as the ramp of the jet starts to lower. We're surprised to see such a welcoming party. Everyone is there, including Fury and Maria. I can see that it's overwhelming Y/n a little, but she takes a deep breath and starts to walk forwards.

"Agent Y/l/n. Good to see you again. You too little one." Fury greets booping Mia's nose. He quickly clears his throat when he notices we're all looking at him in shock and mutters something about important work to do before leaving. That leaves us with the team and the nerves have hit Y/n again. "Who's this?" Tony asks pointing to the child in Y/n's arms. "This is Mia. My daughter." The team gasp at Y/n's response. "Hi." Mia whispers giving a cute little wave. "No one hurts Y/n or my niece. If you do I will make your life hell." Yelena protectively growls. There's an agreement from the team as they slowly make their way forward to greet Y/n. Each giving their own apology.

"I'm going to build you a specific section here at the compound. I'll make sure you each have your own room and a living space. A place you can call home." Tony excitedly rambles on as he guides Y/n inside. "In the meantime, I'll arrange for your room to be kitted out for the two of you." He carries on. I can see the appreciation in Y/n's eyes as Tony rushes off, ordering Friday to order a new bed.

"Uh, Y/n. Could we talk?" Steve approaches Y/n, which causes Yelena and I to naturally step between them. "Please I just want to apologise." He pleads. "I'll take my little munchkin. Don't fuck up." Yelena warns, taking Mia from Y/n's arms. "fuck..." Y/n's head snaps to Mia as the colour drains from Yelena's face. "You are going to fix that." Y/n growls at Yelena who instantly apologises and rushes off, telling Mia that she can't say that word again.

I step away, but make sure I'm in ear shot should Steve not be being truthful with his intentions. "I just want to apologise for what I said that day and how I treated you whilst you were with us. I'm not going to make up any excuses because there aren't any. I was out of order, and I hope over time you can forgive me. You were an asst to this team, I was just too blind to see it." He's genuine in his delivery and I can see the cogs turning in Y/n's head. "Over time I think I can forgive you. Just don't be an ass again. I've got more to lose this time and I will do anything to protect that." She warns and I'm so happy that she is standing up for herself. "Of course. You and your daughter are safe here." He reassures her.

Content with the apology, Y/n moves further into the compound to find the two troublemakers. I follow to see Yelena and Mia asleep on Y/n's bed. "Remind me why I agreed for these two to live together?" She sighs. "Because we both unfortunately have her as our sister." I tease causing Y/n to laugh. "I know that Mia is safe here as long as Yelena's around." She whispers and I wrap my arm around her. "You're both safe here. I'll make sure of it." I tell her firmly. She looks up at me and our eyes lock on each other. I know that I will protect this woman with my life.

Two years later

I couldn't be happier in this moment as I hold Y/n close to me as the music plays. "I can't believe you're finally my wife." I whisper to her as her head rests against my shoulder, our bodies swaying to the beat. "Took you long enough to ask." She jokes and I pinch her side. "Hey! I had a real fear you'd say no." I defend weakly. "Unfortunately, you managed to worm your way into my heart that there was never going to be a chance I could keep going in this life without you. I was just waiting for you to take the leap." She responds, lifting her head to lock her gaze with mine.

"Oh, shut up. I had this from our daughter too. Bugging me every day to marry you. In fact, I think I was ambushed!" I tease and she laughs. "Well, you're stuck with me now. I'm not letting go." She replies. I lean down so my lips are hovering over hers. "Good, me neither." I whisper as I connect our lips in a soft kiss. "When are we going to tell our little spider that she's going to be a big sister?" I ask, placing my hand on my wife's stomach. "After the honeymoon. I want to have this time together first." She answers to which I easily agree. I will do anything for my wife and my kids.

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha #Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x Y/n #Natasha Romanoff Fanfiction #Yelena Belova #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #Avengers #Avengers Fanfiction

[clerc16]

mamma mia

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: sometimes, in order to live the summer you want, you have to take a chance and risk everything. in your case, going to italy while knowing absolutely nothing about the country. not even the language.

warnings: google translated italian, language. nothing else (for now). this will contain narrated parts and social media parts.

01: THE ARRIVAL

Easier said than done. Your summer in Italy was not off to a good start. Almost midnight and literally no taxis. Wasn’t this an airport? Where are the taxis?!

You sighed as you stood awkwardly outside the airport gates, praying for a car to show up. Much to your dismay, nothing had appeared, and you were beginning to regret this whole trip.

You looked around for a few more minutes before deciding to walk further down the road. Maybe there will be cars around there, yeah?

Well, no. Nothing, absolutely nothing - the only cars in sight were either parked or not taxis. You sighed loudly as you shook your head, the jet lag beginning to creep up on you and the overall exhaustion and stress of the flight.

You felt - and looked - hopeless, as you walked around the streets with your luggage bag, not knowing what to do. At one point, you did come across a few taxi drivers, but they all spoke little to no English. Just your luck.

Eventually, you decided to sit down and text Nat again. The chances of her replying were low, but not low enough to discourage you from actually messaging her.

As you walked, you found an empty bench across the street, and you decided to cross and stay there for a while. There were very little cars around during this moment as the city was beginning to fall asleep, but did you want to risk it? No. So you waited until the lights turned red.

The weather was warm, but there was some slight wind which caused you to momentarily feel peace.

Momentarily.

Just as the lights turned red, you began to cross the street, but a car coming at full speed braked slightly too late, and you swore you saw your life flash before your eyes.

There was a small moment of panic, but when the car stopped merely a few centimeters away from you, the panic slowly dissipated and was replaced by none other than anger. Fury, even.

As the driver hastily jumped out of the car, clearly panicked, you began to yell mindlessly at them.

“Are you insane?! You almost just ran me over because - what the hell were you even doing?!” You screamed, unaware of the driver’s constant apologies.

“I am so sorry - I didn’t see you, I didn’t realise the lights were red, I-” He continues, slowly making his way towards you.

“Fuck’s sake. Just forget it. My night can’t get any worse, anyway.” You sigh as you begin to walk away.

“Wait- no, I’m really sorry, are you hurt?” He asks, still following behind you.

“No.” You say coldly, not turning around. But when you feel him still standing there, you finally turn around. You can see, and sense, that he truly feels sorry, and also somewhat shocked about this occurrence.

“Do you... need any help?” He mumbles after a while, looking at your luggage. You sigh, then proceed to tell him - the opportunity came straight to you, might as well just use it.

“I just arrived in Italy a while ago. There are literally no taxis in sight, I cannot speak Italian and I just want to go to my hotel.”

He pauses for a moment before speaking up again.

“Well, it is pretty late. Would you like me to... maybe give you a ride?”

You considered it for a second: you just met the man, he almost killed you, you don’t even know his name, and now he is offering to drive you to your hotel.

“No pressure.” He says again, softly. You sigh and nod; you truly had no other options. He smiles a little before helping you put your bag in the backseat, allowing you to get into his car.

The car ride was short and quiet, but calm. On multiple occasions, he attempted to start a conversation, but it was shut down quite fast. Possibly due to your visible exhaustion and tiredness.

As you finally reached the hotel, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Uh... thanks for... driving me,” you say, looking at him. He smiles back, waving it off.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m Charles, by the way.” He says. You nod, then freeze halfway through.

You knew you recognised him from somewhere, something - it’s fucking Charles Leclerc. Charles Leclerc almost ran you over then drove you back to your hotel. In Italy.

“Oh! I actually- I know you,” you say, trying to seem nonchalant and calm. Deep inside, you were freaking out. He laughs at your response slightly.

“That makes my life a lot easier,” he replies before getting out of the car to grab your luggage.

“I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N ... thanks for driving me, again,” you smile as you take your luggage from him.

“No worries!”

You stand there for a moment, wanting to say something, but not being able to.

“Have a nice night, Y/N - enjoy the rest of your holiday,” he finally says with a wink, as you nod in thanks and begin to walk inside the hotel.

Holy shit, what just happened?

🔔 charles_leclerc just followed you!

mamma mia here i go again!

lmao i hope this was nice and promising, hopefully i will get to work on a next part soon! ❤️

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #scuderia ferrari #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #charles leclerc x you #fanfics

[hotchners-wifey]

Save Her

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader, Platonic!BAU x Reader, Morgan!Sister Reader

Summary: Y/N has a past she's never told anyone about, she was involved in some heavy things when she lived in England with her Aunt and Uncle. Things she thought were murdered along with her best friend, things she thought went missing with her boyfriend. Things that followed her to Quantico, Virginia. Previous Chapter~ Next Chapter Chapter Warnings: digging into the lives of the deceased,

________________________________________ The jet took off and we sat down around the laptop to talk to Penny, "Alright, I ran background checks on our two victims. From what I found their lives were fairly different, Judy Harris worked in accounting for Chicago Public Schools and Bobby Arin was a mechanic at a local auto shop." Penny explained. "Did you check recent purchases on Judy's credit cards to see if she paid for car services?" Derek asks. "That's the thing, when I went to check their recent purchases there was none." I looked up from the files, "What do you mean there were none?" I asked confused, "Exactly what I said, both accounts stop making purchases right around the same time three months ago." She leaned out of frame and came back with a mug in her hands, "Alright Garcia, keep searching for anything that could help." She nods and leaves the call. Hotch turns himself to look at all of us, "Y/L/N and Prentiss I want you to go to the crime scene and try to find anything left behind by our Unsub or by the victims, Rossi and Morgan go to the morgue and talk to the coroner. JJ and Spence try and get in contact with their families and see if they know why they stopped making purchases to their cards. I will head to the station, talk to the chief and set up for us." We nodded and separated for the remainder of the flight. I walked over to the couch and grabbed my blanket that I stash under the seat and sit down. Spence walks over to me and sits on the other side of the couch I pulled my legs onto the couch and laid them across his lap and spread the blanket over both of us. I shuffled around to get comfortable and closed my eyes, drifting off to sleep. Ignoring the looks JJ and Emily sent our way. ________________________________________ 5 Years Ago ________________________________________

Rossi decided he wanted to host a party for the team, I had never gone out with the team because I didn't like to party but this was the only exception because only the team would be there. I pulled up to Rossi's house and to say my jaw dropped would be an understatement. I thought my apartment was grand but it was nothing in comparison to David Rossi's mansion like house. I parked next to the other cars in the drive-way and walked towards the front door. I knocked and the door opened revealing a very happy Penelope, "Y/N?! Guys Y/N's here!" I smile at her excitement and she stands aside to let me in. "Wow I never thought I'd see the day my little sister would leave her home and come to a party." Derek jokes from his seat at the table, "Shut up Derek, you know that I hate going to big outings and seeing as it's only the team here I don't see it as a big outing." I responded with a smile. He smirks and turns back to his card game he was playing. I set my coat on the coat rack and walk further into the house, I spot Spencer sitting on the far side of the living room reading a book and I walk over to him. "Whatcha reading Spence?" He looks up and gives me a small smile, "The Fault In Our Stars, I remember you telling me it's your favorite book and I wanted to check it out." I smiled, "When did you start reading it?" He looked back down at the book and smiled a little, "Yesterday evening." I stared at him wide eyed, "And you're already on the last few pages?" He nodded, "I guess no one told you boy genius over there can read like 10,000 words a minute." Rossi pitched in from his kitchen, "It's actually 20,000 words per minute but who's counting." Spence said with a smirk, I kneeled down next to him and poked his face, "You're so lifelike." Derek burst out laughing. Spence swatted my hand away and I sat on the couch next to him while we waited for Rossi to finish cooking. I could used to nights like these. ________________________________________ Taglist~ @sebastiansstanswhore, @itsleilabxtch

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid #david rossi #jenifer jareau #criminal minds fanfiction #fem reader #spencer reid x reader #penelope garcia

[albaedough]

Hello :3 I'd like to request Kaeya x afab reader (gn pronouns) and shower sex with water jet clit stimulation. Thanks in advance and have a nice day/night

Wash it all Away

GENSHIN IMPACT Character x Afab!Reader Smut Stories

Word Count: 1.6k+

Characters: Kaeya

Pairings: Kaeya x Afab!Reader

Warnings: ⚠️ MDNI 18+ ONLY ⚠️ Penetration, shower sex, overstimulation, slight choking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, use of GN terms like "baby and sweetheart", handjob, clitoral stimulation via water jet

Taglist: @stygianoir @silverwritesthings

Click below for more~

Kaeya Alberich

Having just gotten home from work, you sluggishly make your way to the living room and face-plant onto the couch, groaning. A familiar set of footsteps can be heard shuffling through the halls, making your way toward you, "Did my Darling have that much of a rough day~?" a smooth voice jests, which was none other than the Cavalry Captain, your lover, Kaeya Alberich. 

Peeking up from the couch cushion, you make a muffled noise, and Kaeya chuckles, "You'll need to speak up love," he says gently, leaning himself up with the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Finally, after a long pause, you lift your head, hair disheveled and an exhausted look in your eye, "It was the worst, Kaeya," you whine, "I swear they keep shoving more and more paperwork my way as if I have all the free time in the world."

"How can I help, love?" he says, striding toward you and crouching down over the armrest; he meets your tired gaze.

"Do you think you could start up a shower for me? I reek after today; I just need a minute," you say, giving him the best puppy dog expression you can as you prop yourself up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, "That would be the best way to help me right now."

"Anything for you, Angel," Kaeya coos, stroking your cheek lovingly, placing a kiss on the top of your head, "Granted, I know of a way to make you feel real good."

"Is that so?" you play along, "Then tell me~," you press, sitting up fully, now giving him your undivided attention. 

With one swift movement, Kaeya quickly picks you up like a princess. You let out an audible gasp as he makes his way up the stairs toward the bathroom, "You'll be completely relaxed once I'm done with you," he insists, giving the bathroom door a slight kick inwards, causing the door to swing open. He carefully sets you down and pushes you up towards the sink, impossibly close as you feel his breath tickling your face, "May I continue?" Kaeya asks, extending an invitation, and you nod, swallowing in anticipation.

And with shaky hands, you begin to unbutton your blouse, putting on a show for Kaeya as you flutter your pretty lashes toward him, "Always," you say as you let your top drop haphazardly to the floor, leaving your chest exposed.

Hitching back a breath, Kaeya finally speaks, "Incredible," he coos, gently trailing his hands up your abdomen, leaving goosebumps across your skin until his hands rest just below your breasts as he cusps them softly. And leaning down, his lips meet yours in a fervent display of passion as his thumbs graze over your hardening nipples. 

Letting out a soft moan, your tongue finds his in a brilliant battle, and you desperately cling to his chest, fumbling over his shirt buttons. 

Assisting you, Kaeya is quick to toss his shirt to the floor, and your hands linger hungrily across his abdomen; pulling away from the kiss, he pants, "Shall we move to the shower~?" Kaeya asks between soft breaths and looking down; you notice how erect he is. 

Biting your lip softly, you nod, reaching over to turn on the water to just the right temperature. While the two of you wait for the water to heat up, you're quick to strip down to nothing, tossing your clothes here and there, and Kaeya does the same. Swallowing hard, your mouth waters hungrily as you eye his long thick cock, already hard as a rock, and reaching over, you grab it gently in your hand. 

The noise that came from his mouth is heavenly, as if the Archons themselves came down to grace you, "I didn't know you could make that kind of noise~," you muse, giving his cock slow, gentle strokes.

Kaeya groans again, "Oh, there are plenty of other noises I can cause you to make instead," he says breathlessly as you continue to rub him off, and finally, when he has had enough, he grabs hold of your wrist, prying you away. As he quickly grabs your wrist, he drags you into the steamy shower and abruptly pushes you into the tiled wall, pinning you against him.

Feeling the water suddenly pelt you gives you chills, but you are soon comforted by Kaeya's proximity and grinning wildly up at him with a lustful look, you tilt your head back, soaking your hair, leaving him room to trail kisses up your neck. 

As he stalks up your neck with kisses, he gently wraps his hand around one side of your neck and, with his other, slides it down your abdomen until it just reaches your clit, tantalizing it. Allowing him to continue, you lift your leg to expose more of your hole, resting your foot on the side of the tub for support, "Are you ready to hear those sounds~?" you tease, already feeling the effects of his endless lust for you.

"Always," Kaeya states, pulling away from your neck and pushing your raised leg further to the side to allow him more access. 

The never-ending stream of hot water provided Kaeya with enough lubrication as he slowly began to stimulate your clit, "K-kaeya, just like that," you say with a soft sensual moan. 

At the sound that escaped your lips, he can feel his dick twitching with eagerness, longing to fuck you senseless as he positions himself toward your folds, "Are you ready for my cock, baby?" Kaeya asks sweetly, searching your drunken gaze for some semblance of an answer. 

And nodding eagerly, you arch your back toward him, raising your hips, "Give it to me, make me feel all better~," you implore, and Kaeya grins wildly at you, taking his dick in his hand and inserting it between your folds slowly, as you let out a pleasurable groan. 

"Let's make this more exciting, shall we?" he asks between slow, sensual thrusts, reaching for the shower head. He adjusts it to the water jet setting, and a sharp stream of water shoots out. You eye him intently, and you notice a devilish look in his eye. Taking the shower head Kaeya shoots it down toward your clit, and you let out a squeal of delight. 

"K-Kaeya, oh fuck~!" you moan, and he thrusts his hips harder into you, picking up his pace and hitting the back of your walls. Feeling a surge of pleasure, you feel as if you are going to explode, and you grip Kaeya's shoulders as he pounds ruthlessly into you. 

"Yes, baby. Those are just the sounds I want to hear~," Kaeya coos lovingly, grabbing hold of your neck once more and squeezing slightly as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head, continually crying out his name, "Archons. .you're so needy, aren't you, sweetheart?" he murmurs, thrusting harder into you.

As he hits your sweet spot, you cry out, "Yes~ Oh yeah, ooohhh, Kaeya~," by now all you can hear is the sound of your own voice mixed with the streaming jet across your clit as Kaeya tightens his grip around your neck. You quickly find yourself nearing your climax, so with your free hands, you begin twisting your nipples for added pleasure, and it tips you over the edge.

"Cum for me, sweetheart, tell me you want it," Kaeya insists, loving the way you're pleasuring yourself, his cock twitching inside of you. 

"I want it, baby. Let me cum~," you say back to him, panting heavily, tongue practically hanging from your mouth, and he quickens his pace against your sweet spot. Moaning loudly, your walls clench and release around his dick as your cum coats his fat cock, "I'm cumming, baby, oh Kaeya~," you whine. 

"Hnngg, good job, sweetheart; I felt that~," he muses, letting out a small groan, "But you're mistaken if you think I'm done with you," as he says this as he pulls out his cock, and removes the water jet. Grabbing ahold of you, he flips you around abruptly, so your chest is now up against the tiled wall, "Spread those lovely asscheeks for me, baby," Kaeya commands. 

And obeying his command, you reach behind you, spreading them, and he groans, "Just look at you, so eager to please me~," Kaeya flirts, "What a stunning sight," and positioning his dick once more, he inserts his cock back into your slick sensitive hole. 

Letting out a slight whine, you brace yourself, placing your hands on either side of the wall as Kaeya starts slow, gentle even, giving you enough time to adjust to his length once more as you ride out your high, "Cum for me this time," you plead, groaning softly as his full size hits the back of your walls and pulling out he thrusts again, "I-I wanna feel you cum in me, Kaeya~."

With that Kaeya shoves his cock deep inside of you, "Oh yeah, baby? I love it when you talk dirty like that," Kaeya groans, pushing deeper, harder as your cries echo throughout the house. And wrapping his strong arms around you, he cusps your jiggling breasts, twisting your nipples between his fingers. 

Not being able to take him a second time, your walls close around him again as your body shudders from overstimulation, "FUCK K-KAEYA~," you cry out, "I-I C-can't! Hnnggg, I-I-." Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya covers your mouth to shut you up, and once more, you cum, feeling your juices flow with the beating water gushing down your back. 

With one last thrust, Kaeya's hot seed paints your walls as the two of you tremble from release, "Ffuuucckk~," Kaeya coos loudly, pulling his cock out as it twitches from pleasure, and grinning wildly, he spins you around, kissing you softly before pulling away, "Now, shall we get properly cleaned up?" he chuckles, pushing your hair back lovingly, your body still trembling.

#tw smut #tw choking #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin impact fandom #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #kaeya imagines #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya smut #rebby writes smut #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader

[wanderlustpeach]

For love — wanda maximoff.

PAIRING: wanda maximofff x fem!reader

SUMMARY: she was your world & you were her girl.

WARNINGS: none. but who doesn’t love pain ;)

WORD COUNT: 0.8k

[MAIN MASTERLIST]

What was taking you so long to come home to her, it's been two weeks. Two dreadful weeks without you. Wanda was surprised she made it this far without exploding, and going after you herself. But she had a job to uphold, she couldn't let her thoughts push to to think out wise.

Glancing over that the clock. counting down the time till you and your team arrived. pacing around the living room planning out all the things she could do with you, now that you both would be free. such a relief honestly. it was like a weight taken off her shoulders, to have her lover back in her arms. but what was taking so them long?

It was like the god knew she's was waiting for you, in the distance she could see the quintet in the distance not that far from the tower, slowly be surely descending upon to the towers rooftop. With a smile on her lips, she excitedly shifted back and forth from her left to right foot, twiddling with her thumbs. she couldn't wait.

One second Wanda was alone on the roof and then next she wasn't. a whole team of the medical staff suddenly was beside her, with a cart ready. She knew what it meant, but oh did she hope it wasn't you. She prayed to a god she no—longer believed in. "Please to be [name] please to the almighty god." She whispered out, clenching her fist.

Please don't be [name] god.

It seemed like time stopped moving, the way the doors of the quintet slowly opened. the way the team inside seemed as though there were out of it. The look of dread and helpless painted across their face, as the meet eyes with her. She knew for the moment she seen them, she could no longer feel your life force with her. But why did it wait tell now to tell her.

"Wanda. . . Wanda I'm going to need you to leave." a nurse named Maddison told her, lightly tapping on her shoulders. Trying to push her ways from the scene. She knew would trigger her to explode. Maybe even hurt people unintentionally. Wanda couldn't hear her, or not like she body told her no to. why would she listen to anything anyone has to say when her own body didn't. Blankly staring at the jet, Wanda counted numbers in her head to calm herself down. She couldn't have a another meltdown, she just gained their trust.

She watched your team, huddle up over your body. The way you lifeless sat there on the ground, blood around you. She watched the way the doctors shoved the team always from their leader. She's watched as your blood stained lips, we're blue. Lifeless of the color they once were. She watched as your chest was sunken in due to the gunshot, the way your once white uniform was now stained red with your blood and the blood of your enemies.

All she could do was watch, what could she have done. you were dead upon arrival. you died, crying for the women you loved. You died not knowing, she was ready. Ready to take the next step in your relationship.

"Why me, why me." She cried out, felling onto her knees balling her body up into herself. Why could she never get the happy ending, no matter what universe she was in, she was always lonely. "Why us?"

"Wanda we have to go."

"Why. . . Why do I have to go when I have nothing else to live for. my brother, [name]. what next, what fucking next." She screamed pushing the nurses hand off her. Running full speed to where the ushered you way to.

Why could she never have a happy ending.

Bursting into the room, glancing down at your now died body as the slowly zipped up your body. there you sat lifeless with a small smile on your lips, the way the blood on the side of your mouth dried and scabbed up. you were way died before arrival. Hours even.

Rustling in her pockets of her cardigan with her now blood stained hands, she pulled out a small black box.

If only you could smile for her one last time, just for her.

"For you my love." She forcefully gasped out, pulling your hands for inside the duffle bag. Grazing her hands over yours the fingers to grow to love just like the rest of you, sliding the ring. your ring. onto your ring finger, as she placed a kiss upon it before moving to your bloodily lips. "The things we do for love." She gloomily stated, kissing your lips one last time. Before finishing the job the doctors were doing.

With a grim smile, Wanda zipped the duffle bag up one last time. Turing herself from your body.

"till me meet again."

Wanda said closing the door behind her, maybe it was a good thing she keep the dark hold after all.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda imagine #wanda x y/n #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff angst #—n. work

[sabrondabrainrot]

I finished the 87 series as a whole (except the European vacay season like I can't find it anywhere) and want to cry!!! My boys!!! I can't believe it's done!!!

What an awesome show. I might have to rewatch it just to write down more notes and thoughts. ;)

Anyways here's some headcanons about my sweet 87 boys and some show observations:

Hopefully with this people might give the show a chance. It's so delightful and charming. You won't be disappointed.

🐢🧡🐢💜🐢♥️🐢💙

The turtles are all basically 3-4 years old. They make tons of comments about living half their lives in a fish bowl and when Yoshi comes across them they're still babies. When they're shown mutating, they go from baby turtles to the older bipedal forms we know them by.

They're all identical sans their voices. (In the 87 show not only does April have trouble telling them apart at the beginning but so do the animators in every episode)

They all seem to possess super strength and some levels of invulnerability. Donatello in particular had a multiple story brick building dropped on him, which he just walked off. They've all shown varying skills such as bending metal with their bare hands. Raphael as a practical joke in one episode picks up a couch and hurls it at Donatello just to be smartass. Leonardo cuts metal like tinfoil.

They still think of themselves as turtles first and foremost, so they don't refer to each other as brothers. (despite the fact they're totally brothers) and simply address each other as friends. (They're brothers tho we all know the truth 💕)

Something not explained in the opening of the 3rd season, the turtles as babies, before they mutate, are shown with different shell patterns. While it's not obvious which turtle is which it is neat the artists went out of their way to animate each turtle with a unique pattern.

When you watch the show the amount of people and mutants that dislike the turtles is shocking. For a fun kids show made in the late 80's to mid 90's, it's basically a huge allegory to the civil rights movements and you can even take relevance to human rights movements of today.

Despite being so lovable they have only a small circle of friends. Most of those friends at some point have betrayed them too.

The boys have seen two different futures of themselves. (not counting their shared apocalypse nightmares) The first future is where they get old together in a mansion and they're heralded as heroes and everyone likes them. The second future doesn't show them but in the second future it's stated being a mutant is a crime punishable by death and all mutants are criminals regardless of deeds. This is before the red skies studio era of writing. That's before it's supposed to get edgy.

They all are highly intelligent. They can each pilot every vehicle ever present in the show despite none of them having a formal education, license, or understanding of the rules of the road. Michelangelo in particular seems to have a knack for US fighter jets.

In season 7 episode 11, titled "Dirk Savage: Mutant Hunter!" We meet two new mutants named Rahzar and Tokka. They're a gay couple. You don't believe me? Go watch the episode. I'm not pulling your leg. I swear. I promise. It's a good episode go watch it.

Master Splinter calls them his sons. He also calls Carter, his newest student, son occasionally too. It's his term of endearment.

The turtles in this version are known to get sick pretty regularly. (probably because of their still developing immune systems). They always get sick as a group and they totally soak up the pampering.

They in the first season share a 4 stack bunk bed and then after the bunk is destroyed in the season 1 finale they each get their own alcoves which they treat as their own rooms.

I didn't remember which Punk Frog said it, but one of them called Leonard and Michelangelo his Bubba which is a term of endearment for brother. The punk frogs call each other bubba too. So unlike the turtles they were either all frog brothers who mutated together or after mutating they just decided they're brothers and they also adopted the turtles as their brothers too.

Mondo Gecko seems older in this series because of his appearance but he's the same age as the turtles and actually mutated from the same ooze as them on the same day at the same time so he in 87 is like a mix of their brother and cousin? He's related regardless. (We all know the truth in our hearts)

Shredder and Krang act like a married couple who've been married too long and are on the cusp of a divorce but they've been together too long so they just keep tolerating eachother.

They all love the unhinged gross unholy pizza combos. Michaelangelo's stated combos are actually tame compared to some of the things they've eaten. One episode the boys committed to the bit so hard they ate lit candles just to mess with Michelangelo. They get pregnant sardine fudge pizza cravings at midnight. They put cereal on regular pizza for breakfast. They hate vegetables though. They literally gag when Splinter eats sushi. They refuse to eat bugs despite their turtle origins (interesting enough the Punk Frogs don't even like pizza at all first unlike them) but like they will eat out of the garbage. But not fresh handmade sushi.

They're so casual about being in public. Like they have disguises but sometimes they just go out in public as themselves. They also have so many elaborate disguises. In the first episode their first instinct to blend in was to throw on bright neon shoes, various bomber jackets, and start publicly beatboxing and breakdancing.

The turtles get called slurs by Shredder, Bebop, and Rocksteady. The slur in question is "Shellback" . When Donatello makes an evil clone the first thing the clone does is call him that slur. It's so funny like that's yourself. Donatello basically called himself ugly. Why is that so funny.

Shredders go to threat in the show and many other villains go to insult is to straight up threaten to eat them. Like, do none of the villains care about getting salmonella? Why do all the villains want to eat them?

Something I've noticed, they refuse to use nicknames. They only use each other's full names. It makes me wonder why? I theorize it's probably to do with the fact Master Splinter gave them their names and that's the first thing they received? It's not like they're not playful enough to use nicknames.

Despite his fatherly role in their lives, the turtle boys don't call Splinter their father and this is more than likely to do with the fact they see themselves as turtles and know they have turtle parents. (Again we know the truth)

April in this show is an adrenaline junky. She's also a child endangerer. She's helped save the day a lot but she would much rather the world burn so she can film it as her next big scoop.

The boys treat April like their mom in this show. April herself doesn't really get that. In one episode she got poison flowers and thought it was from the boys and went to "let them down gently" because she thought they romantically liked her.

April on multiple occasions reads bed time stories to them. She in one episode read the same bedtime story 4 times just because they liked it that much. She was going to read it a 5th time just for Leonardo.

When Zack, the 5th turtle, was in danger instead of helping him April shouted "What a scoop!" and filmed a child in a death trap.

Splinter believes in wholesome gaslighting in this show. He once cured three of them of permanent balloon-itis with moth balls but made up a story about how it was an ancient mythical legendary cure. Then after they were better he said it was moth balls.

April actually got fired from her job because she wouldn't badmouth the turtles on live television (also for other reasons). She focused on freelance while helping the boys on the side.

April is really bamf. She's actually saved the turtles just as much as they save her.

I just want everyone to know I love these little guys. The turtles are pure little snookie pookie baby bookies. No one knows the amount of space these silly little fictional turtles take up in my heart.

I hope maybe with more word out people might give the 1987 tmnt show a chance. It's really cute and funny. A super enjoyable time. It doesn't deserve the ragging it gets from other shows and fanbases. They're just goobers.

Thanks for reading my ramble list. :)

Also! if there's any fanfic recs please let me know I'm making a list and checking it twice ;)

#brainrot #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #cartoon #1987 tmnt #87 leonardo #87 raphael #87 michelangelo #87 donatello #i love them your honor #sorry to keep infodumping #headcanons #observations #tmnt trivia? #can this count as trivia #tmnt headcanons #tmnt brainrot #87 April O'Neil #87 April #87 splinter

[softly-potter]

Gem

Summary: Emerald knows her roommate takes advantage of her smarts, but she’ll always say yes. College!AU

Pairing: Emerald X Cinder

Word Count: 934

Warning: none

-

The door slam told Emerald what type of mood her roommate was in. 

Shuffling on her mattress she listened for the tell-tale signs of Cinder’s different moods; sniffling for sadness, humming for happy, silent for thoughtful, swearing under her breath for anger.

“Fucking little know it all.”

Cinder was angry.

Emerald propped her chin up on her elbow, ankles crossed as she waited for Cinder to come out of their tiny dorm bathroom, and spill her thoughts. 

If there was one thing Cinder couldn't do, it was keep her thoughts to herself.

The bathroom door swung open and Cinder walked out, her knuckles white on her backpack as she angrily dropped it on the floor.

“Salem is a bitch,” Cinder said in a dark tone, and Emerald quietly put her pen down, giving Cinder her full attention, how Cinder liked it. “I mean, she says she’s too old for me. What bullshit. She just doesn't want to have a girlfriend while on spring break.”

Emerald makes a sympathetic face, sitting up from her position and putting her feet on the floor. The dorm had just enough space for two twin beds against each wall, with mini desks at the foot of them, and one large window in the middle of the outward wall. It's so small that Emerald shuffles her feet so her toes don't brush against Cinders.

“So she just dumped you? Like that?” Emerald scoffed, playing up to Cinder's attitude, getting on Cinder's level of annoyance. To survive living with Cinder, you almost have to mimic her actions.

Cinder nodded vehemently, and Emerald let her eyes get wide, her mouth dropping in a dramatic ‘o’ shape. “That bitch.”

“I know right?” Cinder shot back, raising her hands in frustration. “As if she’s so great. Do you know that she snores? But only after she cums. Which is often when she was with me.”

A smug look spread on Cinders face and Emerald strains to copy it, moving her mouth to the right in a faux lopsided smile.

“Well, I'm still sorry about that,” Emerald said in light sympathy, carding her hands through the papers strewn across her bed. “Buuuut in better news, I finished that paper you asked for.”

Cinder's eyes shone, and suddenly she’d leaned over Emerald's shoulder, surveying her work. She smelled like a bonfire, the oaky scent clinging to her dark letterman jacket, and her jet black hair was in a loose braid over one shoulder. The escaped hair tickles Emeralds nose, and she holds her breath, unwilling to move.

Grabbing the paper, Cinder straightened, taking the oaky scent with her, and popped her hip out as she read and Emerald waited, fingers fidgeting in her lap.

“This is great Em,” Cinder said and set the paper down on her desk before sitting back on her own bed, putting her legs crossed beneath her. “You’re a gem. What would I do without all your help?”

Probably fail all your classes Emerald thought, but said nothing and instead gives the dark haired girl a nonchalant shrug.

Returning to her homework, Emerald occasionally allowed her eyes to wander to the other side of the room. Cinder propped herself up on the headboard, her left leg pulled close to her chest as she polished her toes a deep purple.

Pen between her teeth, Emerald circled her assignment answer, her eyes scanned the page as her ankles locked once more.

“Em?”

Emerald doesn’t change position but inside she reeled, biting the tip of the pen harder. “Mmm?”

“If… someone else needed… your expertise… on an assignment, would you be willing?” Cinder asked, and although Emerald isn't facing her, she can imagine her expression.

Releasing the pen from her mouth, Emerald shrugged, eyes still on the page.

They both know she’ll say yes to whatever Cinder asked of her. She just can't seem too eager. Then it ruined the moment for Cinder, and Emerald hated ruining things.

“To stay on cheer, Hazel has to bring his grade up in math,” Cinder continued, her tone airy. “And tutors are… well, beneath the cheer squad if i’m honest. If you could help him out, we’d all really appreciate it.”

Sitting up once more, Emerald clutched at her devout, looking down at her knees. “Yeah, of course. Can’t let you lose your base now, can I?”

Emerald looked up, and Cinder gave her a nearly face splitting grin, as if she hadn’t known exactly how this would play out. Opening her book bag, she shuffled through it for a moment, then gripped a notebook and passed it to Emerald.

Gripping the spin, Emerald pulled, but Cinder resisted, holding the opposite end. She cocked her head, a smile almost threatening to show. “This means a lot, Em.”

Pulling again, Emerald opened the notebook and splayed it on her bed, but said nothing. Her heart was pulled in her throat, thumping in her ears. Laying once more on her stomach, she quickly read over Hazel’s math assignment, pressing her check into her hand and supported her jaw.

She can hear Cinder shuffle, but stiffened when a cool hand slides over the base of the back of her neck, before brushing up into her short hair, almost scratching. Cinder hummed as she repeated the action, rubbing Emerald's head once more and then walking past her, back into their small shared bathroom.

Emerald inhaled deeply, trying to remind her brain to calm down. Poking her head out, Cinder raised both her brows.

“Thanks again for doing this Em,” she says, her voice as silky and dangerous as a spider's web. “You’re just such a gem.”

#cinder fall #rwby fanfiction #cinder fall rwby #emerald #ao3 crosspost

[nightingaelic]

I loved your Courier with wings piece and I was wondering when you get a chance can you do one with the fallout 4 companions?

It was already something for a vault dweller to emerge in the wasteland and become more than just another corpse in the weeds, victim to one of the countless dangers that roamed the Commonwealth. But not only did they refuse to die, they refused to crumble in the face of the unseen threats, the factions and egos and mysteries that ruled this new world with little care for those just trying to get by. There were tales taller than the Mass Fusion skyscraper about them in no time. A dead spouse, a missing child, a mission of vengeance and rescue. A life lived before this wreckage, before fire rained down on America and shaped it anew. And strangest of all, a figure that had emerged from deep underground and shot skyward, refusing to be imprisoned again.

Cait: The Combat Zone gig kept Cait busy for the most part, but she caught rumors here and there from the raiders that ran the place and radio broadcasts in the spaces between fights. She wrote the rumors off as some hotshot with a power armor jet pack and gliding wings, but others were less easily reassured. There were stories about Corvega, Beantown Brewery, even Gristle's gang up by Concord, and none of them had happy endings.

"If they make their way here, we're all dead," Tommy said after hearing about another sighting of the mysterious vault dweller.

"If they walk in the front door, just put them in the ring with me," Cait joked. "I might not make it, but at least it'll be a good show."

When the sole survivor did finally walk in the front door, Cait was astonished that they weren't punched full of holes by the raiders' bullets as soon as they entered. They were fast, wheeling over the theater's seats and diving down on the unlucky that needed to pause to reload. Cait and Tommy took cover until the dust had settled, but while Tommy kept cowering as they approached the stage, Cait rose and brushed herself off. "You just wiped out our livelihood, angel," she said.

The sole survivor smirked. "They shot first."

"Oh, I noticed. Got more bullets in the seats than you did in the crowd."

They glanced around. "This place needed some renovations, anyway."

Cait grinned. "Can't say I disagree with you. Why come here at all? I figured this wasn't your scene."

"It's not." The sole survivor's eyes wandered across the cage ring onstage. "I just wanted to see what happened to this place. It's been a long time since I visited, and someone in Diamond City said it was still putting on shows."

"Still putting on..." Cait shook her head. "You can't be pre-war. Last I checked, ghouls didn't sprout wings."

"Nobody sprouts wings." The sole survivor smiled. "I went through a hell of a lot to earn these."

"Sounds like a story that warrants a drink." Cait abandoned Tommy and gestured toward the recently-vacated bar. "What's your poison, angel?"

Codsworth: It had been a little over 210 years since Codsworth had seen the sole survivor, but there was no mistaking the figure that descended the hill upon which Vault 111's entrance sat. "As I live and breathe!" the Mister Handy robot cried, floating forward to greet them. "It's... it's really you!"

The robot stopped short when he realized their pained movements, and how impeded they seemed by something they carried on their back. "Is there something...?"

"Codsworth." The sole survivor collapsed, falling forward into the dry grass. A pair of wings, each one at least nine feet long, splayed out in an unsuccessful attempt to keep them upright.

"Oh dear, oh dear." Codsworth rushed to their side. "Can I assist you? Let me help you stand."

The robot did his best to steady them as they climbed to their feet again, marveling at the wings as he did. They looked like something out of the kitschy art pieces he had seen for sale at pre-war home decor shops, particularly the fanciful Christmas nativities. Aside from the vault suit, they could have fit right into one the Biblical scenes. "Forgive me, but how did you come to possess these... appendages?" he asked politely.

"Beats me." The sole survivor had their eyes closed. They looked like they were about to throw up at any second.

"Some water," Codsworth suggested, retrieving a sample from his built-in purification system. "That's it, drink up. Slowly, now. You'll need every bit of it if you want to rebuild your strength."

Once they were finished, Codsworth accepted the empty can and stowed it away. "There. Now, where is the rest of your family? Surely they can't be far behind you, if you managed to emerge unscathed."

The look on their face was more than enough to tell Codsworth that his worst fears had been realized.

Curie: When the Miss Nanny robot that had been concealed in the hidden wing of Vault 81 realized that her unexpected visitor had wings, she immediately asked if they would allow her to examine them. "C'est extraordinaire," she said in wonder, floating around them and scanning the feathery additions that hung from their shoulders. "These must be the result of Vault-Tec experimentation, no?"

The sole survivor shifted uncomfortably under her assessment. "I can tell you the details later. We've got a sick boy to save, first."

Curie happily relinquished the cure for Austin Engill's illness and stood by quietly as the Vault 81 residents thanked the sole survivor for all of their help. The boy was waking up by the time they were finished, and the sole survivor bashfully extended one of their wings so he could reach up from his hospital bed to feel its feathers. "They're real," he whispered, astonished.

The sole survivor permitted Curie to follow them out of the vault, but they put off her request for an examination for several days. They were protective of their wings, unfurling them only at times where flight was absolutely necessary. Curie took measurements of their estimated weight and length as best she could, but the distraction of the beautiful, adaptive post-war world around her began to win out. She stopped asking about the sole survivor's wings after their first week together.

Months later, after Curie had come to the inevitable conclusion that her robotic body was insufficient for the work she wished to conduct in the wasteland, the sole survivor brought up the topic with her again. "In case the consciousness transfer goes wrong," they explained. "Did you want to-?"

Curie stopped them. "It will be okay. Everything is prepared, and Doctor Amari can be trusted. Save the moment for when I have the ability to truly feel them."

When Curie awoke on Doctor Amari's memory lounger, the sole survivor was standing over her, peering at her face with touching concern. Curie smiled and reached a hand up to grasp theirs. "Cocou," she murmured.

In response, the sole survivor uncurled a wing and guided her hand to it. "Enchantée," they said, sliding her fingers into the feathers.

Paladin Danse: Danse only became aware that he was staring at the vault dweller who had helped him fend off the ferals outside the Cambridge Police Station when Scribe Haylen cleared her throat. "Paladin, are you alright?"

"Fine," he replied a little too quickly. He dropped the nose of his laser rifle and approached the stranger who had two wings spread out behind them, stretching and flexing in the fading afternoon sun. They looked like statues he had seen in the Capital Wasteland, art deco guardians that still watched over the DC ruins and their inhabitants. They also looked tired.

"Will you three be okay from here on?" they asked him, lowering their own weapon. "That subway station nearby is loaded with more of these... things."

"We'll manage." Danse surveyed the pile of bodies that had formed around them during the attack. "You handled yourself well. I don't suppose I could trouble you for more assistance, while the rest of my team recovers?"

Hours later they were deep inside ArcJet Systems, fighting off Institute synths inside the XMB booster engine's silo, already spinning around each other like their partnership had been born long before that day. Danse was running out of fusion cells, the sole survivor was less sure of their aerial movements within the concrete tower, but the synths kept coming. Desperate, the sole survivor threw a nearby switch and the booster engine roared to life. They realized their mistake too and dove toward the Paladin in power armor, but Danse threw a hand out to ward them off. "Stay there!"

The fire from the engine tore through the synths, and the sole survivor was flung upward on the wave of heat that had been released at the silo's base. Danse fell to one knee and braced himself until the flames had abated and the ash that had been released began to settle. When he looked up again, the vault dweller was descending, circling lower and lower until their wingspan obscured the scaffolding above and filled his vision.

"Who are you?" Danse asked, dropping all pretenses of protocol.

They touched down next to him as lightly as dandelion fluff descends on a field. "Nobody, anymore," they replied.

"I highly doubt that."

The sole survivor smiled. "On your feet, soldier. Let's find that deep range transmitter."

Deacon: The moment Deacon heard about the sole survivor of a vault that was flying around the northern end of the Commonwealth, he immediately abandoned his other surveillance projects and started putting himself in their path. They took their sweet time building up the confidence to approach the larger settlements in the wasteland, but Deacon was a master of patience.

Finally, after another ordinary day of looking busy at Bunker Hill, the winged wonder talked their way through Kessler and ducked around staring caravan hands to go sell some duct tape to Deb. They looked gaunt, like someone who had gone from having all their needs met to barely surviving in a short period of time. The knees on their pants were patched, and Deacon was positive that there were bruises underneath from rough landings. He ducked out of the settlement as soon as they disappeared into the columned trading floor, before anyone could notice his interest.

His next look at them was a longer one, as a security officer in Diamond City, circling the marketplace while they consumed a bowl of noodles that was probably their first real meal in days. Their wings were a little more weathered, with more ragged edges from use and wasteland abuse, but they were still whole. Deacon risked some more scrutiny, as he certainly wasn't the only security officer that was watching the sole survivor. Their wings weren't visibly synthetic, but neither were most synths these days - just because there wasn't a harness or cybernetic mesh attaching them to their owner, it didn't mean they were organic. Then again, the Institute was also known for experimentation with that tricky manipulator, FEV, so it really was anyone's guess where the wings came from.

Deacon tried a greeting in Goodneighbor. "Hey," he said as they brushed past him, on their way to see Daisy about a library book return. They eyed him with surprise, but only nodded before continuing into the pre-war ghoul's shop. Deacon smiled and loitered for a little longer, letting a plan form in his mind's eye before slipping out the gate and heading back to HQ.

Sure enough, they found their way to the end of the Freedom Trail before the year was out. Desdemona was annoyed, which Deacon had anticipated, but when she poked him for details about the Commonwealth's latest curiosity, he put himself on the line. "Yes," he said when she asked if he was vouching for them. "Definitely."

"Why'd you do that?" the sole survivor asked him after Desdemona's show of force was over. "You don't know me."

"This might be jumping the gun a bit, but we have big plans that are just now getting set into motion," Deacon answered, straightening his sunglasses to help block out the catacombs' spotlights. "Someday we're gonna go public. Now, I know you're already committed in terms of being a symbol of hope, but I'd like to give you my pitch about why you'd be a good one for the Railroad."

Dogmeat: Dogmeat was unconcerned with the sole survivor's wings, beyond a perfunctory inspection upon their first meeting at the Red Rocket Station. The sole survivor stood still for the dog while he sniffed their feathers, waiting for him to whuff his satisfaction when finished. "Good enough, boy?" they said, stretching the wings carefully so as not to startle the dog. "Something to get used to, I know. For both of us."

Dogmeat cocked his head to the side and accepted their affection, panting happily. The sole survivor sighed. "At least something made it through the war without coming out too different on the other side."

Mayor John Hancock: Hancock was about ready to start plucking feathers when the sole survivor finally came winging his way. They'd been circling the downtown ruins for a week now, scouting the area as if searching for something, and they had all his Goodneighbor guards on edge. "They're gonna drop in one night and start wrecking the place, Hancock," some of the ghouls would say when he tried to reassure them. "We can't fly. What are we supposed to do?"

"You can shoot, can't you?" Hancock always reminded them. "Don't do it unless you're sure they're about to drop a grenade on you or something, though. Last thing we need is a feud with the would-be savior of the Commonwealth."

Fahrenheit got most of the guards straightened out after that, but the whole thing was such a headache for the mayor that when the sole survivor deigned to touch down, he straightened himself out and strode up to them with every ounce of authority he could muster. "About time you showed your face in town," he said. "Now what the hell do you want that's got you circling Goodneighbor like a hawk?"

The sole survivor looked taken aback. "A merc," they said. "Goes by the name Kellogg. Someone told me he used to come through here occasionally, and I was hoping I could catch him."

Hancock looked to Fahrenheit, who shook her head. "Ain't seen him," he said.

"Been over a month," Fahrenheit added.

The sole survivor's face fell. "Shit. Guess that lead's a bust."

"Why not land here sooner and ask?" Hancock demanded to know.

"I was warned to keep my distance," the sole survivor replied sheepishly.

Hancock rolled his eyes. "Hovering over my town like a goddamned bird of prey. Nobody here's gonna hurt you. Except maybe Finn, but he won't if you've got a spine under those wings. Just keep your intentions known and we won't have a problem. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Grand." Hancock spread his arms wide. "Welcome to Goodneighbor."

Robert Joseph MacCready: MacCready was in the middle of explaining to Winlock and Barnes that they would get their money eventually when a stranger in a vault suit stumbled through the door. He was about to advise them to get lost for their own good when he realized that the two Gunners had become completely distracted by something about their entrance. "What's the big-"

With a blustery thump, the vault dweller unfurled wings larger than their own body that knocked over the VIP room mannequins and blocked the door. "Problem?" they asked the Gunners.

Winlock eyed them suspiciously, but he didn't go for his gun. "No problem. We were just leaving."

He nodded to Barnes, and the two men tried to inch around the vault dweller's wings. They didn't make it easy to leave, and in the end the two men had to wait for them to diminish their stance a bit before squeezing past into the hallway.

"Never seen those two hit the road that quickly before," MacCready commented once they were gone. "I think I heard about you on the radio once or twice. Thought you were a myth. Are you some kind of newfangled super mutant?"

"Something like that." The sole survivor smoothed their feathers down again and approached him. "I heard there's a mercenary around here who's a crack shot with a sniper rifle."

"You're looking at him," MacCready said with pride. "What do you need a gun for?"

"To watch my back, mostly. But also to teach me some distance shooting tricks." The sole survivor sighed and held up the pistol they'd been using for the better part of their time above-ground. "This works fine within a certain range, but I need some practice with rifles before I even try using one while doing aerial maneuvers. Hancock said you're the best sniper he knows, so here I am."

MacCready set aside the vault dweller's unusual appearance and got down to brass tacks. "Price is 250 caps, up front. And there's no room for bargaining."

"Done." The sole survivor began emptying their pockets.

"And you need a rifle of your own. I'm not teaching you on mine."

His new boss jerked their head skyward. "Think KL-E-0's got what I need? She seemed pretty well-stocked, today."

MacCready jumped to his feet and began scooping up the caps they were depositing on the VIP room couch. "Worth a look. Just don't get anything laser or plasma to begin with. Learn the basics first, and then you can start to get fancy."

Nick Valentine: The day the sole survivor came to Vault 114, Nick was just as shocked by their appearance as they were by his. He thought they might be wearing loose clothing and beating Skinny Malone's boys up with a tennis racket, they way they were whistling and flapping around down in the vault's atrium, but he didn't get a good look at them until they peered through the circular window of the Overseer's office. "Sweet heavens to Betsy," the detective exclaimed when he caught sight of the wings on their back. "What exactly are you?"

"What are you?" the sole survivor countered, eyes wide at the old synth's Institute-manufactured face.

"Open the door and we can compare notes," Nick suggested.

They obliged, and the vault door slid open with a rusty hiss. The sole survivor folded one wing up and wrapped the other in front of them, as if their pinions were going to protect them from the unknown figure with the glowing, golden eyes. "Relax," Nick reassured them. "Never seen a synth before?"

"What's a synth?" they asked. "Someone outside Diamond City called me that, and then everyone got really quiet."

"Oh, kid." Nick lit his last cigarette and took a drag, looking the sole survivor over as he did. "Is that vault suit you're wearing yours, or just a fashion statement?"

"Mine."

"Hmm." Nick waved the little torch around to point at their wings. "So you're either a Vault-Tec experiment I've never heard of, or you might be a distant cousin of mine. But we can unpack all of that later. Right now we've got a couple of seconds to get out of here before the rest of Skinny's guys realize their buddies aren't just taking their time changing the guard shift."

Piper Wright: As soon as Piper caught sight of the person approaching Diamond City's main gate, she completely forgot about the fact that Mayor McDonough had ordered her to be locked out. "It's you!" she said excitedly, hurrying up to the sole survivor. "Travis hasn't shut up about you for the past two weeks. What are you doing in Diamond City?"

"Looking for someone," the sole survivor replied, surprised. "I'm sorry, you are?"

"Piper Wright, owner of and reporter for Publick Occurrences. Diamond City's resident newspaper." Piper stuck her hand out. "Not to spring this on you during your first day in town, but I'd love an interview. Saving the folks in Concord, restarting the Minutemen, winging around the Commonwealth like something out of a storybook... you've made a lot of people curious about you. Me included."

The sole survivor shook her hand hesitantly. "I'll think about it. Why is the gate closed?"

"Just a little disagreement with the mayor. Nothing for you to worry about, I'm sure they'll let you in." Piper rubbed her chin. "If you want to skip the security screening though, I don't suppose they can stop you as easily as they stopped me."

The sole survivor caught her drift, and they looked at the gate in alarm. "They locked you out of your home?"

"Eh, not for long. I'll find a way back in."

"Come here." The sole survivor offered her their hand. Piper took it, and found herself swept up in their arms. The vault dweller's wings shot out, and the wind they stirred up nearly knocked loose her cap.

Their flight was short, likely because the sole survivor didn't want to get shot down, and they set her down gently in the middle of Diamond City's main street toward the marketplace. They ignored the stares of passersby and looked up at the newspaper office's sign. "This is you?"

"Yeah." Piper tried to catch her breath again and wound up coughing. "Sorry. Yeah. Did you... do you want to come inside?"

Preston Garvey: Preston had been pretty sure that he and the rest of the Quincy survivors had met their end in the Museum of Freedom, even as he took potshots at raiders from the building's balcony. He was prolonging the fight, but they were wildly outnumbered and Sturges had no more tricks up his sleeve. Even Dogmeat had disappeared sometime during the fray, which was a bad omen if ever he'd seen one.

When the German shepherd reappeared and tore into the raiders on the ground, Preston almost wanted to run the dog off again, to save at least one of their skins. He nearly missed the shadow that followed Dogmeat, the uncoordinated dive to the ground that swept the surprised raiders back a block and slammed them into buildings one by one. It was all Preston could do to grab his laser musket and clutch it to his chest before the newcomer in the vault suit alighted on the balcony next to him, folding up a pair of wings on their back neat as you please.

"Need some help?" they asked breathlessly.

"Who are you?" Preston replied. "What- where did you get-"

"Vault 111. Above Sanctuary Hills." The sole survivor indicated the northwest road out of town. "The rest can wait. Are there more in the building?"

"Yeah, and I've got people inside." Preston shook off his surprise. "I don't know if you've got much room to maneuver in the hallway outside the room we're holed up in, but if you can get out into the museum's atrium..."

The sole survivor nodded and produced a pistol. "On it. Lead the way."

As Preston opened the door for them, the phrase Mama Murphy had been muttering to herself all the way from Lexington popped into his mind. "Our guardian angel," he murmured.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing. Just glad you dropped in."

Strong: The only way up Trinity Tower was through 30 stories of Strong's brothers, and Strong was confident that any human that made it to the top of the building would have already partaken of the fabled milk. He was therefore annoyed when the first human to arrive was cheating, using bird wings to pass up the mutants and fly straight for the cell where he and Rex Goodman were incarcerated.

Rex wasn't nearly as bothered. "Oh, beneficent bard! A rescuer, swift on swallow's wings! Do hurry up and let us out, it's been days since they gave us something to eat that wasn't raw."

Strong grumbled his disdain as the rescuer picked the lock, and he glared daggers at them the entire way down on the outside lift. When they finally reached the bottom intact, he refused to thank them for their help, even though Rex berated him for remaining silent. "Puny bird," was all the super mutant said.

The sole survivor was forgiving though, and they did offer to help the super mutant in his quest after Rex explained the situation. "I'm looking for it, too," they said. "Or something like it."

"Strong drink milk first," Strong insisted. "Then human. No more fly away from fights."

The sole survivor chuckled. "The wings might grow on you, Strong. I hated them at first too, but now I don't know what I'd do without them."

X6-88: When the Director's parent appeared at the rendezvous point near Libertalia, a shiver ran down X6-88's spine. He checked the involuntary reaction before it had run its course, but the arrival of a winged figure from on high was one that no amount of Institute training could have prepared him for.

They approached him leisurely, just as much at ease with their overt superiority as him - they with their enormous, feathered wings, he with his engineered deadliness and efficiency. "Do you like what you see?" they asked him, pausing to give the Courser a proud pose.

"Opinions are irrelevant to our mission today," X6-88 replied evenly.

"Oh, come on." The sole survivor leaned in and ran a hand up his shoulder. "All you Coursers do when I walk into a room is stare. The SRB has you trained well, it never feels impolite... but now that we're not surrounded by Institute walls, you can tell me what you're thinking. Is it admiration? Envy? Maybe a little fear?"

X6-88 desperately wanted to twitch, to shrug their hand away, but he relaxed his muscles and kept his face still. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"Boo." The sole survivor took a step back, and a mild pout crossed their face. "No one in the Institute ever tells me their real thoughts. It's getting old."

BONUS!

Ada: "Where did you acquire your mobility upgrades?" Ada asked the sole survivor after they assisted her in fighting off the scrapbots and laying her caravan companions to rest.

"I don't actually know," the sole survivor answered, running a hand along their left wing's feathers. "I was frozen in a vault for two centuries, and I woke up with them. They've served me well, but I keep waiting for something to go wrong."

"Turing was always a little wobbly whenever Jackson tinkered with his jet thrusters," Ada recalled. "Zoe always made sure to run some maneuverability tests once Jackson was finished. I could help you conduct some of your own, if you are unsure of your upgrades' capabilities. It's the least I can do."

"Thanks." The sole survivor fed another branch to the fire and shifted on the stump they'd claimed as a chair. "More than anything, I'm worried about wiping out. Someday I might not be able to dodge a missile and I'll just go down and break a leg, or the wings themselves. And then I'll just be a sitting duck. I can fly okay to escape fights, but these are way too heavy to run with."

"Have you considered Stealth Boy technology?" Ada suggested. "Or an armor-integrated medic pump, in case of injury? There are plenty of pre-war military technologies that give you more control over such a scenario."

The sole survivor looked up. "Now there's an idea. Do you know where I might try to find those?"

"I know of a few spots that my caravan marked as places of interest."

Old Longfellow: Wings on a person weren't a common sight in Far Harbor, and of course the harbormen stared when the newcomer landed on the dock. Even Old Longfellow had himself a double take, when they first walked into the Last Plank looking for a guide to take them up to Acadia. But once you got past the initial shock, they looked like any other wastelander down on their luck. Their boots had holes in them, their clothes were bedraggled, and even their wings were in need of a good preen.

"They heavy?" Longfellow asked as they made their way up the road toward the observatory together.

"Heavier when it's wet." The sole survivor turned and grimaced at the appendages in question. "How long will this fog last, do you think?"

Longfellow laughed. "Long as time itself, I reckon. Some years it's manageable, some years it's worse. Never goes away completely."

He yelped in surprise when the wastelander's wings unfurled, shaking water everywhere. The last thing he saw before they shot straight up into the sky was their look of distaste.

They were back in a few minutes, gliding in to a less-than-graceful landing on the asphalt. "You weren't kidding," they gasped, chest heaving. "It... it never ends."

"Mm-hmm." Longfellow nodded. "Best to stick together, or you'll lose track of the ground. Crash straight into the surf like a drunken radgull."

The sole survivor smiled between their deep breaths. "Have you ever seen a radgull get drunk?"

"Once or twice. Not a pretty picture."

Porter Gage: The first time Porter Gage laid eyes on the scared wastelander, they had just shuffled off the shuttle from the Commonwealth into the Gauntlet. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, staring at the security cameras that tracked the progress of hapless adventurers - an ordinary mark, except for the wings they were lugging around like so much dead weight. He could only imagine what Colter was going to say, if they made it all the way to the bumper cars arena.

The Gauntlet was a narrow walk, with barely any room to spread your arms out, let alone a pair of wings as large as the ones the vault dweller was sporting. If that wasn't enough, the chain link fencing and barbed wire that the raiders had used to enshroud the outside sections was more than enough to discourage them from trying to take flight. By the time the newcomer made it to the final staging area, Gage was wondering if they even could fly, or if those wings were just for show.

Colter was thrilled, of course, and completely wrapped up in this latest symbol of his own might. It wasn't hard to slip the vault dweller the tip about the Thirst Zapper while the Overboss was hyping up the crowd, spewing shit about clipping the wings of God's angels himself. The Operators were making larger bets than they ever had, pulling out piles of caps and shouting over the crowd whether they backed the Overboss or the Angel, the Pack members present were claiming the winged intruder as an honorary member even if they were about to get their wings ripped off, and several of the Disciples were already begging to be the one who got to dissect the freak of nature when the dust had settled. Gage kept his mouth shut throughout, hoping against hope that his face didn't look too guilty.

He needn't have worried, though. Gage knew the fight was won the second the vault dweller burst from the locker room, a whirlwind of feathered wings and improvised weaponry. The crowd screamed, RedEye roared his approval, and Colter's laugh shook the arena. "Think you're some sort of messenger, some higher power? Ha!"

The wastelander smiled and pulled the Thirst Zapper from their belt. "The only message I bring is death, Overboss. And I'm here for you."

Elder Arthur Maxson: The Prydwen and its vertibirds had been the only things in the sky as the Brotherhood advanced north, or at least the only things that posed any kind of threat. Elder Arthur Maxson took to visiting the airship's forecastle during his free hours to watch the empty skyscrapers sweep by below them, to watch the radgulls wheel along the coast.

He made a point to be out there as the Prydwen approached the ruins of Boston, another broken metropolis on the horizon that held a sinister threat somewhere within it. The young Elder was looking over a rusty satellite dish array, deep in thought about the Institute's potential methods of concealment, when he was interrupted by a flapping noise and a thump on the grating behind him.

Maxson spun around. His eyes widened. Standing on the walkway was a wastelander in a vault suit and combat armor, unremarkable in appearance but for the feathered wings that stretched out at their sides, each one longer than he was tall. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" they demanded.

Maxson glanced around. No alarms had been sounded, no Knights had come onto the walkway. He was on his own. "Elder Arthur Maxson, leader of the East Coast Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel," he answered truthfully. "I believe we announced our intentions upon our approach."

The vault dweller scoffed. "'Do not interfere, our intentions are peaceful'? That tells me nothing. What are you doing in the Commonwealth that you don't want me to interfere with?"

"I am not inclined to give you that information so freely," Maxson countered. "For all I know, you could be an agent of those I seek to wage war upon."

"It's the Institute, isn't it?" The vault dweller folded their wings up and took a step forward. "You're after them, too."

Maxson hesitated. His eyes were drawn to the impossible instruments of flight that this wastelander was using. Not machine, but certainly not a product of nature, either. "Explain yourself, civilian. What exactly are you?"

The vault dweller folded their arms, too. "You first, Elder. I think we might share an enemy, but I've never heard of a Brotherhood of Steel."

Desdemona: The agents of the Railroad were full of theories about this vault dweller's arrival and what it might mean, but Desdemona paid them no mind. The last thing her organization needed now was more attention on itself, and a winged shadow over Boston was the least of their worries. They were still recovering from the losses at the Switchboard, still trying to move their cargo out of the region without attracting the attention of increasingly-common Courser and synth patrols, still trying to survive when most of the Commonwealth was against them.

So when the sole survivor knocked in the door of the tomb that sheltered HQ, Desdemona was furious. She didn't care about their reputation, their allies, the great wings that curled over their shoulders: She wanted to nail them to the catacomb wall with her railway rifle for their hubris. "Get out," she hissed, already mapping out the next place she could move her operations to. "Whatever you have to say is not worth the trouble you will cause us."

They had the audacity to look wounded, and the feathers on their back ruffled anxiously. "But I thought-"

Desdemona planted her feet and took aim. Drummer Boy and Glory followed her lead, but as usual, Deacon was on a different page. "Dez, give them a chance," he suggested. "They might surprise you."

"I hate surprises," Desdemona shot back, refusing to lower her gun. "If it were any other wastelander standing in front of me, I'd hear them out, but there is no way that someone as visible as them can bring us anything but grief."

The sole survivor raised their hands slowly. "Sure. I get it. I just thought that you were looking to help synths."

The tone they said it in was a familiar one. Desdemona's rifle faltered for a second. "You're a synth?"

"Um." The sole survivor jerked a thumb over their shoulder. "I don't think these come standard on most humans. My best guess is that I'm some kind of prototype. I know I attract a lot of attention and that's not how you work, but I still want to help."

Deacon looked smug, and Desdemona made a mental note to chew him out about withholding information from her later. "Are you vouching for them?" she demanded to know.

"Yes." Deacon crossed his arms. "Definitely."

"Then they're your problem." Desdemona dropped the nose of her rifle and turned, leaving the dusty circle of the entrance's spotlights. "And if I hear that any of our operations have been compromised because of your pet project's celebrity status, I will shoot them out of the sky myself."

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #companions react #sole survivor #12 days of ficmas #merry christmas

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

Ouija? Oui Oui

Criminal Minds. Garvez 2,220 words, Clean, Ao3 This is a Halloween story that took a while... over a year, in fact. Stranded in a spooky old house on a stormy night, the team become involved in a game of Ouija, and someone is set on calling Luke out. Is it real, or is it some elaborate prank?

“Really? Rain?! It couldn’t have been an overly clear sky and sunny 75 keeping us grounded in Los Angeles?!” Penelope jiggled as she pouted, holding on to the curtain, watching the storm pelt the ground outside. 

From the kitchen entry Luke watched on, grinning at her antics. 

They weren’t really in Los Angeles, not in the city proper anyway. They were in one of the rapidly disappearing, still out of the way, not-quite booming agricultural towns. It was a town so small and remote there was no cause for lodgings, never had been. The people who came here were family and farm workers. Being here was never an accident, and it was certainly not a vacation. If you were here, there was a purpose. 

Their purpose had come to a close with an exceptionally rare “good” ending; no lives lost, all missing found. But a freak storm and the only road out washing away left the team stuck. As a result, they had graciously been put up for the night by the sheriff in the old victorian farmhouse owned by her family.

It was drafty, and creaky, and kind of creepy, but it had enough beds to sleep the whole team and all the comforts of a home, so Penelope couldn’t really complain. Still, she would have liked it better if they’d been tucked up cozy on the jet back to DC rather than stuck there. 

Sensing her discomfort, wanting to lighten things up, distract her, Luke did what he seemingly did best and reached to push for her buttons. Calling forth some of his early undermining, he goaded her from across the room, “You think perfect weather would prevent us from getting home, Garcia?” He watched her body perk, biting his cheek, smirking as she rounded. 

“Oh what, are you a Meteorologist now?” Penelope shot back, turning to face him. 

Sighing, JJ cut them off, “I’m just bummed we don’t have anything to play…it seems like it’s been a lifetime since we were all together for a game night.”

“Come on, we have Scrabble. Don’t think we can play with six people and 34 tiles?” Emily teased.  

Spencer’s head cocked considering it, “We could do teams” 

A silence fell as everyone looked around noncommittally, not interested in trying, but not wanting to offend him. 

After a minute Tara’s eyes lit up, an idea sparking. “It is a perfect night for a seance, you believers could prove us skeptics wrong….Let’s commune.”  

“We don’t have a Ouija board and none of us are mediums,” Penelope pointed out. Though she agreed some light (or heavy) messing around would take the creep factor of their current surroundings off her mind, she didn’t mind that they couldn’t play some spooky ghost game, real or fake…

“Ah! But we do have scrabble tiles! We could make one,” suggested Emily. “All we really need are the alphabet and some kind of planchette- we could use an empty glass. When my mom was working in Italy, some friends and I broke into an abandoned villa on the edge of town, we drank stolen wine and one of them made a spirit board from scraps of journal paper and an upside down wine glass; we got tipsy and tried to contact the ghost of a cat.”

Tara grinned, “Sounds settled then, unless you’re all too chicken…” 

JJ frowned thoughtfully, considering it, then agreed, “Not the kind of game I was thinking of, but why not.”  

“The anecdotal evidence gleaned from the experience could be fun,” said Spencer, “count me in.” 

Looking to Luke and Penelope, Tara questioned, “So?”  

“Yeah, no, my mother would kill me for ‘intruding on his holy plan.’ ” Luke laughed, walking past the group towards an empty arm chair. 

“Aww, I won’t tell mommy if you don’t,“ she teased back. 

“Nope. Sorry, Tar. Say what you want, but we deal with the dead too much already, I don’t plan on tempting it. I’ll sit this one out, read a book.” 

“Come on, Luke, it’s just a game.” JJ, coaxed.

“Actually, that’s still debatable,” said Spencer, “it had to be “proven” to work at the Patent Office before its patent was allowed to proceed; and today, even psychologists believe that it may offer a link between the known and the unknown.” 

“Thank you, Spencer.“ 

Penelope, who had initially been teetering on the ‘no’ side of the fence as well, suddenly had a do-daring change of heart at Luke’s insistent refusal. Looking between the two men, she smirked as if having won something and announced brightly, “Unlike scaredy-cat Luke, I’m in.” 

Luke scoffed, smiling, and shook his head, then put up both hands.“I heard you had been practicing,” wiggling his fingers, and winked at her before turning to unzip his backpack. 

Penelope glared, but said nothing, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cluing the rest of the team in on what he was referring to. “Let’s just start.” 

The tiles clattered to the table scattering, deft hands quickly arranging them alphabetically in two arcs of 13. Everyone but Luke having taken a place kneeling around the table, Tara called out one last time, “Last chance Alveeez”

Luke, mind made up, simply held up the book he’d plucked from his bag, “I’m good, have fun.”  

For a moment everyone sat, not really sure who or how to get started. 

“What’da we ask?” 

“Well, we should start with hello, then something simple, like…Is anyone here?” suggested Emily, digging back into her memory.

As the question was stated the lights flickered and the temperature dropped, JJ glanced to Tara, a wry smile exchanging between the two, “Looks like a yes already.” 

A light nervous hum pulled from Penelope’s lips, “Jennifer Jareau, Know that if I can’t sleep tonight, you won’t be either-“ 

Emily rolled her eyes disapprovingly at the pair of instigators, “It’s just the storm, Penelope.” 

“She’s right,” agreed Spencer, “A house this old is bound to have some bad or broken wiring. It’s likely faulty and therefore more likely to get a short in inclement weather.” 

But as his words were assuaging the creeping feeling growing across her skin, all hands on the base of the glass felt the cup start to glide from letter to letter. Slowly, the cup dragged across the tiles, “H-E-Y” 

Stopping, Emily laughed, “Hey? Wouldn’t you know, A modern ghost.”

Just as smooth, “Y-O-U- B-E-T”  emerged under the flowing cup. 

Suspicious, skeptically amused looks were traded around the table. 

“Good or bad?“ “Do we know you?” toppled, one over the other.

The makeshift planchette remained still, as if whoever were in control were thinking, then whipped to L, down horizontally to U, up and over to K, then zipped backward, finishing on E. Reading it, all eyes went to the man sinking into the chair, into the book in his hands. 

“Luke?” Spencer stated, perplexed, glancing from face to face around the table. This was undoubtedly a prank. Spencer tried to read their micro-expressions, decide who it could be. Tara had been the one most insistent that Luke join, but Emily was good at covering things up, JJ was a proven good liar, but she was about as likely as Matt to pull someone in to a game they said they didn’t want to play. It obviously wasn’t Penelope unless she was really playing up the misdirection. Everyone’s fingers touched the base of the glass, so he couldn’t rely on proximity to help in deductions. 

Barely looking up from the book, Luke called, head inclined, “Look, I told you I’m not-“

Before he finished, all hands on the glass were pulled back in a repeat of the pattern, “L-U-K-E,” this time Tara called out the letters as they covered them. JJ’s mouth dropped open and her fingers briefly lifted. Emily, much like Spencer, was now discretely inspecting her friends.

Closing his book, Luke indulged them, calling over his shoulder, “Ha ha, very funny. Are you all enjoying yourselves?”

Confused, uneasy faces slowly shook their heads, denying they had been the one, “-It’s not me“ Tara insisted, “It’s not us,” repeated JJ.

Penelope, now believing it absolutely was some elaborate prank she wasn’t in on, called out sweetly, continuing, “Do you know Luke?”

“H-E-Y- B- E- A- U- T- I- F- U- L-    Y- E- S”

“Ooo, familiar and flirty,” she cooed

“Yeah, too bad he’s dead,” JJ said through a smile. 

A huff and the obvious sounds of shifting legs drifted from Luke’s direction. Emily’s brow furrowed, challenging, “Friend or foe?” She still wasn’t sure who it could be; if it was a game, or if this was real. The air in the room felt electric, she was no stranger to some unexplainable things, but Tara was right, this was a perfect opportunity for some spooky fun, something she absolutely did not put past either JJ or Tara indulging in at Luke’s expense.  

“N-O-M-A-T-C-H” was smoothly guided as a response.

“Nomatch?” Spencer said to himself, head tilting, puzzled.

“Uh, I think it’s ‘no match?’ ” JJ clarified. 

Luke had been trying to ignore them, immersing himself with the Bennet sisters training as Zombie killers (the modern YA takes on classics were a guilty pleasure), but icy air suddenly settled on his shoulder, a hand resting just so. 

That was different. 

The second the letters were read out it pulled his attention like a string tugging from his ear, the minute the words were spoken Luke’s hair stood on end. 

‘No match,’ why did that sound familiar? 

The thought was interrupted by Tara, sitting up on her knees, calling over, “Maybe it’s one of your old ranger buddies looking for a light”

In a flurry, their hands ripped back and forth, “N-O- M-A-T-C-H-  F-O-R-  P-E-N-E-L-O-P-E-  H-U-H”

As they reached the L Penelope let go, a sick shiver chasing down her spine. While she didn’t mind helping mess with Luke, she did not appriciate being included this way. 

Luke’s head snapped up from the book, his eyes catching hers from across the room.

They were fucking with him, fine, but not Penelope, not- 

The corner of his mouth twitched, he remembered exactly why those words were familiar, and seeing her look, though he knew she’d never heard him say it, knew she was looking to him for an answer. If Luke had bothered to look at the other sets of eyes on him, he would have found a similar piqued curiosity coming from around the room, evidence that, no, no one here was doing this. 

Emily cut to JJ and then across to Tara, looking for any sign that one of them might be the one pulling something, but there was no tell, faces just as surprised as her own. 

Spencer stated with a grin what he felt was the obvious joke the prankster had in mind, “It’s definitely someone very familiar with your relationship with Garcia.” 

Smiling briefly, then schooling his features, Luke glanced down, watching as the hands still on the cup moved easily, “N-O-  W-O-R-D-S-  C-O-M-M-U-N-I-C-A-T-O-R”

He didn’t want to be a part of this. He actively had chosen not to be a part of this. And yet, here he was being dragged in to it. Forced into it. It was just like Phil to put him on the spot and not drop it. Luke heated at the truth to the implied accusation. 

Phil knew. 

He’d likely known all along. And now, even dead, he was taunting him over it. 

Luke’s eyes narrowed, but his mouth quirked, and his head twisted in disbelief, slowly the word falling out on a breath, “-sorry.”  But he didn’t say it to her, he didn’t say it to anyone in the room- any body in the room anyway. 

“N-O-M-A-T-C-H” Each hand felt the tug and pull, each thinking less and less that it was another leading the message. 

His head shook, staring at the tiles, this couldn’t be happening. More importantly, he couldn’t let her know it was happening. “I know-“

“D-O-N-T- B-L-O-W- I-T” 

The glass stopped, Penelope tugged her hand away, protectively cupping it to her chest with the other. JJ looked from Emily to Tara, then from Penelope to Luke, “…You…wanna fill us in?”  

Penelope looked to JJ, Luke’s gaze cast down then flowed up and over the faces around the table. Slowly, his shoulder raised, “What? I was playing along. Just…messing around, right?”

“So -you- were joking? Even though you refused to join us? I don’t buy it-“

“Yeah, I thought you believed in this whole ghost-afterlife-supernatrual-unexplainable. I mean, you think the BAU is haunted.”  

“Okay, 1. the BAU is haunted, Rossi agrees, and 2., what? I’m supposed to accept that the one person you couldn’t con into playing was the one person with a visitor from the other side? I may believe in ghosts, but I’m not that easy.”

He was lying, of course, but none of them needed to know that. As long as he insisted he was playing along, no one could say he wasn’t. As long as it was a game, he wouldn’t have to tell Penelope why he’d lied to her about Phil, he wouldn’t have to admit why he lied to Phil about Penelope, and he wouldn’t have to think about why he didn’t want them together, even back then…

#garvez #criminal minds #fanfiction #penelope garcia #luke alvez #Phil Brooks #tara lewis #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jj #snails tales #ao3

[jaundicehinch]

Until the Last Drop

Part 1 of a Severus Snapex Slytherin!fem"reader fluff :33

Mentions of Y/N having black, eyes and a witty, mature Y/N

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Severus wasn't very happy to come back to Hogwarts, knowing he'd have to teach myriads of dunces and pranksters and all sorts of strange little children. However, the only place he could ever be remotely comfortable in would be his office, personal stores, and the Potions classroom. The dungeons, basically.

At the start of the term, the wizard wouldn't even bother coming in the Great Hall, to greet the other professors. No, he headed straight for the dungeons. No one else was there, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡. He could rest in peace, finally. As he approached his trusty office door, he grabbed the heavy and dusty steel gargoyle handle, and the door would open with one pull.

Severus would basically rot in his office until time's end, or until someone would interrupt him. Speaking of interruptions, the wizard was just about to finish reading the 70th page of yet another frayed and patched Potions book, when a hurried and slightly agressive knock echoed from outside his office, on his door.

Snape groaned internally and frowned.

It was none other than professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor, Deputy Headmistress and Transfigurations teacher. Someone he could stomach.. But also not quite. "Severus! Severus, get back up here! You will 𝑛𝑜𝑡 be missing yet another sorting ceremony!", the wise old woman bellowed, with a hint of irritation in her tone. Snape got up from his chair with a pained sigh, and reached for the door handle.

There she was. Old McGonagall, with a fine scowl that complimented the wrinkles on her mouth, thin lips knit into a sneer, and eyes narrowed, accentuating her crows feet. Her tight bun of gray hair had a strand of it astray, and resting on her forehead. "Minerva." Snape grunted with a calm tone.

"I do not wish to go to anymore ceremonies, i find them rather unpleasant and outright unbearable." He added softly, while McGonagall scoffed. "I beg your pardon! If you'd only give socializing a chance, maybe you wouldn't be such a bitter and solitary man! Goodness me.." Minerva kept muttering to herself and shook her head like an upset grandmother, while Snape's groans grew louder and more accentuated.

"Fine, fine! Alright, have it your way, I'm going!", barked Snape in a reluctant tone, while Minerva rejoiced internally. She smiled before clearing her throat and spinning on her heel. "Right, follow me." she stated as if Snape had littlest of clues where the Great Hall would be, and strode in front of him, making her leafy-green gown sweep. Snape strode next to her hesitantly, his black robes and cloak swaying like the smoke of incense. Snape would have to sit inbetween McGonagall and Sinistra, for this feast.

𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑏𝑎𝑑.. , he thought and sat down next to the two teachers. Goblets and plates and cutlery, lively chatter and laughter echoed in the Hall as the others awaited Hagrid's and the first-years' arrival.

Snape resented the sound of socialization and laughter, he thought it was all merely a façade to cover up the fact that everyone is dead inside, truthfully. But he didn't mention any of it, no. He'd only stare and glare at everyone across the Hall, dark eyes and slick black hair camouflaging him. Unfortunately, as much as he tried to camouflage himself, he stood out the most with his depressing jet-black robes.

The hall went quite silent as Hagrid arrived, a lamp in his burly, thick hand and he was waving the other one. Each time the man took a step, everyone swore they could hear the whole Hall thud and shake. Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant, swept the first-years with glistening black beetle-eyes, and a matted, long, brown beard. " 'lright, step along, step along! C'mon, don' be shy!" , he exclaimed as herds of frightened eleven-year old children swarmed the Hall. This was hell, thought Snape. Another year of teaching various types of dunces.. Each stupid in their own way.

Though one did catch his eye.

A girl with a grim expression. Black, sharp eyes that stood out from the wide, deer-like eyes that lurked in the crowd of children. She was taller and more developed than the others, also... A bit dark-looking. McGonagall rose to her feet and took out her trusty scroll of ancient parchment, clearing her throat to list off the students and start the ceremony.

"Abott, Hannah?"She boomed, and a blonde little girl with round cheeks rose from the herd, approaching the chair with buckling knees and a frightened face. As she sat down, McGonagall put the frayed and patched old hat on her head and it chuckled. Hanah Abott flinched distastefully. "Aaah, an easy one.. Patience, loyalty, kindness, hard-working... This might be a... 𝐇𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐔𝐅𝐅!" the hat echoed, and the yellow Hufflepuff table at the very right cheered and clapped. McGonagall sucked in a breath and called the next one.

"Granger, Hermione!" A small, bushy-haired girl emerges from the herd of children, walking up to the chair with a bit more noted confidence. Her front teeth were rather large as she bared them in anxiety, like a bunny. The hat laughed, "Difficult one, i see.. Intelligence, but also courage and boldness.. Ooh, difficult, i like it! Might be.. GRYFFINDOR!" The red table in the middle cheered, and Hermione Granger smiled, taking a seat next to Percy Weasley and shaking his hand. Another one was called in as Minerva adjusted her spectacles.

"Weasley, Ronald!" The small, frightened boy was freckled and red-haired, with wide blue eyes adorning his pale and nervous face. He was rather tall, still not taller than the girl that Snape took a close look at before. The little boy sat down and the hat was placed on his head. "Aaah.. I see, another Weasley.. I know JUST what to do with you... GRYFFINDOR!" Once again, the red table in the middle clapped and whistled and cheered. Snape restrained himself from flying back to the dungeons, Minerva would strangle him if he did. Not to mention Dumbledore...

Draco Malfoy was called. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed and smug-looking little boy that everyone knew was from a family of pure blood Slytherins, wouldn't even have to have the hat placed on his small head to determine he belonged in Slytherin. With a smolder, the boy strode to the green table on the left and sat down next to his lakis. Finally, a Slytherin. Snape exhaled in relief.

But the ceremony was going far too good, Harry Potter was called in, and the whole Hall went silent.

The infamous boy with a scar sat down on the chair slowly, with the hat being placed on his head with significant reluctance. "Aahh, difficult.. Very difficult." The hat thought, and Harry blinked. "I see intelligence.. And a thirst to prove yourself, oh yes.. Difficult... Where shall i put you? Better beee, GRYFFINDOR!"the red table hurled with excitement and shook the boys hand repeatedly as they initiated conversation with him, Ron and Hermione.

Snape was frowning so deeply, he could feel his facial muscles straining. The child of his bully and love of his life, in the same Hogwarts house as his second-greatest enemy was.

But they quickly relaxed when he saw the grim-looking girl walk up after L/N F/N was called.

The tall child sat down patiently, with a completely calm expression on her face. The professors, even Dumbledore, swore they could hear the hat stagger or gasp someway. "The daughter of the auror.. Yees, yes.. I see how it is.. Even more difficult, where shall i place you? To what house is all of this intelligence, cunning, ambition, and boldness going.. Ooh, the patience in you is staggering!" The hat whined and the girl rolled her sharp black eyes. "Let me see... What trait dominates the other.. Ooh, yes! Now i know.. Better be... SLYTHERIN!"

the green table roared and the girl rose to her feet slowly, striding to the green table on the left with an indifferent expression on her face, but you could see her strong jaw clench in the slightest. Snape curled his lip and clapped. He had to, as the head of house. Of course, he always rejoiced internally when another student was placed into his house, but this one had something different about her. Something dark, but great, yes.

Something powerful.

#severus x y/n #severus snape #severus x reader #severus snape fluff

[martianbugsbunny]

That's How He Knows He's Yours (A Lokius Fic)

Would you like a little bit of self-indulgent Lokius to heal from the finale? You would?!?! Good!! Because I just so happen to have some! *opens green coat to reveal a fic* All the context you need, which is little to none, is in the fic, so just read on and enjoy and patch up your little broken heart!!!

The TVA was having a party.

That wasn’t really the important thing, but it was interesting anyway. Mobius couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a party—but they needed to keep their spirits up after finding out that their entire lives were, in fact, lies, so a party it was. Every sector was having its own shindig, because the TVA was immense, and all of the employees couldn’t have fit in a single room if they’d been threatened with death to do it.

Well, anyway, the important thing was that Mobius wasn’t going alone. He’d convinced Loki that it would be more fun to go together than to go separately, or not to go at all.

The other important thing was that Mobius had offered to braid Loki’s hair, which had grown considerably longer than it had been the first time they’d met, and that Loki had taken him up on it.

He’d spent hours studying both Jotun and Aesir braiding styles—not just the actual construction, but also the meaning behind them. In the end he’d picked the Jotun style that signaled “I’m taken” because it was beautiful, and because he was pretty sure Loki didn’t know enough about his own culture to know what it meant himself, so Mobius could convince himself it wasn’t that much of a presumption.

“I’m not so sure about this suit,” Loki said, patiently waiting as Mobius brushed his hair before twisting it together. “The gold stripes are a bit much, don’t you think?” “What happened to the guy who used to strut around wearing gold armor and a cape?” Mobius teased, beginning the first braid. Left under the middle, right under the middle, he muttered to himself.

“I’ve been wearing your boring TVA clothes for months,” Loki said. “The drab must’ve rubbed off on me.”

Mobius rolled his eyes. The truth was, he was outside his own comfort zone in a fancy suit. His didn’t have metallic pin-striping on it like Loki’s did (because it was a bit much, although Loki wore it well) but it was black, and a much sharper cut and a much more dashing style than he was used to wearing. He’d been just an analyst in a plain brown suit for centuries, and now here he was all dressed up like he thought he was Prince Charming or something.

He tried to focus more on the different strands of dark hair in his hands than on the way his fingertips brushed against Loki’s temples as he gathered new locks to add to a braid.

He failed.

As he began to pin the completed braids up using glittering golden hair pins, he tried to focus more on not stabbing Loki’s  scalp than on the brush of his hands against the nape of Loki’s neck.

He failed.

Loki was built like a prince, Mobius sometimes caught himself thinking. It didn’t matter if it was princedom of Asgard or of Jotunheim. There was an elegance in the set of his shoulders, in the movements of his hands as he wielded his magic, and a determination in the curve of his back and the way he stepped, that was just plain regal. Gold, like the simple rings he was wearing that night and the hair pins Mobius had found for him and the single slim chain around his neck, seemed to have been built into the cosmos for no reason other than to have Loki wear it.

That was waxing poetic. Mobius didn’t do that often—only for Loki and Jet Skis. What could he say, they were both remarkable singularities in the universe.

He finished setting the last braid into place, nestled among the others like a crown across the top of Loki’s head. “All done, puss,” he said, patting Loki on the shoulder.

Loki’s head turned slightly to the side at the use of the nickname, and Mobius could just see a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Do I dare look?” he asked.

“I didn’t mess it up that bad,” Mobius said. Loki chuckled and got up from the floor in front of Mobius’s couch to go check his appearance in the mirror on the other side of the room.

Mobius could see the reflected green eyes widening as he caught sight of himself. For some reason Mobius’s heart was in his throat.

“I didn’t know you knew how to do this,” Loki said.

“What, braids?” Mobius managed to speak past his racing pulse. “It’s not that hard.” (It was, actually, quite hard, but learning it for Loki had made it seem easier.)

“No. The Jotun style.” That quick pulse stopped altogether. Mobius sat there, stock still, feeling very much like he was going to throw up if Loki didn’t break the sudden silence.

He turned from the mirror to look Mobius in the eyes properly. He was smiling, his eyes glittering beneath the faint liner he’d applied earlier that evening and a light dusting of shimmery white eyeshadow. “Seems the pussycat has caught himself a guilty little mouse,” he said, his voice sultry and honey-smooth, dripping into Mobius’s soul. “You didn’t realize I knew what these braids meant,” he stated. There wasn’t a hint of doubt on his face.

“You caught me,” Mobius said. He was impressed with himself for being able to get any words out at all, with Loki’s gaze focused on him like that.

“I’m taken, am I?”

Now Mobius found himself entirely unable to speak. What could he say, after all, other than "we’ve been spending a lot of time together and you don’t mind when I call you ‘puss’ and I catch you staring at me sometimes in a way nobody ever has"? It seemed stupid even in his brain. None of that meant he and Loki were…whatever he’d been subconsciously thinking they could be when he’d picked the style.

Loki walked back across the room, a new sway in his hips that Mobius was positive hadn’t been there before, and sat down on the couch to lean directly into Mobius’s personal space. For a long moment, far too long, far too breathless, he simply studied Mobius’s face, as though he could see everything single thought that had ever crossed his mind.

“We’ll see about that when we get back from the party,” he said finally, gaze flicking briefly down to Mobius’s lips. “Maybe you’re the one who’s going to be…taken.”

He crossed into that last bit of personal space and pressed their lips together, his touch surprisingly light, stunningly tender, as one arm came up to drape across Mobius’s shoulders and draw him even closer.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, puss.” Mobius finally found his tongue again after the kiss (although in a few moments, he was sure the cat would have it) and flirted back, laying a hand on Loki’s thigh. “You’re the one with the fancy hairstyle to prove it.”

As Loki laughed, Mobius captured his lips in another kiss, just as soft as before but oh-so-many leagues more passionate, and he thanked his lucky stars he’d been fool enough to pick a Jotun way to call Loki his.

#the most self-indulgent bits are the nickname puss and the long-haired loki #altho in my defense both of those are outstanding hcs #lokius #loki #mobius #loki show #loki series #the tva #hairstyling fic #also for ur mental picture loki is wearing a green shirt with the suit #because ofc #I would like to think mobius is perchance wearing a lighter green shirt with his??? but is this wishful thinking??? #(and yes I am aware this is my own fic and I can think what I want) #(but would he wear green or stick with simple white?) #also I am a sucker for loki wearing simple gold jewelry #it's such a slay #canon divergence #slight au #lokius fic #fic #also if u caught the enchanted inspo in the title ily #martianbugsbunny writes fic