#explosives in suv

[probablyasocialecologist]

We don’t yet know exactly why a group of people very publicly graffitied, smashed, and torched a Waymo car in San Francisco. But we know enough to understand that this is an explosive milestone in the growing, if scattershot, revolt against big tech. We know that self-driving cars are wildly divisive, especially in cities where they’ve begun to share the streets with emergency responders, pedestrians and cyclists. Public confidence in the technology has actually been declining as they’ve rolled out, owing as much to general anxiety over driverless cars as to high-profile incidents like a GM Cruise robotaxi trapping, dragging, and critically injuring a pedestrian last fall. Just over a third of Americans say they’d ride in one. We also know that the pyrotechnic demolition can be seen as the most dramatic act yet in a series of escalations — self-driving cars have been vocally opposed by officials, protested, “coned,” attacked, and, now, set ablaze in a carnivalesque display of defiance. The Waymo torching did not take place in a vacuum. To that end, we know that trust in Silicon Valley in general is eroding, and anger towards the big tech companies — Waymo is owned by Alphabet, the parent company of Google — is percolating. Not just at self-driving cars, of course, but at generative AI companies that critics say hoover up copyrighted works to produce plagiarized output, at punishing, algorithmically mediated work regimes at the likes of Uber and Amazon, at the misinformation and toxic content pushed by Facebook and TikTok, and so on. It’s all of a piece. All of the above contributes to the spreading sense that big tech has an inordinate amount of control over the ordinary person’s life — to decide, for example, whether or not robo-SUVs will roam the streets of their communities — and that the average person has little to no meaningful recourse.

#silicon valley #self driving vehicles #autonomous vehicles #self driving cars

[confused-pyramid]

One Step From Grace | s4

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: 19.2k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, abortion mention, implied SA, gun violence, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 4x01, 4x02, 4x03, 4x09, 4x11, 4x16, 4x17, 4x18, 4x23, and 4x26

a/n: Some more tension in the slow burn! I included some more specific episode details in this one, because some of the eps and characters are important to future seasons :') P.S. I love hearing all of your thoughts and comments (it's honestly what makes all of this worth it) so lmk what you think:) Title is from Grace by Rag 'n Bone Man

series masterlist

"Garcia, is everyone okay?"

You can hear the sound of sirens blazing down the street a few blocks away from you, but you're too far away to make it there in time.

"Oh, thank god, you're alright," she gasps over the phone, her voice thick with tears. "Rossi and Reid called me just now, and Derek's on the line."

He greets you with a frantic urgency. "Hey, Y/N, I'm heading to the explosion site to see what happened."

"Okay, sounds good, keep calling people," you instruct Garcia, before swerving across the lanes and turning at the next intersection.

She calls Emily, who tells you that she's also going to the NYPD's critical incident command posts. When she tries JJ, the call doesn't go through, and then suddenly the line goes quiet.

"Garcia?" you call into the void. "Penelope, are you there? Derek? Emily?" No one responds, and your heart rate spikes again as you pull over in front of the command center and rush inside.

Rossi and Reid envelope you in big hugs when you find them in the main bullpen, and soon after, Emily and JJ join you inside.

"Do we know what happened?" you ask them as you crowd around the city map where Reid pinpointed all the prior crime scenes. "What street was the explosion on?"

Reid opens his mouth to answer, when Emily's phone rings. "Yeah, Garcia, I'm back. JJ's here too."

She listens for a few seconds, before her eyes widen and she glances over at you. Lifting the phone from her ear, she puts it on speaker and says, "Can you repeat all of that?"

"Derek's chasing after the bomber," Penelope says, her breaths coming out in short spurts. "The bomb... it was in Kate's SUV, or under it. Hotch is out there with her."

Your heart stutters and you press your palms against the back of the chair in front of you, leaning over it to get closer to the phone. "Is he okay?" You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment. "Are they okay?"

"He seems okay, but she looks really hurt. He hasn't moved her."

You release the breath you didn't realize you were holding and stand up straight, turning around to catch your breath. If something had happened to him...something irreversible...you don't know what you would've done. Especially after the last thing you said to him.

It's not your place to have this discussion.

Screw you.

"Where was Kate's SUV parked?" Rossi asks from behind you as you rub your eyes and turn back to face Emily's phone.

"2 blocks East of Federal Plaza."

***

You keep picturing the security camera feed of his SUV blowing up as you rush into St. Barclay's hospital. The moment Morgan called with the update that Hotch was taking Kate there in an ambulance, you all piled into an SUV and drove straight over.

You know Garcia and Morgan said he was fine, but not all injuries are visible. You're the first person inside, and you rush down the hallways until you spot a nurse in the ER. After you flash your badge, she points you to the curtains behind her.

When you push past them, he's standing up, working on the last few buttons of his shirt. His face is covered with tiny abrasions, and there's a piece of gauze stuck to his right ear.

"Aaron," you whisper, not wanting to startle him. He looks up as he grabs his tie out of the bag they put his clothes in. "Let me do that."

You take the tie from him as he sighs and closes his eyes for a long moment. It's silky against your fingers as you loop it around his neck and slide it under his collar.

"How are you feeling?" you ask him, trying to keep your voice soft.

He dips his chin to meet your eye and he squints as he shakes his head. "I'm fine, but Kate's in surgery. It didn't look good."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, forgetting about any prior gripes you had with her. "I'm sure she'll pull through."

He purses his lips and nods, just as the rest of the team pushes past the curtain. You step back quickly without thinking, and you don't miss the flash of confusion in his eyes before he turns to Morgan for the latest update on the bomber.

You swallow thickly as you look at your feet, letting everyone else walk around you. You don't know why you stepped back. Maybe it's the freshness of his divorce. Maybe it's the way Agent Calvert from the Portland office looked over your shoulder after you told him you weren't ready for dating again.

Whatever it was, you know you hated how it felt.

***

"There's a bomb on the ambulance."

Fear spikes through him as he turns around. "The ambulance which I drove in here." This day has already been longer than any of them expected it to be, but each passing minute seems to bring another surprise.

Rossi shoots him a knowing look that he reflects. "The hospital is their target."

He glances at you and you look back at him, your eyes filled with what he can only guess is fear. His mind flashes back to your interaction earlier, but he pushes it out of his brain as he realizes that they are down a man. "Where did Morgan go?"

Emily turns back. "He went to find the ambulance."

"Alone?" you gape at her, reaching for the gun in your holster.

He figures they only have a few minutes before the cell signal returns, so he grabs his own gun and nods. "Let's head down."

The ambulance is gone when they find the bomber in the parking garage, holding a knife to his throat. Before any of you can approach him, he slits his own throat. He can't help the grimace of disgust that crosses his face as the terrorist falls to the ground.

Once the immediate danger to the hospital is alleviated, everyone starts to relax. The rest of the team stays behind to clear the scene as he sprints up to the seemingly empty surgical ward. He finds the operating room that Kate was supposed to be in, but when he pushes through the doors, all he sees is a few janitors mopping the blood off the floor.

"What happened?" he gasps out. "Where's the surgeon."

A man in a blue scrub cap comes forward and pats his shoulder, a resigned look on his face. "We did all that we could. I'm so sorry."

All of the momentum leaves his body as he releases his breath, his shoulders deflating along with it like a circus balloon. The surgeon leaves the room and he looks down at her blood seeping down the floor drain. He watches as it mixes in with the cleaning fluids, and he can't help but wish that her death could've been less painful.

***

You wait outside the hotel the next morning, your go-bag hanging heavily off your shoulder. When the doctors told Hotch he wasn't cleared to fly yet, you told the NY agent assigned to drive him that you could take over.

"What are you still doing here?"

You turn around to see Hotch walking out of the hotel, the bag in his left hand evening out his gait after the explosion gave him a temporary limp.

You smile, pushing your sunglasses down from your head. "I'm your ride."

His eyes twinkle in the bright sunlight. "You really didn't have to. The flight is much quicker."

"It's okay," you shrug, before grinning. "Besides, I would never pass up an opportunity to annoy you for three hours."

That makes him laugh, before he winces slightly. Got it. No jokes.

He doesn't complain as you take the driver's seat, and that's when it hits you how much pain he must be in. For as long as he's had his license, he has preferred to be the one driving, sometimes even when he's in your car.

The first few minutes of the drive are quiet, but eventually you need to fill the silence. "I'm really sorry about Kate."

"Thank you," he sighs, his eyes squinting at the sun as you pull onto the highway. "I've known her for a long time." He exhales sharply. "Knew her."

You remember him telling you about a case he worked, years ago, that took him to Scotland Yard. He had sounded almost excited as he recounted the differences in how the British government handled procedure, but he had kept one thing to himself.

"You never told me about her," you say gently, trying to keep the blame out of your voice. You're not angry, you just don't understand why it would have been a secret.

He turns his head to gaze out the window for a few moments, before he looks back at you. "I wasn't sure about how that case would go when I agreed to take a look, but we ended up working really well together. I had spoken to her a few times before, mostly over the phone, but it was our first time meeting in person. We caught the guy we were looking for in just a few days, so before I left, she invited me to join her team for dinner."

You can guess where this is going, but you let him finish, in case you're wrong.

"When she dropped me off at my hotel that night, she made a... suggestive remark that I would've ignored if the implication hadn't been so clear. I shut it down immediately, but I didn't tell Haley when I got back, and I guess I just felt so guilty about it that I couldn't bring myself to tell you either."

Hotch feeling guilty about something. There's a shocker.

You glance over at him with a small smile. "I get it."

The "Welcome to New Jersey" sign flies past as you cross the bridge, and you both sit in comfortable silence as the sun glints off the water and reflects onto the cars around you. You see him looking out the window, and you wonder if he's thinking about Haley again, but then he turns to you with a curious expression. "The unit chief job here is yours if you want it."

Do you want it? You know you like leadership, and you would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about the possibility of moving up the ladder at some point, but now that you're confronted with the opportunity, it doesn't feel how you thought it would.

The thought of leaving this team, when they've become your second family, tastes bitter on your tongue. You know you could assume that other teams are like this too, but when you actually try to picture it, it doesn't feel possible.

"You can think about it," he says after a minute, "but not for long. They need a replacement ASAP."

You glance over at him and a realization clicks in your brain. "Wait, they needed your recommendation before offering me the position, didn't they?" You crack a smile. "You tryna get rid of me, boss?"

He laughs, before it turns into a small grimace from the pain. "No, of course I don't want you to leave. I just know you're destined for more than this. You could be doing so much good work, leading your own team."

The sun peeks out from behind the buildings in front of you, and you reach up to pull down the sun visor. "Maybe one day. But not today."

His eyes flit over to meet yours and you share a smile before you turn back to the wide expanse of road ahead of you.

***

You've been watching him all day. He was cleared to fly again, but you saw how pained he looked when the jet took off, and again when they exhumed Cortland's grave. The way he's been flinching back at the slightest sound, and cowering in pain after the louder screeches.

You tighten the strap of your kevlar vest and glance over at him again as he whispers something to the local sheriff on the Angel Maker copycat case. You've cornered the unsub in the latest victim's house, and Morgan got her out before she could be killed, but Emily continues to speak to the unsub through her megaphone, coaxing her out and into custody.

"It's over, Chloe," she says calmly as Morgan deposits the woman into the awaiting ambulance. "We have Faye. You have nowhere to go."

After a few moments, the front door creaks open and everyone lifts their weapons. She looks surprised when she sees the dozens of guns pointing at her, but then she lifts her own and Hotch steps in.

"Chloe, drop the gun."

The sheriff, with much less composure, jabs his weapon forward. "Damn it, lady, drop it!"

She takes a step forward and the sheriff fires, taking her down in one shot. Hotch goes down at the same time, doubling over in pain, his hands going up to cover his ears as he lets out a low groan.

As everyone else goes to Chloe, you rush to him, lifting your hands to press them over his in an attempt to help him hide from the external chatter and noises. "Aaron, it's okay, you're gonna be okay."

His body folds into yours as you wrap your arms around his head, clutching him to you, unable to help. "It's okay, it's okay."

It takes a few seconds for him to relax in your arms, and then a few more for him to remove his hands from his ears and stand up straight again.

"I'm okay," he sighs, his brow still furrowed with tension. "Thank you."

"Of course," you whisper, your chest heaving as the stress slowly seeps from your body. "You're not flying home."

He takes a deep breath before slowly dipping his chin into a nod. "It's a much longer drive. You don't have to accompany me this time."

The corner of your lip quirks up. "What makes you think I was offering?"

"Okay," he chuffs, rolling his eyes. You can still see the image of him doubling over in pain splashed across your eyelids, but you manage to push it out of your mind long enough to return his smile.

***

"Stand!"

You look up from the young girl you were interviewing with Emily and Spencer as Cyrus storms into the room with a gun, his second in command hot on his heels.

"What's going on?" Emily asks as she and Nancy Lunde, the state officer you came onto the cult compound with, stand up and approach him.

He squints, scrutinizing each of you. "We just got A very strange phone call from a news reporter. Is there anything you want to tell me, about a raid, maybe?"

You frown, genuine confusion coloring your expression as you shake your head. "We told you, we're child victim interview experts."

He takes another moment to consider your answer before nodding and instructing the man with him to lead you to the tunnels for safety while the raid continues.

You let Spencer, Emily and Nancy go ahead of you as the sounds of gunfire from the back get louder. When you reach the tunnels, they head further in to help the children take cover as Nancy turns back and gives you an earnest look. "I can talk to him."

You're shaking your head before she's done speaking. "No, you can't. It's too dangerous."

You try to grab her arm, but she rushes forward and past the small crowd of children that safely made it out of the school. You run after her as she calls out, "Mr. Cyrus, let me talk to them."

She's too close to the window. You reach forward to grab her arm and pull her back but then another round of gunshots fires off and she drops to the ground in front of you. You start to crouch down, out of the line of sight of the window, when a searing pain shoots through your abdomen. You keel over, falling forward into the wall of the chapel as you gasp out in pain.

It doesn't hurt as bad as it probably should, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins won't last forever. You press your hands against the bullet wound that ripped through the side of your abdomen, and try to calm your breathing as fear washes over you. The team knows you three are in here, they'll figure out how to get you all out.

You know the minimal loss scenario by heart, and the BAU was the one who wrote the CIRG playbook, so it's a small comfort to know that you'll be able to predict their moves. You can only hope that they will be able to predict yours just as well.

Another wave of pain shoots through your side and you grit your teeth as the adrenaline starts to wear off. They better hurry.

***

He knows he's emotionally involved. They all are, but if his people aren't the ones leading this negotiation, he won't be able to forgive himself for any outcome that doesn't end with the three of you coming out in one piece.

He's listening in as Dave speaks with Cyrus, and he can't help but notice how cavalier his tone is after his followers were just shot at. He continues to rant about the final battle he has foreseen, until Dave manages to get him back on track.

"Now, the four child services workers..." he says slowly. Hotch can hear the concern coloring his tone even as he tries to act detached.

Cyrus's voice is crisp over the line. "One of them is dead."

His heart jumps to his throat. Your face flashes in his mind and he closes his eyes as he silently begs whoever is out there for it not to be you. Not you, not Prentiss, not Reid. Please.

"Her name was Nancy Lunde."

His breath comes out like a gasp, and Dave turns to him with an equally relieved expression. He's so thankful that the guilt for wishing harm on anyone takes an extra second to take over.

But Cyrus isn't finished talking. "One of the other child service workers was shot during the same raid. Once again, by your people."

He looks up at Dave, waiting for him to ask who it was, but he doesn't have to. The next word out of Cyrus's mouth is your name, and his stomach twists with nausea and anguish even as he assures Dave that your wound has been cleaned and properly dressed.

He turns to look at the compound, as though he could see you if he squinted hard enough. Hold on, he thinks, hoping you can hear him somehow. You've always had a way of reading his mind. Please hold on.

***

You wake up on a small cot, with a woman bent over you. You hiss as she presses down the edge of the bandage on your abdomen, and you bring your chin to your chest to see the current state of your gunshot wound.

You're surprised to see the blood washed off, a clean bandage and gauze left in its place.

"You got lucky," the woman says when she realizes you're awake. "The bullet went all the way through."

"Thank you," you whisper, before turning your head to look around the room. "Where are the people I came in with?"

"I'll take you to them," she nods, reaching her hand out. You take it and let out an involuntary groan as she helps you into a standing position. You try taking a step, but another spike of pain shoots through you, so the woman latches her arm under your shoulder to help you walk.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually you get back to the main chapel, where Emily and Spencer are sitting with the rest of the followers. They turn when the doors open in front of you, and they immediately jump out of their chairs to take over for the woman helping you.

"How are you feeling?" Spencer asks, his eyebrows pinching as he looks at you.

"I'm okay," you assure him, even as your vision blurs from the pain of having to walk so far. "Can we just sit down, though?"

"Of course," Emily nods, helping you sink into a chair. "I'll get you some water."

Spencer sits down next to you when she rushes off, and you don't miss how he keeps glancing down at your stomach.

"It'll be okay, Spence." He meets your eye and you nod again. "We know the playbook. We just have to follow it."

Emily returns with a water bottle that she opens and hands to you, and you chug half of it before setting it down. Hotch, please hurry, you think, wishing he could hear you.

***

The next morning, you wake up to a knock on the front door of the compound. You peel your eyes open and try to sit up, before remembering what happened the night before. Your skin feels wet as you run your fingers against the edge of the gauze, and you look down to see that you're bleeding through the dressings.

"Emily," you whisper, pushing her shoulder gently to shake her awake. "I need you to get the first aid kit again."

You feel more blood drip down your stomach, and your vision turns hazy for a moment, like a confirmation. She walks across the room to get the kit, and you almost forget about the knock on the door, until Cyrus opens it, revealing a stone-faced Rossi.

They shake hands as Emily removes your dressings before tearing open a new packet of gauze and pressing it into your wound.

"The children," Cyrus tells him, gesturing to the crowd. He then points at the three of you. "And our guests."

Rossi meets your eyes for a split second, and you make sure to keep your expression neutral as he nods and turns back to Cyrus. You're glad it's him who came inside, and not Hotch, because even though you want nothing more than to see him right now, you also don't want him to see you like this.

Rossi tries to get him to release the children, but he ends up leaving with nothing more than a promise to send food and supplies.

***

"Prentiss, Reid, and L/N are okay," Dave says as he jogs back to the tent outside. He turns to Hotch then. "She's been shot in the abdomen. They've tried to dress her wound, but she's losing blood."

Shit. He shuts his eyes as he tries to think about what he can do from out here to speed up the playbook.

"I have a signal!" Morgan beckons them over as he lifts a few sets of headphones for them to wear. With the bug Dave left on the compound, at least they have ears on the inside. It's not all he wants, but it's something, at least.

***

"Which one of you is it?"

Cyrus storms into the basement, where Spencer and Emily are sitting next to you as you lay down on the small cot from earlier. After Emily changed your bandages, Spencer managed to convince him to let you rest away from the followers.

"Which one of you is the FBI agent?"

Spencer jumps in before you can react. "Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?"

You haven't had the time or capacity to properly profile this man yet, so you don't know if his evasive tactic will work, but you also know he's smart enough to have thought this through.

Cyrus sighs, almost like he's disappointed. "God will forgive me for what I must do." He steps forward and points his gun at Spencer's head. You gasp, trying to keep a look of confusion on your face as you fight the urge to step in.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Spencer says, stumbling over his words. His eyes are wide with fear, and you can't tell how much of it is real and how much is for show.

Cyrus tuts. "One of you does. Who is it?"

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract him, but then Emily stands up. "Me. It's me."

The moment of relief you feel when he lifts his gun from Spencer's head is gone as soon as he grabs Emily by the hair and drags her to the door. Your legs burn with the desire to leap off the cot and tackle him to the ground, but you can't move as the door shuts behind them.

***

It's almost night fall by the time Emily joins you again. You and Spencer were moved back up to the chapel after Cyrus took her away, and seeing her now, she looks awful.

Splotchy bruises of purple and blue paint her neck and chest, and there's dried blood on her temple and the corner of her mouth.

"Emily," you gasp, trying to control your expression so that Cyrus and his diehard followers don't think you know her as well as you do. You hate the feeling of letting her take the brunt of his punishment and blame, but it won't help to expose yourselves as agents too.

Spencer leans over you to get a better look at her. "Are you okay?"

She nods, flashing him a small smile. "Yeah, it looks worse than it feels." You can't imagine she's seen her reflection today, but you still appreciate her trying to relieve his stress.

Right then, the front door opens again and a shipment of food containers are carried inside. Men lift the boxes and bring them around the room to feed everyone inside, and when they set a box in front of you three, you notice a familiar scrawl of handwriting on top of the to-go container. 3AM. They're coming in at 3AM.

***

When the followers leave to go to bed, Cyrus takes Emily away again to separate her from you and the others. You fight the exhaustion pulling your eyes shut as you sit on the floor with your back against the wall. Spencer has been talking to Cyrus's second in command, trying to convince him that the Bible can be used to manipulate anything, but Cyrus catches on quickly.

You keep glancing at the door, hoping that Emily will find her way back up before 3AM hits, but as each minute ticks by, the idea becomes more futile.

You saw the diehard followers rigging the compound with explosives earlier in the night, and the detonator is clutched in Cyrus's hand like a lifeline. The irony doesn't escape you.

"Something's wrong," the follower reports, his eyes scanning the darkness outside through the window of the chapel.

Cyrus walks over to check, and you use the moment of distraction to lift the edge of your shirt and check your bandages. You're starting to bleed through the gauze again, but it's not bad enough that you need your dressings changed just yet.

When Cyrus realizes that he's been lied to, Spencer tries to distract him by spouting off verses at a rapid pace, but Cyrus just rams the butt of his rifle into his head, sending him to the ground.

"You cannot convert my brothers," Cyrus says before hitting him again. You crawl over to him, ignoring the screaming pain in your side, and clutch his arm for some semblance of comfort. Cyrus looks down at the both of you, his eyes squinting. "No one had to follow. God could have stopped me."

"He just did."

There's a gunshot, and you whip your head around to see Morgan and a young girl racing out of the tunnel before he crouches beside you. "You two alright?"

You nod, reaching your arm up to let him help you into a standing position. "Where's Emily?"

"We got her out of here," he explains, before turning to the girl. "Sweetheart, come with me."

She looks at each of you, her face twisted with panic, before bending down and picking up the detonator from where Cyrus dropped it. Your eyes widen and you yank Spencer in front of you before pushing him down the tunnel. "Run!"

Derek wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding half of your weight as you both sprint down the tunnel after Spencer. You're almost outside when the explosion goes off, pushing you to your knees with a strong gust of air and smoke.

***

He yells out your name as the blast engulfs the compound. His throat feels ragged as he yells out for Reid and Morgan too, but he can't see anything until three figures stand up from the plume of smoke and stumble down the steps.

He rushes up, meeting you halfway as you collapse from Morgan's arms into his. He grabs onto you as your knees buckle, and he manages to pull you towards him before you hit the ground.

He can't breathe as he clutches you to him, trying to be mindful of your wounds. Your breath comes out in gasps that mix in with his own as he sags with relief that you're here, back in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls back when he sees the paramedics approaching, and it's only then that he finally gets a good look at you. Your skin is gaunt, and his heart thuds loudly in his ears as he sees you wince in pain.

When they load you into an ambulance, his feet finally start working again and he races after you. "I'm coming with you."

You nod as he climbs through the doors and you reach your hand out over the side of the gurney. Your fingers feel cold when he clasps your hand in his, and he syncs his breaths with the sound of the sirens as your eyes fall closed.

***

The first thought that goes through your head when you wake up is that it's too bright. You squint as your eyes peel open, and in the few moments it takes for them to adjust to the light, a chorus of quiet 'she's awake's filter around the hospital room.

"How are you feeling?" JJ asks, stepping closer to stand at your bedside.

"You gave us a real scare, Mama," Penelope adds with a gentle smile.

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat is so dry, no sound comes out. Emily darts forward to grab the cup of water on the counter, and you glance over to see the yellowing bruises on her cheekbones.

After a few sips, you clear your throat and say, "I'm good. How long was I out?"

"Just a day," Derek responds from the foot of your bed, where he's standing with Spencer and Penelope.

Spencer chimes in. "You got out of surgery a few hours ago, and the doctors said you can go home tomorrow morning."

You nod slowly, stretching out your arms and legs to test the limits of your mobility. When you push yourself up into a sitting position, it doesn't hurt as much as it did on the compound.

"Ah, you're awake," Rossi smiles as he joins you all in the hospital room. It's not exactly huge, so everyone has to stand to make room, but it still doesn't escape your notice that someone is missing.

You return Rossi's smile before glancing over at the door, trying to see if he's just outside. Noticing your gaze, Spencer walks forward and takes your hand, giving it a small squeeze. "He's on the phone with your father. I think he got a flight for tomorrow morning."

You exhale slowly and take another sip of water. "Thank you." He nods and moves to release your hand, but you grip it tighter, holding him back. "Seriously, Spence, thank you." You turn to Emily, who is on the other side and her eyes shine, reflecting the tears in yours. "That whole operation sucked, but I'm really glad you two were in there with me."

She lets out a watery laugh and bends down to press an kiss to your temple. "I'm glad you're okay."

When you start fading again, the team leaves with promises to see you back at work in a month, and you close your eyes to get a break from the harsh fluorescent lighting.

***

"Alright," he says into his phone, nodding. "We'll see you in the morning, Mr. L/N. Yes, she's doing a lot better...okay, good, see you soon."

He ends the call and tucks his phone back into his pocket, before walking over to the vending machine at the end of the hall to grab a few of your favorite snacks. He loads up on chips and pop tarts before heading back up the hallway to your room. When he reaches the door, he realizes that the rest of the team has left, so he steps inside quietly and takes a seat in the small plastic chair next to your bed, before gently setting the snacks on your bedside table.

Your eyes are closed and he figures you must have just fallen asleep, so he crosses his arms over his chest and just sits there, watching you. Your face is covered in little scrapes from the explosion, and you still look a bit ashy, but you somehow still do look beautiful. This isn't the first time he has thought this - it was more of a recurrent notion when you were younger - but he can't deny that you're just objectively a beautiful person. But then again, he's not sure if beauty is ever really objective (eye of the beholder and all that), so he pushes the thought aside and turns back to you.

His thoughts are interrupted when his phone chirps with a text message. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checks the name and sees that Haley has arrived at the hospital. He had called her after you went into surgery, knowing that she would kill him if he didn't keep her constantly updated on your condition.

When he finds her at the end of the hall, she pulls him into a quick side hug that's slightly barred by Jack, who is clutching onto her tightly. He can imagine how scary the hospital looks to a three year old boy.

"Hi, bud," he smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, before looking at Haley again. "She's sleeping, but I'll take you to her room."

"She's alright, Aaron." Haley is looking at him like she's worried he may break down, and it makes him wonder what his expression looks like right now. Ever since you got out of surgery, he has felt a weight lifted off his chest, but if he really thinks about it, he doesn't know if he feels all that much lighter at all.

But he doesn't want to say any of that out loud. Nodding, he cocks his head at the other end of the hall and leads her to your room, where you are blinking your eyes open again.

"Oh, sweetheart," Haley coos, adjusting Jack on her hip and walking over to your bedside. "I hope we didn't wake you up?"

You shake your head with a smile, but he can tell you're lying. You look exhausted, and he can see you periodically glancing at the light on the ceiling to keep your eyes alert.

"Well, hello," you grin at Jack as you carefully push yourself up into a sitting position. "How's my little Jack-o-lantern doing?"

His mouth twitches and he reaches his arms out as he lets out a loud, "Good!" You reach forward slowly, likely testing the limits of your mobility, and take him from Haley, who hands him off with a concerned look on her face.

"Be careful, baby," she tells Jack, before stepping back and crossing her arms. "Aunt Y/N is a little fragile today."

To his credit, Jack just slumps down into your arms, absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair as you turn to Hotch. "Reid said you called my dad?"

He nods, taking a deep breath. "He'll be here in the morning. I assured him you were just fine, but he wants to stay here for a bit to keep an eye on you."

"That's okay," you shrug, much to his relief. After your last conversation about your father, he wasn't sure where you stood and how far he was allowed to push. "It'll be nice to have some company while I'm off for the next two weeks."

"Two months," he corrects with a stern look.

"One."

"Fine." The only reason he relents so quickly is because he knows how quickly he would be back at work if he was in your position. "But I'm limiting your field work until you're more healed."

You nod after a second. "I'll take it."

Haley huffs out a laugh and looks at him with an expression he remembers from their marriage. Affection with a hint of exasperation.

"Alright, you two," she smiles, reaching for Jack again. His entire fist is tangled in your hair at this point, but you don't seem to mind. "I should get him to bed. It's already past his bedtime."

You nod and hand him back, before letting her envelope you in a warm hug that you settle yourself into. "Love you, Hales. Thanks for coming by."

"Love you too, honey."

***

Haley leaves with Jack, and you slump down in the bed, feeling tired, but no longer sleepy.

"I can head out too," Hotch says quickly, reaching for his coat, "if you want to sleep."

You shake your head, and he drops his arm immediately, as though he was just looking for an excuse to stay. The thought makes you smile and his brow pinches in confusion. What's on your mind?

"I'm just glad I met you." You reach for his hand he takes it, giving it a soft squeeze, before taking a seat in the chair beside you.

"I brought you some snacks from the vending machine," he points out, glancing over at the pile he made on your table. "I got your favorites...at least out of what they had."

You grin, feeling your chest fill with warmth as you take in the assortment. "Sunchips and cinnamon pop tarts. You remembered."

"Of course," he shrugs. "You're the only person I know, other than my three year old son, who still eats pop tarts."

You make a face, swatting your hand at him, but he's just out of reach. "It's not my fault toddlers have great taste."

He chuckles as you tear open one of the packages and break off a piece. The buttery, sweet taste brings you back to your childhood when your mom was still alive. She would wake you up with two brown sugar cinnamon pop tarts before school, the sweet smell enough to drag you out of bed at eight in the morning.

"What are you thinking about?"

You look up with a smile, your gaze wistful as the memory slowly fades away. "My mom, actually. I don't have a ton of memories of her, but sometimes the most random thing will trigger an emotion or a memory that I forgot I had."

He nods, his eyes thoughtful. "Like the taste of pop tarts."

"Exactly." You break off another piece and toss it into your mouth, before setting the package back on the table. "Last week it was the smell of this perfume I found at the back of my dresser. It wasn't even the exact scent she would wear, it just had the same base notes."

Your voice trails off, and he looks at you, giving you a moment before speaking up. "What else do you remember?"

"I remember her funeral," you say without thinking, before realizing that it's not a lie. You know that grief is weird, that people usually remember everything or nothing, but for some reason, the funeral only comes back to you in pieces. Your dad crying silently, Hotch holding your hand, your dress being too small on you. You wore it anyway, because she had picked it out for you at the store a couple of years before. "I remember you holding me up."

His eyes flash with something that resembles amusement and he purses his lips. "I remember feeling the opposite. I knew I was supposed to be there for you, but somehow, it felt like you were the one holding both of us up that day."

You shrug, realizing the details don't mean anything. "All I really needed was for someone to hold onto."

He nods and that's when your mind flashes back to New York last month. "Did you go to Kate's funeral?"

"No," he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "Her family flew her back to London to have it there, and I couldn't take any time off."

You want to apologize, but before you can open your mouth, he beats you to it. "I'm sorry for how I acted in New York."

You frown, but he just shakes his head. "I don't really know why I was trying so hard to protect her. I guess after the close call with Strauss last year, I was less sympathetic to bureau politics, but I still shouldn't have taken it out on you. I should've been protecting you too."

His words are tinged with self-contempt, and you find yourself wanting to take away his guilt even though you were hurt by how he treated you during that case. But that's how the two of you work. The protective instincts don't go away just because one of you is angry at the other.

You remember prom night all those years ago, when he was so peeved at you for convincing him to ask Haley to the dance, even though they had just started talking. She had freaked out and said no, so he was forced to take another girl who asked him after the fact (of which there were many), while you went with Kyle Martinez, who had been showing interest in you for a while. You knew your feelings for Hotch definitely weren't just platonic anymore, but he was into Haley, and he was also Hotch, so you had pushed it aside and gone to the prom with Kyle.

You had spotted Hotch the moment he walked into the ballroom that the school had turned into a Gatsby-themed prom venue. He commanded everyone's attention, and you certainly weren't immune, but you had your own date, so you ignored your best friend and danced with Kyle.

As the night wore on, he had grown bored and asked you if you wanted to get out of there and go somewhere quiet, but you weren't exactly experienced back then.

"I'm okay," you had whispered, trying to maintain your smile. "I'd rather just stay at the dance."

You can still remember the change in his expression when he saw you glance at Hotch, as though it was just yesterday. "What, are you into him or something? You seriously think he'd fuck you?"

You hadn't been able to help it as tears flooded your eyes, and before you knew it, Hotch was standing in front of you, glaring down your date as he asked if you were okay.

"Everything's fine," Kyle had sneered, trying to get around him. "Butt out of our business, Hotch."

He looked at you again. Do you want me to go?

You shook your head, a tear falling down your cheek, and before you had time to blink, his fist was swinging. There was a horrible thump as his fist collided with Kyle's cheekbone, sending him stumbling backwards from the force of the hit.

You couldn't move as Kyle swung back, trying to shove him down, but he didn't budge. He could take physical aggression better than most guys his age, but that didn't make this okay.

"Hotch, please," you had pleaded as he landed another punch. The sound of your voice must had cut through the fog, because he looked up then, unaware of the bruises on his knuckles. You helped him up, and the two of you watched as his date stormed out of the ballroom.

Presently, you look at him sitting in his chair and crack a small smile. "Do you remember prom night?"

He groans and you laugh lightly, being careful not to tear the stitches in your side.

"You never actually told me what that asshole did to you." His tone is light, but you can hear the genuine question underneath.

"It was so long ago," you shrug after a beat. "I don't even remember."

***

Your dad arrives at the hospital early the next morning right before you're discharged. The papers are quick, and by the time the sun has risen fully, you are being taken to his car in a wheelchair, despite your best efforts to refuse.

"I can walk!"

"I don't care."

"Dad, come on."

He frowns down at you. "I drove up here to be of use to you. Let me be of use."

You huff in frustration as he wheels you beside his car, and you try to get up on your own, but you twist the wrong way. You gasp out in pain as one of your stitches pulls and your dad immediately comes around to assist you.

"I hate your job," he grumbles, taking your arm to help you into the passenger seat. "If I had my way, you'd be working out of an office cubicle."

"I know, Dad," you soothe, turning your head back to smile at him. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too, sweetie."

The drive to your house is quick, and he takes your arm again when you get out to help you inside. Once you're laying down on the couch, you insist that you don't need any more concessions, but he doesn't sit down in your armchair until after he has brought you a glass of water and a blanket.

"Dad, I'm fine, really." He doesn't look convinced, so you paste on your brightest smile, and he finally cracks, smiling back at you. "What do you want to do today?" you ask him.

"Wha- do today?" he sputters. "You need to rest, young lady. I'm not letting you leave this couch until you head up for bed tonight."

You can tell he's serious about this, so you sink back into your pillows with a sigh and grab the tv remote. "What do you want to watch then?"

He leans back in his armchair and brings his palm to his face: his thinking expression. "What's on?"

You click on the television, and the first channel it opens up to is playing a rerun of Breaking Bad. Neither of you seem interested in watching it, so you keep flipping through the channels, but after 20 minutes of mindless surfing, you eventually end up back on Breaking Bad.

"We could just play it in the background," you suggest with a shrug, "while we talk."

"Sure," he agrees, placing his hands on each armrest.

Two hours later, your eyes are glued to the television after having watched three episodes.

"We should probably do something else," Dad suggests at the next ad break. "All of this meth production is rotting my brain."

"Yeah," you agree, taking your time to reach for the remote before clicking the tv off and tossing the remote aside. "We can have lunch in the kitchen..."

"Nice try," he chuckles, before standing up. "Aaron is coming by with takeout soon, and you can eat that right from here."

He had been coming by a lot after your movie night a few months ago, and while hanging out with your best friend isn't an anomaly, it does reinforce the reminder that neither of you have anyone to go home to at the end of the night.

It's another half hour by the time he shows up, Thai takeout in hand, and by then you're starving.

"Thanks for bringing food," you say genuinely after your dad lets him inside the house. "I was worried I would have to live off Dad's cooking for a week."

"Very funny," he says with an eye roll. "But yes, thank you, Aaron."

"Of course," Hotch says simply, before handing your dad a fork and napkin. "I'm also hoping to convince Y/N to take more time off."

"Not fair!" you complain, feeling like you're reverting to your high school self with your dad and best friend sitting across from you. "I'm not starting field work for a couple of months. I just want to come in soon to meet the new press liaison."

"Is JJ leaving?" Dad asks as he takes a bite of green curry with rice.

"Just temporarily," Hotch says, reaching for the pad kee mao container. You nod, chiming in, "She's due in a couple of months, so she's gonna start training someone soon to take over while she's gone."

"Is she still with that cop from...where was it again?"

"New Orleans," you answer with a laugh. "Yeah, she and Will are still together."

You can feel the conversation getting dangerously close to (ex) spouses, so you steer your father away from the topic by having him try all of the food Hotch brought. He ends up staying for a couple of hours as he explains some of the more tame cases you've handled to your dad, who actually seems interested in the finer details of each profile.

Eventually, he heads home, with the explanation that he has Jack that night, and you say good night to your dad before heading up for bed. You cover the stitches with plastic the way the doctors instructed you to before taking a fast shower and getting into your bed.

You can hear the sound of your father's quiet snores from the guest room down the hall, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine that you're back in your childhood home, sleeping in your pink and purple bedroom after spending the day with your best friend.

***

It takes a lot of convincing, but at the end of the month, your dad drops you off at work before making his drive back home. Emily had called you before the team's plane took off, and you timed it right so that you'd get to the office just as they arrived.

The elevator doors open on your floor, and you hear a loud conversation happening between Morgan and Prentiss just before they spot you from the bullpen.

"Y/N!" Emily grins, rushing forward to give you a hug. "How's the healing process been?"

"I feel a lot better," you tell her with a smile as you pull back and drop your bag next to your desk.

"You look a lot better," she nods, before Derek grabs you and pulls you in for a surprisingly gentle bear hug.

"You look great," he says, grinning at you. "Are you cleared to come back to work?"

"Not field work," you sigh, pushing your hair back behind your ear. "I'm just here to turn in some paperwork and then I'm stuck to my desk for a few more weeks."

Derek takes the files from your hand and tosses them on your desk before throwing an arm around your shoulder. "You should come out and get burgers with Prentiss and me."

"Tempting," you say, "but I just came by to meet-"

"Hey guys," JJ calls out from the hallway. "I want to introduce you to someone."

She walks up to you all with another woman by her side. "This is Agent Jordan Todd. She'll be taking over for me while I'm on maternity leave."

You grin, clasping your hands together in front of you as she smiles sheepishly at all of you. "Agent Jareau's told me so much about you all."

She turns to Emily first. "You must be Agent Prentiss."

"Yes," she smiles, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Spencer walks up at that moment and Agent Todd nods at him. "Hello, Dr. Reid."

He waves back, and she then looks at you. You reach out first to shake her hand and she smiles. "Agent L/N, I presume?" When you nod, she takes your hand. "I heard about the cult incident."

"Yeah," you let out a laugh. "Incident is definitely a word for it."

Derek drops his arm from your shoulder and Jordan turns to him with a cheeky grin that piques your interest. "And Agent Morgan. Nice to see you again."

He nods, not giving anything away. "Nice to see you, too. So, this must be the good news."

"This would be my brownie."

Emily frowns, pointing between the two of then. "Uh, you two have met?"

Derek doesn't turn away from her. "Briefly."

JJ shoots him a look before steering Jordan away to meet the rest of the team, and you and Emily turn to Derek with matching expressions. "What was that about?"

"I met her at a coffee shop this morning," he explains, rubbing a hand over his face. "She knew my name then, and I guess this is how."

"JJ's about to pop," Emily says, glancing at you with a small smirk. "Looks like it's about to get interesting at the BAU."

***

Your first case back in the field takes you to Atlanta, where Vanessa Holden was murdered after going home with a man she met on a night out clubbing. Jordan briefs you all on the details back in the office before you get on the plane.

You're still not used to JJ being gone, and you heard all about Jordan's drive from Hotch when he came by your house with dinner periodically over your bureau-mandated leave, but you don't want to make any judgments before getting to know her yourself.

You sit across from Hotch on the plane, and you don't miss the way his eyes follow each of your movements from the second you sit down. Your bandages are still on, but you've regained almost all of your mobility.

As the jet takes off, you lean forward slightly to adjust the back of your blazer, and his gaze shoots to you, his brow furrowing with concern.

You flash your eyes at him, cutting the tension with a small smirk. I'm fine, I promise.

He squints slightly, scrutinizing your expression for a moment, before letting out an inscrutable sigh and turning back to the case file.

When you land in Atlanta, you start off at the police department with Hotch, Morgan, and Todd, and her continued insistence on being the first to meet with the local officials and debrief them surprises you, given JJ's more subtle nature when working with those who call your team in.

The local police let you know that the Holden family has stopped cooperating with their investigation, but the four of you head over to their home to try and speak with her mother and sister one last time. Jordan gets you in the house by sharing a story about her older sister who passed away, and you find yourself feeling awful about your misjudgment of her, until you notice the look of Hotch's face.

"Did you know that about Jordan?" you ask, trying to understand why he looks so miffed.

"No," he says simply, his brow pinched together, "and neither did she. According to her file, she's an only child."

You flash your eyes at Derek.

The conversation gets you a basic profile of the unsub, based on the cocky way he held himself with Vanessa and the way he was dressed when approaching her at the club, but when the moment you exit her home, Hotch corners Jordan on the driveway.

"The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister," he fumes. "Where did you get that?"

She has the gall not to look ashamed, and you can't decide if you respect her resolve or detest her lack of responsibility. "Some of it was online, and some of it was an educated guess based on birth order."

"A guess."

You practically wince and Derek stares at her, as though trying to hypnotically get her to backtrack.

She looks down then, and he delivers the kicker. "And in the process you lied."

You step forward to insert yourself in the conversation (for what purpose, you don't yet know), but Jordan just stands up straighter, ready to defend herself. "That mother was shut down. I needed to salvage some rapport."

Hotch doesn't back down, and as his brow locks into place, you step back again. "I don't know how you did things in counter-terrorism, but we don't make it a habit to lie to get the job done."

"I got you in the door, didn't I?" she spits out one last time. It's both, you realize. Respect and distaste.

"Not only do you represent the FBI, you represent this team."

He shakes his head, and you cock your head at Derek, gesturing for him to head back to the car. You hear the tail end of their conversation as you yank open the passenger side door.

"From now on, everything goes through me."

Jordan gets saved by the literal bell as his phone rings, and when he steps away to answer it, she comes back to the SUV and gets in the back. "So, how bad did I just screw up?"

Derek heaves out a sigh, looking at her with his characteristic stoicism mixed with compassion. "On a normal scale of one to ten, I'd say a six."

He glances at you and you press your lips together. "But on Hotch's scale...an 11."

She rubs a hand over her face and you turn back to face the front, watching as Hotch paces back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear. He doesn't look up until he's back in the SUV.

***

The profile becomes clear when a new victim emerges: an unsub with a possible scar or birthmark above his left eye, who went to a class for pickup artists. After doing some researching with Garcia, Emily returns with a flyer for a man named Viper that makes your stomach twist.

You, Morgan, and Hotch join her at one of his classes later that day, and it takes everything in you not to sneer in disgust as he describes his approach to meeting women.

"This is the jungle, my friends," Viper finishes off, lifting his hands in the air theatrically, "and your prey wants to be caught."

You and Hotch share a look, and he raises his eyebrows as you cringe. What, not a fan?

You shove his shoulder with yours, but it's not hard enough to actually make him budge. Hilarious.

"Will you listen to that language?" Emily whispers from next to you. "He's training serial killers."

"Great," Derek sighs. "We're dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman."

Hotch nods. "That's one more thing he has in common with our unsub."

The class ends soon after, and you get the distinct pleasure of meeting Viper in the flesh. When he approaches the four of you, he makes a clear effort to keep eye contact with only the men, likely trying to use his self-prescribed techniques to make you and Emily feel vulnerable. Instead, it just makes you want to laugh in his face.

"So you think this- what did you call him- unsub, took my class?"

He raises his eyebrows at Emily then, in what you can only hope is meant to be a seductive nature, and she practically snorts. Using his clear attraction to her to the team's advantage, she steps forward and takes control of the conversation. By the time she's finished, she has managed to secure his location for later tonight, and get him just flustered enough that a chance meeting later would have him ready to divulge anything she wants to hear.

'Please tell me we are not giving up on that guy." Emily heaves out a breath as you all walk back outside after speaking with Viper. She was just talking to him, but she looks like she's ready to take another shower.

Hotch flashes his eyes with uncharacteristic mirth. "We're just getting started."

***

His eyes keep darting back to the door of the locker room. Prentiss is going undercover at Club Aqua to get more information about the unsub from Viper, and when she suggested that you and Agent Todd join her, he couldn't think of a good enough reason to quash her idea.

He knows he's been hard on Todd. He figured it out on his own, even with your furtive glances from the passenger side of the SUV after leaving the Holden household.

He wishes he could say it all came from a place of protecting bureau leadership, but he knows that isn't completely true. It's been almost two weeks since he last saw Jack, and every time he drops him back at Haley's, that feeling settles back in his gut, like clockwork. The feeling that tells him he's just like his father.

The locker room door flies open and he averts his eyes, trying to maintain some level of subtlety, but it's only Prentiss and Todd. Where are you?

His unspoken question is answered when Prentiss announces that you told them to get started without you. He's still worried that you're not ready for this kind of assignment so early in your return to field work, so, before he can regret it, he stalks forward and pushes open the door.

The regret immediately comes when he sees your bare back, underneath your unzipped dress, on the far end of the locker room.

"Oh, sorry," he blinks, turning his head back. "I didn't realize-"

He moves to shut the door again, but you look over your shoulder and raise your hand, beckoning him inside. "Wait, I could actually use your help."

He steps through the door and crosses over to you, where you turn your back to him after a small glance. "Zip me up?"

The bottom of the zipper is at the small of your back, and he tries to avoid touching you as he pulls it up to the base of your shoulder blades. He isn't able to avoid it completely, and he tries to ignore the heat of your skin as he drops the zipper and nods. "All set."

You turn around and he forgets to step back in time, leaving you only a few inches from him as you glance up with a confused smile. "You okay?"

He nods again, stepping back and clearing his throat. Why is his skin burning? "I should be asking you that. Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I'm getting the bandages taken off later this week," you tell him, partly misunderstanding his concern. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."

That's definitely a lie, but he allows it for now. "That's not all I'm talking about. You haven't been in the field in months. I just worry that I'm tossing you into the deep end on your first day back."

"I'm fine," you insist, reaching out to put your hand on his forearm. "I would have refused the assignment if I didn't think I could handle it."

He's not sure if he believes that either, but in this case, the assignment itself seems odious enough that he can let it slide. "Okay. Are you ready to head out there?"

"Yeah, just one second."

He waits as you pull a thin necklace from your bag and clasp it around your neck. When it's attached, you spin around with a goofy smile. "How do I look?"

"Amazing," he says without thinking. "I mean- you look great, of course."

You just smile at him, before patting his shoulder and walking out the door to meet the Prentiss and Todd at the club. Your hair brushes past him as you leave, and the scent of your perfume lingers in the air behind you, a flowery aroma that persists even when the door swings shut.

***

Emily waves at you when you approach her and Jordan in a crowded part of the club. "Y/N, I'm sure you remember Viper. God's gift to women."

You smile at him sweetly, before glancing at her. "Sure hope he came with a receipt."

"Another friend," Viper says, letting out a weak laugh.

Emily uses this moment of distraction to pounce. "You promised if I met you on your turf, you'd show me something special. So...let's see it."

He starts spouting off some nonsense about chemical signals, and you're about to take Jordan's arm and pull her aside to give Emily some room, when Viper turns to you with a mock-sincere expression. "Does the boss man you're out here, with me?"

You turn back with a frown. "Excuse me?"

For a moment, you forget to mask your emotions and he practically grins as his bravado grows. "What I do for a living is pretty similar to what you all do. I read people...and from what I could tell during your little ambush of my class earlier, there's something going on between you and the supervisor."

You let out a laugh that feels surprisingly forced as it leaves your throat. "I really can't believe there are people out there who pay you for assessments like that, because you're dead wrong."

He shrugs, looking back at Emily, and you roll your eyes at him before turning away under the guise of giving them some space. When you're out of his line of sight, you let out a breath that was caught in your chest. You know you and Hotch are closer than most friendships are at your age, and you're not unaccustomed to people reading more into it than there is, so you're not sure why Viper's words feel like a fist around your gut.

"Hey, you okay?" You turn back to see Jordan approaching you with a glass of water. "He's really trying everything to get under our skin."

You accept the glass gratefully, and swallow a few gulps, before nodding. "Thank you. I think I just needed some air. I forgot how stuffy these clubs get."

"I hear that." She laughs and you feel your chest loosen with relief that she didn't believe Viper's insinuation. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but I'm almost excited to get back into my work clothes."

You let out a breathy chuckle, before sending her back to keep an eye on Emily as she works on breaking Viper. Later that night, when you get back to the station to meet up with the rest of the team, you excuse yourself early to head to the hotel, and you allow yourself to pretend, just this once, that you weren't avoiding him, and you really were just tired.

***

You're sitting in your car in front of the hospital at seven in the morning, because you didn't want to take any work off just to get your bandages removed. You know this is likely the exact sort of thing the bureau mandates time off for, but a small part of you didn't want anyone knowing you were coming here. Or maybe you just didn't want him to know.

You haven't been trying to avoid him. You may be a little embarrassed by how far under your skin Viper got with his one little comment, but you can't help it. The notion stirred something you don't recognize inside of you and you don't want to take the time to think through it.

You take a deep breath and get out of your car, before walking into the hospital and checking in for your appointment. When you called to secure a time slot, the nurse mentioned that, barring any complications, the appointment shouldn't take more than half an hour.

You're a few minutes early, so you sit in the waiting area, flipping through a fashion magazine from the table next to you. After a minute, you're so engrossed in a page about returning trends that you don't realize he is sitting next to you until he taps the side of your foot with his own.

"Oh shit," you blurt out when you see him, more out of surprise than the shame of being caught. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Garcia saw it in your calendar and told me." You turn to look at him with mock-exasperation, but you're caught off guard by the genuine hurt in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me the appointment was today? I could've driven you."

You open your mouth to come up with an excuse, but all that comes out is, "I don't know." He doesn't look convinced, but the doctor calls your name then and you stand up, pressing your lips together. "Will you come with me?"

He stands up immediately, without another word, and you both follow the doctor into a back room, where she proceeds to remove your bandages and check where you are in the healing process. The wound is closed, and is almost entirely scarred over, but she recommends that you continue to take it easy - a point which you see Hotch take mental note of immediately - and limit excessive physical activity.

"The wound is healing very nicely," the doctor says as you walk back to the front. "Give me a call if anything changes, but as long as you keep applying the salve, there shouldn't be a permanent scar."

You thank her before she heads back to meet with another patient, and Hotch holds the front door open for you as you walk out into the parking lot.

"Thank you for coming," you tell him earnestly, "even though I didn't ask you to. I should've told you."

He exhales through his nose, bumping your shoulder. "Yeah, you should have."

He loops his arm through yours as you step off the curb and you lean your head on his shoulder for a second before unlocking your car. You were stupid to let Viper's words get to you. He's your best friend.

He's your best friend, and you love him.

***

One of the first happy memories at the office in a long time comes in the form of JJ coming in with baby Henry. It feels like a welcome relief to see her face back in the bullpen, and for a few peaceful moments, everything feels like it's back to normal.

You know firsthand how much this job takes from people, and Jordan's absence in the office now doesn't go unnoticed, even with a sweet baby boy here to take your mind off of it.

Is this my fault?

Rossi had tried to talk her down after discovering that the unsub had killed his entire family in their home, seemingly after her press release, but sometimes the words aren't enough.

I'm not sure I can do this job.

There had been so much anguish in her voice as she admitted to Rossi that she wasn't cut out for this line of work, but no part of you judged her for it. A bigger piece of you almost envied her ability to recognize that she was in over her head - that she couldn't keep going like this.

Looking at JJ now though, you feel a sense of hope again, like maybe this job doesn't take everything from you.

"I thought you could use a surprise," she smiles, cradling Henry in her arms under a swath of blankets.

"He's beautiful," you whisper, stepping in closer to get a better look at his little scrunched-up face.

Penelope comes back into the room with a freshly warmed up bottle of milk, and JJ starts to feed him as everyone leans closer in wonder. "I wanted us to have at least one good memory to hold onto in this room."

Before you can react, Derek is pushing past you and Spencer. "Excuse me, kid. Um, JJ, can I..."

He points to the bundle in her arms and she looks at him with a soft grin. "Of course."

She carefully transfers Henry into his arms as all of the women worriedly chime in with reminders and comments on his form.

"You gotta hold his head up."

"Careful, you're smothering him!"

"I got it," Derek chuffs, before rocking Henry in his arms. "Look at that, what's he doing? He's smiling at Derek Morgan."

Penelope and Emily share a look. "Gas."

He shoots them a pointed glare, before grabbing the bottle from Garcia's hand and feeding Henry himself. "Hey, little man."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face as you step back to give them some room. Your shoulder bumps into Hotch as you step around JJ, and you look back at him, noticing the little curve of his lips. "You're smiling."

He glances over at you with an eye roll. "Gas."

***

"What's up, Hotch?"

You roll over and turn your bedside lamp on as you press your cellphone to your ear. The alarm clock beside you says it's just past five in the morning.

"We have a case."

You frown, pushing yourself up. "Wouldn't JJ usually call us to come in?"

"This one's different." His voice sounds slightly muffled and his tone is colored by a familiar tinge of irritation. "Dallas AG called me last night to come down here, and it looks like they may have a serial."

"You went alone?" you ask, trying to blink the grogginess from your eyes as you get out of bed. You are distinctly aware of how many questions you're asking, but your brain is still fuzzy from being woken up.

"Yeah," he says simply, before you hear someone call his name from the other end of the line. "I convinced them to bring the team in as well. Anyway, I have to go, but I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, see you-" The line cuts and you sigh, tossing the phone down.

So much for a full night of rest.

***

Spencer briefs all of you on female serial killers on the flight over, and once you land, Hotch is waiting at the hotel. You drop your things off in your room and meet with him, Rossi, and Morgan to head over to the location of the latest crime scene, when another man is murdered.

"Victim was Joseph Fielding," Rossi explains when you enter the office building. "He was CFO here."

"Poisoned?" you clarify.

"And staged," Morgan adds, glancing over the body. This time, the victim was left out in the open, naked and tied up. There's no way the company can keep the media away from this one.

"Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?"

You turn around to see a man in a fancy suit stalking towards the four of you. You step back to let Hotch get around you, and he approaches the man with a frown. "I'm Hotchner."

"Larry Bartlett," he introduces himself. "I represent Mr. Fielding and Webster Industries."

Hotch angles himself to stand between the man and the body. "This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett."

"I spoke to Ellen Daniels," he explains, his eyes glinting with over-confidence. "She said you're a very reasonable man."

You resist the urge to snort as Hotch moves to get the attention of the police officers nearby. "Escort him out, please."

"No, wait! The press is outside, and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?"

This time it's you who frowns. "We're not about to lie for you."

"Don't have to lie," he says, gesturing with his hands as though that will help his case. "Just don't comment."

Hotch looks at him for a moment, before excusing himself and pulling the rest of you aside. "Is there any reason to go public yet?"

Rossi shrugs. "Validating her is exactly what she wants. If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake."

You almost smile. "He doesn't need to know that."

Hotch meets your eye for a beat before spinning around and putting his lawyer face back on. "We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails...everything."

***

When Penelope uncovers that the victims have all been withholding child support from their ex-wives, Hotch meets with the city's high-profile corporate lawyers to present the profile. You're not sure how helpful this will be, given that their primary motive is to protect their clients' companies, but it proves useful when one of the lawyers reveals that the unsub may have a penthouse to her name.

The apartment is massive. You walk around the living area, trying to find anything the unsub may have left out, but she has clearly been covering her tracks.

When you don't find anything by the bedroom, you head over to the walk-in closet where Derek and Emily are poking around her jewelry box.

"Hey, Prentiss," Derek suddenly says, lifting up a leather bodysuit and holding it in front of her. "Got a whip?"

Rolling your eyes, you smack the top of his head with the evidence baggy in your hands and walk back out to find Hotch. He's poring over her antique book collection when suddenly the apartment phone starts to ring.

You all argue for a few moments over who should take the call, and Derek quickly alerts Garcia to trap-and-trace it, before it soon goes to voicemail.

"Hi, it's me," the woman's voice says brightly in the voicemail message. "You know what to do." There's a beep, and then her voice comes back, more present this time. "Aaron."

Your eyes snap over to him, but he's still looking at the phone.

"I know you're up there," she continues. "Aaron Hotchner."

He reaches forward and carefully lifts the phone with his gloved hand. He walks over to the window as he presses it to his ear. "I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, but I don't know yours."

You bend down and press the speaker button on the main console as he moves across the room.

"I thought I could trust you, Aaron." Her voice is tight over the line, the tiny speakers still enough to amplify the emotion in her voice. She sounds so...disappointed.

"Who says you can't?" he responds slowly, clearly testing the range of her emotion.

"I want to," she says quietly. "I even looked you up online. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings...and for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world."

You remember that presentation. There had been a shooting at an elementary school in Virginia, and the moment the news hit, he had been on the phone, discussing procedures to ensure it wouldn't happen again. You went with him that day that he gave the speech, and you could tell he had been thinking of Jack the entire time he was up there.

Hotch closes his eyes for a beat. "But I've disappointed you, haven't I? Just like all the other men in your life who've walked out on their families."

The line is silent, before: "Did you walk out on your family?"

Hotch looks down for a moment and you fight the urge to walk over and pull him into a hug. "No. My wife left me."

You can feel the team's eyes on you as you keep your expression neutral, your eyes focused on him.

"Do you have kids?"

Your mind flashes to Jack, and your chest feels warm as he nods, before muttering a quick "yes".

The woman speaks up again, her voice stronger yet more emotional. "How often do you see him?"

"I try to see him every week."

She scoffs. "Do you see him every week?" Her question is like a jab, trying to push him into doing or saying something that will prove he's just like the other men in her life.

"No," he admits, glancing back at you. You nod, trying to let him know that you're right here. "I don't get there as often as I want."

"I believe you." Her voice softens and you watch as Hotch's expression turns back to his thinking face. He has an idea.

He lets her talk for a minute, listening in to Garcia's updates on the trap-and-trace, until he chimes in again. "But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?"

You can hear the confusion in her tone. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you wanna show the world all these bad men, and my investigation's just getting in your way."

"No, Aaron," she sighs heavily. "You just want me to disappear, just like they do."

He shakes his head, turning to look out the window. "Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you. You don't know who to trust. Am I right?"

There are tears in her voice as she quietly whispers an acknowledgement.

"Come to me and turn yourself in." He walks back to the living area. "I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear."

His voice is a comfort, and for a brief moment, you think that he could probably convince you to turn yourself in if you had to.

There's a beat of silence, before a small rustling sound. "If we met under different circumstances...I could believe that."

The rustling continues, before her tone changes completely, going from soft and meek to strong and icy. "I won't let you cover this up."

There's a gunshot right before the call cuts out.

***

You follow Hotch and Derek into the hotel room, checking behind you as you aim your gun out in front of you. Once Garcia found Megan Kane's address and client list, everything else fell into place.

The room is empty, except for a gun and a bottle of champagne placed theatrically on the center table.

"Hotch," Derek whispers, pointing out at the balcony, where a figure is laying down on one of the lounge chairs.

His brow furrows and he lifts his hand. "Wait here."

"You sure?" you ask, stepping forward to get a better look.

He nods. "It's over. She knows it."

Derek steps out to call 911, and you watch as Hotch approaches her slowly, tucking his gun into his holster before sitting on the chair beside her.

"Nothing will change," you hear her whisper, her voice overflowing with despair. "They'll just go back to doing whatever they want and they'll keep getting away with it."

He shakes his head. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

The response is almost corny, but his voice is so earnest that you find yourself believing him anyway.

He reaches forward and takes her hand, holding it tightly as her head lolls to the side to look at him. "How could your wife have ever left someone like you?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can feel the sadness permeating off of both of them as he comforts her in her final moments. Haley is one of your good friends, and you know she would've made their marriage work if it was something she could control. This job just isn't that.

Megan lets out a soft sob and you avert your eyes, feeling like you're intruding on a private moment. "You're the first man I ever met who didn't let me down. Will you stay with me?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He holds her hand for a long time, and he doesn't stand up until you're certain she's been dead for minutes. The walk back to you is slow, and you can see the extra weight on his shoulders as he trudges across the hotel room.

You open your arms and he all but falls into them, letting you pull him into a tight hug that you can tell is holding him together right now.

"You did good," you whisper as his face presses into your shoulder. "You kept your promise. It's the last thing she wanted, and you gave it to her."

You feel him nod, and a moment later, he stands up, letting his arms drop like deadweights. His hair is slightly disheveled, so you reach up and push the front strands back from his forehead, before resting your hand on his cheek for a quick second. "Let's go home?"

He nods again. "Let's go home."

***

It's snowing. You don't realize it until you step out of the car and onto the sidewalk in front of the Georgetown brownstone where the priest was taken in.

Emily and Derek caught him in the middle of an attempted exorcism, and you didn't arrive with the rest of the team until they were already bringing him out in cuffs. She looks shaken as she leads her friend out of the house and to the ambulance waiting on the street.

Once the paramedics take him from her hands, her body all but deflates, and she exhales deeply, as though releasing the pent-up tension from the day.

"Em," you whisper, approaching her slowly. "Can I drive you home?"

She doesn't look at you at first. Whites flecks of snow dance across your vision and stick to her coat and hair as she stares at the ground. After a moment, she shakes her head. "I'm gonna walk for a while."

Her feet don't move, and you're reminded of a conversation you had years ago, when she comforted you and offered you a quiet place to just be. Gently looping your arm through hers, you ask, "Do you want some company?"

She nods almost immediately, and you let her lead the way as you walk away from the red and blue flashing lights. You can't imagine how tough this case must have been for her, especially because the people she loved were so deeply involved.

The walk is silent, and you look down, watching the patterns the soles of your boots make in the snow. You only stop moving when Emily does, her sudden stillness tugging you back as she stands in front of a small church that she must have seen from down the street.

She lets go of your arm as she turns her face up to the sky, hugging herself in an effort to stay warm or shield herself. Maybe a mix of both.

"You don't have to say anything," you say softly as you turn to face the church as well, your shoulder pressing lightly against hers, "but if you want to, I'm always here to listen."

Emily glances up at the church, her eyes shining in the cold, and presses her lips together as she takes in a shaky breath. "My friend...who died...Matthew. He knew the Bible inside and out, and one day he started to question everything."

You think you know where this is going, but you don't want to interrupt her when she's letting out emotions she has clearly kept inside for years.

"We moved around a lot when I was younger, because of my mom's postings, and when you're 15, it's really hard to get accepted."

She's silent for a few moments and you take the opportunity to fill in the gaps for her, so she doesn't have to say it out loud. "You got pregnant?"

She nods, taking a deep breath. "Matthew wasn't the father. It-it was...something else. But I didn't know what to do. He told me to talk to our priest, but he just said that if I had an abortion, I wasn't welcome in his congregation."

Your throat tightens with tears and you blink them back, swallowing thickly. "What did you do?"

"Matthew found a doctor." Her arms tighten around her abdomen, and she lets out a small shiver. "He took me there, and he stayed with me. Then, when we got back, he held my hand and walked me into the church." Her voice cracks as she continues. "Father Gamino actually stopped his sermon, but Matthew told me to hold my head up and we walked to the front pew."

Her arms fall then, and you look up to see the wetness on her cheeks, pink from the cold. "Matthew saved my life. He made me feel like I was worthy of...love, and friendship, but then his anger and questioning started." She finally looks at you, and her eyes are wide with grief and anguish. "He saved me, and it's my fault that his life unraveled."

You're shaking your head before she's even finished speaking. "Em, honey, it's not your fault. He was your friend. He loved you, and everything he did for you was his choice. Anything he discovered after that was already within him."

Another tear falls down her cheek and you reach forward to pull her into a hug that she accepts gratefully. "You're one of the strongest people I know."

Her hands clutch the back of your coat as she cries silently into your shoulder, and you don't let go until she finally stops shaking.

***

Hotch is ending a phone call when you step into his office. He sets it down and nods when you step inside, but you can see the lines of tension just in the way he's standing.

"Is everything alright?" you ask, walking inside and standing in front of his desk. "What was that call about?"

He doesn't look up. "Shaunessy died last night."

"Oh, Aaron, I'm so sorry." You squeeze his forearm over the desk, but he still won't look at you. "He was your first boss here at the BAU, right?"

He nods, before clearing his throat and straightening his back. "He was sick. This isn't a surprise, but there's something else we may need to talk about-"

He's interrupted by JJ coming into his office, a case file in hand. "Sorry, but you wanted to know immediately about any unusual Boston homicides?"

You see his jaw twitch as he takes the file from her and flips it open, scanning the first page quickly. JJ glances over at you, a confused expression on her face, but you can only shrug.

He looks up after a minute. "We're going to Boston."

JJ sputters. "Wha-what, but we haven't been invited?"

"We will be." He grabs his coat and sidesteps the two of you, before booking it out of his office. You're hot on his heels as he grabs his briefcase and alerts the team that they need to be ready to leave within the hour.

"What was that about?" Morgan asks, turning to you.

You shrug again. "I have no idea." You turn to the glass doors swinging shut behind him, and rush outside before you can second guess your actions.

"Aaron!" you call out, forcing him to hold the elevator for you. "Tell me what's going on."

He sighs as you step inside, and he sets the briefcase on the floor. "It's the Boston Reaper. He's back."

"The Reaper?" The name sends a shudder through your body. "That was your first case as a profiler, wasn't it?"

He nods, and you wait for him to continue. "He offered Shaunessy a deal that if he shut down the investigation, then he would stop killing."

His words take a moment to register, but then your face falls. "He took the deal. And now that he's dead..."

"The Reaper has started killing again."

***

The next crime scene comes in the form of an older couple, who were killed in their car on the side of the street. When you arrive, you discover that the unsub left behind the previous victim's watch, as well as a note.

You sidle up next to Hotch, bumping your shoulder against his to alert him to your presence. "Looks like he went through her purse. Any idea what he was looking for?"

He's so focused on the letter in his hands that he doesn't respond, so you lean in and read it from beside his shoulder. "The question mark is new."

"It's for us," he says suddenly, dropping his hand and looking at you. "He's saying it's not fate. He's saying we had 10 years to save them and that these latest ones are on us."

You frown, trying to scrutinize the lines of tension on his face. "You got all that from one question mark?"

"I may know him better than I've let on."

Your brow furrows and you grab his wrist, bringing his attention back to you. "What does that mean? Aaron?"

"It means that there is a profile on The Reaper."

"You said you were called off before you could make one-"

"We were," he cuts you off, shaking his head. "I had just started the profile, and then he stopped killing, so officially we were done, but..."

You purse your lips. "But this case stuck with you."

He nods. "I kept coming back to it over the years, and I worked on it alone."

You can imagine young Hotch, in his first years at the bureau, poring over the case file late into the night, because he couldn't put it away when the unsub was still out there. You realize, all of a sudden, that it reminds you of Gideon.

Looking up at him, you release his wrist, letting your fingers drag on his pulse for a moment before letting go. "We need to hear your profile."

***

After he gives the profile alone, you all head back to the hotel to get some rest before the long days ahead of you. In your heart of hearts, you know that no one will really be sleeping tonight, least of all Hotch, so you go up to his room with him to keep working on the case.

"Can you imagine living with the fear that the man who killed your fiancee, and nearly killed you, is still out there?" Your question is mostly rhetorical, but Hotch still lets out a soft grunt from the bed where he's poring over crime scene photos from the last few victims.

"It explains why Foyet went so underground," he says with a frown. "The multiple residences under different names, always taking the bus...I just wish he had taken us up on moving him to a safe house."

"I think that's actually the one part I do understand," you muse, looking up from the file on your lap. "Part of the reason why I came back from my dad's house so soon after Jeff died was because I needed everything to return to normal. I needed my life back."

He glances up at you then with a slight raise of his eyebrow and you shake your head before looking back down. It's okay. Not now.

He looks like he wants to say something, but then the hotel room phone goes off, piercing the air with a high ringing sound. He gets off the bed and picks it up, answering with a stern, "Hotchner."

He's silent at first, but you only look up when you hear him say, "You've misjudged me. I'm the guy who hunts guys like you...I'll see you soon." He slams the phone down on the receiver, and even though you know exactly what that was, you still need him to say it.

"Hotch, what was that?"

He rubs a hand over his face, pacing back and forth across the small space in front of you.

"Was that him?"

He doesn't respond, instead mumbling something under his breath that you can't make out. You stand up and cross the room, before grabbing his forearms so he's forced to look at you. "Aaron! What did he say?"

His eyes are frantic as he finally meets your eye. "He offered me the same deal...and I didn't take it."

***

"Six bodies, not including the driver. He put 'em down with the gun and finished them off with his knife."

The scene inside the bus is horrifying. Blood is dripping from each of the seats, and the words "No Deal", along with a series of numbers, are painted in blood on the windows.

Rossi comes up beside you as you watch Hotch survey the scene, an eerie stillness to his composure. "What's going on with him?"

You glance at him, before turning back to Hotch. "The Reaper called him at his room tonight, offering the deal...and he hung up on him."

Rossi nods, before patting your arm and stepping around you. He nods at Hotch, grabbing his attention away from the scene he hasn't been able to look away from for minutes. "Y/N told me what happened earlier. So, what, you think this is your fault?"

"It is." His voice is shakier than you'd expect based on the resolution in his choice of words.

"Okay," Rossi shrugs, reaching for the gun in his holster. "Here, use mine." Your brow furrows and you step forward, making sure you're nearby in case this gets out of hand. You love Dave, but he can be a bit heavy-handed sometimes.

"You convinced me," he continues, shoving his hand forward. Hotch shakes his head, but he doesn't let up. "No, no, you hung up on him. You practically killed them yourself. Go ahead, get it over with. Don't worry about us. We'll get this guy without you."

Hotch closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, they're shining with tears. You realize, with a shock, that you haven't seen him cry in decades. Not since the day after his father's funeral when Sean shut himself in his room for hours, because he truly believed that his brother didn't care about their family.

When he looks at Rossi again, a few tears have fallen down his cheeks. "I had ten years to do something about it."

"Look," he says simply, lowering his gun, "if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, then you go ahead. But that voice in your head, it's not your conscience. It's your ego."

Hotch deflates, and you reach forward to wrap your fingers around his wrist, maintaining a steady connection. He looks at you, and you dip your chin into a tiny nod. It's not always your fault.

He looks back at Dave with a heavy sigh, but he doesn't pull his hand from your grasp. "You can put that away now."

Rossi raises his eyebrows as he tucks the gun away. "You sure?"

Hotch shakes his head, unable to hide his smile, and you let out a little chuckle. "It's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"My wife always said I had a flair for the dramatic."

You and Hotch speak up at the same time. "Which one?"

Rossi shrugs. "All of them."

You laugh, before squeezing Aaron's wrist once more and letting go.

***

George Foyet is the Reaper.

You can't believe it even as the words circle around your brain. The team was able to catch him before he killed Colson, the journalist who wrote a book about him, but the victory still doesn't feel sweet.

I'm gonna be more famous than you even realize.

His last words before Derek cuffed him and handed him off to the police. They won't leave your head even as you step off the elevator into the office. Emily and JJ are chatting about some new restaurant in town as they step out ahead of you, and you walk to your desk in a trance, unable to figure out why you aren't able to let out the breath you've been holding since you left for Boston.

Your question is answered when JJ runs back from her office a few minutes later, her phone clutched in her hand and a panicked expression on her face. "Foyet escaped."

***

It takes a while for Derek to get over the Foyet news. He took his badge and credentials when he knocked him out, and even with the replacement he was given, you know the knowledge that Foyet is out there is still irking at him.

Hotch isn't much better. He's been throwing himself into work extra hard, and you're worried he's going to burn out or simply combust if he keeps at it.

This is exactly what Foyet wants, you want to scream. He's trying to get in your heads and mess with your life, without even being here.

But you don't say it.

***

He's been so immersed in work that he doesn't really get to talk to you until a case in Oregon, where an unsub has been killing people by hitting them with his car.

You're grabbing a cup of coffee at the local police station, pouring in an uncharacteristic packet of sugar, when he approaches you, perching on the edge of the counter. "Sugar?"

"I know," you sigh, tossing the empty packet into the trash can next to you. "I just wanted something a little sweeter today."

"Can't argue with that," he says softly, making you smile. It drops almost as fast as it appeared, and he scoots closer as he hands you a wooden stirrer. "How are you holding up?"

This case can't be easy for you, especially knowing how your mom died. You don't talk about it often, but when you do, he can tell it's because you need to let it out. He's the same way with his father, only the feelings he is hiding from are different.

"I'm fine," you say quickly, like it's an automatic response. You both know it's a lie, and you close your eyes for a beat, dropping the stirrer into your cup. "I should be fine, but...I don't know." He follows your gaze over to the open case file across the table, and notices how your eyes hang on the crime scene photos. The car wreckage. The tread marks on the road. "I don't know why this case is affecting me so much. I didn't even see the crash when my mom died."

He reaches forward and closes the file. "Grief works in interesting ways." If there's anything he has the authority to speak on, it's grief. But then again, so do you. He doesn't know if he would've gotten through the aftermath of his father's death without you. Thinking about it now, he doesn't think he's told anyone else the whole truth about his family. "Anything can be a trigger."

"What was your trigger?" you ask suddenly, turning to look at him. "After your dad died?" Your eyes are full of curiosity, and for a moment, he wonders again if you really can read his mind.

He takes a deep breath before answering. "For a while, almost everything was. The smell of his beer, the material of his favorite coat...it all made me so angry."

"I remember," you whisper, setting your coffee down, "but soon after, that changed." You look at him with a small smile. "You met Haley."

His jaw twitches and he realizes that he wasn't even thinking about her. The first person that came to mind when he thought about his healing process was you. Haley was everything to him, but she wasn't built for the life he grew up with. She wouldn't have been able to understand the rage flowing through his body when he thought of his father's death. The anger and hurt he felt, that somehow always transformed to guilt when he went back home for the night.

"Yeah," he says after a moment, accepting your judgment, even if it is a lie. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore, so he diverts back to the original subject. "Your mother was different. She loved you exactly how you deserved to be loved. Even if it hurts sometimes, it's just a reminder that you had something great."

That makes you smile, and he feels warmth fill his chest. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

He nods, patting your knee. "It's been known to happen."

***

You're in the passenger seat next to Derek when you see it. You watch him swerve his SUV into the unsub's truck in real time, but you still don't believe what you're seeing until the cars come to a stop, smoke billowing out of the front.

Derek screeches to a stop and there's glass everywhere as you throw yourself out of the SUV and race towards the collision site.

Aaron is stumbling out of his car when you reach him. There's a gash on his forehead, dripping blood down his face, and another on his arm. He tries to reach for his gun, but you grab his arms, holding him against the SUV.

"Sorry," he mutters through gritted teeth as you reach up to swipe the blood off his forehead before it falls into his eye. Your hand stays on his face as you survey the rest of him for any other wounds that may need your attention.

Once you're certain that he'll be okay, you turn back to him with a glare. "You scared the shit out of me." Your thumb is unconsciously rubbing circles on his jaw as he looks down at you. You are well aware that danger comes with the job description, but he also knows you would kill him if he ever put himself in serious danger, especially when it wasn't necessary. "Don't ever do that again."

He takes a deep breath as you pick a piece of glass out of his hair. When you return to meet his gaze, he reaches out to grab the strap of your vest. "I'm sorry."

You tug each other forward into a hug at seemingly the same time. You don't get the chance to be careful with his wounds as you collide into his chest, but you forget about everything else the moment his arms close around you. He's okay. He's alive.

"You don't get to die on me," you whisper into his collarbone as you tighten your grip around him. "Promise me."

You know it's not fair. You know it's not something he can control, especially with the kinds of people you chase on a daily basis, but it doesn't matter, because he knows you. He knows when you need the facts, and when you need reassurance, so instead of uttering a funny quip or a painful truth, he just says, "I promise."

***

Are you sure it's okay that I'm coming?

You type back a response as soon as you see the message on your phone. Of course. Dave invited you and Jack, and I would love to see you too.

A few minutes later, you get a simple Ok, so you set your phone down on the table and stand up to join the rest of your friends. With summer around the corner, Dave wanted to host a garden party, and after the last few months, you definitely don't mind the respite.

"Come get some more food," he tells you the moment you approach them by the edge of his huge yard. He's standing with Derek, Spencer, and Penelope by a long table adorned with steaming dishes of bread, pasta, and salad.

"I'll explode if I eat any more," you say with a laugh as Spencer stuffs another piece of bread into his mouth. For a small as he looks, he can be a bottomless pit when it comes to good food. "Have you guys seen Hotch?"

"He isn't here yet," Penelope notes as Derek wraps an arm around her. "I'll keep an eye out though."

"Do you think he'll bring Haley and Jack?" Spencer asks as JJ approaches with Henry in her arms.

"I told her to come," you say, tickling the baby's chin with the tip of your finger. "It'll be nice to see everyone together."

As though conjured by their questions, the door to the backyard opens and Jack steps out with Haley and Hotch right behind him.

"You're here!" You walk across the lawn and give her a quick hug, before bending down and lifting Jack into the air. "What's up, Jack-o-lantern? You're so big now."

"Yeah," he giggles, wrapping his arms around your neck. You press a loud kiss to the side of his head and he bursts into a fit of giggles as you tickle his belly with your free hand.

"I'm so glad you made it," Dave says from behind you as he comes over and gives Haley a hug. "We love having you here."

She raises her eyebrow at Hotch, but there's no intention behind it. Divorce seems to have treated them well, reminding them of all of the good that was there before everything else got in the way. "Thank you for inviting us."

"Seriously, thank you," Hotch agrees, before reaching out to take Jack from your arms.

"Any time," Dave says sincerely, before nodding at him. "Come help me grab some more wine from the cellar."

They disappear into the house, and you pull Haley down with you into two of the chairs by the edge of the sprawling yard. "Hotch and Jack are sweet together."

She nods, looking wistfully at the door. "He loves any time he gets with his dad."

"It can't be easy," you say slowly, hoping you aren't breaching a boundary unknown to you. "I've seen firsthand how busy the job has been getting recently. I haven't been home before midnight in over a week."

She's silent for a moment, and you worry that you crossed the line, but then she just smiles. "He's trying so hard...and that's all I can really ask for, isn't it?"

You suppose she's right. Not everyone is lucky enough to find a person who fights as hard as Aaron does to get home to his family at the end of the day.

"You're good for him, you know." You look at her as she crosses one leg over the other. "You always have been."

"You are too."

"I know," she says, before shaking her head. Her expression is warm as she smiles at you. "It's not the same, though. Even when you weren't around, you were in everything he did."

You don't know exactly where she's going with this, and you're acutely aware of the choruses of laughter floating over to you from across the lawn as she reaches out to squeeze your arm. "He loves you."

Your face transforms into what you imagine is a look of confusion. "I love him, too. He's my best friend."

Haley looks at you for a moment, before shaking her head with a nearly inscrutable sigh. "Anyway, thanks for convincing me to come. I'm gonna get some food."

~

Eventually, the sun sets, and the string lights in Dave's backyard turn on, along with the soft sounds of Ella Fitzgerald and Sam Cooke. He helps Derek and Will push the tables and chairs aside to make room for a dance floor, and soon, Haley is in his arms as they swing along to the lilting tunes filtering out over the yard.

It feels natural, dancing with her like this, but at the same time, he knows it's different now. He holds her firmly as she tilts in his arms, loose from the wine that Dave made sure was pouring all night, and she lets him swing her around the lawn, no care in the world.

Soon, the song changes, and she looks at him with a dreamy smile. "You love this song."

It's a soft tune by Sam Cooke, one he can't remember the name of right now, but he smiles at her as he nods. "I'm glad you're here. You and Jack."

"I missed you all," she says, before cracking a smile. "Mostly just Y/N though."

That makes him laugh, and before he knows it, Dave is walking over, with you on his hand, asking to trade partners for the song. "I haven't gotten to talk to Haley all night."

It's not the best excuse, but Haley doesn't seem to mind at all. "Of course, I'd love to dance."

Dave whisks her away, and Hotch holds a hand out for you, pulling you into another steady swing.

"I love this song," you whisper as the two of you fall into a rhythm. "I Wish You Love."

Right, that's what it's called. His hand settles on your waist as you grip his shoulder, and he can tell you've had a bit of wine too, but only because of the red tint of your cheeks.

"This is nice," you say after a few beats of silence. "We don't get to do this often."

He nods, turning you to make room for Derek and Emily, who are swinging heartily across the yard. "It's nice to see the kids together." He glances over your shoulder to peer at JJ, who has Henry and Jack in each of her arms. She has jumped head first into motherhood, and it suits her.

The song changes to something a little slower, so he steers you to the edge of the dance floor, taking control as your feet glide after him. Maybe you've had a bit more wine than he first assumed.

The thought makes him chuckle and you look at him with a quizzical expression. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, and clasps your hand tighter to hold you to him. He glances over your shoulder again and finds an excuse for his laughter almost immediately. "Garcia is trying to teach Reid how to dance."

You tug his arm immediately, spinning the two of you around so you can see the situation he described, and your face breaks out into a wide grin when you spot them a few paces over. "The poor kid has no coordination."

As you watch them dance, he watches you. The way the string lights glance over your exposed shoulders. The sparkle of your eyes under the waning moonlight. He realizes, not for the first time, how beautiful you are.

He could give himself the usual excuse, that it's just the time of the night, or the single glass of red he drank a few hours ago, but tonight, he lets himself just be there.

You're his best friend, and he loves you. He's here, dancing around the grass with some of his closest companions, and you're with him. For once, he can just be.

***

You can't the pile of shoes out of your head. Derek and Emily were able to find the girl before Lucas Turner killed her, but even after arresting him and getting her back to her mother, the case is still sticking with you.

89 pairs of shoes.

You shake the thought from your head as you get into Hotch's car in the field office parking lot. He insisted on driving you home after seeing the look on your face in the plane, and for once, you didn't argue with him.

"I can't stop thinking about them," you whisper as he pulls out of the lot. "So many lives that are forever changed because of two men."

You saw how Derek reacted when he found the box of muddy shoes. You saw JJ's face after she had to shoot Hightower for murdering the man who experimented on his sister.

"I'm thinking of giving everyone a few days off," he says, glancing over at you. "We all need some time to get away from this job. I'll put the request in tomorrow morning."

You nod, unable to voice your opinion. You feel depleted, without having even witnessed the horrors you know occurred up on that farm.

It takes a second, but eventually you regain the ability to speak. "Do you think it's worth it?" Your voice feels like sandpaper, but the question hurts more than anything else. "This life, I mean."

He mulls it over, and you notice his grip tighten on the steering wheel in front of him. "I think it has to be." Your brow furrows, and you don't know whether you want to scream or cry at how terrible that answer feels right now, but he isn't finished. "We have put too much of ourselves into this job to allow us to forget about all of the good that has come out of it too. If we choose to forget the good, then none of it means anything."

You look at him in wonder, realizing he has voiced exactly what you needed to hear. You're constantly awestruck by how he always seems to know exactly what to say to bring back your sense of purpose.

"You're good at this whole leadership thing," you say softly, cracking a smile when he looks at you. "You help me grow."

He pushes you just hard enough to help you transform into something so much bigger and better than you hoped you could be. His chin dips and he turns back to the road as your neighborhood comes into view. "You help me grow too."

You lean your cheek on your palm as you snuggle further into the seat. "I called Josh Cramer, over at organized crime."

His eyebrows raise with surprise and he glances over at you. "Jeff's old boss? How did that go?"

During your last interaction at the BAU office all those years ago, you weren't ready to see him yet. He still reminded you of the hate and anger and guilt you felt over Jeff's death.

The last few months have been kinder to you, though. It doesn't hurt as much when you think about him.

"It went well," you sigh, looking out the window at the houses passing by. "Even though it'll never really be the same, it felt more like old times, if that makes any sense."

"It does," he says simply, providing you an acknowledgement before letting you fill in the spaces yourself.

You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs, before letting it out again. "He told me a story from before Jeff went undercover. It was just a dumb story about some night his team went out for burgers after wrapping up a case." Your breaths get shallower, but the tears you are expecting don't come. "Apparently, he made the team go to three different burger spots, because he wanted to bring me back curly fries, and none of the places were selling the kind I like."

You clear your throat to dispel the tightness, and when you look back at him, the car has come to a stop in front of your house.

"That sounds like him," Hotch says, smiling at you as you chuckle to yourself.

You nod, closing your eyes for a beat. "I guess I just wanted to say that, yeah, our lives are sometimes changed inalterably, but...it's not always bad. I met him, I loved him...and then I lost him, but I still wouldn't take back any of it."

His eyes crinkle and he looks out the windshield for a brief second. "Me neither."

It's already late, and you don't want to take up any more of his night, so you bid him goodbye and shut your door after making him promise to actually get some rest.

Your front door shuts behind you, and you hear the sound of his car driving off as you exhale heavily. Your house feels big with you here alone, but for once, you revel in the solitude. Finally, a few days of peace and quiet.

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @yiiiikesmish, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog, @madesavage05, @littlemisskavities, @love13tter, @domithebomi, @guacam011y, @averyhotchner, @silver-studios (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 #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner series #criminal minds series #criminal minds season four #hotch fic #criminal minds fanfiction #anchor series #anchor

[turbineface]

gamg its so over for me gang... posts my post (lol) season 3 masterson hc thingamajgs...

IVE BEEN HAVING THE CRAZIEST BRAIN EXPLOSIONS ABOUT THUS FUCKING GUY RAAUUGGHHH!!!!!

basically masterson breaks out of jail & is mad as hell when he finds out his head has been NUKED 😇 nd then proceeds to join suv (who r also out and about again bc meltdown broke them out RAAUUGHHH TOO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT TOO IMPATIENT TO DO SO!!!! (meltdown completely ignored masterson initially bc that guy is a robot fucker eeewww))

he then proceeds to rebuild the unit out of starscreams dead ass corpse & of course decides to make the unit even better now that he has his cheeto dust covered hands on some ACTUAL cybertronian tech that CANNOT come after him and ask for their parts back!!! featuring them optimum boots with the spikes on the bottom and a bulkhead inspired flail!!!! and starscreams original thruster heels embedded in the bottom of the units feet....

siigghhh also drops my slightly related doodblembs...

featurimg princess enslaving meltdown in a tupperware tub & messing with him like hes slime bc its FUNNY !!!!!!!!!!!

#transformers animated #tfa #henry masterson #professor princess #tfa meltdown #tfa headmaster #maccadams #sorry fr the long post once again gang i got too many worms in my brain and theyre all screaming for more mastussy 😞 #the henry masterson fandom is dying repost if ur a true masterbaiter i guess...

[ohoh-inmortal]

A Good man

💀Summary: A mission in Mexico doesn't go according to plan and you end up saving two children's lives. Ghost lets the vulnerability he had hidden so much slip a bit.

💀Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader

💀Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, fluff, established relationship situationship, children!, Ghost being an emotional wreck, passionate lovemaking (blink and you'll miss it)

A/N: so this was originally half a chapter of a fanfic that I'm gathering the concentration to finish but I wanted to post something so here you go lol. If more people like it I might follow it up from here or just make a part 2.

Also this is no beta read and English is not my first language so if you see some grammar mistakes no you didn't.

Fucking with cartels had never been easy, but now you had fucked up. Your mission was to infiltrate a neighborhood in a town near Las Almas and the rest of the team would follow up to take down one of their bases and get closer to capture their leader.

The first part went smoothly, until you noticed the civilians practically fleed the neighborhood in an instant and lots of cars full of armed men coming.

You had managed to make it past the Neighborhood into the rural area. Your legs burned from running so fast and for so long, there was a pressure in your chest from agitation and your lungs were full of the familiar smoke of dirt, gunpowder, and blood. The noise of war around you made it hard to concentrate on where you were going.

Ghost was some feet away from you, into an abandoned construction and directed you to stop and cover. Your body was grateful for the break.

"We need to get outta 'ere as fast as we can. These bastards won't give up" he had to speak on the radio, as you were hiding in different places of the construction.

"Roger that"

"Let's move" he ordered.

But as you grabbed your weapon closer to you, prepared to run again, you heard a shuffle between the pieces of wood that you were sure had been a closet before.

Warily, you got closer as your hand rested on the gun on your thigh; ready to shoot if someone jumped. As you tore open the door, you were found with runny noses and two little bodies hugged tightly. The oldest on was maybe about 7 years old, and the youngest could have been older than 3 years old.

"Ghost, you copy? There are children in here" You spoke on the radio again, shocked.

"Children?!"

"There's two, they were hidden. I need help to take them to safety!" You said desperately.

"Negative. They're shooting at us, hunting us. It's too dangerous, both for them and for us"

Just as he ended that sentence, you started hearing explosions and guns again. They were near and you felt your heart sink. How were you going to leave those two poor kids scared and alone to die?

"I need you to come with me, I'm gonna make sure you are safe, okay?" You said to them as softly as you could in spanish.

The older one just nodded and you caged them in your arms, running outside. There you met Ghost, who as soon as he saw you with both children shook his head in disapproval but grabbed one in his arms nonetheless.

Soon you reached the extraction point, where an agitated Alejandro and Rudy were waiting outside the SUV and you could see the confusion on their faces.

"What the hell?" Alejandro whispered "We checked the area, and there were no civilians"

"They were hidden in an abandoned house" you explained "I couldn't let them there" you shook your head.

Alejandro just nodded and opened the door for you. On the other side, Ghost also sat in the backseat and Rudy got into the driver's seat.

The children's little bodies began to shake and tears left a clear path on their dirty cheeks, so you embraced one in each arm and rubbed their backs and arms encouragingly.

Ghost stared intensely at you, though you couldn’t figure out if he did it with admiration like Alejandro and Rudy or disapproval. Maybe none, maybe a mix of both. But the fact that he had such intense eyes plus his mask didn't help to calm the children.

He sensed it, so he moved closer to the door and away from you and the children, promising himself he would stop. He was used for people to fear him, the feeling should be nothing new yet something inside of him died when the fear in someone else's eyes reflected on his own.

He hadn't always been like this.

You noticed the kids staring at him warily.

"You must not fear him, he's a good man," you said to the kids in Spanish as you gazed at him "He protected you, he carried you here, remember?"

They nodded and their gaze softened on the soldier.

A knot formed on his throat and he had to tear his eyes from you and look away to the window. How, after all he has done, could he be a good man? Hadn't he killed thousands, a lot of them innocents and foreign to war like these children? How could you even dare to think he was good? You must be either blind or insane, he thought.

As soon as the truck stopped at the base he got out straight as a bullet to his room. He couldn't bear to see you now, he couldn't bear for you to see him like this; he was scared that accidentally he could let a bit of his tarnished soul slip and see the light of you.

In the meantime, you were in charge of the children so the team could do research to know who their parents were and what they would do with them.

You cleaned and fed them, and kept them distracted from the horrors they had lived just a few hours ago. Playing, drawing and reading tales with both until the sun went down and their tired round faces started to yawn. The older kid quickly fell asleep on the couch, but the youngest one extended his arms for you to grab them up.

His head was still a mess of fresh emotions and deeply set wounds, but he knew he couldn't just stay there for eternity. What he didn't expect was to see you pacing in the hallway quietly humming a lullaby, holding a small body against your own and caressing the messy-haired head on your chest.

You placed the youngest kid next to the other and when you noticed him, your gaze softened into almost a smile.

"Are you alright? We haven't seen you since we arrived here" you asked concerned.

"How are they?" He changed the subject away from him, and he sounded concerned too.

"They are fine, we played all afternoon so they got tired. Alejandro is looking for their parents or relatives" you explained, gazing at them.

He just nodded and silence flooded the room. You reached for your pocket and pulled out a folded paper, which you extended to him.

"They made this in the afternoon, they wanted to give it to you but we didn't find you"

He delicately grabbed the paper and his breath hitched when he saw it; It was a doodle of him in his mask smiling, and you, each kid grabbing one of your hands. In one of the corners, the phrase "I'm not scared of ghosts anymore" was written in wobbly letters and grammatical errors.

He traced his hand over the drawing, like if it was going to vanish any time, like he couldn't believe it was real.

You stepped closer to him and searched for his eyes, which were full of emotion. You knew he didn't like much physical contact but you couldn't find another way to show him how grateful you were without scaring him for good, so you softly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," you said in a small voice "Truly…for helping me to rescue them. I know I should've followed your orders but…"

"You don't need to apologize," he assured in a deep voice. I'm glad you didn't follow them, he almost added.

"I wasn't going to" you smirked.

You hated how unpredictable he was, how he looked at those he hated and those he didn't in the same intense way. When you saw his eyes linger too much on your lips you knew you were part of the second group.

With a small tug on your arm he pulled you closer to him as he kissed your lips over his balaclava.

You stumbled until you reached his room and as soon as both were inside he pulled the balaclava up until his lips were uncovered.

His kisses were hungry, not in a lustful way but in an emotional way. Like he needed something to ground himself and that something was your lips. Your hands found his face, caressing it so tenderly it made him hug you closer to his body.

You parted from his lips a bit, catching your breath. Still, you gazed at him for a moment.

"You are so good, Simon" you whispered sincerely, your hands still gently on his face.

His hand traveled from your waist to the back of your neck, and he pushed to kiss you again this time deeper. Soon his hands started to wander and you ended up naked with his towering body hovering yours.

It was the most sensual and passionate you both have ever been. Slow, yet powerful and deep. The way he grabbed and hugged you hard but also caressed you so softly. His head buried in the crook of your neck and his hips between your legs, which were caging his waist as tightly as your hands did with his back and shoulders.

That, until he remembered how you make him feel. The confusion and frustration you brought along into his life, the vulnerability he had deprived himself for so long. His thrusts became rougher, but he couldn't bring himself to be cold or distant with you. Not after today, not after you were so gentle even when he didn't deserve it.

His hips stutter and by the way you moaned into his ear he knew you were close too. Your foreheads met as he buried himself deeply within you and you gasped when you felt waves of pleasure through you.

He hovered over you, his eyes intensely didn't miss a second of your face.

"What?" You asked.

Of course, he didn't respond, instead laying beside you. You sat on the bed, ready to get your clothes and leave in silence.

"Stay"

"Hmm?" you asked, not sure of what he said.

"You can stay if you want" he ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to hide his face.

"Don't you mind they might see me coming out of your room in the morning?"

"No," he simply answered.

You gave him a little smile and lay down again.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley headcanons #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost smut #ghost imagine #call of duty imagine #cod imagine #simon 'ghost' riley

[kyleoreillylover]

Chapter 4- Jealous

Series Summary/Masterlist

tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius @whatdoeseverybodywant @raya-hunter01

warnings: wrestling related violence, manipulation, mentions of cheating (kinda??)

word count: 14, 722

Chapter Summary: Everything is going wonderfully, and you are on top of the world. No one can stop your reign, you and Jey are together, and it feel like no one can stop you or the Bloodline, and everything is perfect. That is, until Sami does what he does best, and sticks his head where he doesn't belong, by trying to join the Bloodline. You try to scare him away, but it doesn't work. Tensions rise between him and Jey almost immediately, and you feel caught in the middle. Roman makes you the one to get them along. But it inadvertently almost costs him the stability of the Bloodline.

a/n: not my best work, but I hope ya'll don't mind. Hope ya'll enjoy!!

liked by y/n, jimmyuso, trinitywwe, themercedesvarnado, samizaynwwe and 700,000 others

uceyjucey: the bloodline coming to yo city👆

tagged: y/n

view all comments

user: the pretty privilege these two have is killing me

user: cutest couple ever

user: I'm in love with both of them

↳user: did they ever confirm their relationship to the public tho?

↳user: baby, look at them, and then stop asking stupid fucking questions.

y/n: photo creds for my fav person to take pics of ;)

↳uceyjucey: I better be your fav person period. 😒

↳y/n: lemme drive the car and then you will be <3

↳uceyjucey: anything for you ♥️

↳jimmyuso: oh hell naw I aint' agree to a death ride

↳uceyjucey: shut up we aint gotta ask you

↳y/n: exactly, stay in your place jimmy.

↳user: do we need anymore proof??? or ya'll still need them to confirm it?

APRIL 2022

The arena was bustling with excitement and nerves as Friday Night Smackdown was about to begin. Staff were prepping for script changes, wrestlers were getting ready for their segments, cameras were positioned strategically to capture every moment, and the crowd buzzed with anticipation.

Kayla Braxton was standing outside, cameras following her and mic in hand as the show started, and she waited as an SUV pulled up to the arena's entrance. Flashing lights from cameras greeted the opening car door as it parked, and a crew member quickly opened the door.

Out stepped you from the drivers seat, clad in a black tank top and a sleek black leather jacket, adorned with the Raw Women's Championship around your waist.

You smirked as you moved to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door. Jey emerged, looking every bit as confident as you did, with a smiling Jimmy in tow with him, the tag team titles around your waists. Then Paul, and, the crowd's excitement escalated as the reigning Universal Champion, Roman Reigns, stepped out from the back seat.

You smirked from next to Roman at Kayla as you made your way towards her, the camera crew capturing every move. Confidence, glamour, and power exuded from you as you approached Kayla. Kayla smiled as the four of you passed her, holding the mic towards you all, your Raw Women's Championship catching the glint of the spotlight.

"Bloodline, an explosive Wrestlemania for the 4 of you. After all of you retained your gold, Roman against Brock, Y/N against Shayna, and The Usos against Nakumara and Boogs, what's next for the Bloodline on Smackdown tonight?"

Roman paused for a moment, his piercing gaze fixed on Kayla before he took the microphone from her hand. The arena hushed in anticipation as the Tribal Chief prepared to address the question.

"What's next for the Bloodline?" Roman repeated, his voice oozing authority. "What's next is dominance, Kayla. We did what we said we'd do at Wrestelmania, and that is solidify our dominance over this entire company. The Universal Championship, the Raw Women's Championship, and the Tag Team Titles—all held by the Bloodline. That's not just gold; it's power. And tonight, SmackDown will witness the continuation of our reign."

Kayla nodded at Roman's words, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of the Bloodline's presence. She then turned her attention to you, the Raw Women's Champion.

"And Y/N, after a brutal match against Shayna Baszler at WrestleMania, what's your mindset coming into SmackDown?"

You took the mic from Kayla, a confident smirk playing on your lips. The arena was filled with a mix of cheers and boos, a testament to the polarizing effect of your allegiance to the Tribal Chief.

"My mindset, Kayla?" you responded, your voice steady.

"It's simple. I'm here to dominate. Shayna threw everything she had at me, but I'm still standing here with this championship around my waist. The darkness within me is stronger than ever, and tonight, I'll prove that I'm not just a champion, I'm not just the princess of pain; I'm the queen of this division.

And Shayna thought that she could break me like Ronda tried to break me, but all she did was fuel the fire within. And the only way she's gonna get another shot at this title, is if she wins the 4 way match tonight. But trust me, I'm not planning on letting go of this gold anytime soon."

Shayna had thought you were still the same women who Ronda beat 2 years ago, and thought it would be a cakewalk to take your title from you. But you quickly proved her wrong when you fought her in a street fight and made her pass out in her own hold and regret underestimating you.

The scars from that match still adorned your body, but they were badges of honor, that not only marked your resilience but also sent a message to the entire Women's Division that you have been sending for the past 2 years—that you are willing to break anyone who stands in your way.

You laughed, a confident and almost menacing tone to it, as if daring anyone to challenge your reign, and Kayla shifted her focus to Jey and Jimmy, the Tag Team Champions, who stood beside you with smirks mirroring your own.

"And what about The Usos?" Kayla inquired. "What's next for the Tag Team Champions?"

Jey took the mic, his voice filled with the same confidence that you had. "You know, Kayla, it's like this. We're the best tag team in the world, and them titles around our waists ain't going anywhere. We proved it at WrestleMania, and we'll keep proving it. Ain't nobody gonna take these titles from us." Jey finished by wrapping an arm around your shoulder, making you automatically lean into his side, a small smile playing on your lips.

Jimmy nodded in agreement, a smirk playing on his face. "That's right. We're here to dominate the tag team division. Ain't no team stepping up to the Bloodline and coming out on top. We're family, and that bond makes us unstoppable."

Kayla nodded, turning back to Roman. "And Roman, Drew Mycintire has made it clear that he wants another shot at the Universal Championship. What are your thoughts on that?"

Roman chuckled, a low and menacing sound. "Drew McIntyre wants another shot, huh?"

He shook his head with a smirk. "Drew, you had your chance, and you failed. This is the Bloodline's era, and I'm not wasting my time on someone who couldn't get the job done the first time. If he wants another shot, he needs to prove himself. Maybe he can start by going through Jey here." Roman gestured towards Jey, who nodded in agreement.

Jey stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the camera. "Drew, if you want a shot at the Universal Championship, you gotta go through me first. And I promise you, it won't be an easy task."

Jimmy chimed in, "And even if you manage to get through Jey, I'll be waiting for you. Y/N will be waiting for you. Roman will be waiting for you. The Head of the Table doesn't waste his time on anyone who doesn't deserve it."

You leaned in, the Raw Women's Championship glinting in the arena lights, as you added your final words. "So, Drew, Shayna, if you guys want to have another shot at our titles, try to fracture our dominance, just know that you'll have to go through each one of us before you even get close."

Roman paused before continuing, a smirk on his face. " Good luck tonight, cause wherever the Bloodline goes, goes, gold follows, and we don't plan on letting go anytime soon."

With those final words, you flipped your curly hair and joined the boys and Paul in leaving Kayla, who watched as the 4 of you walked away with an air of dominance and confidence.

You were on top of the world, as you had been for the past 2 years. Women have tried to dethrone you, but none succeeded. Kevin was finally no longer a thorn in your side as he had gone to do his own thing on Raw, and you were glad for that. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you missed him, and were glad when his feud with Roman ended, not wanting him to keep getting hurt. But you now had The Bloodline, who you trusted and knew wouldn’t stab you in the back, unlike him.

You were the epitome of dominance, the queen of the division, and with the Bloodline by your side, there seemed to be no end to your reign, and nothing was gonna stop that.

Yet there was a certain someone watching you on the screen that would beg to differ.

It was Sami Zayn, who was trying to become the number one contender for the universal Championship.

"How dare Drew try to take my spot?" Sami angrily muttered to himself. But then a lightbulb went off in his head, and an idea quickly formed If he couldn't beat Drew directly, maybe he could indirectly influence the outcome, and in the process, get his best friend back.

You sucked in a breath as Jey pressed the cold ice pack onto your rib, pushing it when you tried to move away.

You were still hurting from your match with Shayna, and despite you claiming you were fine, Jey insisted on taking care of you. Roman and Paul were talking amongst themselves, while Jimmy was talking to Trinity on the phone, and you and Jey were sitting in the cor ner of the locker room.

“You’re taking it easy tonight.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand from Jey, his voice firm. You rolled your eyes but winced at the movement.

"Fine, Nurse Jey," you teased, earning a playful glare from him. He continued to apply the ice pack, his touch gentle despite the playful banter.

“I’m serious, Y/N. No getting physically involved with Drew or any of the women. I don’t want you getting hurt any more than you already are,” Jey said, his tone firm and protective.

You sighed, recognizing the concern in his eyes. “But I know Drew is gonna already be mad and take it out on you. I can’t just stand there and watch.”

“I said no.” You opened your mouth to protest but Jey cut you off with a stern look. “Baby, you gotta listen to me on this. We got this handled. Roman is dealing with Drew, and Jimmy and I will take care of anyone else. You need to focus on healing up.”

You huffed, not entirely happy with the decision, but you knew Jey had a point. You leaned back, wincing slightly as you adjusted your position.

“Alright, Nurse Jey. I'll behave tonight.” You gave him a half-smile, acknowledging his concern.

“Good.” Jey finally seemed satisfied, setting the ice pack aside. He then leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt. I’m sorry if I gave you some lip. I just don't want you getting yourself hurt."

You softened at Jey's words, the protective side of him always managing to melt your defenses. "I know, Jey. And I appreciate it. I just don't want anyone to hurt you." You leaned in and kissed him softly, a gesture of reassurance.

Jey chuckled into the kiss, the tension in the air dissipating. "I can take care of myself, princess." He mumbled against your lips as he pulled away.

"I know you can," you replied with a playful grin. "But it doesn't hurt to have a little extra protection."

Jey raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Extra protection, huh? I like the sound of that."

You playfully swatted his chest. "Not like that, dumbass. I meant keeping your hot headedness in check.

Jey rolled his eyes playfully, but brought you into another quick kiss. "I can't promise to tone down the hot-headedness, but I'll try to be careful for you."

You smiled, appreciating the compromise. "That's all I ask."

Jey smirked, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Can't wait to see yo fine ass on commentary, tonight. This top is gonna be the death of me."

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of Jey's playful banter. "Maybe I should start my own commentary on your matches. 'And here we have Jey Uso, looking all fine as he kicks some ass in the ring.'"

Jey laughed, a genuine and carefree sound. "You'd make a great commentator, princess. Better than those clowns on TV."

You grinned, enjoying the lighthearted moment before the intensity of the night's events. "Well, maybe I'll consider it after I retire from in-ring action."

Jey nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Be at commentary for my match too, not just the ladies?" His voice was soft, a hint of vulnerability beneath the playful tone.

"Of course, Jey," you replied sincerely, meeting his gaze. "I'll be there for your match too. Cheering you on from the commentary table."

Jey's smile widened, a genuine appreciation in his eyes. "That's all I need, princess."

"Are you lovebirds finally done with your little chat?" Roman's deep voice interrupted, a smirk playing on his lips as he entered the conversation.

Jey rolled his eyes at Roman's teasing. "Just making sure she doesn't get involved where she shouldn't."

Roman chuckled, his gaze shifting to you. "He's right. Don't get involved physically, Y/N. Drew is expecting that. Mind games are more effective. Let him get frustrated, and we'll handle the rest in the ring."

"Yeah, lovebirds. Listen to him." Jimmy smirked as he joined the conversation. You rolled your eyes at his teasing. "Says the person who was just talking to Trinity on the phone," you retorted, earning a playful glare from Jimmy.

"Alright, Alright." Roman interrupted the banter, standing up and stretching. The atmephosre immediately turned serious. You hopped off the bench, feeling a bit more refreshed after the ice treatment.

"Let's get ready," Roman declared, his authoritative tone taking over. "Y/N, remember what we talked about. Jey, Jimmy, be on the lookout for any interference. We don't want any surprises tonight."

The three of you nodded in unison, and you dapped Jimmy and Roman up, and when you did the same with Jey you intertwined your fingers and brought him into a quick but reassuring kiss. "See you guys later." You smiled at them before heading towards the gorilla position, where you'd make your entrance for the night and make sure Shayna didn't win.

The arena was buzzing with energy as your music hit, and you walked out with the Raw Women's Championship draped over your shoulder, the crowd's cheers and boos echoing through the arena.

You mockingly blew kisses at the fans as you waved at Shayna, Rhea, Sonya and Liv. Liv was the only one to wave back, the others maintained a stern expression. Shayna glared at you, screaming about how she was gonna beat them and take your title.

You made your way to commentary, smirking as you settled into the commentary chair, slipping on the headset. Michael Cole greeted you with a professional smile.

"Welcome, Y/N, It's great to have you here on commentary tonight," Michael Cole said, his voice carrying through the arena's sound system. "Who here would you want to face and defend your title against?"

"Well it's definelty not against someone like Shayna Baszler again," you responded with a confident smirk. "I've already proven that I can handle her. As for who's next, well, I'm open to challenges. Anyone who thinks they can step up to the queen and take this championship, feel free to try."

You made sure to keep an eye out for anyone else, you weren't stupid, you knew where Shayna was Ronda was likely not far behind, and you were tired of facing them.

So, you waited for the perfect time. When you saw Shayna was about to steal the victory on Sonya cause Liv and Rhea were too focused on each other to notice.

That's when you decided to make your move and disqualify everyone from the match. None of them would get a clean win, and you'd walk away with your title still intact and not have to defend it from them.

Standing up from the commentary table, you grabbed the Raw Women's Championship, a wicked grin on your face that fell when seemingly out of nowhere, Drew stood in front of you, a smirk on his face as you glared at him.

"Move." You snarled at him, trying to move past him, but he held his ground, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Not so fast, Y/N," Drew said, his tone taunting. "I saw what you were planning. Trying to save your title by getting everyone disqualified? That's not how a true champion operates."

You scowled at Drew, frustration building up. "Stay out of my business, McIntyre. This doesn't concern you."

Drew chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh, it concerns me, all right. Cause earlier Roman said I have to go through all members of the Bloodline if I want another shot at the Universal Championship. And well, starting with you seems like a good idea."

You gritted your teeth, annoyed at Drew's interference. Time was ticking, and you needed to act fast to salvage your plan. Before Drew could react, you swung the Raw Women's Championship, aiming for his head. However, he ducked just in time, and the title belt collided with the steel ring post, creating a loud clang.

You tried to capitalize off your distraction and go to the ring but Drew was quick to grab your arm, pulling you back. It wasn't enough to hurt, Drew wouldn't injure you on purpose, but it was a firm grip to keep you from escaping.

"Let go of me, McIntyre!" You growled, struggling against his hold. Your frustration grew as your plan unraveled.

Drew smirked, enjoying the control he had over the situation. "Make me."

The two of you were so caught up in your struggle that neither of you noticed Ronda slipping inside the ring from the back and holding Shayna's feet on the ropes as she pinned Sonya, the ref not noticing her interference.

The bell ringing made you and Drew turn to the ropes to see Shayna and Ronda out of the ring and laughing gleefully at the win. Your frustration reached its peak as you realized your plan had not only failed but backfired spectacularly, and it was all Drew's fault. God, why couldn't Ronda and Shayna just leave you alone?

As Shayna and Ronda gloated outside the ring, Drew released his grip on you, a satisfied smirk on his face. You shot him a furious glare, your initial plan of costing everyone the match so you wouldn't have to deal with the 2 of them ompletely foiled.

"You might want to focus on your own problems, Y/N," Drew taunted, pointing to your belt that laid on the ground, a visible dent on one side from its collision with the ring post.

You seethed with anger, feeling the frustration boiling inside you. Drew had not only disrupted your plan but also humiliated you in the process.

You screamed in anger, slamming your fist against the barricade as you watched Shayna and Ronda celebrate their underhanded victory. "Jey is gonna destroy you!" You yelled at Drew, who was leaned against the ring apron, a smug expression on his face.

Drew laughed, seemingly unfazed by your threat. "Let him try. I'm not afraid of the Bloodline. And as for you, Y/N, take this as a warning to not concern yourself in in my business with Roman like you have done with his other competitors. Cause I'm not like other challengers. I won't let anyone interfere in my quest for the Universal Championship."

You shot Drew a venomous look but decided against engaging in any further confrontation. He was twice your size, and a direct physical altercation wouldn't end well, especially with your current state after the match with Shayna.

With a final glare, you picked up your dented Raw Women's Championship, ignoring Drew's lingering presence, and made your way backstage.

The anger and frustration lingered, simmering beneath the surface as you walked through the backstage area. You slammed locker room doors, your mind racing with thoughts of revenge and payback.

"Asshole." You yelled out as you slammed open the locker room door, not looking at the guys and pacing angrily.

"Did you see what that idiot did to me!" You bellowed out, dropping your title on the table. You still hadn't looked up, still too deep into your frustration. "He messed up everything, and now Shayna and Ronda are celebrating a win they didn't earn!"

You kicked the chair in frustration, sitting down on the bench with a huff and running your hands across your face. "And then he damaged my title! Then he had the nerve to give me a warning about staying out of his business with Roman! Can you believe that?"

You were handed a water bottle and, you took it and took a long swig, the cool liquid doing little to ease the fire of anger burning within you as you finally looked up.

"Thank you Sami- Sami!?" You choked on your drink as you saw Sami standing in the locker room, Roman, Jimmy, and Jey sitting there, their faces also a mix of confusion.

But Jey's also had a hint of anger as he stared at Sami, who was standing with a mischevious grin, but also scared look in his eyes, like he didn't know whether you were gonna beat his ass or not, but he was willing to take the risk anyways.

"What is he doing here?" You turned to Roman, who was sitting with a raised eyebrow, his gaze shifting between you and Sami. Sami, sensing the tension in the room, cleared his throat nervously.

"I came here to acknowledge the Tribal Chief, and acknowledge his position as the Head of the Table," Sami declared, attempting to sound formal but failing miserably under the intense scrutiny of the Bloodline.

Roman leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Is that so?"

Sami nodded, still trying to maintain a composed demeanor. "Yes, and I wanted to propose a truce. A collaboration, if you will."

You couldn't help but scoff at Sami's audacity. "Umm, did I suddenly fall and hit my head? Is this some kind of alternate universe of delusionalness that Sami is living in?"

You stood up and glared at Sami, your frustration with the earlier events now directed at the unexpected presence of the master stragestist and your former best friend.

Roman held up a hand, signaling for you to calm down. You huffed at him, but Jey grabbed you and sat you on his lap before you would do something you would regret later.

"Explain yourself, Sami," Roman demanded, his gaze piercing through Sami's attempts at diplomacy.

Sami shifted nervously, realizing the need to provide a convincing explanation. "Well, it's simple. Drew has been a thorn in my side, and I know he's coming after Roman. My reputation has been blown because of Drew these past few weeks, and everyone thinks I'm scared of him but I'm not!

And I know he's w he's coming after Roman. If we take him down together, it benefits both of us. I get rid of Drew, and you maintain your dominance. Plus, I can help you deal with any other nuisances that might come your way, such as R-Kbro. You didn't hear it from me, but they are planning on taking the tag titles from the uses and unifying them, and if you ask me, they are the most undeserving self centered pieces of shit ever."

Roman raised an eyebrow, considering Sami's proposal. "And what do you get out of this, Sami?"

You scoffed, but Jey tightened his grip on you, silently signaling for you to let Roman handle the situation.

Sami's eyes darted between Roman and you, his confidence wavering. "Well, besides getting rid of Drew, I was hoping we could, you know, rekindle our friendship. I've realized the value of having powerful allies, and I think being on good terms with the Bloodline could open up new opportunities for me."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The past 2 years you had spent building your own empire within the Women's Division, and had to make the difficult decision to leave Sami behind.

And now he was here, acting like the past didn't matter, proposing a truce and pretending like everything could go back to how it was. Was he planning revenge on you for abandoning your friendship, or was this just another one of his schemes?

Roman's gaze remained fixed on Sami, a thoughtful expression on his face. After a moment of silence, he leaned forward, his voice low and authoritative. "And you would take out Drew for us? Just like that?"

Sami nodded eagerly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Yes, exactly! I know his weaknesses, his strategies. I can be an asset to the Bloodline in taking him down."

Roman leaned back, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Interesting proposition, Sami. But let me make one thing clear. We don't need anyone's help to handle our business. If we decide to take down Drew, it'll be on our terms, not because we need you."

Sami swallowed nervously, sensing the skepticism in the room. "I understand, Roman. I just thought it could be a mutually beneficial arrangement." Sami's eyes went to you at the last line, a hint of sadness and regret in his gaze. Jey glared at Sami when he looked at you, his protective instincts kicking in.

"Mutually beneficial my ass. You're just trying to save your own skin, dumbass." Jey spat at Sami, jealousy and annoyance evident in his tone. Damn, you could feel the tension between them rising, and they barely even had any interaction. Sami shifted uncomfortably under Jey's intense gaze.

"Yo, Jey chill out." Jimmy interjected, trying to diffuse the growing tension.

Roman raised a hand, signaling for everyone to calm down. "Enough, all of you." The room went silent, and Roman's gaze shifted between you, Jey, Jimmy, and Sami. "Sami, we'll consider your proposal. But don't think for a moment that you're indispensable. We've handled our business just fine without you."

Sami nodded, looking relieved that Roman didn't outright reject his proposition. "Thank you so much for considering Roman! I just want a fair chance to prove myself to you," His eyes shifted to you, and sadness filled them when he saw Jey rubbing your back soothingly. "And to her."

Jey glared at Sami, but before he could say anything, Roman spoke again. "We'll let you know, Sami. Now, leave us."

Sami nodded and quickly exited the locker room, leaving you, Jey, Jimmy, and Roman in a tense silence. Roman broke the silence with a sigh.

"Say what you want to say, Y/N." Roman knew you were dying to express your thoughts on Sami's unexpected appearance and proposition.

You took a deep breath, your frustration still lingering, but you knew this wasn't the time to let it out on Roman or anyone else in the room. "Roman, are you seriously considering teaming up with him? After everything he did?"

Roman leaned back, his expression serious. "I'm considering all options, Y/N. Sami might be a snake, but if he can help us take down Drew and further solidify our dominance, I'll use him for that purpose. We don't need to trust him, but we can use him to our advantage."

You huffed in frustration, not entirely satisfied with Roman's response. Jey's grip on you tightened, a silent reassurance that he had your back.

"I don't like it either, Y/N, but if it helps us deal with Drew, then it's worth considering," Jimmy chimed in, his voice calm but firm. He was always the peacemaker of the group, trying to find common ground. "We'll keep an eye on Sami. If he tries anything, we shut him down. Simple as that."

You shot Jimmy a look, still unconvinced. "He's just gonna stab me in the back the first chance he get's. He wants to get revenge on me for leaving him behind." You didn't let yourself believe anything else. You knew Sami was very forgiving, but you couldn't get caught up in past sentiments. You had built your own path, and Sami's sudden return threatened the stability you had achieved.

Roman nodded, understanding the concerns. "We'll be cautious, Y/N. No one gets a free pass, especially not someone like Sami. But for now, our focus is on dealing with Drew and maintaining our dominance on SmackDown."

Jey finally spoke up, his voice a low growl. "If Sami tries anything against you, he's gonna have to deal with me." You moved off of his lap and sat beside him, seeing the angry look on his face. "I saw the way his dumbass was looking at

you. I shoulda beat his ass."

"Jey," Roman interrupted, sensing Jey's hot headed side about to get the best of him. He didn't need any uncessary fights. He needed Jey to focus on taking out Drew. "We handle things strategically. Tonight, you focus on Drew, not Sami. Get ready for your match. And Y/N, keep an eye on Sami. We don't trust him, but if he can be useful against Drew, we'll use him."

You internally scowled at Roman's decision, but you knew better than to argue further. The Bloodline always had a plan, and you had to trust Roman's leadership.

"Fine," you replied, your tone still tinged with frustration.

"Good." Roman clasped his hands together, the air in the locker room heavy with the weight of the upcoming battles. "Let's focus on tonight. Jey, handle Drew. Y/N, stay vigilant with Sami. We'll deal with each challenge as it comes. This is our show, and no one gets in the way of the Bloodline."

The intensity of Roman's words resonated in the locker room. Jey nodded, a determined look in his eyes. Jimmy chimed in with a supportive nod. You sighed, reluctantly accepting the plan, but your mind was already racing with thoughts of Sami and the potential risks he brought to the Bloodline.

"Good luck, baby." You turned to Jey and gave him a good luckkiss, the lingering frustration momentarily replaced by a mixture of concern and affection. Jey smiled, appreciating the support, and then stood up, ready to face Drew in the upcoming match.

You ran your hand over your face and let out a groan when everyone dispersed. You know what? You were gonna take care of this Sami problem before it even became a problem. You stood up, heading towards the door with determination in your steps. The arena was still buzzing with the aftermath of the chaotic match, but you had your sights set on finding Sami.

As you walked through the backstage area, the anger and frustration that had been building up since your failed plan and the unexpected encounter with Sami continued to fuel your determination. Spotting Sami in the corridor, you quickened your pace, the clacking of your boots echoing through the hallway. Sami turned around, a surprised look on his face, realizing that you were heading straight towards him.

"Y/N, hey!" Sami greeted, attempting to sound casual, but the nervousness in his eyes betrayed his facade.

You stopped in front of him, your expression stern. "Sami, we need to talk."

Sami gulped, glancing around as if searching for an escape route. He knew a slap was probably coming. "Talk? About what?"

You took him by the arm and pulled him into an empty room, shutting the door behind you. The atmosphere in the room became tense as you crossed your arms, fixing Sami with an intense gaze. "Just get it over with."

Sami shot you a confused look. "Get what over with?"

You rolled your eyes, losing patience. "The whole 'rekindling our friendship' act, Sami. If you wanted to get revenge, you should have just said it outright. Don't play games with me."

"I'm not playing any games." Sami shot back at you defensively, his eyes wide with genuine surprise. "Why would I try to get revenge on you?"

Your eyes narrowed at Sami, skepticism evident in your expression. "You're telling me that after all these years, you suddenly want to be friends again just out of the blue? After I left you behind? And you conveniently when you need something from the Bloodline?"

Sami sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, I get it. I messed up when you left, and I went down a different path. But I've realized that I need powerful allies, and the Bloodline is the most dominant force in the WWE, and if aligning with them also means being best friends with you again, then so be it."

You scoffed, finding it hard to believe Sami's sudden change of heart. If you were him, you wouldhave a hard time trusting someone who had left you behind for their own ambitions. "I don't buy it, Sami. You're not fooling anyone with this act. What's your real game here?"

Sami sighed again, frustration evident in his expression. "I told you, I'm not playing any games. I need the Bloodline's help to deal with Drew, and if it means mending our friendship, then fine. But there's no hidden agenda here."

You remained skeptical, the tension in the room palpable. His soft voice was threading to break your resolute stance. You needed to believe that Sami just wanted to get revenge, cause if you didn't that would jeopardize the stability you had worked hard to achieve within the Bloodline.

"Look, Y/N," Sami continued, his tone sincere. I get why you left, I really do, and I don't fault you for it. But ever since you did, I've lost matches, opportunities, and respect. I don't want revenge on you; I just want a chance to make things right and maybe, just maybe, be a part of something powerful again."

You stared at Sami, conflicted emotions swirling within you. The past memories of your friendship with Sami clashed with the skepticism born out of the betrayals you experienced. Could it be possible he actually forgave you for your rightful wrongdoings?

You didn't answer him, and Sami sighed, licking his lips nervously. "Look, I miss my reputation being intact, but I also miss you. And I know you missed me too."

You glowered at him. "I do not miss you."

Sami raised an eyebrow at you, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Then why are you here, listening to what I have to say?" he asked, a confident yet desperate glint in his eyes. "Why did you drag me in here and let me plead my case if you don't care at all?"

The room fell into a heavy silence, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Sami's gaze bore into you, searching for any sign of vulnerability, while you grappled with conflicting emotions.

You thought of something you could say to rebut his plea, something that would assert your strength and independence. But for the first time in a long time, you were speechless.

Sami leaned back, his confident demeanor faltering as he waited for your response. The room seemed to close in around you, amplifying the intensity of the moment. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice measured and cold.

"I am not here for you, Sami. I am not even here for myself," you declared, your eyes narrowing. "I am here for Roman, and that's the truth."

Sami's eyes widened in a mix of frustration and realization. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table, attempting to regain control of the situation. "And what did he tell you?"

Sami drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, his gaze piercing through you. "He told you that he could use me to hurt Drew and then he could discard me like the trash he thinks I am right? But you don't want me to get hurt, which is why you are trying to stop me from even aligning with the Bloodline."

Damn him and his ability to read you like a book.

You remained composed, refusing to let his words shake you. Instead of denying his words, you set your hands on top of his on the table, holding them firmly to stop his agitated drumming.

Your eyes locked in a heated stare down, your hands were burning with each others touches, and you let out a calm exhale before responding. "Stay away from the Bloodline, Sami."

Sami just gave you a wry smile, his eyes still searching yours for any signs of weakness. He slowly pulled his hands away from yours, maintaining eye contact. "I can stay away from them, but I can't stay away from you." He bit his lower lip, a mix of frustration and longing in his eyes.

You scoffed at his declaration, disentangling your hands from his. "Don't mistake my concern for weakness, Sami. This isn't about you and me. It's about protecting what matters to me, and that includes Roman."

Sami leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression replacing the frustration on his face. "You know, deep down, you still care about me. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, trying to convince me to stay away from the Bloodline. And you know I care about you too."

Your patience was wearing thin. "Goodbye, Sami. If I were you, I would realize that my loyalty lies with Roman, not with the shadows of our past."

That was a lie, but you needed to assert your allegiance to Roman, even if it meant distorting the truth. Sami's gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you could sense the internal struggle within him. As you turned to leave, he spoke in a softer tone, devoid of the usual confidence.

"Ronda and Shayna are planning to attack you in 5 minutes in the B-Hallway. Be careful."

You halted in your tracks, your back still turned to Sami. A mixture of surprise and suspicion crossed your face. "Why are you telling me this?"

Sami sighed, his tone genuine. "I told you, I care about you. I overheard them talking, and I couldn't let them catch you off guard. I don't want to see you get hurt."

He stood up and grabbed something from next to him, and tossed you an ice pack from a small cooler, and then a kendo stick. "Just in case," he added. "I know you never back down from a fight."

You caught the ice pack and kendo stick with a reflex honed through years of combat. Despite the situation, a small part of you acknowledged Sami's concern.

As you turned to face him, you questioned, "Why didn't you just let them get the drop on me? I just yelled at you, didn't I? It's not like you owe me anything."

Sami's expression softened, and he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. "Because even if you hurt me, I'll take the pain if it means keeping you safe. Call it whatever you want, but that's the truth."

You hesitated, the conflicting emotions resurfacing as your hand tightened around the ice pack. Sami's words echoed in your mind, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability in him that you hadn't expected. The past rushed back, the shared history and the complicated emotions.

Your eyes landed on the TV behind you, which was showing Drew attacking Jey after Jey lost the match. Your eyes went back to Sami, and despite your brain telling you to just leave and not trust him, there was a flicker of doubt in your heart.

"Go help him." Your words made Sami freeze for a moment, surprise evident on his face. You nodded toward the TV, where Drew was beating Jey to a pulp. "Grab that other kendo stick, take out Drew, and get your reputation back."

Sami studied your expression, searching for any deception or hidden agenda. After a tense moment, he nodded, a mix of gratitude and determination in his eyes. "Thank you."

You nodded in acknowledgment, and knew if you smiled at him you would be betraying the stoic facade you worked so hard to maintain. "Don't mention it."

With that, you turned on your heel and left the room, leaving Sami to his thoughts and the impending confrontation with Drew.

God, what did you just do? You didn't have time to dwell on it, cause you saw Ronda rounding the corner, and accompanied by Shayna.

You tightened your grip on the kendo stick, focusing on the immediate threat in front of you, and when they approached, went to town on beating their asses.

Damn Sami and his kindess, was the last thought you had before the chaotic brawl consumed you. He makes it so hard to hate him.

But you would try your hardest to pretend like you did, not just to protect yourself, but also to protect him.

Over the next couple of months, Sami had been trying everything to get accepted into the Bloodline, but you remained steadfast in keeping him at a distance.

Jimmy liked Sami- he thought he was funny and charismatic. Roman wouldn't admit it, but he appreciated Sami's skills in the ring and knew Sami was growing on him. Solo, the new edition to the group who instantly clicked with you and took a liking to you and saw you as a sister- liked Sami. A lot.

Even Paul was secretly amused by Sami's persistent attempts to join the Bloodline. Despite their initial rejection, Sami had managed to secure matches against common adversaries, and his performances were impressive.

But the only people that didn't accept him were you and Jey. Everyone knew you and Sami's relationship was strained, and weren't surprised when you continued to resist his attempts to be part of the Bloodline. Jey, on the other hand, had his own reasons for holding a grudge against Sami.

He was jealous. Point blank and simple. Jey couldn't stand the idea of Sami, someone from your past, trying to weasel his way into the tight-knit circle of the Bloodline. He didn't like someone trying to get into HIS FAMILY. And he didn't like someone pushing up on HIS GIRL.

Everyone could see the chemistry between you and Sami, even if you tried to keep him at a distance. When you guys had tag matches together, it was undeniable that you two moved with a synchronicity that spoke of years of partnership.

Sami took hits for all the members of the Bloodline, but it was no secret he took the most hits for you from the women. Whenever you were backstage, Sami would be there, offering you a bottle of water or a supportive pat on the back.

Then Jey would glare at him from a distance, clenching his fists in frustration. He would tell those stupid jokes that made the rest of his family break character, and he would see you try not to laugh.

It bothered Jey to no end that Sami could make you smile, could break through your tough exterior even after everything that happened in the past. That should be him making you laugh, he thought. That should be him offering you support and being by your side.

You would reassure Jey that there was nothing between you and Sami, that it was all in the past, that you guys were friends and nothing more in the past, but Jey couldn't shake off the jealousy that gnawed at him. He knew you wouldn't try anything, but he couldn't ignore the undeniable connection between you and Sami. It fueled his resentment and made him act out in ways that even surprised himself.

It all came to a head one night during a promo where you, Roman, Jimmy, Jey, Paul, Sami and Solo were in the ring, and Roman finally decided to address the elephant in the room. The tension was palpable as Roman stared at Sami, his gaze unwavering.

"Let's address the obvious," Roman began, his voice commanding attention. "Sami, you've been persistent in trying to join the Bloodline. You've proven yourself in the ring, and some members of this family seem to have warmed up to you." Roman's eyes flickered toward Jimmy and Solo, acknowledging their sentiments. "But there are others who aren't so sure."

He turned to you, and for a moment, his stern expression softened. "Y/N, Jey, Sami, you guys are each gonna say your piece, and then we'll decide."

The spotlight shifted to you first. You licked your lips, gathering your thoughts for the impending revelation. The atmosphere in the ring was thick with anticipation as all eyes focused on you.

"Sami," you began, your voice measured but firm. "I've known you for a long time, and our history is complicated. You've made choices that hurt me, choices I can't forget. But," you paused, locking eyes with Sami, "I also can't deny the times you've had my back, especially recently."

Jey shot you a sharp look, his jaw clenched. You continued,"I won't pretend that there's no bond between us. We've been through too much together. However, my loyalty lies with Roman and the Bloodline. And if Roman think you are worthy to be a part of this family, I'll respect his decision. But," you emphasized, "if you ever betray us, Sami, you won't get a second chance."

Sami nodded, understanding the weight of your words. You could feel Jey's glare on you, and you gave him a stern look, silently conveying that you were doing what you believed was right for the family.

The spotlight shifted to Sami, who took a deep breath before speaking. "So uh, I'll start with Y/N. Look, I know your expecting me to get revenge on you, to hurt you. And I get that, I get why you've been dodging me. But I don't want to get revenge on you! I don't know how many times I need to spell it out for you before you believe me. I like you! I care for you! I want to be your best friend again! I want to be there for you like I used to be. I know our past is a bit messy, but I have never betrayed you in the ring. Yeah, I've made mistakes outside of it, but in that squared circle, I've always had your back. And I can keep having it, not just for you, but for the whole Bloodline."

Sami stepped closer to you, his eyes pleading for understanding. "Whatever doubts you might have about me, Y/N, just give me a chance to prove myself. We've been friends for over 20 years. Don't you think that means something?"

Sami moved closer to you, and Jey was seething with anger on the sidelines, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white, and turned even whiter when Sami placed a hand on your shoulder, his brown eyes boring into you and making your own eyes soften. "Don't I mean something to you?"

You stiffened at Sami's touch, the conflict within you reaching its peak. The weight of his words and the memories of your shared history tugged at your resolve. You shot a quick glance at Jey, who was practically seething with jealousy.

"Jey." Roman warned him, who looked like he was ready to pounce on Sami right then and there. Sami took a step back, removing his hand from your shoulder as the tension in the ring heightened, and turned to Jey.

"So, uh, look, I’ll be honest; I don’t understand what’s going on here. I… I like you! Man, I like you; I’ve always liked you! And we’ve always gotten along, and ever since I started hanging out with the Bloodline, I don’t know what it is, but you just… can’t seem to stand me, and I don’t understand it! Everybody- Jimmy seems fine, Solo seems fine, Y/N, well, she's got her reservations, but she's willing to give me a chance. But at least she doesn't get in my face and try to intimidate me all the time!" Sami's frustration was evident as he addressed Jey. "Thank you." Sami told Paul who patted Sami's back in a comforting manner as Jey scowled, ready to explode.

"Seriously, whatever… whatever I… whatever I did, I’m sorry. Can we just be cool? Can we just… can we bury the hatchet once and for all?”

Sami extended his hand to Jey, a gesture that surprised everyone in the ring. The tension was thick, and all eyes were on Jey as he contemplated Sami's outstretched hand.

But you knew Jey better than anyone, and you saw the storm of conflicting emotions in his eyes. Pride, jealousy, anger, and a hint of vulnerability, and knew he wouldn't be too receptive of Sami's outstretched hand.

"Sami, you got about two seconds to get your hand out my face." Jey threatened, his voice dripping with hostility. "I don't like you! Huh? I don’t like your hair, I don’t like your face, I don’t like that shirt you wear! Hey hey, I don’t like him being around my family every single week! My dawg this, my dawg that! Hey,” he moved towards Sami, who had lowered his hand and was now facing the full force of Jey's ire. "How you think you’re part of the Bloodline, if you ain’t blood?!”

Your heart dropped at Jey's harsh words, and your face betrayed a mix of frustration and sadness. Guess Jey truly thought weren't apart of the Bloodline, after all.

Jey didn't notice your face fall, as he kept ranting at Sami. "Hey hey hey! Newsflash for you, Sami: you never will be, Uce! You don’t belong here! Don’t nobody in this group like you; I’m just the realist one to say it out loud — you’re a fake ass Uce!”

Sami's face fell at Jey's words, but Jey continued. The tension in the ring reached its peak, and everyone could feel the impending explosion.

“You know what the difference between you and me is? I shed blood for every single one of my family members in here, because it’s my family! Not yours! Huh?! Would you do it? Will you?!” he questioned angrily. “I’m asking you a question! Will-”

"Jey, calm down!" You tried to interrupt, stepping forward, but Jey's rage had reached its peak. He shoved you aside gently, not even sparing you a glance, and focused all his fury on Sami.

"Answer me! I told you to answer me!-"

“Why- Why are you yelling at me, huh?!” Sami shouted, his frustration boiling over. "Why are you yelling at Y/N, huh? What did she do?" The mention of your name from Sami made Jey's rage intensify. He stepped even closer to Sami, their faces inches apart.

"Don't think you can talk about her, Uce! You don't get to mention her name, you don't get to-" Jey's voice was a low growl, his anger barely contained.

"Why can't I mention her, huh? I've known her for 20 years, Jey! Longer than you have! So I'm pretty sure I have the right to talk about her! She's my friend, she's been my friend before you even knew her, Uce!" Sami shot back, refusing to back down.

Jey's eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring with anger. "You're not her friend! You think I'm stupid? You think I ain't see the way you look at her? How you always tryna ki ki it up with her backstage? You think I'm blind?"

Sami's jaw clenched, his frustration giving way to a more somber expression. "Yeah Jey, that's what friends do. It's not my fault if you're too blinded by your jealousy to see that."

Oh god. You knew this was not going to end well. Jey's jealousy had reached a point where it was clouding his judgment, and Sami's persistent attempts to be a part of the Bloodline had triggered an explosive confrontation.

Jey's eye twitched at the word jealousy, and he moved closer to Sami, practically nose to nose. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Jealous? You think I'm jealous?" Jey scoffed, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You the one that keeps trying to weasel your way into my family, into MY LIFE. Tryna get up on MY GIRL. Now you wanna act like you ain't tryna push up on her, huh?"

Jey bellowed out, and Sami's frustration turned into a mix of shock and disbelief. Jey wasn't wrong, but Sami wasn't actively trying to get Y/N right this second. He just wanted his friend back right now.

“Your girl? Jey, we've been through this. Y/N and I are friends, nothing more. And you're delusional if you think otherwise. If you are insecure about our friendship, that's on you, not me."

Jey's face contorted with anger, and he looked like he was about to explode. "On me? Yeah, it's on me! ou don't know what it's like to be a part of this family, to shed blood, to sacrifice for each other. You don't know what it's like to protect what's yours, do you?" When Sami didn't answer, Jey snarled, "Answer me!"

“Why- Why are you yelling at me, huh?!” Sami glowered at Jey, his frustration reaching its peak. "Y/N was trying to make peace! I’m trying to make peace! The Tribal Chief says, he wants peace!”

“Man I don’t give a damn what the Tribal Chief say!”

You didn't know what was worse. Your heart that was rending apart at the sight of Jey and Sami at each other's throats or Roman's face that contorted into anger as he picked his head up at Jey's outburst. The atmosphere in the ring became unbearable as the tension escalated, and you felt a knot forming in your stomach.

"What did you say?" Roman, standing tall as the Tribal Chief, stepped forward, his eyes locked on Jey. "Nah, don't be quiet now. What did you say?"

Jey hesitated for a moment, the weight of Roman's gaze pressing down on him. He swallowed hard, realizing the gravity of his words. Roman moved closer to Jey, and it looked like he was about to deliver a reprimand that Jey wouldn't easily forget. The entire atmosphere in the ring shifted, and even Jimmy, Solo, and Paul, who were usually more laid back, became tense.

"He didn't mean what he said!" Sami surprisingly interjected, trying to defuse the situation. You blinked at Sami, you weren't expecting him to be the one to help Jey. Roman turned his piercing gaze toward Sami, his expression demanding an explanation. "Jey was just caught up in the moment. We all say things we don't mean when emotions are high." Sami clasped his hands together nervously, looking between Roman and Jey. "He was just venting his frustrations, and I get it. He just, wasn't being himself." Sami grabbed Jey's shoulder, giving him a look that silently pleaded for him to play along. "He just… wasn't feeling very ucey."

Jey, still seething with anger, shot a glare at Sami but reluctantly nodded. "Yeah, uce. I… I was just caught up in the moment. It's just…Sami's been getting on my nerves, and I let it get to me. My bad, Roman." Jey's tone was begrudgingly apologetic, but Roman's stern expression didn't waver.

Roman took a step back, his gaze shifting between Jey and Sami. "Is that what the problem is, Jey. You ain't feeling…ucey?" Roman's voice was calm, but the disappointment in his eyes was evident.

Jey shifted uncomfortably, not meeting Roman's eyes. Roman crossed his arms, the arena seeming to hold its breath at what Roman was about to say.

"You two need to work out your differences." Roman declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "We're family, and family doesn't break over personal issues. The two of you will have a match next week, and I expect that despite whoever wins or loses, you settle your problems in that ring. Leave it all there. If you don't, there will be consequences."

Roman's gaze lingered on both Jey and Sami before he turned to you. "Y'know what, to make sure we're all on the same page, Y/N, you're gonna be the special guest referee for that match. Keep things in order."

Your heart sank at Roman's decision. Being the special guest referee meant you would be in the middle of the chaos, responsible for maintaining order between Jey and Sami. Whoever lost would blame you for their defeat, and the tension among the Bloodline members would likely escalate.

You nodded in acknowledgment, not daring to voice your concerns. Roman's decision was final, and you had no choice but to fulfill your role as the special guest referee, even though you would be caught in the middle of 2 people you loved.

It felt like they weren't just fighting to settle their differences, they were fighting for a spot in your life.

And you didn't know who would win.

"So I'm not in the Bloodline, huh?" Jey took a second to process your words, but when he did his soft gaze he always had with you turned into a glare.

"Baby, you know I ain't meant it like that!"

"Really? Cause it sounded pretty clear to me." Your tone was sharp, hurt bubbling under the surface.

"I thought you'd get it!" Jey scoffed, his hand reaching out to touch your arm. You pulled away, not willing to let his touch soothe the hurt he had caused.

"Get what? How I'm not blood so my loyalty doesn't matter?" Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and sadness. "Do you really think that little of me, Jey?"

"No! Of course not!" Jey exclaimed, frustration evident in his expression. "It's not about that, and you know it."

"Then what is it about?" You crossed your arms, waiting for an explanation.

"It's about Sami tryna get on you, and get in this family, and everyone in this family is fooled by him. They don't see what I see. They don't see the way he's trying to play you, trying to use you to get what he wants, tryna use the family to get to the top."

You shook your head, disbelief written all over your face. "Again with Sami?" you sighed, feeling the frustration build up. "Jey, Sami, whether you like it or not, has proven to be a valuable allay, and has proven to be loyal-"

"Loyal?" Jey snorted, interrupting you. "Y/N, you're too blinded by your past with him to see what he's doing. I know him, and I know that he is just a fake ass uce."

Your frustration reached its peak. "Jey, you need to let go of your jealousy and trust my judgment. This isn't even about Sami, it's about you hurting me and you not acknowledging that. Did you know how I felt hearing you say I'm not part of the Bloodline? It hurt, Jey. I've been by your side, supporting you, and for you to dismiss me like that…"

Jey's expression softened as he took a step closer to you. "Baby, I didn't mean it like that. You are a huge part of my life, and I didn't mean to hurt you. I just… I'm trying to protect you. Sami is pushing my buttons, pushing you away from me, and I don't want him messing things up between us."

You looked at Jey, your eyes searching his for sincerity. "I get that you're protective, and I appreciate it, but you can't just dismiss my feelings. We need to communicate, Jey, or we'll keep hurting each other. And that means not jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst about Sami or anyone else."

Your words fell on deaf ears as Jey's stubbornness persisted.

"I don't care. I will communicate with you, but I don't want him around you, around us. "

You rolled your eyes, feeling the exhaustion of the ongoing conflict come back. "Oh my God, Jey. The only person pushing us apart is you. I can handle my relationships, and I can make my own decisions. If you can't trust me, then we have a bigger problem." You grabbed your bag and headed towards the exit. Jey followed you, frustration etched on his face.

"Where are you going, baby?" he called after you.

"I need some space, Jey. We both do," you replied, not bothering to turn around. The weight of the argument hung heavily in the air, and you needed time to clear your head.

Jey caught up to you, blocking your path. "You can't just walk away every time we have a disagreement."

"I'm not walking away; I'm taking a moment to breathe. We can't keep going in circles like this," you explained, your voice strained.

He reached out, grabbing your arm. "You ain't listening to me, Y/N. You're letting him get in your head."

You pulled your arm away, a mix of anger and hurt in your eyes. "Jey, this is not about Sami. This is about us and how we handle our issues. I need time, and if you can't respect that, then I don't know what else to say. You can room with Jimmy tonight, I'll find somewhere else to sleep."

Without waiting for a response, you pushed past Jey and made your way out of the building. The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside you.

You sat in your car, not bothering to start the engine. The argument with Jey replayed in your mind, and the ache in your chest grew. You knew deep down that the issues between you and Jey went beyond Sami, and it was a reflection of the larger problems in your relationship.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, a light tap on the car window startled you. You turned to see Sami standing there, an apologetic look on his face.

"Y/N, can we talk?" Sami asked, his tone sincere. You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, opening the passenger door to let him in. Sami slid into the seat, and a heavy silence hung between you for a moment.

"Look, I don't want to add to your problems," Sami began, genuine concern in his eyes. "But I overheard your argument with Jey, and I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I appreciate the concern, Sami. It's just… it's a mess. Jey, the Bloodline, and now you… I feel like I'm caught in the middle of a storm, and I don't know how to get through it." You sarcastically chuckled and looked at Sami, who was gazing at you with concern and something else in his eyes. "I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this. It's not like you and I have been best buddies lately."

Sami leaned back in the seat, giving you a knowing look. "Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone who's a bit more removed from the situation. I get it, Y/N. And I'm not blind to the fact that I've been a source of tension."

You shook your head. "It's not just you, Sami. Jey and I have our own issues, and adding you to the mix just makes it more complicated."

"I'm not asking you to choose sides or anything," Sami said, his gaze sincere. "But if you need someone to talk to or just vent, I'm here. I've known you for a long time, and I hate seeing you like this."

You sighed, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Your phone dinged, and you saw a text from Jey that read, "Fine, I'll room with Jimmy. Do whatever you want." The message only fueled your frustration, and you set the phone aside.

"What did he say?" You quirked an eyebrow at how Sami knew it was Jey that messaged you.

"You had that look on your face," Sami replied with a small smirk. "I'm not trying to pry, but if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

You appreciated Sami's offer, even though it felt odd considering your history. The genuine concern in his eyes was hard to ignore.

At your lack of a response, Sami gently placed a hand on your shoulder and switched gears. "Who are you rooming with tonight? I'd say Jey, but considering the heated argument, I'm guessing that's not an option."

You shook your head. "Definitely not Jey. He's rooming with Jimmy."

Sami nodded understandingly. "Well, you're not alone in this. If you need a place to crash or just some company, I've got a spare room in my hotel."

You arched an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and skepticism. "You have a spare room? Why?"

Sami chuckled. "Well, I always book two rooms just in case. I like having my own space. But in situations like this, it comes in handy. Consider it an insurance policy."

The offer was unexpected, and you couldn't deny the sincerity in Sami's eyes. You considered your options, weighing the pros and cons.

Spending the night alone in your own space could provide some much-needed solitude, but at the same time, the thought of facing your own thoughts in isolation was daunting.

Jey would not be happy with you sharing a room with Sami, but it was his fault considering he didn't apologize and left you roomless. And it's not like you would do anything bad with Sami.

"Alright," you finally conceded, "I appreciate it, Sami. I could use a distraction tonight."

Sami smiled, a genuine expression that seemed to lift the heaviness in the air. "No problem. Let's switch seats, and I'll give you a lift to the hotel. We both know you can't drive angry."

You glared at Sami for his accurate assessment, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Fine, but I'm driving back."

Sami chuckled, "Deal."

As you both switched seats, you couldn't help but wonder if Sami's offer was a genuine act of kindness or if there was something more to it. It felt like old t

imes when Sami would drive you for hours to the next city, and let you pick the worst music you knew.  The familiarity of the situation brought a mix of comfort and uncertainty. As you drove through the city, Sami kept the conversation light, discussing everything from random anecdotes to shared memories.

Upon reaching the hotel, Sami insisted on accompanying you inside, stating, "I want to make sure it's a decent place. Can't have my friend staying in a dump."

The hotel lobby was adorned with dim lights, giving it a cozy ambiance. After confirming that the accommodations met Sami's standards, you headed to the room.

Sami opened the door, and you were greeted by a surprisingly spacious and well-decorated room. It seemed Sami had a knack for choosing decent places. 

"Seems like your taste hasn't changed since the last time we traveled together," you remarked, half-teasingly.

Sami grinned, "Why fix something that ain't broken?"

You both chuckled, and as you settled into the room, there was a moment of awkward silence. The weight of unspoken words lingered in the air. Sami broke the silence, "Look, I know things have been weird between us, but I miss this, you know? Just hanging out, like old times."

You bit your lip, your nerves in overdrive. Do you admit that you missed it too, or do you keep your guard up? Sami's sincerity was evident, but there was still a layer of uncertainty. Taking a deep breath, you decided to be honest.

"Yeah, I miss it too," you admitted, meeting Sami's gaze. "It's been a while since we've just... hung out."

Sami's smile widened, and it seemed like a weight had been lifted off both your shoulders. "Good to hear." Sami sensed that there was more to be said, but for now, he opted to let the conversation flow naturally. "Do you wanna order some food? I'm starving, and room service here is usually pretty good."

You nodded in agreement, appreciating the diversion from the emotional tension. As Sami picked up the room service menu, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events. The night had started with frustration and anger, and now you found yourself in a hotel room with Sami, rediscovering the ease of your friendship.

"Do you mind if I shower? I feel like I've been on the road forever," you said, breaking your thoughts.

Sami shook his head, "No problem. Take your time. I'll order something for us in the meantime."

After a refreshing shower, you emerged from the bathroom to find the aroma of food wafting through the room. Sami had ordered an array of dishes, and the sight of it made your stomach growl.

"Hope you like a bit of everything," Sami grinned, handing you a plate. His eyes widened at the sight of you in a hoodie and pajama shorts that left little to the imagination. He choked on his food, and you quickly went to him and slapped his back to help him. Sami coughed a few times, still recovering from the surprise.

"Are you okay?" you asked, genuinely concerned.

Sami nodded, his eyes wide, "Yeah, just... you caught me off guard." You raised your eyebrow at the very poor excuse but he continued, "I wasn't expecting you to look... like that."

You rolled your eyes, "Well, I didn't pack an evening gown for an unexpected hotel stay. This is what you get."

Sami cleared his throat , attempting to regain composure. "No complaints here, just wasn't prepared for a fashion show tonight."

You both laughed, breaking the tension further. As you sat down to eat, the atmosphere shifted from the earlier heaviness to a more relaxed and familiar one. It was as if time had rolled back, and you were once again sharing a meal on the road.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from reminiscing about the past to discussing recent events in each other's lives. The more you talked, the more you realized how much you had missed these interactions with Sami. The ease with which he could make you smile, the shared jokes, and the understanding that seemed to transcend words. Your guard was still up, but it was slowly starting to crumble in the face of the genuine connection you and Sami once shared. As the night progressed, you found yourselves engrossed in conversations about everything and nothing.

After finishing the meal, Sami suggested that you both watch a movie to unwind. You agreed, and Sami scrolled through the available options on the hotel's TV. Eventually, you settled on a classic film that held sentimental value for both of you. You both sat on the comfortable hotel bed, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the room. The movie brought back memories, and you couldn't help but smile at the shared nostalgia.

As the movie played, Sami shifted closer, and there was a subtle warmth in the air. The initial tension that hung between you two seemed to dissipate with each passing moment. It felt like a step back in time, a familiar comfort settling in.

In the midst of the movie, Sami spoke up, "Remember when we used to argue about who got control of the remote?"

You chuckled, "Yeah, and you always managed to win somehow."

Sami grinned, "Well, it's a skill. Takes years of practice." He gave you a smile that made your heart flutter,  a mix of playfulness and genuine warmth. The movie continued, but your attention was now divided between the film and the unspoken connection resurfacing between you and Sami.

As the night wore on, the initial awkwardness transformed into a shared comfort that felt almost effortless. You found yourselves laughing at inside jokes, finishing each other's sentences, and reveling in the familiarity that had defined your friendship. The room, once filled with unspoken tension, now resonated with a renewed sense of camaraderie.

Eventually, the movie ended, and you both sat in a comfortable silence. Sami broke the quietude, "You know, I've missed this, just hanging out and being ourselves."

You nodded in agreement, "Me too. It's been too long."

Sami's gaze softened, "I know things have changed, and we've both moved on, but there's something about tonight that feels like a glimpse of what we used to have."

You took a moment to absorb his words. There was truth in them, a shared acknowledgment of the evolving nature of your relationship. The night held a unique magic, a bridge between the past and the present.

"I agree," you replied, "Tonight has been unexpected, but in a good way."

Sami smiled, "I'm glad you agreed to stay. I was worried you'd say no."

You chuckled, "Well, you do have a way of being convincing."

Sami's expression turned more serious, "Look, I know things have changed between us, and I don't want to overstep any boundaries. I just... I miss having you around, as a friend. If this is too much or if it makes you uncomfortable, just let me know, and I'll understand."

You appreciated Sami's honesty, and the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, and you found yourself grappling with your own conflicting feelings. Admitting that you missed Sami's company was one thing, but acknowledging the complexity of your history was another. And you had to wrestle away the thoughts when his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into a gentle embrace. It was a gesture that felt both familiar and foreign, stirring a cascade of emotions.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling the warmth of Sami's embrace contrasting with the cool uncertainty within. It was a delicate balance between the past and the present, and you weren't sure where the boundaries lay. But as you looked into Sami's eyes, you saw not just the history you shared but a genuine desire to reconnect.

You leaned into the embrace, allowing yourself to be enveloped by the comforting familiarity of Sami's presence. The unspoken words hung in the air, the weight of past grievances mingling with the hope of a rekindled friendship.

"I missed this," Sami whispered, his voice barely audible above the subtle hum of the hotel room.

"Me too," you replied, a quiet admission that echoed the sentiments of the night.

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of shared laughter and the glow of the TV, it felt like a small step towards rebuilding what had once been lost. The complexities of your relationship lingered, but for now, you chose to focus on the shared warmth and the simplicity of being in each other's company.

"Do you remember the last time we roomed together?" Sami's hot breath tickled your ear as he spoke, the shared memories flooding back. You couldn't help but smile, recalling the countless adventures and misadventures you both had experienced on the road.

"Yeah, how could I forget?" you chuckled, "That one motel with the neon sign that kept flickering, and the weird noises all night?"

Sami laughed, "Or the time we got lost in that small town, and the only person we could find to ask for directions didn't speak a word of English."

The nostalgia washed over you, and it felt like a bittersweet journey down memory lane. The distance and time apart seemed to fade away, leaving only the echoes of a friendship that had weathered its storms.

"Or that time there was only one bed and we had to share." Sami's voice lowered, and you involuntary shivered at the tone of his voice. It was low and sensual, a stark contrast to the lighthearted reminiscing. The room suddenly felt charged with a different kind of tension. 

"Sami..." Your voice creeped up like a warning, but Sami ignored the subtle shift in the atmosphere. His gaze locked with yours, an intensity that left you breathless.

"I always wondered what would have happened if we recreated that night again." He admitted, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. The air crackled with unspoken desire, and the weight of the past collided with the magnetic pull of the present.

You swallowed hard, torn between the history you shared and the uncertain territory ahead. The lines between friendship and something more blurred in the dimly lit hotel room. The pull of attraction simmered beneath the surface, a palpable energy that refused to be ignored.

"Sami..." You warned him again, but this time your voice held a mix of uncertainty and caution.

Sami's gaze softened, and he withdrew his hand, respecting the unspoken boundaries. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone sincere. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just... I've been thinking a lot about us, about what we had and what we lost."

You took a deep breath, trying to navigate the complexities of the moment. The room felt charged with a different kind of tension now, a lingering question hanging in the air.

"I appreciate your honesty," you replied, your voice steady. "But we can't ignore the history between us, Sami. Things changed, and we both moved on."

Sami nodded, a solemn expression on his face. "I know. I just couldn't help but wonder... what if? What if we had taken a different path?"

The weight of the unspoken "what ifs" settled in the room, creating a palpable silence. It was a question that lingered in the space between you, a testament to the complexity of your shared history.

"I think it's natural to wonder," you admitted, "but we can't change the past. We can only move forward."

"What if I What if I told you that I still have feelings for you?" Sami's voice hung in the air, heavy with vulnerability. The admission echoed through the room, challenging the carefully constructed boundaries that had defined your relationship.

You felt a mixture of surprise and a subtle acknowledgment that maybe the lingering tension wasn't one-sided. Sami's gaze searched your eyes for a response, the intensity mirroring the unspoken emotions that danced between you.

The weight of his words settled on your shoulders, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts. The honesty in Sami's admission deserved a genuine response, but the complexities of your history made it a challenging decision.

"I...," you began, but the words caught in your throat. You met Sami's gaze, seeing a vulnerability that matched your own. "Sami, we had something special, but we also had our fair share of challenges. I can't deny the connection we shared, but a lot has changed."

Sami nodded, understanding etched on his face. "I get it. I just needed you to know how I feel."

You sighed, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. "I appreciate your honesty, Sami. It's just... complicated."

He gave you a small, understanding smile. "Yeah, it always has been with us, hasn't it?"

The air hung with unresolved tension, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that lingered in the room. The night had taken an unexpected turn, weaving through the threads of nostalgia, friendship, and the potential for something more.

"If it was me instead of Kevin that you had to hurt to prove your loyalty to, would you have done it?" Sami's question cut through the atmosphere, introducing a new layer of complexity to the already intricate dynamics between you two.

The weight of the question hung in the air, and you could sense the sincerity in Sami's eyes. It was a direct challenge to the choices you had made, and it demanded an honest response.

The room seemed to tighten, and you tried to distract yourself with  the remnants of the meal on the table, avoiding eye contact momentarily. Sami grabbed your shoulders gently, urging you to meet his gaze.

You took a deep breath, grappling with the intensity of Sami's question. The honesty in his eyes demanded a genuine response, and you couldn't evade the weight of the inquiry.

"I don't know, Sami," you admitted, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "It's a hypothetical scenario, and emotions are complicated. I can't say for sure how I would have reacted in that situation."

Sami's expression tightened, a mix of disappointment and understanding in his eyes. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and knew you were lying.

"Y/N..." He grabbed your hands and interjected with a sincerity that left no room for evasion. "You can't tell me you didn't have a choice in that moment. I know you, and I know you well enough to know that loyalty matters to you. If it was me, would you have chosen to hurt me to prove your loyalty to Kevin?"

The room seemed to shrink, the weight of Sami's gaze intensifying. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach, torn between acknowledging the truth and shielding yourself from the raw vulnerability of the moment.

"Sami, I..." Your voice wavered, the internal struggle reflecting in your eyes. The truth lingered on the tip of your tongue, a confession that could alter the course of the night and the delicate balance you were trying to maintain.

Sami's grip on your hands tightened, a silent plea for honesty. The unspoken tension hung between you two, an unresolved question that demanded a response. He intertwined his fingers with yours, grounding you in the intensity of the moment.

"I need to know, Y/N," Sami urged, his eyes searching yours for a glimpse of the truth. "Would you have hurt me to prove your loyalty?"

The room was silent, the weight of the question settling over you like a heavy shroud. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the vulnerability of the truth clawing at the edges of your consciousness.

"No." You breathed a sigh, the admission hanging in the air. "No, Sami. I wouldn't have hurt you to prove my loyalty to anyone. It was a difficult situation, and I made a choice. But hurting you would something I couldn't live with."

Sami's eyes softened, and you could sense a mix of relief and gratitude in his gaze. The truth, though heavy, seemed to have lifted a burden between you. He moved closer to you, your faces mere inches apart, the shared vulnerability creating a palpable connection. The unspoken emotions lingered, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of the past had been lifted.

"Thank you for being honest," Sami whispered, his breath mingling with yours. His thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand, a subtle reassurance.

You nodded, the air thick with a newfound understanding. The complexities of your shared history remained, but the honesty in that moment had carved a path towards reconciliation.

"I've missed this," Sami admitted, his eyes searching yours. "Missed these talks, these late nights with you." Sami's eyes dropped to you lips, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of emotions. The unspoken tension crackled in the air, and you found yourself caught between the familiarity of the past and the uncertainty of the present. 

"Sami," you whispered, your voice barely audible. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken hovering between you. Sami's thumb continued to trace idle patterns on the back of your hand, the touch sending shivers down your spine. 

Then his lips were on yours, and for a moment, it felt like time stood still, unmoving, like you. 

Then your brain starting working again.

"Sami!" You pushed him gently away, surprise and confusion written across your face. Sami's eyes widened, the realization of what he had done sinking in.

"I... I'm sorry," Sami stammered, a mix of embarrassment and regret in his expression. "I didn't mean to... I just... I thought..."

You held up a hand, stopping his explanations. "Sami, if you wanted to get back at Jey, you didnt' have to involve me in it."

Sami looked taken aback by your accusation. "No, it's not like that. I wouldn't do that to you. I... I got carried away. I didn't mean to use you as some kind of revenge."

You sighed, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders. You couldn't deny that there was still a lingering attraction between you and Sami, but the context of the situation made everything more complicated. The boundaries were blurred, and it was evident that emotions were running high. You were with Jey. You loved him, and getting involved in a messy situation with Sami was the last thing you needed.

"Sami, we can't go down this path," you said firmly, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation. "I appreciate our friendship and the nostalgia, but it's not fair to Jey, and it's not fair to us."

Sami nodded, remorse etched on his face. "You're right. I messed up, and I'm sorry. I should have respected the boundaries."

You took a deep breath, attempting to diffuse the tension in the room. "Let's just call it a night. I'll sleep in my room. Have a nice day tomorrow, and we can talk about this when things are calmer."

Sami nodded again, a mix of regret and understanding in his eyes. "I understand. I never meant to complicate things."

As you gathered your things and headed towards the door, the air was thick with unresolved emotions. Before you could leave, Sami spoke up, "Please don't tell JJey about this. Jey already hates me, and I messed up, and I don't want to cause more problems for you."

You paused, considering Sami's request. It wasn't fair to keep secrets, especially in a relationship, but you also understood the potential consequences of revealing what had transpired. Jey would be hurt, and it might escalate the tension between him and Sami. On the other hand, honesty was crucial in a relationship.

"I can't promise that, Sami," you replied honestly. You believed in being truthful with Jey, and keeping something like this from him would only make things worse if he finds out later.

Sami nodded, acknowledging the difficult situation. "I get it. Just... take care of things on your end. I don't want to make your life more complicated."

"I will. Take care, Sami." You bid him goodnight once more before  leaving Sami's room and closing the door behind you.

As you walked back to your own room, a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts raced through your mind.

God, this is why you didn't want Sami to join the Bloodline in the first place. The tangled mess of emotions and history between you two had resurfaced, and now you were left grappling with the aftermath of an unexpected, charged moment.

"Y/N." Solo's voice made you jump in the hallway. He was leaning against the wall, a knowing expression on his face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Solo held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Just wanted to check if everything's alright. Jey was worried when he saw you actually didn't come to the room."

You rolled your eyes, "Well, you can tell Jey I'm fine. Just needed some space."

Solo raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "You good? You acting kinda spacey."

You sighed, your face betraying the internal turmoil. "It's just been a weird night, Solo. And all I wanna do is sleep it off."

Solo tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in concern. "Do you want to talk about it? I know I'm not the best with emotions, but I'm here if you need someone to listen."

You appreciated Solo's offer, knowing that despite his tough exterior, he genuinely cared about the well-being of those close to him. However, the complexity of the situation made it difficult to put everything into words.

"Thanks, Solo. I might need some time to process everything. Let Jey know I'll talk to him about it tomorrow. I just need a bit of space for now."

Solo nodded, understanding the need for space. "Sure thing." You turned to go into the room, but Solo grabbed your arm and pulled you into a brief, supportive hug. It was rare that he showed such a side of him, but it felt comforting yet so guilty in that moment.

"Take care of yourself, Y/N. If you need anything, just let us know," Solo said, releasing you from the hug.

"Thanks, Solo," you replied, managing a small but guilty smile. With that, you entered your room, the events of the night echoing in your mind.

Sleep felt elusive, and the weight of the unresolved emotions lingered, making it a long night of introspection and contemplation. You texted Jey that you were fine, got into the covers, and closed your eyes. The events of the night replayed in your mind like a never-ending loop. The mix of nostalgia, tension, and unexpected intimacy left you grappling with conflicting emotions.

Would you tell Jey, the week before his match against Sami, when you knew when he got mad he would lose matches, or would you keep it to yourself, avoiding potential complications and protecting Jey's focus for the upcoming match?

Only time would tell.

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[lokisgoodgirl]

Madam,Please : Clandestine F*cks [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader] 18+

Part of the Clandestine F*cks Collection [Link] A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (17) An experience of your leadership in the field awakens something new in your secret lover. (w/c 4.1k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Sub!Loki x Soft!Dom Reader. Masturbation. Spanking. Edging. PV Sex. Language. Mild violence.

“Who has eyes on the target? He can’t get away.” you said firmly, earpiece crackling as blood pooled in the crevices. “I do. Execute?” Clint’s voice muttered, clearly aimed at the target from on high. “Negative, Barton – it’s too risky, he’s loading the bio-weapon. He’ll have it rigged. This needs to be from eyes on the ground.” You ran towards the smoking block ahead. Thor’s hammer swung mercilessly beside you, bodies littered around your feet with every step, leaking canisters of home-made explosives ready to blow.

You had been working on this lead for months. It needed to work. “I need all sub-team side B of the building, away from the target. A and C are clear. Barton has them covered.” “Yes Ma’am.” several voices confirmed.

An explosion rocked to your left, throwing Thor with a loud crunch against the wall. Dust stung your eyes, catching in your throat as you coughed through the haze, your fist meeting the face of an opportunistic opponent.

“Laufeyson, it’s on you. Execute the objective.” you commanded, pressing the earpiece in with a wince against your wounds.

“What about Thor? Looks like he took quite a tumble. Should I not tend to him?” Loki’s unperturbed voice rolled through the frequency. Even in the heat of battle, he was smirking, you could tell. “Laufeyson, take that son of a bitch down immediately.” you shouted, scanning the perimeter for any sign of the god getting on your last nerve. “Are you sure, Agent?” he goaded in your ear. He would already be on his way; covertly sneaking up on the vigilante scientist loading biological warfare onto a truck while his replaceable followers lay dying. But you weren’t in the mood for games. Not on your mission-leading debut. “That’s a direct order, Laufeyson.” you spat. “Follow it.” There was silence on the earpiece. A roar thundered from the side as a bloodied goon charged at you from behind an upended SUV. You ducked before stabbing him upwards in the soft flesh of his throat. “Understood, Madam.” Loki purred. His voice was lush velvet, the timbre vibrating through the nub nestled in your ear. Within seconds you heard a loud yell from the other side of the building, machine gun fire rattling fruitlessly at the sky. Screams followed, a loud crunch echoing across the dusty landscape as your secret lover followed your order with finesse.

Silence reigned as the team waited with bated breath. Thor stirred back to consciousness at your feet, blood trickling across his brow as a low hum radiated from the radio. “The day is yours, Madam.” Loki murmured calmly through the comms. –-- Morning light flooded the conference room as you shuffled papers at the podium, waiting for the chattering team to leave. The debrief had gone as expected, and Rogers seemed happy – that was the important thing after all, you thought; internally rolling your eyes. You cleared your throat as Thor and Loki hung back, discussing something animatedly in hushed tones at their seats. “Laufeyson, I need a word” you said, as Thor grinned. “In trouble with the boss, brother?” he winked, “my my, some things never change I suppose.”

“It’s just one mission, Thor, don’t get excited…” you muttered, heat rising in your cheeks as the blonde swaggered towards the door. “You say that now Y/N, but I have a feeling my brother and I will be taking orders from you again very soon, mark my words” he chuckled, throwing Loki a wave as he made his exit. Your eyes rose to where Loki sat, straight-backed with his hands clasped on the table. His smouldering gaze bore into you, the deep blues of his irises singing across the empty room. You cleared your throat again. “Do you have a problem with me leading missions, Loki? His lips curled in a smile before parting, releasing a dark chuckle as he shook his head. “No, darling. I most certainly do not.” Your hand edged to the side to push the door closed, the other grasping towards the pull of the blinds.

“Y/N…there are too many people. We must be sensible.” His words made you pause, turning back to face him. You strode to the table, watching his eyebrows rise as you leant forwards, palms flat on the cool wood. “I don’t want to fuck you, Loki…” you hissed, “I want to know why you were such an arse out there yesterday and what I’m going to do about it.” Your heart pounded as his gaze searched your face with amusement, every twitch of his lips making you more infuriated. He leant forward, forefinger curling across his chin as he fought to contain a smile. “I’m afraid that I may have discovered a vacant need within myself” he said quietly, sliding the finger thoughtfully across his lips. You frowned, folding your arms. He looked up at you with widened eyes, the resulting creases of his brow making him appear almost innocent. “Can I assume that our arrangements for tonight are still valid, given my insubordination?” Loki drew his lip between his teeth as he lifted an eyebrow subtly, testing your true level of annoyance. You nodded.

“Suffice to say I have no issue with you being in control, Y/N” he whispered as he stood. His fingers flickered, a tinge of seidr vibrating the air as he circled the table and kissed you deeply. Loki's warm tongue caressing yours was heaven after a week estranged from his bed by mission preparation, his touch hitting your bloodstream like liquor. Too soon, he withdrew; his concealing enchantment fading. “In fact, I wish to submit to you entirely, darling” he murmured, straightening a pen on the table below. “Entirely.” Your lips parted, questions staggering on the tip of your tongue. “Later, kitten.” he winked, before turning abruptly and striding from the room. ---

Loki’s parting words ran through your mind for the rest of the day. The corridor to his rooms stretched before you, heels clicking as you passed the familiar paintings and plants that adorned the hallway. Entirely, he’d said. Submit to you entirely. He had slipped a note in your hand a few hours ago. It explained everything in a few sentences. And it included a safeword; Rogers. You slipped behind his unlocked door, a wave of smooth jazz music playing softly through the speakers. “Loki?” you said quietly, finding your voice as nerves fluttered in your stomach. The cautious steps of your high heels softly scraped the wooden floors as he emerged from the bedroom. The warm flickering of a dozen candles danced teasingly across his chest, bouncing off every crevice of his chiselled abdomen as he leant seductively in the doorframe with a coy smile. A pair of grey jersey sweatpants hung low on his hips, the waistband clinging to the taunt skin. Soft lighting cast long shadows on the walls, illuminating his beautiful face in their aura. His cheekbones cut sharply in the contrast, those smouldering eyes observing you silently; waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat, trying not to be overcome by your need to launch at his body and rollick him backwards to the bed. A week was a long time when you were used to covertly fucking Loki Laufeyson multiple times a day. His lips twitched in amusement. “Just remember, love...command me, as you did yesterday, and I think you will enjoy it. I know I will. Are you sure you’re happy to proceed?” A surge of adrenaline ignited inside you, bubbling to the surface as he noted the change in your eyes with a nod. “I give the orders around here, Laufeyson.” you said, enunciating every syllable. You made your way to the wing-back chair beside the curtains, sitting with your legs spread, forearms resting on your knees. The patent leather of your expensive heels glinted in the candlelight, the material of your combat suit clinging to your curves like paint. You watched his eyes roam up your body, mentally pulling down the zipper at your chest. “Take off the sweatpants.” you ordered, “slowly.”

His fingers flew to the waistband in preparation for a sharp tug. You shook your head, tutting. “I said slowly…” you murmured, raising an eyebrow. He obeyed, sliding the fabric over his hips at a glacial pace, exposing that deliciously toned body bit by bit as the soft material pooled around his ankles. His cock bounced upwards on its release, already hard as rock. “Come here.” you murmured. His bare feet paced the floor, standing in front of you so his engorged manhood was tauntingly close to your lips. It quivered against your warm breath, only inches away. “Kneel, Loki.” you said firmly, knowing exactly the effect your words would have. A crease formed momentarily across his brow as he considered them, his eyes glazing over with lust. You sighed in frustration, sliding yourself upright and crossing your legs. “Laufeyson. I said, kneel.” Loki sank to his knees, his gaze trialling upwards with silent adoration. Your eyes crawled across his naked form presented before you, thick thighs creating an inviting expanse where he rested on the balls of his feet. The god's fingers spread on his knees, biceps flexing gently as he re-adjusted his stance. The chiselled lines of his body flowed in perfect precision up his torso, wide shoulders bent forwards in submission. Raven hair that haunted your every waking fantasy fell around his jaw as he looked up at you with reverence. Ready to begin. “I am at your service, Madam.” Loki’s deep voice held no trace of mischief as he bowed his head, steady breaths making his shoulders rise and fall. “I like watching you touch yourself; I like seeing you so needy. Do that for me...” you murmured, “but no finishing until I tell you, yes?” Loki whispered his understanding as he slid his folded legs wider, edging his hips forward. That perfect cock never failed to make your mouth water. Long, thick and pale as moonlight with a pink flush; it was so undeniably him, you thought, as his fingers curled around the base. He raised his chin upwards, the longing in his eyes making you want to pounce on his lap. “May I?” A flicker of amusement laced the sincerity as he fought the urge to add an additional remark. You nodded. “Slowly, Loki...very slowly” you said, as you began to unzip the top of your combat suit.

Loki groaned at the sight as his fist slid up his cock, the skin pulling tantalisingly at the tip before he returned to the base. His hips thrust upwards as his body fought the tortuously slow movement. The grip tightening around his straining manhood as he milked every ounce of pleasure from his orders. You stood, unclasping the holster belt slung around your hips and letting it clatter to the floor. The metal buckle smacked harshly against the wood making your lover whimper. He loved that belt. Loki moaned longingly as you unzipped the remaining inches of the suit, beginning to strip it from your body as you paced a measured circle around him.

“Who is your commander?”

Your voice sounded strong. Every inch the leader you had felt yesterday with a team of Earth’s protectors hanging on your every word.

“You, Y/N.” Loki gasped, the effort of maintaining the deliberate, infuriating pace of his strokes making his muscles quiver. The hand not wrapped around his cock grasped for purchase on his thigh, fingernails digging into the taunt flesh. You leant down, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as Loki’s breath hitched. “That’s not how you address me, soldier.” “You, Ma'am...M-Madam.” he spluttered, his eyes screwed shut. You paced to the front again, reclining back in the chair wearing only his favourite dark green lingerie and those sinful heels. Loki opened his eyes, the immediate gape of his mouth and accompanying slanted eyebrows betraying his utter unravelling. You placed one ankle delicately on his bare shoulder, widening your thighs. He exhaled loudly as he stroked himself, lips ghosting across your calf only millimetres away. “Will you allow me?” he panted, wetting his lips as your calf rubbed back and forth across his skin, his eyes resting ravenously between your open legs. “Do you want to touch me, Laufeyson? Do you want to bury your pretty face between my thighs? Your needy cock, perhaps?” you cooed, sliding your fingers into your silk panties. He whined through parted lips, his breaths shortening. “Do you want the privilege of worshipping my body?” You chuckled, watching a small spasm roll through him as he fought to contain himself. “I thought so. But you’ll have to prove your loyalty to me first. I’m not sure you’ve earned it, considering your disobedience yesterday.” You massaged your clit lightly beneath the silk, watching Loki’s brow furrow in desperation. His eyes fluttered shut as the knuckles on his right hand turned white, palming himself tightly in time with his staggered breaths. So slowly. “Stop.” you said, watching his fingers squeeze the column of flesh before reluctantly releasing. “Show me to the bedroom.” He rose on shaky legs, the long muscles of his thighs bulging on ascent. Loki’s lean torso unfurled, his hair flicking back over his bare shoulders making your pussy clench. He extended his hand, pulling you upwards gently so you stood inches apart. The urge to throw yourself against him was almost unbearable. Loki led you to the bedroom how you imagined he would escort a partner during an entrance to an Asgardian ball. The thought made you swell with love for him as he paused, eyes flickering nervously to the inviting mattress. “Hands and knees on the bed, Laufeyson.” you smouldered, casting a glance to the table set up to the side. Two items were laid in perfect alignment across a silken cloth, presented for your consideration. Leather, of course. A paddle. Your fingers reached for the second. Handcuffs. You flexed the thick leather cuffs in your hands, admiring the dark brown sheen as Loki arranged himself on the bed. He was kneeling, palms flat on the soft covers. Seeing your approach, he silently extended his wrists towards you, straightening his arms with his head bowed. You slipped on the cuffs, noticing his fingertips touch together like prayer before his eyes met yours. “Thank you, Madam.” he purred, as you pulled the binding tight. Loki hissed, lowering his head again. You ran your hands through his hair, forcing his head up with a sharp tug.

“Here’s how you will prove your loyalty to me, Laufeyson. You will take the punishment I deem appropriate; you will ensure I am satisfied. And then, I may forgive you for your...what did you call it? 'Insubordination'.” Loki murmured his approval, sliding his bound wrists down the mattress. His head slotted between his elbows, arms straight as his back slanted upwards; the perfect ass presented for absolution. “Mmmm, good boy” you praised, sliding your hand underneath his stomach and giving his straining cock a sharp pump. He gasped, groaning loudly on the exhale as your touch left as quickly as it had arrived. “Good boys are rewarded under my command, Laufeyson. But only when they prove worthy of receiving it.” You lifted the paddle, brushing the soft leather across your lips as you observed Loki positioned on the bed. He was glorious. His pale skin shimmered like pearl in the low light, the defined muscles of his back clenching and relaxing with every heavy breath. As you watched, he slid his thighs further apart, opening himself to your control. A mess of dark curls was all you could see of his head, toned arms encasing it as his fingers grasped at the bedsheets with anticipation. You would never tired of running your eyes over that tight ass, the firm flesh which relented under your needy fingertips pushing him deeper into your hot cunt. But not tonight. Loki whimpered as you trailed the side of the paddle down his spine. “Are you ready, soldier?” you muttered, coyly; knowing his answer. “Madam, please” came his muffled response. You struck him sharply, the stinging whoosh-thwack vibrating briefly in the air as it met his willing flesh. He thrust forward, a primal moan escaping him. “Again. Harder. Please.” he whined, fingers winding in the sheets below as his wrists pressed against the leather cuffs. You struck him, the moreish sound of the paddle against his taunt skin driving you feral. Again and again, you worked him. Every smack met with a jolting groan as you drove him to the edge beneath your control. You could feel rampant wetness sliding between your thighs, soaking through the gusset of your underwear. God, he was so fucking hot. Always so unbearably- whoosh-thwack - fucking hot. His cock hung at an angle, hovering as gravity willed it down from his raised hips. He was dripping. Beads of pre-cum were soaked in small circles on the sheets as his manhood fought to control its desire. Poor baby, you thought, smiling to yourself as you tapped the paddle on your thigh. “You did well, Laufeyson. I’m impressed.” you said firmly, smacking the leather a final time against your palm, making him wince. “Look at me, please.” Loki’s face rose from where it had been pressed into the mattress. His lips were parted, smeared with shameless drool brought forth from messy grunts of painful pleasure. His ass was stinging, bright patches of red beginning to fade as he knelt back on his heels, meeting your gaze cautiously. “Are you ready to satisfy your commander?” you purred, kicking off your heels. “Do you think you are worthy?” His eyes flickered upwards, ablaze with barely controlled lust as you stood in front of your bound lover. Loki’s eyebrows twitched apologetically, his lips forming words that didn’t come.

“You may speak.” you murmured, sliding the sides of your panties down as Loki’s jaw slackened. “I...I believe I am worthy, Madam. If that is your...your…” he swallowed as you crawled towards him on the bed, your breasts cupped perfectly in that sinful bra; your fingers curling around his thick cock, “...desire.” “It is.” you whispered in his ear, feeling him shudder as you straddled his wide lap; avoiding the straining cock begging for attention. “Lie back.” Loki obeyed, falling gracefully backwards on the bed as you slid your hands up his arms; willing them to rise. Your palms caressed his taunt biceps, running up to the wrists before quickly attaching his cuffs to the bedframe above his head. The god's breath hitched as you leant forward, pressing your cleavage gently against his muscled chest. You buried your face in his neck, inhaling the heavy scent that clung to his warm skin, his tousled curls. He released a loud moan as you slid your soaked pussy over his arousal, the hard length dragging tortuously between your folds. “Will you follow my orders, Laufeyson?” you keened, thrusting softly against the hardness pressed flush against his stomach. Loki released a needy growl, his widened thighs squirming against the bed.

"I will do anything you ask, a-anything, just p-please darling...Madam...fuck me, by all the gods I beg you...” “Pleasure me, Laufeyson. And restrain yourself until I say otherwise. Those are your orders.” You leveraged your hips above his desperate length, enjoying the sight of his neck straining forwards to catch a glimpse of his cock sinking inside your heat. “Fuuuuuck….” he moaned loudly, the guttural groan making you clench around his girth; producing another wave of pleasure tumbling from his throat. He tugged at the restraints, fingers grasping at air as he sought to dig them into your skin. Loki would usually be running his hands over your waist, gripping your ass, directing your pleasure, pushing you further on to his rigid arousal. But not tonight. Your lover's chin pressed to his chest as those kaleidoscope eyes seared into yours. You could feel him slide his feet closer to his body, thighs pressing against your back. “You are so beautiful, commander…” he murmured, brow creased in concentration as he tried not to blow his load, “it is my h-honour to uhhhh...s-service you, your obedient...obed-...Madam...fuck.” Loki thrust upward with his powerful hips. Even without hands to guide you, his legs balanced your body from behind as you took what you wanted. You rode him gently at first, a small mercy as he whimpered beneath your unrelenting pace. His stare ran hungrily over every inch of your body, uneven pants becoming louder in tune with your rising moans. With every drop of your hips his biceps flexed in desperation, the defined landscape of shoulder muscle rippling under the strain. “Gods...helvete... I’m going to...stop..stop, faen” he whined, thrashing against the binds. You cooed, slowing the gyrating of your hips. Leaning forwards, you bit the exposed curve of his bicep as his breaths staggered, his aborted orgasm ebbing. Your teeth grazed over the skin, sucking gently as he hissed beneath you. “Good boy…” you whispered, tracing your fingers through his fine armpit hair, appreciating the curve meeting his ribs, “You did well to tell me.”

Wandering lips made deep kisses against his neck, feeling the vibrations of tortured moans rumbling deep in his chest. His cock was still sheathed inside you, the grip of your channel maddeningly tight around his girth as you cruelly ground against his hips. Your clit pulled against his pelvis, searing bliss tugging at your core. “Tell me what you feel, Laufeyson...talk to me.” you keened, as his eyes flashed, lip twitching. “Madam, I c-confess am consumed with my need to s-serve only you...uhhhh..I will do anything, alt du spør om...you’re so tight...so hot, my g-goddess, have mercy... fuck.” Loki’s words were jumbled, an incoherent stream of tortured pleasure as he clambered against the rising tide. “Norns, you are... barely moving atop me and I find myself...I find..myself... helvete...det føles for jævla bra…I cannot-” While he muttered his submissions your head had fallen back, climax bubbling to the surface in your core, lost in the moment. A sharp tug of his restraints brought you back to his desperate gaze, “...I cannot-” He groaned as his head burrowed back against the pillow. The muscles of his neck bulged against the strain of denial as you ceased your measured thrusts. “My brave soldier, you’ve been so good for me. So obedient, haven’t you?” you murmured, as Loki let out a whine. He was used to edging himself to the thought of you when alone. But this? This was pushing him to the brink. “Once you have satisfied me, I promise...I’ll release you.” You drew a finger down the line of his cheekbone, his eyelids fluttering shut at the gentle touch. “Now make me cum around this cock like a good boy. And don’t you dare disobey me...” Your thighs squeezed his hips like horse and rider as you began to work him again. Slowly. Purposefully. The ridges of his insatiable length sizzled across every nerve inside your aching pussy. Loki wasn’t the only one who’d been denied their climax twice. You felt the coil in your belly tightening, high pitched moans flying from your lips as you steadied yourself against his chest. With a cry of his name, you tumbled over the edge, the familiar intense wave of ecstasy only he could bring shuddering through you as you clamped down. There was lustful malice in his eyes, a searing wall of visceral flame as he tugged harshly against the bedframe. The sight of you coming undone with his name of your lips was one he could never resist. You wondered if tonight would be any different. Loki threw his head back against the pillow, dark curls falling over his flushed face, jaw clenched in determination as he let out a guttural growl of frustration. Your breaths slowed as you lowered to his chest, sliding your palms down to grip the sides of his ass. You raised your hips, sliding up his cock, the sticky mess of your juices making a sinful pop as you released. “Madam, please…” he whimpered, tears forming in his eyes as you hovered agonisingly on the tip. The walls of your pussy clenched tightly, ready to deliver what was sure to be the final blow to his resolve. “Will you follow my orders?” you whispered, biting your lip. He pushed his jaw out slightly, his tongue sheathed behind his teeth as he fought to hold back barbed words.

“Yes, Madam...I will.” he managed to stutter between broken breaths, the end of his leaking manhood brushing teasingly at your entrance. “Then I command you to cum inside me, Laufeyson. Fill me. Loudly.” When the last syllable left your lips, you dropped down on his desperate cock, his renewed cry of pleasure thundering the air. Loki pulled his bound hands together against the bedframe. The veins in his thick forearms pulsing with pure need as he thrust up into you like an animal. Nordic curses flew from his lips you rode him, feeling every hit of his thick girth bottoming out. “Fuck...yesss…my queen, my q-queen...fuckkkk” Loki howled as he filled you with his overdue seed, waves of hot cum filling your channel as he finally found his release. The lines of his tight stomach muscles clenched beneath you, the effort of his restraint making his orgasm even more intense. Loki's face was twisted in pained pleasure, feeling the force of his climax running over him like a speeding train. His erratic thrusts slowed, the thighs pressed against your back shuddering and falling open as he went slack against the restraints. Strands of damp hair clung to his forehead, a thin sheen of sweat glimmering in the candlelight as he panted. Eyes closed. Moments passed before you reached to release his binds, gently rubbing his marked wrists. You cupped his jawline, fingers fitting perfectly into the angular edge as your lips met, his tongue slipping softly to caress yours. “Did you enjoy that, my love?” you murmured coyly, nestling into his chest as he drew you in tightly. Warm breath fanned your ear, his mischievous energy returning. Loki gave your earlobe a playful suck, before placing a kiss on the soft skin beneath. “Yes, Madam.” he purred.

-- Norwegian Refs helvete - hell faen- fuck alt du spør om - anything you ask det føles for jævla bra - it feels too fucking good - Tags @nataliewalker93 @lokiprompts @imalovernotahater @mistress-ofmagic @trickster-maiden @ozymdias @gracecaldwellx @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @lokikissesmyforehead @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @wheredafandomat @michelleleewise @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @simplyholl @ravenwings73 @moonlightreader649 @trojanaurora @123forgottherest @anonymousfiction211 @ladylovesloki @fictive-sl0th @animnerd @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration @gigglingtigger @toozmanykids @mcufan72 @muddyorbs @holymultiplefandomsbatman @chantsdemarins @yelkmelk @xorpsbane @nerdy-fangirl-65 @peaches1958 @goblingirlsarah @kats72 @fictional-hooman @cakesandtom @demoiseller @massivebatweaselsoul @sititran @loki-laufeyson-1054 @maple-seed @five-miles-over @handsaroundmyneck @peacefulpianist @vbecker10 @fictional-hooman

#loki smut #sub!loki #sub loki #lokismut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x yn smut #loki fanfiction #loki fic #loki oneshot #loki series #clandestine f*cks

[specialagentlokitty]

Hotch x Male!reader - bad memories

I was wondering if I could request Aaron Hotch x male reader who used to work in the military, maybe the have a permanent injury that causes chronic pain but they still want to help people so they joined the BAU? And what if the team are working a case where the unsub uses explosive? And reader is trying to hide the panic attack trying not to worry anyone (maybe from ptsd from being on the field?) - @xweirdo101x 💜

Limping around the corner, you froze in place when you came to face the unsub who had bombs strapped around his chest and you stared at him.

You stood staring and he held your boss in his hands, and all you could do was stare while people screamed and shouted to clear the area.

Rossi looked at you and he stopped what he was doing, walking over he waved a hand in front of you face.

“Reid get him out of here!” Rossi yelled.

Reid took your hand and dragged your away, you didn’t even seem to noticed you had been taken away from the scene.

Reid sat you in one of the SUVs and he looked at you, calling your name.

You were gone, lost in your head.

The memories flooded through your brain, reminding you of what had happened all those years ago.

The people you called your brothers and sisters.

You were lost in your memories.

So Reid took you back to the stations way from it all and sat you at a desk, pulling up a chair to sit in front of you as he just watched you.

“What’s wrong with him?” Emily asked.

“PTSD. Some choose fight, other choose flight. I think (Y/N) chose flight, instead of running he’s retreated inside his own head.”

Emily nodded and carried on speaking to Garcia while she kept an eye on you as well.

You started at nothing.

You relived that fateful day inside your head, as if it were real and happening now.

Your lungs burned with the dust you were breathing in, your eyes were ringing, your head hurt so much, and your leg was in agony but you kept walking.

You checked everyone you came across, caught as smoke and dust entered your lungs, blood coated your hands and you arms.

The screams of people yelling for help and others scream in pain.

You were knocked by another blasted, and you stumbled to your feet again, pulling people away from the raging flames and debris.

You had no clue what was going, no clue that the unsub was dead or that everyone was okay.

Hotch didn’t bother getting checked up, he had seen what happened at the scene, and he rushed his way back to the precincts and through the door.

“Where is he?” He asked.

“Sat over there with Reid, he hadn’t moved since we got here.” Emily said.

Hotch nodded and made his way over, swapping seats with Reid as he looked at you, watching as you ran your hand up and down your leg.

“(Y/N)…?” Hotch asked softly.

He didn’t get a response and he stood up, walking over he slowly placed his hand on the side of your head, letting your rest your head against him and you brought your arm up to clutch his wrist.

You breathed shakily and he held you.

“It’s okay…”

Hotch knew what was going inside your head, you had explained everything to him after one night he accidentally dropped a plate and it triggered the memories.

He knew everything about this and what you had went through.

You started to softly cry, and you buried yourself into his chest, letting everything out that you had been holding in and he just held you.

It was all he could do.

Just hold you because that’s what you needed right now, you didn’t need someone telling you it was okay or it’ll be fine, you just needed someone to hold you and ground you.

You needed Hotch there so you knew where you were, that you were okay and he was okay and everything was okay.

He was your anchor, he was what grounded you and kept you from getting lost in the gruesome past

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #arron hotchner #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you

[couldawouldashoulda50]

The Distance and the Time Between Us

A/N: So this is my attempt at writing my very first series involving William Nylander.

Overall, it is more or less a “right place, right person, wrong time” type of storyline.  The fem reader grew up outside of Toronto and is gifted in all things music.  She’s had world-wide success as part of a band as well as a stellar solo career.  She’s been bestowed with absolute (perfect) pitch and has been categorized as one of the best singers/musician/songwriters of recent time.

Where it was suitable, I have tried to be accurate with various facts but I will at certain points be changing reality around to aid in the story.  I guess that’s the beauty of fiction; you can snap your fingers and make it so, no matter what it is.

Not to sound like I’m accepting an Ocscar, but I wanted to thank @leafs-lover and @spine-buster for interacting so kindly with me as a newcomer to this space, and for reading through the first iterations of my thoughts blurted out onto the page.   

Not to beat this to death, but I’m still figuring out Tumblr so hopefully I won’t make a giant mess of things as I post each new segment.  

Warnings - allusions to sex, swearing, end of a relationship, I think that’s it

Word Count - 3.8k

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

September, 2021

The end of the evening hits differently than you thought it would.  

A few hours ago, up on the bandshell stage with your bandmates, Brandon (the guitarist, alongside you, and vocals), announced to the audience that you and the band were taking a step back from performing, recording and touring.  For the past decade (give or take), the band that you co-founded with Brandon had achieved remarkable success along with fame and fortune.  You all had far exceeded the low expectations that many had when you began your music careers together. 

And it was time….in fact, it was very much overdue.  

Personal lives are albeit neglected in order to reach this pinnacle of stardom and for once, you all mutually agreed that it was time to give up the rigours of a touring band and enjoy life. After all, for all that’s been sacrificed, you all deserved it.  

The other members, Maebh (bass, vocals) and Colin (drum, vocals), together had their blossoming family to look forward to.  Brandon and his partner wanted to pursue other musical interests.  There was a sense of excitement, and relief, leaving behind the pressure-cooker lifestyle that your lives had become. 

And then there was you.

In one sense, you had been dreaming of this moment for years.  Almost complete freedom from all the commitments from both your explosive solo career, and the band from which you emerged.  Until now, it had always been one more appearance, one more record, one more song, one more tour, one more interview, one more movie - year after year after year.  On the surface, you were one of the most successful and sought-after musical artists of the past 10 years.  Coupled with your band’s success, your individual success had been nothing short of magical.  The drive and determination you possessed, alongside a bit of luck and (mostly) sensibility propelled you up to and through the insanity of stardom.  You always made sure you kept grounded and were full of gratitude, always keeping your humility intact. You had become, in the eyes of the entertainment world, the epitome of grace and etiquette under such scrutiny and pressure.  

On the flipside, you have been grappling with an overwhelming sense of despair and an ache deep within that you can almost taste since the moment the band made its decision.  

Now that this last performance was in the books (and it was an incredibly successful one at that), you sit in the backseat with your sullen thoughts as your driver navigates the SUV towards your Toronto home.  You glance over to your manager, Evelyn, and choke back a sob - your throat constricts and you bite your lip to try and will back the tears that threaten to fall.  

Evelyn's typical stoic demeanour softens for a moment, and she grabs your hand; she's well aware of what has gotten you in this state.  

You return to staring out the window; your mind replaying what you’ve sacrificed for your career and the fear of the unknown with your future.

The reality is that it's not what you've sacrificed, but whom.

It was when you saw William in the crowd tonight, surrounded by peers, teammates and countless beautiful women, the pit in your stomach formed.  You weren't prepared to see him and God, he looked better than anyone should ever be allowed to.

The pit grew as you saw him singing along to the songs sung by your voice.

It grew even more as you saw his eyes fixed on you perform alongside some NHL players and other hockey notables in attendance who came up on stage to sing their favourite songs with you - clearly fueled by the liquid courage that was in abundance at the event.

The pit became virtually unbearable as you saw him laughing and dancing with a beautiful girl that was not looking like anything plutonic.  At least not in the way she was clinging onto him.

It was no small feat to get through the rest of the night, performing and interacting with the crowd as effortlessly as you did.  Trying not to focus on the thought of him being close enough to breathe the same air as you.  If you glanced his way, you forced yourself to dismiss the idea that he was often stealing glances back at you, or the notion that perhaps he might still want you as much as you clearly still wanted him. You became a master at suppressing your feelings in the past and tonight was no exception.

It had been almost two years since you last saw or heard from William.  

At the start of September of 2019, you and William found yourselves yet again in a familiar place in life; William beginning another hockey season, single, after he and his girlfriend had parted ways during the summer and you returning to your home town of Toronto to visit loved-ones after a summer of festival performances and travelling.  

Your calendar was full with invitations to many high profile events in the city and your attendance always drew quite a crowd. As usual, you were attending all of the events alone which seemed to be mercilessly pointed out by every entertainment news correspondent that lined the red carpet.  William would catch a glimpse of you on TV as they showed you arriving at a film festival party or an exclusive restaurant, and soon thereafter, you'd receive a notification from him on your phone.

That is how it always started; a few sweet and flirty text messages, then a couple of phone calls and not long after, you and William would be tangled in the sheets of either your luxurious Toronto home or at his hi-rise condo that boasted an incredible view of the city.  It was such a natural and easy existence when you were together.  As overly sugary as it might sound to most, your insides felt like there were beams of sunshine that would radiate through your body from the sheer sight of him.  Somehow, you always felt calm and at peace in his presence.

Simply put, it always felt incredible spending time with him and it always brought out the best of you.  You felt happy and it was very apparent William felt that way too.

However, true to the pattern of the past few years, you would need to leave again, having to depart mid-way through October for an unknown period of time.  You had several performances booked throughout Europe, Asia, and Australia followed by more exclusive appearances for royalty and dignitaries around the world.  Leaving William throughout the years under these same circumstances only became increasingly difficult, leaving you both heart-sick for a time afterward.  Eventually you both would bounce back and resume life without too many broken-hearted thoughts about each other swirling around in your heads.  

You and he had often discussed trying a long-distance relationship, only for you to hold firm on your initial refusal.  You had always maintained it was not fair to him to have no say or input on when you could see one another.  You felt it was too much to ask someone as young as him to have to stand by and watch everyone around him celebrate with their significant others, or be consoled by them, while he has to go it alone.  He deserved to be in a relationship where both people were utterly devoted to one another; you desperately wanted to be that person but your contract obligations just kept stacking up against you and those circumstances were out of your control.

Once you had returned to London, sitting alone in the new opulent townhome you had just bought in Knightsbridge, you had made the decision on a dreary November evening in 2019, that it was time you fought for what you wanted; the man you had fallen in love with.  

Calculating the time difference, it was nearing dinner time in Toronto on William’s day off.  Barely able to contain your excitement, you sent William a text asking him to call you.  It wasn't long before your phone rang and the familiar picture of his jersey appeared on the screen.  Your excitement quickly dissipated once you answered; it was clear from his low, soft tone that this call was not going to be a happy one.  

Before even getting to your reason for wanting to talk, you had asked if he was ok.  He paused for a torturously long period of time and said he was not.  He explained that it had become too much for him after these past few years to be on this rollercoaster of being lovers (mostly secret lovers at that), for such short moments in time, only to have to watch you leave again and again and never being certain when you’d return.  He wanted to be able to give all of himself to another and up until that point, he had quietly kept a part of his heart solely for you.  To pour salt into an open wound, he finally added that the level of celebrity you had reached was not something he felt he could handle as the pressure of being inevitably thrust into an even bigger spotlight is not what he wanted in a relationship. 

An extreme ache travelled through your body.  You felt blindsided.  Perhaps it wasn't for the reasons that William rhymed off for wanting to essentially sever ties with you, but more that you had finally succumbed to your deep feelings of love for him and now it was too late.  Your heart completely shattered from his words as the visions of your future with him disintegrated into nothingness. 

William quietly apologized, his voice barely above a whisper. He said he had to go and hung up, never giving your brain a chance to catch up or for your voice to speak.

Once the call ended, the friendship you had with him ended.  In your mind, he became an apparition - nothing more than a figment of your imagination.  

The many memories that you had of the two of you together became too much to bear and with that, you clicked into total self-preservation mode.  You no longer followed him or his siblings on any social platform.  Aside from a select few, you limited your interactions with the Maple Leafs, many of whom you had become friends with over the years along with their significant others.  You wouldn’t watch game highlights or check scores - you untethered yourself from anything to do with William.

It was not long after that painful conversation that you heard William and a previous on-again/off-again girlfriend were back together.  It was exactly what you expected, which was of little comfort.  The heartache you felt was profound and rather than giving yourself time to grieve or heal or whatever you needed to do, you allowed the loss of his existence in your life to harden you.  Save from your close friendships and your family, you no longer cared about the love aspect of a normal human life.  

Between rehearsals for your tour, you threw yourself into writing music; sitting for hours on end in your state of the art recording studio on the lower level of your home. Up until that point, you had a massive catalogue of songs that, at the very least, uplifted people.  The message of your songs had now transitioned to loss.  The record execs salivated with each song you presented - dollar bills in their eyes  given the huge music market for words rife with longing and regret.  Even the accompanying music you created held the same vibe; music that would make the hardest person want to weep.  As time went on, your songs were released under the guise of other popular singers.  The releases were wildly successful which further catapulted your reputation into the stratosphere, being deemed as one of the most talented songwriters in current time.  With all the notoriety, you found it difficult to embrace the new heights in popularity and monetary gain, given that it was all based on the inner turmoil of someone that felt as broken as you did.

There was a domino effect with shutting down the pleasure side of life; your once effervescent personality was replaced with forced smiles and you were noticeably disengaged in conversation.  The change in your demeanour didn’t go unnoticed with your circle of friends. Forever begging you to come out before you departed on the first leg of your tour, your friends tried to rally around you, nearly breaking down the double doors to your home to let them in.  

Even the rare times you relented and allowed them to drag you to all the exclusive clubs that dotted London’s Soho and other districts close by, you ended up drinking little and leaving early.  

Despite how you felt, you always looked exquisite, dressing in elegant attire that perfectly accentuated your shapely figure, and hair and makeup that were magazine worthy.  Other than writing and recording music, dressing up was one of the few things that surprisingly made you feel better, even if it was for a fleeting moment.  

The good feelings were often chased away as a result of the jeers and catcalling which inevitably started from the snobby and ill-mannered men that occupied space at each club.  What these men had in money, from their aristocratic lineage or otherwise, they lacked in every trait you valued.  If it didn’t make you feel ill first, it made you seethe with rage with their greasy, vulgar, drunken comments about what they would do to you if they got you alone.  After berating them for their tastelessness, and saying apologetic goodbyes to your friends, you would leave to go home.  The rage that coursed through your body would then dial down to frustration which would then lead to a pit of sadness.  

Washing the night off in your oversized bathtub, you started to sob.  Tears streamed down your face forming tributaries along your cheeks to your jawline before dissolving in the hot bath water.  You missed William totally and completely.  His friendship.  His laugh.  His face.  His touch. The way he felt under you or on top of you.  The way he looked so disheveled when he’d first wake up.  The taste of his tongue against yours. When he teased you of how badly you suck at every video game you tried.  The list of things you missed about William felt endless.  You were certain, more than ever now, if you were to ever try to love again, you would have to settle for someone that was a distant second to him.  That thought broke you even more.   

As the days leading to the end of 2019 grew shorter, and weather more miserable, your mood and thoughts about William changed, seemingly adopting the climate that surrounded you.  You started to convince yourself that perhaps the feelings you and he shared weren’t really real; perhaps he had been wheeling you since you met.  Your thoughts continued to darken when you realized you were likely nothing more to him than just a convenience when he was in between relationships; he used you like a disposable girlfriend…once you would leave for your next project, he was totally free to move on to someone else.  For all you knew, maybe you were amongst a string of girls he was wheeling.  It would not be unheard of.

More and more you pieced the puzzle of your own design together. He couldn’t have loved you -  even though he admitted that he did when you were in his arms last.  Once you had whispered the same to him, it was like floodgates opening with the words “I love you” that flowed effortlessly between you.  You told each other every chance you had during that last blip of time together.  

You resumed the previous thought.  He couldn’t have loved you to only turn around and cut you off the way he did, a mere month later.  

Once the tour began, the moment came when you all but discarded the loving feelings you once had for William and forced out the amazing memories.  You continued to captivate audiences around the world with your powerful songs and incredible voice. Images and videos of you being celebrated for your beauty and elegance were in continuous rotation on every social media platform.  Leading up to award season, your name was on repeat for several music award nominations. You graced a number of red carpet events and attended after parties, always looking ravishing as you engaged in chats with interviewers and stopped to take pictures with other celebrities and onlookers.

Your mind snapped back to reality as the SUV pulled up to and through the security gate of your sprawling Toronto home.  You thanked the driver and Evelyn politely asked him to wait for her, and you and Evelyn disappeared into the house.

You stood in the front foyer for a moment, soaking in the fact that this is where you’ll be hanging your hat, both literally and figuratively, until you decide where you truly want to be.  As beautiful of a house as you had here in this city, you knew it would take a lot more than an exquisite interior to make it feel like a home.  All you wanted was for your home to be filled with love and laughter and family and friends.  

“Why don’t you just head straight to bed…you look like you’re ready to collapse” Evelyn said, picking up your small suitcase and walking toward your master bedroom on the main floor.  

You ran your hands gently over your face, trying to stimulate enough alertness to respond.

“Very good idea…God, I’m just beyond.  I think I may end up sleeping for 2 days straight” you said. 

The adrenaline that surges through your body during your performances is a feeling like no other, but you knew the downside to that was utter exhaustion after the fact. 

The welcome sight of your large California King bed took hold, and you immediately stripped down to your bra and panties, and slipped between the crisp cotton sheets, pulling the overstuffed duvet up over your shoulders.  Evelyn continued bringing in a few more of your belongings into the bedroom, all the while, you could already feel yourself sinking into the mattress and the urge to sleep was taking hold.

“Thank you Evelyn…for everything.  I don’t know what it’s going to be like not to see you almost every day”.  Your eyes welled up with tears, your throat tight with emotion.  

“I’m going to LA, not Mars…all you need to do is call.  You just remember - we made an incredible team, and that was just as much you as it was me.  Evelyn paused.  “You have been such a gift to my life.”  and she leaned over to kiss the top of your head.    

“Call me soon and let me know how it’s going with your new act” you yawned, and started to drift off.

“Do you want me to turn your phone off?” Knowing the answer already, she didn’t wait for a response….you had fallen asleep already anyway.

Evelyn grabs your phone from the charger and sees text notifications on the lock screen.

Knowing your passcode, she bypasses the biometric prompt and the home screen appears.

Evelyn realized your phone had been on do not disturb for quite some time.  She taps the message icon and sees a familiar name as the sender.

The first text is short, sent earlier that night.

Hey - it’s William Hoping to get a chance to talk when you have a min

Then there’s a second text sent a little while after the first:

Are you still here?

Then lastly:

K - well.  I hope you’re staying in TO for a bit.  Would like to see you.

Evelyn looks over at you, sound asleep, and considers the options.

Ignore the messages, turn off your phone and leave it for you to decide on how to handle it once you’ve got some rest.

Text William back on your behalf to at least let him know you’re home and to try back in a day or two

Wake you up to show you the messages.

Given your current peaceful resting state, and knowing you like virtually no other, Evelyn is aware that waking you up now would only unleash a rabid and maniacal beast - and she wanted no part in that.

Just as she considers shutting the phone off, the words “Incoming Call” appear with “Ny88” underneath.

Evelyn stares at the caller for a moment and then picks up.  

“Hello, Y/N’s phone”

“Um - Hi…this is William, a friend of Y/N.  I was trying to get a hold of her for a couple of hours…I was just, uh…worried”.  William’s voice trails off

“Hi William, it’s Evelyn…not sure if you remember me; we met a few years ago.  Y/N’s back home now - sorry, she had her phone on do not disturb. Not sure why.” Evelyn confesses.  “But she was knackered and is asleep now….I think you know the drill with her after she comes off after a concert” Evelyn laughs.

“Oh, right - yes…hey Evelyn.  Yeah - I remember…she’s down for the count afterwards” William chuckles.  “Well, I was hoping to bump into her tonight after the show but it seems like she was surrounded the entire time.” 

Evelyn paused, unsure of exactly how much she should convey to William.

“I know it’s been awhile; she would have liked to have seen you, I’m sure.”

There was further silence, and remembering she had a flight to catch, Evelyn tried to speed up the conversation.  “Do you want me to leave her a message for her to call you when she wakes up?

“Fuck…that'll be days” William muttered under his breath, suddenly realizing Evelyn may have heard.  “Sorry…shit…scratch that, '' he said nervously.  "I…I just really was hoping to see her or talk with her tonight, but I guess that's not possible" he said, defeated.

Evelyn looks down at you sleeping.  She recalls the car ride home, you flushed and wrought with emotion as the memories you suppressed of William came flooding back.  She watched you during the intermissions of tonight's performance hiding away in the dressing area, trying to keep your shit together after seeing William in the crowd.  She had seen you at your highest highs over the years when you and William were able to spend time together and at your lowest low after he ended it. 

You finally have the time now, she thought - so it's go time…now or fucking never.

"I've got to catch a flight, so I'm leaving straight away.  If I give you the security codes to get in, I can trust you that she'll be in good hands, right William?" Evelyn paused before finishing with "Because so help me God William, if I hear of anything to the contrary, you do not want to see my other side."

“I’m leaving now” William says with a rushed tone and hangs up before Evelyn has a chance to respond.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #nhl imagine #hockey fic #rock star #musician #right person wrong time #angst #fanfic #nhl fanfiction

[whitexwolfxx310]

Meeting the Big Bad (White) Wolf

Pairing:Bucky x femalereader

Summary: After finishing college you are accepted into an internship program at the Avengers Compound to help your new patient into the civilian world. But much to your surprise, your first and currently only, patient is none other than James Buchanan Barnes.

Warnings: Death, possible triggering, military life, and cursing (Maybe 1 or 2 times in this post) Y/N.

Words: 2.9k

Masterlist

Being an Army brat is what inspired you to go to school and help adjust Veteran's back into civilian life. Moving from place to place, never being able to truly establish yourself or relationships with anyone due to the impending doom of you, or them, leaving. Another thought that was always front and center in anyone’s mind linked to the military, was death. At first it’s heartbreaking. You see families and other soldiers crumble due to a fallen comrade. But then one day, it’s like a switch flips, and it becomes a part of life that you learn to accept, no matter how hard of a loss. Being a soldier, everyone around you develops a hard, and sometimes impenetrable, exterior (and interior). 

My father, Colonel Castle, retired from the military after 20+ years of active duty with the 107th Infantry. He and my mom moved to a beautiful, secluded home with a lot of wide open space in upstate New York so that we were still close to the place that we considered ‘home’. My dad said he knew that it was meant for him when he realized how quiet it was. I guess spending half of your life fighting in war, silence is welcome over explosions and screams of dying people. 

My mom was the forever adored and perfect Army wife. She was always by my fathers side for award ceremonies, promotions, led the FRG (Family Readiness Group) in the battalion. My parents of course supported my older brother Luke when he decided to follow in the Colonels footsteps (and my grandfathers) when he enlisted into the 107th right out of high school. He spent a total of 7 years in the military. We didn’t see him much due to where he was assigned, training for airborne school, and 3 tours overseas. 

It happened to be the day I finished my last final in my final semester before getting my masters. I practically skipped my way back to the dorms where my room was already packed and I was so much looking forward to going to my parents home upstate to await my results and see where I got placed for an internship. It was a beautiful day in the beginning of June. The sun was shining so bright and the air was warm, but not humid. After settling into the guest bedroom, I took out a novel that I have been dying to read instead of textbooks. I sat in a wooden rocking chair on the wrap around porch with my book, waiting for my parents to get home. (Mom was always great in the sense of preparing for someone’s arrival. Getting food, snacks, and ingredients to make your favorite dinners. But of course, she was the most perfect model wife and mother). My father no doubt went with her to the store because now he was finally able to have the time to enjoy the little things, even as small as going to the local grocery store. 

I’m not sure how long I was reading for, but I got about 8 chapters into my book when I heard a car in the distance. I immediately jumped up in anticipation to greet my parents. I could see the dust being kicked up from the tires of the vehicle down the long driveway. But much to my surprise, it wasn’t my parents. Instead, it was a large, black Chevy Tahoe and my heart sank. I’ve seen this SUV many times, and it never came with good news. Once the car was parked in front of the house, a man dressed in his olive green uniform got out of the SUV.

Oh no... I thought to myself. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, clenched my teeth and slowly walked down the steps to meet him.

“Ma’am. I’m Sergeant Finn, here on behalf of the 107th Infantry Division”

I nodded my head in understanding. But that was all that I could muster. 

“Are you kin to Staff Sergeant Lucas William Castle?” 

Here we go. “Yes.” The volume was barely audible. “I-I’m....his sister, y/n.”

Sergeant Finn takes a deep breath and looks straight into your eyes. “I regret to inform you that Sergeant First Class Castle has been killed in action.”

Another olive green uniformed man steps out from behind the Black Tahoe with a triangle box. He briskly starts walking toward you while Sgt, Finn continues speaking of condolences and the details of how, when, where, etc. But it all sounds drowned out, like you’re underwater. You’re not sure how long the one-sided conversation went on with the two men until you realized the heavy weight in your hands from your older brothers flag and the dust being kicked up from the dirt road as they left. 

It’s just me now. Just me.

Your life has been at a standstill since you and your family learned the news about Luke. You’ve slept most of the days away, barely coming out of the guest room to socialize, even with your own parents. There’s a piece of you that feels guilty, since you are their only remaining child and yet you can’t bring yourself to talk to your parents, to your friends, even acknowledge that Lucas’ death is real. 

Forcing yourself out of bed to take a shower is the big accomplishment of the week. It’s really the only thing you look forward to anymore, since everything else has gotten put on hold (from your own doing). You stare at yourself in the mirror as it starts to fog from the hot water running. The person looking back is someone that you don’t recognize. Poking at the dark bags under your eyes, seeing how dry your skin is and how dull your hair looks. A deep sigh escapes from your chest as you undress to stand naked and vulnerable in the almost unbearable hot water. You stand there in hopes that the water will wash away not just the grime, but the depression and the grief as well. 

Feeling slightly better after you shaved, exfoliated and scrubbed, you head back into the guest room to get into a clean pair of comfy clothes. When you walk in you notice something on the bed; A manilla envelope addressed to you. It instantly peaked your curiosity so you sit on the bed and start inspecting it. In the upper right hand corner in big, bold letters read the return address: Stark Industries.

Up until this point you had forgotten the internship you had applied for in your last year of school. It can’t be.... you think to yourself. There is no way I actually got the position, the one where only a single student was chosen to work at the Avengers Compound.

The letter inside the envelope reads:

Dear (y/n),

We are writing this letter to say Congratulations, you have been accepted into the paid internship program working with Earth’s mightiest heroes. You have the opportunity to help make the world a better place by dedicating your time to encourage their well-being, mental health, and expand their abilities. If you choose to accept and seize this moment, we are very much looking forward to working with you. The details below contain your start date, dress code, directions and information on where to go within the compound to get your ID and clearance. We look forward to hearing from you! If you have any questions, please call me directly at (000-000-0000).

Thank you, 

Pepper Potts

Shocked is an understatement. You quickly throw on a band t-shirt and sweatpants before running out into the living room waving the letter and jumping up and down to your parents. You’re unable to even get a word out. Both your mom and dad get up off of the couch and take the letter. Together they read it aloud and you eagerly wait for them to realize just what this exactly means. They look up smiling widely and meet your beaming face. Simultaneously you all start cheering and jumping up and down. This is the first shred of good news your family has received in almost a year. 

“My dream job!” You say, the most enthusiastically you have been in what seems like forever. 

“Oh honey, we are so proud of you!” Mom says as she hugs you tightly. Your father comes up behind your mother and wraps his arms around you both. A sigh of relief comes unanimously.

You have to follow the directions from your acceptance letter to a T because you cannot use Maps in your phone to get there. But of course, can’t make the whereabouts known. It isn’t hard to tell when you have arrived. The runways for jets, collection of high end cars, or just the huge building with the giant ‘A’ on it might be an indication that you’re in the right place. 

After parking your car, you flip down the visor to take one last look at yourself before heading in. It’s the first time you’ve worn make up in months, worn clothes other than sweats, and styled your hair. You run your fingers through your long, wavy brown hair to help blend the curls; Then you apply one more layer of gloss to your lips and take a deep breath. You got this, you encourage yourself. 

Walking up to the building is even more intimidating than driving to the parking garage. The entrance way is made up of huge impact proof doors. As you approach, they automatically open and there to greet you is none other than the beautiful red headed Mrs. Potts. 

“Hi! You must be (y/n)! I’m so excited to finally meet you! You had quite the impressive application, even Tony said so!” 

Tony? As in Stark? You swallow your nervousness down at the thought.

“Hi! Wow, Mrs. Potts! Thank you-”

“Please, call me Pepper.” She smiles sweetly. You let out a slightly nervous laugh

“Pepper. Thank you again so much for the opportunity. I’ve been dreaming about this for as long as I can remember!” 

Pepper hands you a black leather binder. “Well then,” She says excitedly “Let’s get you right into it!” 

You follow the pair of heel clicking long legs and take in the astonishing view. There are computers everywhere, cameras in every corner, different suits from different Avengers through time on display in the walls. Just when you think you have seen it all, the next thing takes your breath away. 

Mrs. Potts takes you to security for your picture, ID badge, fingerprints, a company card and clearance. It takes all of two minutes for everything to come back. Pepper smiles “Well it looks like you’re not a convicted felon.” She laughs “Either way, I’m sure one or two are hanging around here somewhere!” She smirks and then let’s out a small laugh. “Let me show you to your office, it’s on the 5th floor.” 

She takes you up to the fifth floor and your office if the second door on the right hand side. You walk in, noticing just how much sunlight and the amount of space that you have. It’s taking everything you have for your jaw to not drop on the floor. 

“Your desktop is all set up. Here is your first case file-” Pepper tsks through the stack of papers she is lugging around. “Ah! Here you go. Dr. Banner made some notations that he thought might be helpful from his own experiences. This is going to be you’re only case right now since it’s um..” She hesitates, but recollects herself and smiles through it. “Well it will keep you busy!” Pepper smiles as she hands over the file. “Well I’ll leave you to get settled in then!” She starts to walk out of your office but abruptly stops and turns around “Oh, and he likes to be early, just thought you should know!” She says extremely bubbly, just like everything else. You laugh to yourself as you sit down behind your desk for the first time, placing the file down in front of you. 

My office....MY office. Wow. 

You take in a deep breath and borderline almost pinch yourself to make sure this is real. You giddily scoot your chair forward, put your purse in one of your desk drawers and open the case file. 

You freeze. All of the air just got completely sucked out of the room. The first thing you see is an old black and white picture of a handsome man smiling as he swears into the Army. But the name, the name is what nearly makes your heart stop. James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. 

Your eyes race through the file, reading as much as you can as quickly as you can. The clock on the wall is practically screaming the time as his session with you seems to be racing towards you. 

‘He likes to be early...’ Fuck. 

As quickly as you can, you get up and run to the door, making sure it’s open for him to feel welcome. Especially for his first session with you. Hurrying back to your desk, you once again go nose deep into Barnes’ file. You scan over his time served in the military, being experimented on, becoming a deadly assassin for Hydra, coming back after 5 years after Thanos, working diligently in Wakanda to undo mind control, and now trying to blend into society and living with the things he’s done and has to live with. You truly feel sorry for all that he has been through. While they cannot be compared on the same level, you both have experienced far more death in your lives than anyone should have to. 

Looking up at the clock one last time to see how much time you have left before your first interaction with James, you are startled to already find him sitting on the couch across the room facing you. He was so stealth like that you didn’t even notice he came in.

“Oh! Sergeant Barnes! I’m so sorry I didn’t even hear you come in.”

He stands up, so you mimic his movement to go forward thinking he was going to introduce himself. You feel like a complete idiot when he hands you a piece of paper instead of shaking hands. He avoids making eye contact at all. 

“When we’re done here I need you to sign this saying I was here or whatever.” 

Very quick to the point I see.

You take the sheet of paper that was handed to you and set it down on your desk as you retreat back to your chair. Although he’s barely said anything, you’re intimidated by him. Which of course you cannot let on. But at the same time, this does not seem like the man who used to be on the news non-stop. While his face was as solid as stone, you noticed the shorter hair, the fact that he was still muscular but more lean and how he in completely covered from the neck down in all black, including a black leather jacket and gloves to match.

“Yes of course. My name is y/n, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes.” You say in a calm tone to make it a point to not sound aggressive. 

“Yeah...” He replies, looking out the window into the trees. “And it’s Bucky.” He spat back. 

“Sorry, I apologize. Bucky it is then.” 

The silent treatment is making this more awkward. You clear your throat.

“So Bucky, how are you adjusting to civilian life?”

Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes at your question. 

“How well do you think?” 

Well this is going to be interesting...

“That boring after so many years of constantly going from fight after fight, huh?” 

He actually glances over. Not making eye contact, but actually looked in your general direction. 

“I guess you could say that.” He says, agreeing. You keep trying to probe but not push too hard.

“Add on top of that having to conform to an entirely new society.” 

This time he lets it go completely unanswered. 

“Well, I know that you could possibly have everything that you need here at the Compound, but I just want you to know that I am here. My door is always open if you want to talk or if you need anything. I also live relatively close by so...” You grab a post it note and write down your number. “You can call or text me anytime, I’ll be readily available.”

“Thanks.” Short, sweet and to the point. 

You get up from your desk, walking over to Bucky and handing him the post it with your number. You don’t get too close, enough to extend your arm and hand him the paper.

“I need your signature.” He says coldly. 

“Right!” You scramble to your desk, finding a pen and writing the date of your session along with your signature. “Here you go...” You say, handing him the paper. He stands up and reaches for the paper and he makes eye contact with you for the first time. 

“Thanks” He says again.

“It was nice meeting you, James” You say encouragingly. “I’ll see you the same time tomorrow.”  

“Thanks.” He said and walked out. 

We’ve got a lot of work to do... We definitely have a long road ahead of us.

Next part

#fanfic #buckybarnes whitewolf wintersoldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes

[summermoonshine]

It was late August ;

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader.

Click HERE for the AO3 version. Synopsis: the tale of a summer... and its end. Content: angst; romantic; bit of fluff; slice of life; GhostxReader; Note: I cried, bye.

It was late August ;

But before that, it was a peaceful May night that turned into June when your eyes met for the first time, and with June came the bright stars, the clean skies, the colourful flowers, the heat that turned into warmth on his torn and tattooed skin, the fresh nocturnal wind and birds chirping a less harsh dawn than the winter one.

A dawn shared, after so many years, with someone by his side.

His shoulder dropping its weight lightly on yours, and that crisp, new feeling of possibility.

In mid-June his first laugh; a real laugh, not a smile, not a smirk: a sincere laugh that made his eyes shape like two crescents.

Your heart skipped the first of many more beats, and when your hands found each other for the first time – when you two were sitting on the hood of his SUV looking at the lights of the sleeping city – you knew not to have been born by chance, and that you didn't want to spend that night alone.

After that one, many others followed.

Your clasped hands were enough, though; there was no need for anything else if you had each other.

His insomnia, always present, had become almost a gift: your profile illuminated by the first summer moon, your hair ruffled by the silk pillowcase, your little kissable nose; his arms around your little body.

''Get away from me, doll. There's still time'' - he whispered in the crook of your neck at the end of June.

Each night, every night; softly.

''Go, get away from me. You know I don't deserve you.'' He held you tight, kissed your round cheeks, full of life and sweet as juicy peaches.

''Run away, hurry, I don't have to see you…” He used to say.

“But how, how can I do it if – even if I wish you would leave me – I don't want to lose you?'', and he held you tight and close again, like no one had ever done, kissing your back.

Again, again, again.

''I'm not what you believe me to be, forgive me, doll. I didn't fall from the sky: I re-emerged from the underworld. I'm only capable of losing the ones I love the most'' – he said one night in mid-July.

His perfume, his big body curled up and sweaty stuck to yours, so gentle, healthy and clean compared to his, full of scars, cuts, history: was he sobbing?

Your long, black eyelashes, your big eyes, your relaxed face.

They were the only things that kept alive that man who had been believed dead for years, perhaps since ever, during these months.

Your delicate hands, so tiny, soft – healings, were saving him with every touch of yours.

"Touch me only with your eyes" he had whispered one evening on your doorstep with his camo still on and the tiredness of a day spent in the barracks written in the eyes, but you knew well that what he meant was something else.

So your sweet and full lips had touched his above the mask fabric and it had slipped away, his shampoo-scented dark blond curls had welcomed your hands as if it were natural, and his skin, when you began to taste it in every corner of his body, had become your favourite flavour in this universe.

"I only know how to deceive, make people suffer and make them cry. Stop before it's too late, doll", but you wanted him; and he wanted you.

You knew it and he knew it too.

That strong pain in the centre of his chest suggested it to him whenever he looked at you, whenever he loved you at night, between the creaks of an old creaky bed and a distant, barely lit, strawberry and mint scented candle; lit just like that small - but still alive - flame that lit up the big broken heart of that so big, so sad, but so damn good man for, to and with you.

The first nights of August were a continuous fire.

And there was no sun that could compare with what you and he had created: you were explosive.

Your lips spoke a sweeter and warmer tongue; the pain you didn't know was now infinite pleasure, and his kisses cured everything you thought your body couldn't handle - but in the end you always made it, and this ending was the most delicious ever. Your moans were the fuel of that tireless man and his coaxing sweet, pillow talk.

“I have no eyes, no heart for anyone. None but you, you…” and a warm tear ran down his cheeks and settled on your abdomen. He remained embraced by your hips, your pale hands in his now freshly buzzed hair for the upcoming mission.

It was almost, but his 100 kg resting on your lap reminded you that it wasn't time yet, that it wasn't the time yet, that he was still talking to you.

Because yes, he talked, he always used to talk to you at night. He thought you were asleep, but you were not.

But how? How do you do such a thing? What do you say back and why? The sunlight hardened him, pushed him away from you; the night joined your paths and his heart seemed able to beat, to come back to life. And so you had always kept silence in those moments just to hear his voice, even though you were the real chatterbox - his favourite one. A real relentless talker, always with something to say and that bright smile ready to pain his heart.

He, collector of your speeches, your words, your fears, weighed the words as if they were dangerous, but how many times would he have wanted to tell you that you were his truth, his tranquillity and his cure; that you were saving him, that there was only you, that he had placed his destiny in your hands; because he knew it would all end - that it would have to end, that he had to save you, that all this was an illusion, a delirium, the most difficult torture he would have had to face at the moment of saying goodbye, because he knew he didn't have much time left in his favour.

“Before time runs out, I want you to know that you’re the love of my life. I owe you this, I owe you everything, my doll’’ –

Simon would have wanted to tell you this each and every time that you were next to him, that you were away from him, that you crossed his mind, that he smelt your smell or just imagined it, but nothing like that had ever crossed his lips.

Too hardened as he was by the life itself, he did not feel worthy to speak of love, nor to be worthy of being loved.

It was late August when you, the girl with her head on the moon and up in the clouds, were hit by the biggest pain bomb you've ever experienced and which - you were sure - you would never get over.

Silence had stolen all your words, and that strawberry and mint candle went out at the exact moment in which the house intercom had rung and that man in a uniform, who was not YOUR man in uniform, had handed you the box that now – at this precise moment – you have in front of you, on the low wooden table in the living room crafted by none other than the man you’ve been missing for the past 3 weeks; the table where you lean as if under anaesthesia in search of support; your heavy eyes wear out at the sight of those objects rigorously placed next to each other, as if by keeping them close you could piece together a puzzle whose pieces are burning in front of you.

A crumpled, bloodstained envelope.

Inside of it: a small photo of you and a yellowed sheet: just a couple of short sentences written on it.

On the table, next to this letter-like hurtful bomb, a plastic bag with a metal plate with some letters engraved on it: a military dog tags.

''Lieutenant Simon Riley ''Ghost'', RH+, 237509, Unknown, other''.

You re-read the sentences written in black ink on the blood-stained sheet of the letter: the endearing handwriting that you loved so much and that will never again be able to hatch words, and yet another hot, stinging tear scratches your face and breaks your soul into dust:

"I know you've always been awake. I will come back to hug you every night. I promise, doll.

I am sorry, thank you and��� I love you.

Yours forever,

Simon."

It was late August when silence devoured your life, when the wind turned cold and life became a distant diary memory;

It was late August when his heart stopped beating – and so did yours.

It was just late August…

🥀

#cod mwiii #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x gender neutral reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #cod x gn!reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty fanart #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod ghost #mw2 #cod fic #cod fandom #writing prompt

[sequinsmile-x]

On the Radio

She could no longer ignore it after New York. She'd fallen in love with him.

AKA - the one where being friends with benefits no longer works for either of them

-x-

Hi friends,

This is an ever so slightly belated birthday present for my bestie @hancydrewfan! I love you very much, and I am endlessly grateful for your friendship, the way you love me and my cat and the way you scream at me when I put our favourite idiots through things <3

I hope you had a lovely day and that this was worth the wait.

-x-

Words: 5.1k (I got carried away what's new)

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She was furious at him. 

It was a type of anger she hadn’t felt towards him since the early days, back when he didn’t trust her and made it clear. His own irritation directed towards her barely hidden, written all over his face in a way that had made long-buried defiance from her teenage years spark in her gut. They’d moved on since then, shifting from mutual dislike into colleagues who trusted each other, to unlikely friends. 

It was only after Penelope was shot that they shifted into something more. A night together born out of desperation, of the life-affirming pleasure they both needed to feel after their friend almost died. They’d avoided each other for a couple of days afterwards, unable to look at each in the eye without thinking of flashes of those stolen hours together, marks of their passion still tattooed into each other's skin. 

Then it happened again. And again. They agreed it couldn’t be more than sex, that neither of them wanted, or were in the place for anything else. He had only just separated from Haley, a pale line of skin on his ring finger, and Emily simply didn’t want to be in a relationship. The danger of her last one, the smell of smoke and whiskey alone enough to make her dream of icy blue eyes, still lingering at the edge of everything she did. 

For a while, she convinced herself that it could just be sex. Incredible, fantastic, sex, but nothing more. There were moments that she could convince herself to ignore. Those first few seconds in the morning when she’d wake up pressed up against him, his skin warm and comforting, his embrace safer than anything she’d known in years. She’d push past it, even though she was sure she could see something spark in his eyes when he’d press a kiss to her forehead before he got out of bed. Something she wanted to believe was affection. 

She could no longer ignore it after New York. Her chest tight as she watched the footage of him being thrown by the explosion of the SUV, feelings she’d been ignoring for weeks overwhelming her. She didn’t relax until she saw he was ok, that he’d walked away with relatively minor injuries. Despite her reservations about it, the voice in her head screaming that it was a bad idea, she carries on. She offers to drive home with him on the next case after it became clear he never should have flown anywhere in the first place. When he fucks her at the motel they stop off at, more desperation in his touch than there had been any other time before, she realises she’s done exactly what she told herself she wouldn’t when they started this.

She’d fallen in love with him. 

Emily told herself that they’d talk about it, half convinced that he must feel the same way too. She was good enough at her job to see it, to see how he would look at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. How he would touch her when he thought she was asleep, his fingers trailing up and down her back, his touch soft but his callouses rough against the notches of her spin. 

There wasn’t a chance to talk about it before Colorado. He’d sent her off with a wink and a kiss after she joked he was shipping her off so she was out of the way. She’d seen the look on his face as she stumbled out of the compound, her feet unsteady as her entire body ached. He hadn’t covered it quickly enough, pure relief flashing in his eyes clear for her to see even with the distance between them. 

He’d looked after her that night. Helped her wash the smell of smoke from her hair and sat up behind her all night so she’d get some decent sleep, her ribs too painful to lie down. She’d taken some strong painkillers that night, encouraged to do so by Aaron before they got into bed, and everything except the way he held her, his lips against her temple, fuzzy and unclear. 

Everything changed after that. 

He started to pull away, no longer able to make time for their nights together and partnering her with anyone on the team but him on cases. It hurt more than she cared to admit even to herself, and she couldn’t understand what happened, why he’d gone from looking after her so intently to ignoring her. It was out of character, she knew he wasn’t a callous man, that he was actually much softer than she would have ever guessed. 

She’s able to do what she’d always done. She pushes it down and pretends that it doesn’t bother her, putting him and her feelings for him into a little box. And it works.

Until he pairs them together to go to interview a prisoner in Ohio. 

They drive there, the journey to the prison tense, the air thick between them as neither of them addresses the issues hanging between them. She can feel him watching her as she stares out the window, wilfully ignoring him as much as she can, and she has to stop herself from saying something she’s sure she’d later regret. 

She plays with the radio, constantly switching channels just to have something to do, occasionally commenting on how terrible some of the music is, making a point of ensuring she gets in a dig about The Beatles as she does so. 

“Will you stop that?” He practically barks at her as she once again changes the channel, the only words he’d said since they got in the car. It makes her hand freeze as she reaches out for the dial, and she frowns at him.

“Stop what?” She asks defiantly, raising her eyebrow at him.

“Being so…” he drifts off, and she watches as he tries to figure out what to say, all of the different options clear as they flick across his face, “Interesting.”

Of all the things he could have said, she wasn’t expecting that, and it left her feeling even more unsettled than she had been before. 

She switches off the radio, and the rest of the journey is done in silence. 

The interview at the prison takes longer than they thought, and by the time they leave, it’s clear that they will need to stop overnight. They find a motel to stop off at, and she can feel the tension radiating off of him as they are told there’s only one room left. She cuts over him before he can refuse it, stopping him from suggesting that they move on to the next motel, and she snatches the key from the desk clerk.

As she opens the room and sees there is only one bed she takes a moment to curse the universe, to ask what she’d done to deserve this, but then she moves forward, dumping her bag onto the side of the bed she preferred. 

“I can ask them to bring in a rollaway-”

“Aaron,” she says firmly, cutting him off as she pulls her bag open, her grip on the zip so fierce she’s surprised she doesn’t rip it off, “I know you’re over whatever…this was,” she says pulling her pjyamas and washing bag out of her go-bag, “But as someone who has done things to me that would make a priest blush, I’m sure you can handle sleeping next to me one more night.”

She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, doesn’t even look up at him to see the shock spread across his face, and she walks into the bathroom. 

As soon as the door is locked behind her she sits down on the toilet, her head in her hands as she growls to herself.

“Damn it.”

___

He was in love with her.

He should have known right from the beginning that he wasn’t someone who could handle a ‘friends with benefits’ situation, especially so soon after his marriage had fallen apart. He’d convinced himself that she didn’t feel the same way, that for her it was purely physical, and that made it easier to deal with. Well aware that even though he was in love with her, he couldn’t give her what she deserved. 

It worked, at least he thought it did. He’d lay there and watch her sleep long after she’d drifted off, allowing himself to imagine the impossible - that this could be his life - as he trailed his fingers over her impossibly smooth skin.

It worked, until Colorado. He’d been so worried, so on edge when she was in danger, that he was sure Dave was now suspicious of the two of them, the older man always throwing them curious looks when they so much as interacted. He’d felt nothing but relief as she walked out of the compound, a flash of a thing that disappeared as he saw how she was holding herself and the blood on her shirt. He’d taken her back to his place that night, washing her hair out for her as she complained about the smell of it, her ribs too sore for her to lift her arms to do it herself. 

The bruising, black and blue marks painted across her perfect skin, makes his stomach turn, anger directed towards a man now dead so sharp he wants to find what's left of Cyrus and destroy it. He convinces her to take the painkillers the doctor had given her, heavy-duty pills that, combined with her exhaustion and the lack of food over the previous days, made her a little drowsy. 

He’d sat up in bed and let her rest against him, aware from experience that sitting up to sleep was the best thing you could do for fractured ribs. She rested her head against him, her eyes already drifting shut, and he kissed her forehead, telling her to sleep and that he’d be there. 

She was already halfway there when she said it, words slurred by sleep and painkillers as she breathed them out across his skin. 

“Ok. Love you.”

He hadn’t slept after that, panicked by the fact she loved him back, something he felt he didn’t deserve. He was freshly divorced, he was grumpy and standoffish and everything he knew she could do so much better than. 

It was clear the next morning that she didn’t remember saying it, but he did. The sleepy confession both the best and the worst thing he’d heard in a long time. 

He knows it’s wrong, but he pulls away after that, not sure what to do with the information he couldn’t forget. He tries to put some space between them, to give himself some time to figure out how to handle it in the weeks that follow, and he thinks he’s done the right thing. That letting her go, letting her find someone else, was the best thing he could have done.

He thinks that, right up until the bathroom door in their motel room slams behind her, her words, injected with hurt and anger, still floating in the air around him.

___

She takes longer in the bathroom than necessary. 

She finds herself staring at her reflection in the mirror, her hair damp from the shower, and she blows out a steady breath, her fingers gripping the ceramic of the sink so tightly her knuckles were white. She was frustrated at herself for reacting, for letting him know exactly how angry she was at him. Something about his presence, about being anywhere near him, unravelled her. Her carefully constructed walls crumbling around her as he did nothing but smile at her. 

It was everything she’d spent years telling herself she didn’t need or want, a kind of all-consuming love that she’d always believed didn’t actually exist. And she’d had the smallest taste of it, moments between the two of them during and around their nights together, and now she felt lost without it.  

She takes a deep breath and turns to leave the bathroom, well aware that Aaron would have heard the shower turn off some time ago, that he’d know she was in here hiding from him. 

As she steps out into the bedroom she stops in her tracks, only half surprised to find Aaron sitting on the end of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he waits for her. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, the sight of him dressed casually making her stomach flip as it always does. She clears her throat and he looks up at her, and she shifts her gaze shortly after their eyes meet, her embarrassment for her earlier outburst burning her insides. 

“The bathroom is free.” 

She steps past him, ready to climb into bed and ignore him for the rest of the evening, taking a note out of his book from the last few weeks, but he stops her, his grip firm around her wrist.

“Emily…” he says, drifting off as he stands up, his grip on her arm not relenting as she turns to look at him. He’s not sure what to say. Everything he’s held back for weeks lodged in his throat as the words struggle to escape. She raises her eyebrows at him expectantly, and he knows his window of opportunity to put this right, to explain his choices, “I’m sorry.” 

She scoffs at him, pulling her wrist from his grip and taking a step back from him, needing a little more space, “For what? For fucking me in the first place? Or for just…dropping me the moment you got, what, bored?” 

She knows it’s harsh when she says it, that, no matter how she’s felt the last few weeks, she knows Aaron isn’t a cruel man. His face drops, pain flashing through his eyes, and for a moment she feels guilty. 

“God, Em, no. Of course not,” he implores her, any remaining confidence that he’d been doing the right thing melting away as she steps back again as he steps towards her. He stops himself from stepping forward again, his fists tight at his sides as he fights against the seemingly natural instinct to comfort her. “It’s never been that.” 

“Then what is it?” she asks, throwing her arms up. A part of her is unsure that she wants to know, unsure what the truth would fix, but she’s asked it before she’s even meant to. The motel room they’d found themselves in the stage for the conversation they should have had weeks ago.

He can’t help but trail his eyes down her body as her movement makes her t-shirt rise up, the edge of a large bruise he remembered washing gently after Colorado coming into view. It was faded now, almost gone, a pale yellow that stood out against her even paler skin, no longer the deep purple he’d been picturing for weeks. She spots him looking down and she pulls at the edge of her t-shirt, covering it back up again. He looks up at her and their eyes meet, and he knows he owes her the truth. 

That he owes her everything, really. She’d shown him it was possible for him to love someone again, something he hadn’t thought was possible as his marriage collapsed around him. 

He sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped together in his lap and his jaw tight, “You deserve better than me, sweetheart.” 

The use of the nickname, of the thing he’d only call her in the darkness of one of their bedrooms, makes her stomach flip, and it makes the rest of his statement take a few seconds longer to sink in. She frowns, her brow creased as she sinks onto the bed next to him, leaving space between them. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t react as the bed moves as she joins him.

“What do you mean by that?” she asks, trying her best to avoid sounding judgemental or angry, her confusion overriding anything else. Whatever she thought he was going to say, it certainly hadn’t been that. He doesn’t say anything and he simply carries on looking ahead and not at her. It makes any lingering anger at him disappear, and above anything else, no matter what happened, he was her friend and he was clearly struggling with something. She reaches out, placing her hand on his thigh and squeezing it, flashing him a smile as he looks at her, “Aaron, you can tell me anything, you know that. No matter what’s happened between us.” 

He nods and places his hand over hers, feeling a sense of peace he’s sure he hasn’t earned, at the feel of her skin against his. 

“That night after you were hurt, when we slept sitting up in my bed,” he says, watching as she nods. “You took those painkillers and before you fell asleep you said that you love me.” 

She gasps as her eyes go wide, unable to cover her reaction as she stares at him, her words stolen from her as squeezes her hand. She tries to rack her brain, to remember the parts of that evening that were still fuzzy but she can’t. She chokes on a humourless laugh. “What? I don’t…I don’t remember that.” 

He smiles softly at her, her confusion, and the embarrassment tinging her cheeks, making him fall impossibly more in love with her, “I’m not surprised, those were strong painkillers and you barely ate anything.”

She nods, her brain finally catching up with her, and she clears her throat. “That’s when you started pulling away from me,” she says, smiling tightly at him, “At first…at first I thought it was because you were mad I got hurt.”

It isn’t lost on either of them that she hasn’t denied it, that she hasn’t tried to take the confession back. 

“It was never because of that,” he says, shifting closer, their thighs now touching, “You were so brave and…it was never that,” he sighs and shakes his head, sure he was saying this all wrong, “I’m fresh out of a divorce, Emily. And I’m not good at being in a relationship,” he shakes his head at himself and laughs bitterly, “I’ve known Haley since I was a teenager and I couldn’t even hold that together. You deserve better than me.” 

She presses her lips into a firm line and clenches her teeth. She feels the anger bubble in her stomach again, coming to a boil at the realisation he’d made this decision for both of them, that he’d simply decided to take a step back because she’d unknowingly admitted her feelings to him. She swallows it back down, well aware that it wouldn’t help right now. 

Not if she wanted the outcome she was so desperately hoping for. 

“Isn’t it up to me to decide what I deserve?” she asks, and he looks up at her so quickly, the movement so sharp, she’s sure it must have hurt his neck. 

Aaron frowns at her, his eyebrows knitting together, “Em-”

“You don’t get to just…decide that for me,” she says, cutting him off, “Especially without ever saying anything to me,” she cups his cheek, forcing him to stay looking at her, “What if you’re exactly what I want, regardless of anything?” 

It’s what he’s wanted to hear and also been afraid of hearing, treacherous hope building in his chest, “I don’t think I’m good for you, sweetheart.” 

She chokes on a laugh and shakes her head, leaning forward to press her forehead against his, “I can assure you, I’ve dated much, much, worse guys than you,” she says, pulling back to look at him, “And you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for,” she takes a deep breath and says what she’d apparently accidentally said to set this all in motion, “I meant it you know. I might not have realised I was saying it,” she says, chuckling, “But I meant it. I love you.” 

He takes a moment to respond, possibly the longest of her life, and he smiles at her, “I love you too, but-”

“No buts,” she says, shaking her head at him, “I’m not saying we run off to city hall and get married tomorrow,” she smiles when he joins in on her laughter, hope sparking in her chest, “But we could just…try.”

He’d always prided himself on being brave, on being able to push past fear since before he should have had to. A young boy coming out of his hiding place to defend his younger brother from their father, now a man who was struggling to open himself up to love again. But the look on her face, the way he felt comforted just by her being nearby, is enough to make him nod. 

She’d always been braver than him anyway, always willing to put herself at risk for the sake of looking after those she loved. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, “We should try.”

She smiles and he pulls her in for a kiss, his hand cupping the back of her head, holding her in place. Despite the fact they’d done this countless times before, it feels new, more intimate, and both of them feel slightly bereft when it comes to an end. Emily rests her forehead against his and she smiles.

“We should get into bed,” she says quietly, stamping her lips against his again, shifting so she’s even closer to him.

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear and smiles at her, “Tired, sweetheart?” 

She smiles at him and shakes her head, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “I said nothing about sleeping.” 

He smiles and leans in to kiss her, fiercer this time, and it occurs to him that this is the first time he’s been able to do this and truly call her his. It flicks a switch in his head, his touch getting more possessive as he pulls her closer, his embrace firm as his hands drift under her t-shirt. 

She gasps at the familiar heat of his skin against hers, the sound lost as he uses the opportunity to swipe his tongue through her mouth. She grasps his hair tightly, pulling him even closer as she swings her leg over him so she’s straddling him, the need to be closer to him overwhelming. He pulls her shirt upwards, and they only break apart as he gets it over her head, throwing the soft material somewhere into the room. 

He takes the opportunity to roll them over, to press her into the mattress and he swallows her laugh as he kisses her again before pulling back to look at her. Most of her bruises are gone now, but the one at the bottom of her abdomen isn’t the only one that remains. It makes anger flash through him again, his grip on her tightening, and she smiles up at him, her hand on his cheek as she drags him in for another kiss. 

“They don’t hurt anymore,” she assures him, rolling her hips against his, smirking when he groans, “I’m ok.” 

Aaron kisses the corner of her lips and then her cheek, shifting to her jaw and down her throat, re-familiarising himself with the tapestry of her body. Desperate for her now after only weeks apart. He smirks against her skin when she moans as he licks down the valley in between her breasts, her hips shifting involuntarily against his as he pays close attention to both of her nipples, laving at them until they ache.

“Fuck, Aaron,” she stutters, holding his head against her, “No teasing, please.” 

He stands up and smiles as she shivers, cool air hitting her skin where he’d just been pressed up against her, he lifts her hips just enough to pull off her leggings and panties at the same time, disposing of them over his shoulder before he kneels in between her legs that were hanging over the edge of the bed. He smiles up at her before he kisses one of her knees and she groans, briefly pressing her thighs together to get some much-needed pressure. 

“Aaron-”

“I know, sweetheart,” he says pushing her thighs apart, his fingers skating just short of where she wanted them, “No teasing.”

He licks through her, stealing any kind of retort from her lungs, her moan loud enough he’s sure the people in the room next door would have heard it. “Holy shit,” she breathes out, her fists tight in the cheap comforter, “You’re so good at that.” 

He smirks before he carries on, building her up expertly with his tongue and two fingers he pushes into her, curling them inside of her. She can’t do anything except lay there, her elbows giving away underneath her as he pushes her over the edge, the sound that leaves her almost animalistic in its nature. It turns into a laugh, a breathless chuckle that she tries and fails to capture with her hand over her mouth. She sighs as she pushes her hair from her face.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, looking at him as he climbs back onto the bed, encouraging her to move further up too. At some point he’d taken off his clothes too, something she’d missed in the hazy afterglow of her orgasm. “Kiss me.” 

He does as he’s asked, pressing his lips against hers and settling into the cradle of her hips, grabbing one of her thighs and hooking it around his back. He links his other hand through hers next to his head, pulling away from the kiss, their noses touching as he smiles at her. He pushes forward, both of them letting out twin groans as he enters her, her eyes rolling back at the familiar stretch of him. 

It was something they’d done countless times before. In both of their apartments. In his office. In hotel rooms across the country. But here, right now in a non-descript motel room in Ohio, it feels different. Both of them aware of how they felt, the pretence that this was just sex long gone. It’s familiar and new at the same time, and it feels like it’s the start of something incredible. 

He groans as she clenches around him, and he starts to move, his forehead still against hers as they easily find their rhythm, each of them almost more familiar with the other’s body than their own. He feels when she’s close, how she gets impossibly tighter around him, her thigh around him shaking as she presses her foot even firmer into his back.

“Aaron,” she breathes out, his name catching in her chest. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes, kissing her fiercely before shifting his hand on her thigh to in between them, gently circling her clit, “I know.” 

She comes first, grasping at his back so tightly with the hand not linked in his she’s sure she’s left marks on his skin. Her thigh slips from his back, her legs falling apart impossibly wider. His hips stutter as he speeds up, losing control as he breaks their kiss, his face pressing into her chest as he mutters against her collarbone, his words vibrating through her skin.

“I love you, fuck, I love you.” 

He tips over the edge, his hips going still against hers, and the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing. She runs her fingers through his hair and lifts his head so he can look at her, the blissed-out look on his face enough to make her chuckle before she kisses him. 

“I love you too,” she mutters against his lips, both of them smiling, the kiss lost to it, “So much.” 

He pushes her hair from her forehead, smiling as some of it sticks to her sweaty skin, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” 

She frowns, tilting her head at him, “What? I told you my ribs are fine-”

“No,” he says, smiling as he shakes his head, “Not that, I meant by pulling away. I thought I was protecting you,” he says, “But I should have talked to you.”

She smiles and nods, kissing him once before he rolls off of her, ensuring she’s still in his arms, allowing her to curl up against his side, “You should have,” she agrees, “But I understand,” she says, resting her head on his shoulder to smile up at him, “And I forgive you, just don’t do it again.” 

He hooks his finger under her chin and drags her into a kiss, “I promise.”

___

Emily yawns as she clips her seatbelt into place, smiling as she turns to look at Aaron as he chuckles at her. 

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at,” she says, yawning again, “It’s your fault I didn’t get any sleep.” 

They’d stayed up until the early hours of the morning, having quiet conversations in between rounds of sex, both of them exhausted by the time they finally decided to sleep. Aaron had woken her up before dawn, keen to get on the road as soon as possible.

He smiles, leaning across the centre console to kiss her, his smile widening when she chases him, “If we leave early, we get home early. And at least you get to sleep on the drive,” he mumbles, kissing her once more before he pulls away, “Sadly, I won’t.” 

“That’s because you never let me drive,” she says, waiting for him to start the car and pull out of the parking lot before she reaches for his hand, linking their hands together and resting them between them, “Want to listen to some music?” 

He can’t help but think of their journey here, how she’d been fiddling with the radio as she ranted about different types of music. Something he’d found endlessly endearing but hadn’t known how to handle. 

“Of course,” he says, lifting their hands to kiss her knuckles, “as long as you play decent music.” 

She laughs and shakes her head, reaching for the dials with the hand not linked through his, “I think we have different ideas about what counts as decent music, honey.” 

He groans, “For the last time, The White Album is excellent it just happened to be co-opted by a cult leader with a personality disorder.” 

She laughs, thrilled to have achieved the exact reaction she had been looking for, “Whatever you say, honey,” she says, winking at him as he looks over, “Whatever you say.”

As they drive towards the sunrise, the car filled with music, laughter and love, she thinks she might be the happiest she’s ever been. 

-x-

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[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Mayhem: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Quickly following the events after the car explosion, you and Hotch are affected in more ways than one.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime." - Ernest Hemingway

It takes you a moment to figure out what the hell just happened, but when you hear the car’s blaring alarm and smell the smoke, you know there had been a bomb underneath the SUV. The back of your head is in so much pain, causing a massive headache. Your vision is blurry, your ears ring from the impact, and you have to fight to get up.

You look to your left and see Hotch standing in the middle of the road as he processes what happened. Kate is nowhere to be found from where you are, but you have to focus on yourself.

“Hotch,” you groan and roll over on the ground. “Hotch!”

He is stuck in his own world right now so it’s up to you to get up on your own. Your legs are shaky, but you manage to stand on your own two feet. You feel the back of your head and wince in pain, and when you look at your hand, it’s covered in blood. You’re bleeding but you can’t think about that right now.

“Hotch, we have to get out of here,” you cough and stagger over to him. You place your hands on his shoulders, and that seems to snap him out of his trance. “Hotch, we have to get out of here!”

There is no one on the streets--no cars or people--but a young man comes rushing up to help you since he saw the blast.

“Hey, are you two okay?”

“What’s your name?” Hotch says a bit loudly. “What’s your name?”

“Sam.”

“Call 911.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Call 911 and tell them there’s been an explosion,” Hotch says slowly.

“Sir, are you okay?” Sam asks again.

You look around and see Kate lying about twenty yards away from the blast.

“Hotch! There’s Kate!” You two rush over to her, dismissing Sam. “Kate? Kate, are you okay?”

“My purse! I can’t find my purse,” she says in a delusional state of mind. “I must have dropped it.”

“Don’t move, Kate. You don’t want to make it worse.”

“Aaron? Y/N? What happened to you?” she asks, looking at both your injuries.

“A bomb went off. I think it was an IED,” you cough.

“IED? I have to get up.”

“No, no, Kate, you need to lie down. Please lie still.”

“Am I moving my legs?” she asks twice.

You look down at her legs, but they aren’t moving. You know when people are close to death, and she doesn’t look like she is going to make it. If you can get her to a hospital now, she might have a chance, but you think she is going to die soon.

“I may have to turn you and see where the blood is coming from. It might hurt. I’m going to have to pinch it off.”

Hotch tries to turn her and feel for the bleeder, but as soon as she moves, more blood gushes out. He winces in pain thinking that she is also in pain, but based on her face, she isn’t in any pain at all.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.”

“No, it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt at all,” she whimpers.

“Kate, we’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

Police and ambulance sirens can be heard from down the street, and you look up to see them stop at the end of the road. They all get out and start making roadblocks with no intention of going to you to help.

“Officer down! Officer down! Here!” Hotch yells as loud as he can.

“Aaron, they’re not coming,” Kate sighs. “We told them not to, remember?”

“She’s right. The first wave of responders is targets. They’re not coming,” you gasp and touch the back of your head.

It’s sticky, but the blood is no longer flowing.

“Aaron, you two don't have to stay.”

“We’re not leaving,” he says to her. “Officer down! We need some help! We cannot move!”

“They’re not coming,” Sam says as he rushes back to you.

“We know. Our orders were to not let anyone in until the area is cleared. They’re just following the procedure,” you sigh.

Was yours the only van that blew up? What happened to the rest of the team? Are they safe? Are JJ and her baby? Is Spencer?

As soon as Spencer heard that something had blown up, news reporters were all over the scene as close as they could get. Spencer is back at the police station with Rossi watching the news report as they try to call everyone.

“We're getting reports that an explosion has rocked the neighborhood in the vicinity of the Federal Plaza. Authorities have closed down the entire area, and are not going to give any information at this time. With eight suspicious incidents in as little as three weeks, we have no room but to speculate whether or not there will be more attacks. We have no word yet on any injuries, but the explosion was heard as far away as Prince Street. An unconfirmed report said it was a car bomb.”

Spencer tries your phone again, but like the other five times he tries to call you, it went straight to voicemail.

“Damn it, Y/N, pick up,” he mutters.

“Reid, can you recall every site where the shootings occurred?”

“Uh, Hell's Kitchen, Murray Hill, lower east side, and Chinatown,” Spencer tries to list them off while still thinking about you. “Y/N isn’t answering her phone.”

“No one is. Listen, Reid, if our profile is correct and all eight murders were tests to gauge response times, then we're looking at eight suicide bombers who are about to hit every one of those locations. Call Homeland Security. Tell them to pour troops into all of those sites.”

“Actually, if we're correct, there'll be sixteen suicide bombers.”

“Sixteen?”

“Yeah, we predicted that they'll hit the second wave of emergency responders also.”

“Breaking news now,” the news reporter says. “We are just getting an update. The bomb is now reported to have been inside an SUV. A black SUV parked just blocks from 26 Federal Plaza.”

Rossi immediately gets Penelope on the phone since she is the command center, and would be able to have eyes on everyone in the city.

“Agent Rossi? We heard there was some kind of explosion. I just walked into the CCTV command post.”

“We got on the news that it was an SUV that exploded. A black SUV within blocks of the Federal Plaza. Do you have eyes there?”

“I’ve got, like, three hundred cameras right there. Give me one second,” she says as she gets to work.

“I’m here with Reid, but I don’t know where anyone else is. Please find them.”

“Yes, sir.” Penelope gets off the phone with Rossi and turns to the woman she’s been working with this entire time. “Okay, Lisa, I need every feed of every camera for twenty blocks concentrically out from the Federal Plaza. Get the best exposure from every angle you can and then back those feeds up. I'm gonna call the rest of my team.”

The first person she calls is Derek, and she is so relieved when he answers.

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Yes, you are. Thank God.”

“I'm almost back at the federal building. What the hell's going on?”

“I don’t know. We're going over the closed circuit footage right now.”

“Who else have you checked on?”

“You’re the first. Rossi and Reid called me.”

“Keep me on the line while you check on everyone else.”

Penelope dials Emily next, and she picks up on the first ring.

“Is everyone okay?”

“I've spoken to Rossi and Reid, and Morgan's on the line.”

“Emily, where are you?” Derek asks.

“I'm following Detective Brustin to one of the NYPD’s critical incident command posts.”

“One of them?” Pen asks.

“Yeah, after 9/11 they decentralized. They had way too many eggs in one basket on that day.”

“Has anyone talked to JJ?” Pen asks.

“She was headed back to the hotel as far as I know.”

“In an SUV?” Pen asks, her face pale.

“I think so. Stay with me. I’ll call her.”

Emily does so while keeping her eyes on the road, but JJ doesn’t answer. Her voicemail picks up, and Peneleop’s heart sinks at the thought of her and her baby hurt from the blast. However, the communication line was cut in the middle of her voicemail.

“What was that? What happened?” Derek asks.

“It went dead mid-message.”

“Try again. She’s probably back at--”

Emily’s line was cut in the middle of the message.

“Emily?” Derek goes to speak, but he, too, was cut off. “Derek? I just lost all contact with my team.”

“I found it. I found the explosion,” Lisa says.

Lisa shows Penelope the footage of the blast, and she can see someone plant the bomb, much like you saw before it went off. The stranger walks off, but he doesn’t leave the scene. No, he waits until the blast happens, and then the fucker walks right over to you and Hotch and asks if you’re okay.

The person trying to help you is one of the unsubs.

If your head didn’t hurt so damn badly, you could have seen Sam for who he truly is. Your cut may have stopped bleeding, but now it’s throbbing and you’re in so much pain because of it.

“Sam, you need to get out of the area,” Hotch says to him.

“I just want to help.”

“If you want to help, get somebody down here.” Sam rushes off to get help, but if you had been paying attention to him, you would have seen him stop on the sidewalk and just watch you. “Kate, I need you to wake up. Stay with me. Stay with me.”

“I feel cold. It's such a cliche, isn't it? I feel cold. Like in the cinema,” she chuckles tiredly. “Wait, that’s not right. It’s ‘movies’. You say ‘movies’, not ‘cinema’.”

“You've lost a lot of blood, but I think I've got it stopped. Just try to relax.”

“They just told me to get behind the barricade,” Sam says when he comes back.

“Come on, Hotch, let’s try to get her up.”

You and Hotch try to lift Kate, but as soon as there is enough pressure off her wound, it starts bleeding again.

“We're here! Please! Please! We're here! Someone!” Hotch yells.

You’re not sure what you’re going to do, but in ten seconds, you feel familiarity where the barricade is. You look up, and since it’s too far away, you can’t see who is there… but you can feel him.

“Derek!” you scream as loud as you can. “Derek! Please help us! Derek!”

After one minute, Derek runs past the barricade and over to you and Hotch. Relief rolls off you in waves, and you step back so you can finally take a moment to breathe.

“Morgan, we've got to get her out of here,” Hotch says.

“They're not letting any ambulances down here till they clear the scene.” Derek looks at Sam who has an indifferent look on his face. “Kid, you gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go. Go!”

“Good luck.”

Sam gets up and backs away, but he doesn’t leave. He stays and watches, but no one is paying attention to him. You touch the back of your head and wince in pain, but you force that down to focus on what you do know.

Before the blast, there was someone putting a bomb under your SUV. It hurts to think about it, but you can recall that scene right before the blast went off. You focus on the energy you saw, and you open your eyes when you know exactly who did it. You look around for Sam, and when you lock eyes with him, he smirks.

“Talk to me. Can we carry her? Hotch, can we carry her?” Derek asks.

“He’s the bomber,” you say, but the two men are distracted.

“No, I tried. Morgan, she's gonna bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We gotta do something.”

“Derek, he’s the bomber,” you say a little louder.

Derek’s phone rings, but he’s staring at you because he heard you.

“What did you just say?”

“He’s the bomber. He’s the one who planted the bomb.”

“Go,” Hotch says, not doubting you.

Derek immediately takes off running after Sam, and Sam does everything he can to run away from Derek. He likes the chase, but you know Sam won’t let Derek catch up to him unless he wants him to. As soon as he got past a few blocks from where the explosion was, he reached civilization.

Derek followed him all the way down to the train tracks only to lose him when Sam electrocuted himself so he wouldn’t be caught. Sam died, but for what? What is he hiding? What didn’t he want Derek or anyone else to find out?

As soon as Derek leaves, an ambulance comes barreling your way to help. An older man gets out and tends to Hotch and Kate, but you’re confused. If Derek says they aren’t letting anyone in, then how did this ambulance get to you? Why do you feel absolute dread when you look at this man?

“She's got an arterial bleed in her back and I'm doing my best to hold it closed,” Hotch says to him.

“Are you okay?”

“I just want to get her out of here.”

“Her pulse is weak and thready. I'm gonna need your help, okay? I heard you calling for help and I couldn't listen anymore. My partner was too afraid to come in here with me.”

“Kate, we're gonna get you out of here. We're on our way out of here,” Hotch says, believing every word this stranger says.

You reach into your pocket for your phone, but when you pull it out, you’re sad to see the screen is smashed. You won’t be able to call for help even if you wanted to. There is no choice but to accept help from this man, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I need to get a bag in and start getting her pressure up. Get the gurney from the bus,” The stranger orders.

Hotch does what he says, and the two of them load Kate into the back. The stranger stays with her since he’s the EMT while Hotch gets behind the wheel. You get into the passenger side and turn to Hotch.

“I don’t feel right about this,” you say low enough so the man doesn't hear, but the damage done to Hotch’s ears prevents him from hearing you.

“Where's the closest emergency room?” Hotch asks the man.

“St. Barclay's. It's four blocks uptown, one block east.”

“Where’s the emergency entrance?”

“Under the hospital. Just follow the signs to the ER.”

x

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[bullet-prooflove]

Hi~~ Could I have prompt 17 "Rebel girl you are the queen of my world" for New Year's Eve with this man, please?

P.S: thanks for feeding me with all these reblogs with Scola these past few days. It made my days :)

Honestly I am living for these two right now after writing this. Thank you for prompting for this one, it was such a fun one to explore.

You have a reputation, for being a little wild, a little reckless. You think Stuart doesn’t know about it, but he does. You’re a complete pain in the ass to anyone who has the pleasure of supervising you but you’re an expert with explosives and you have nerves of steel. You’ve never faltered in the face of adversity; Stuart's seen it himself. When the chips are down, he’d bet on you every single time.

Which is why he’s standing alongside of you right now while you’re wrist deep in a bomb ignoring the screaming of your boss over your earpiece.

“You should leave Stuart.” You say, your voice terse. “This might get messy.”

“You stay, I stay.” He reminds you and it takes you back to the first time you met.

Him sitting cross legged in the reception area of 26 Fed with a pipe bomb strapped to his chest, the scent of your perfume flooding his senses as you leaned in close. Amber and jasmine, he remembers thinking at the time, something expensive and high end from the subtleness of the notes.

“You should go.” He’d told you as the timer ticked down, your fingers trailing over the wires.

“No.” You’d drawled out the word, your eyes flickering up to meet his. “You stay, I stay. That’s the deal, right?”

There’s a calm in you that surprises him. You’re the shelter in the middle of the storm. The safe space in the midst of all the chaos. He draws strength from that because if you can be solid in that moment so can he.

“We got this.” You'd told him with that beautiful smile of yours. “I promise.”

You reach into your ear and remove the earpiece; Stuart follows suit because the language that’s coming out of your supervisor’s mouth is beyond colourful.

There’s three hundred people in the building above you. They’re trying to evacuate them but there isn’t enough time. That’s the reason you’re still here, if it was just property damage you wouldn’t give a fuck but it’s the people you care about, the lives that’ll be burned up if you don’t do this.

“I need the multi-tool in my top right pocket, but I can’t take my hands out of the casing.” You tell him, your brow furrowing in concentration.

He seeks out the tool, removing it from the vest before taking a deep breath and plunging his hand into the depths of the device. He presses it into your palm, and you take it carefully, grasping it tightly in your fingers before you clamp the wire and snip.

The two of you go still. Stuart’s eyes meet yours and he sees your lips twitch up into a smile. He can’t help but smile back because his girl, she’s a little crazy and that make him a little crazy. You withdraw your hand from the casing and put your earpiece back into your ear.

“The device is disarmed.” You say as you tuck the multitool back into your pocket, tapping your fingertips on it twice for good luck.

There’s silence on the opposite end before your supervisor utters.

“Christ Sasha, you cut it close.”

“Do I get to keep my badge?” You ask him, referring to his earlier threat and Stuart shakes his head because his girl does not pull her punches. “Or do I have to find an alternative means of employment? Stuart always says I’d make a pretty good barista.”

“Just get your ass out here, bomb disposal will be on scene in ten.”

“Copy that.” You say before pulling out your earpiece again.

“You’re such a rebel.” Stuart says fondly as his hands cup your face. His thumbs ghost over your cheeks as he leans in close, his athletic form presses against yours and he can see the excitement in your eyes as his nose trails along the length of yours.

It’s the adrenaline that’s driving him. All he wants to do right now is get you in the back of the SUV and fuck you until your saying his name. You want it too; he can tell by the noise you make when his lips brush over yours.

“Later.” He promises as he tips your chin up to meet his gaze. “Go outside and play nice first, I’ll ruin you when we get home.”

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[c-m-stuff]

Explosion

-Description: You and Spencer are married. When you risked your life, Spencer only could be relieved you're still breathing.

-Warnings: Angst, hospital (visiting), 4x1 spoilers

-Word count: 1396

-Note: Hey lovelies, here again another story. Since this episode is based on the episode, I must say, I gave the team sometimes other sentences. Other than that, I hope you're in for an angsty one, otherwise, you need to click on another one shot of mine! :)

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Masterlist

_________________________

Y/N POV

This was the most stressful, terrifying, horrible day ever. We had to deal with terrorists, their only goal to blow something up and commit suicide right after.

We were all in the hospital, one of the bombs went off by the SUV, Aaron was walking to. Not only he was hurt, but also Kate, the one who leads this case. Aaron is okay, but Kate is in surgery now. But, we were not only here to support him, also because we needed to discuss the profile again.

'Everything they've done so far, has appeared to be something it's not. The seemingly random acts of murder, the attempt to hack into our surveillance system, the suicide by cop to make us all believe that it was over.' David spoke the things that had happened these past few days.

'Don't forget the death card telling us they know we're watching.' JJ added, as David continued:

'All diversions. To ensure our attention and analysis of any given situation would then incorrectly inform our profile.'

'So, the first responders were not the real targets?' Derek asked.

'Hotch and Kate were a diversion, too?'

'I think, the idea was to maim, not to kill.' I thought out loud, while David nodded.

'We know how terror cells evolve. They learn from the one campaign to the next.'

'And, this cell targeted a lone SUV, where the only people on the street are two federal agents. It's not multiple targets, it's one target.' Derek told us, as Aaron went on.

'Stop the bomber, stop the bomb. To do that we need to know how they would deploy something that big.'

'Did you ever found Sam's cellphone?' Derek asked, referring to the unsub, who pretended to help Aaron and Kate. But, security cameras showed, he was the one who placed the bomb under the car. It was all a trap.

'Yes.'

'Did he call 911?'

'No, he dialed one number, 6 times, every few minutes.'

'It was a disposable cell. Garcia tracked the number, but it went dead, minutes after Sam died.'

'So, the button to detonate the bomb is in a cell.' I made clear, the team all nodding in agreement.

'There's only one reason, he stayed with us.' Aaron said, as Emily finished.

'To make sure the ambulance got to you. And, in a city on lockdown, an ambulance with it's siren blaring and lights on, it's gonna make it through every roadblock.'

'That's who Sam was calling, the paramedic on the ambulance. The ambulance which I drove in here. This hospital is their target.' Aaron made us all wide our eyes, as we immediately began moving.

We went to the counter, while Derek called Penelope.

'The ambulance I drove in here, where is it?'

'In the basement, why?'

'There's a bomb in it.' I saw the man behind the counter getting pale, panic on his face.

'I'll go look for the ambulance.' I let them now, heading towards the basement.

With every step, my heart beats faster, the fear getting worse and worse. This ambulance needed to get out of here as fast as possible. We can't evacuate the whole hospital, and I really don't want any more death's. I knew, what I needed to do. And boy, I was not looking forward to it.

I carefully opened the ambulance, while calling the magician of technology.

'(Y/N)?'

'Yes, Penny?'

'You sound stressed.' it wasn't even a surprise, she noticed. My stress growing every second more.

'Do I?' I tried so sound as normal as ever, but failed, miserably.

'Where are you?'

'Not where I want to be right now.' I opened a huge box in the ambulance, revealing a big bomb. My eyes widened, while I tried my hardest to not freak out.

'Penny, how long can you keep jamming the cell phone lines?' I asked her, the plan I made, caming closer and closer.

'A few minutes, max. Why? Are you okay?'

'Cause, I need this ambulance out of here.'

'No, no. Don't do that. That's too dangerous. That's- Omg, I only can jam it for 3 minutes.' I could hear her panicking, as I took place at the drivers side.

'Penelope, listen to me. I need you to find an area where I can place this thing, and you tell everybody that I'm coming.' I started the car, very aware of the 3 minutes I had.

She gave me an adress, and I began speed driving through the city. Tears were streaming down my face, as my eyes kept focussed on the road. I've never been this terrified before.

'Penelope?' I spoke through the phone, my voice cracking in the process.

'(Y/N), you're going to be okay.'

'Can you call Spencer? But, stay at the line, please.' a few seconds later, and I heard my husband's sweet voice.

'Spencer?'

'Love, you're going to be okay. You're gonna make it. Garcia, told me what's going on.' I could hear the concern, as he tried to reassure me.

'Spencer, I-I love you.' I blurred out, aware of the remaining time, I had left.

'(Y/N), don't do that. Don't say goodbye. You're going to get through this.'

'Spencer, you are the sweetest, smartest, carrying, most beautiful person, I ever met. I thank all the stars who made me meeting you. Thank you for being the best husband ever, and for always being there for me.' I began to say goodbye, still driving with high speed. He needed to know these things.

'(Y/N), please-' but Penelope cut him off, both crying.

'(Y/N), you have one minute left. Please, be smart about this.'

'Please, get out.' Spencer begged, but I knew what I needed to do. His crying voice absolutely broke my heart, and I just wished, I was in his arms.

'I'm sorry, but I made my decision. I'm placing this thing somewhere safe. Guys, I love you so much. I love this whole team so much. I love you so much, Spencer.' my goal was finally getting in sight, a huge ground with no one on it.

'20 seconds!'

'(Y/N), GET OUT!'

BOOM

I just ran 10 seconds, before the bomb went off, out of the ambulance. I covered my ears, as I was standing far enough from the explosion to be safe. Fire was everywhere, while in the meantime, I had lost contact with Spencer and Penelope. I took a deep breath, cursing in the meanwhile, letting all my emotions out.

After taking a few more breaths, I spoke through my little speaker, that was attached to my clothes.

'I'm alright. No one's hurt.' all I could hear was deep relief and cries.

__________________________

After calling the fire department, I watched silently the fire, while I was waiting for Spencer to pick me up. However, it surprised me how fast he must have droven, cause a few minutes later, I heard a car door shut close.

'(Y/N)?' the genius yelled, but he didn't needed much time to follow the smoke, and find me.

'Spencer!' I called, while running both into each others arms.

'I'm so glad your breathing.' his voice cracked on the last word, tears streaming down his cheeks.

'Me too. I'm so sorry, Spence. I really didn't wanted this, but I couldn't let everyone die in the hospital. I'm so sorry.' I mirrored his tears, as he held me closely.

'Shh, it's okay. It's over now. You were so brave, love. I'm so proud of you.' while my head rested against his chest, he placed a sweet kiss on the top of my head.

'Thank you. Now, can we please get out of here?' I whined, desperately needing all the sleep and comfort I could get.

'Let's run you a nice, warm bath.' still clamped together, we walked towards the car. Luckily, I ended this horrible day, with a promised, warm bath.

#criminal minds #cm #fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #angst imagine

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Chapter 12 Nemo dat quot non habet (No one gives what they do not have) - Benidorm part 1

Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @letsreadallday @jamesrifftapes @sofasoap @mmyrrhh

Warnings: None

I didn't really check it so I'm sure it's full of mistakes...

Part 2 will be up this weekend, I hope

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Benidorm

But the day didn’t get better.

First, it took an hour just to get to the central part of the city due to traffic. Then, it took almost an additional hour to find where to park, close enough to the building where the CIA had a safe house, but not right by it.

And then, while they waited for Gabi to sign the documents at the safe house for the gear, Ghost, Soap and Riot plainly opened the bags and started laying it all on the tables to inspect both the gear and the containers, ignoring the protests of one of the caretakers.

‘‘I just had managed to fit it all inside… Ah, well’’ The man gulped down when Ghost briefly turned his eyes to him. ‘‘Suit yourselves’’

Two MCPR-300, three M4A1, a couple of flashbangs, eight handguns, and enough ammo for a whole troop. Bulletproof and tactical vests, night vision googles. A very small amount of explosives, not enough for Soap’s liking, and he started complaining right away while Gabi tried to reason with him. Riot sighed, shaking her head, and she didn’t have to look at Ghost to know he was displeased. His face was unreadable as always, but the tension in his jaw was unmistakable.

Gabi was talking with the two caretakers with Soap, and the third was by the door keeping watch over them, but she dared to hook a finger on one of Ghost’s belt loops as he sometimes did with her. He looked down at her, puzzled, thankful for the balaclava hiding the heat in his ears.

‘‘Knives’’ Riot whispered softly, and he nodded. Among the gear, there wasn’t a single knife, and that irked both him and her. Soap was angry at the lack of big explosives, which on the other hand Ghost was mostly thankful for as they were supposed to be on a covert op, but the lack of knives…

‘‘We’ll buy our own’’ She was still whispering, and unconsciously he leaned in, his nose almost touching her hair. At the same time she seemed to reach up, standing discreetely on her tip toes. ‘‘This city has a lot of expats and shady shit going on. I’m sure we can find some’’

Ghost nodded again, and then straightened up as they started putting everything inside the bags again. Soap helped them, still grumbling under his breath with an accent so thick that they didn’t understand shit, but the tone was clear.

‘‘The gear must be handed in when you get to the base in Rota’’ One of the caretakers said, reviewing the documents Gabi had just signed. ‘‘Intact if possible. You’ll also have to fill in these reports if you happen to use it’’

‘‘Let’s hope we won’t need it, thank you’’ The redhead frowned slightly, but didn’t lose her smile. ‘‘We’re on holiday after all!’’

‘‘I fail to see what kind of holiday needs two sniper rifles, M4s and handguns’’ The other caretaker snorted, handing her another, smaller, bag and two wallets. ‘‘Here’s the last of it. Laswell said you don’t need support, only the gear and intel, so… I think we’re done here…?’’

Both caretakers and the sentry by the door observed, jaw agape, while Ghost and Soap were already carrying the bags out without even giving them another glance. Gabi sighed, looking at them and then at Riot, who simply shrugged, grabbed another bag and followed.

‘‘Yes, we are done here… Thanks for the help, bye!’’ The redhead rushed behind her companions down the stairs, with the smaller bag in hand and stuffing the wallets inside her purse. ‘‘Hey, wait…!’’

By the time she got to the street, the other three were already placing the bags in the back of the SUV.

‘‘You could have been a bit more polite’’ Gabi grumbled, climbing into the backseat and then checking the paperwork she had just been given. ‘‘Ok, the apartment the CIA has provided us with is…’’

‘‘We’re going shopping first, hen’’ Soap smiled gently, patting her knee after sitting beside her. The redhead blinked at him, surprised.

‘‘Shopping for what?’’

‘‘Things’’ Riot answered simple from the passenger seat, guiding Ghost through the streets, Google Maps open in her phone. It didn’t take long until they parked in an open air car park, fairly close to a big deparment store, and the Lieutenant turned the engine off and looked at the Sergeant.

‘‘How much time do you two need for your shopping, lovie?’’

‘‘Give me fifteen minutes’’ Riot chuckled while opening the passenger door, and then, stuck her head inside again, looking into the backseat. ‘‘Gabi, let’s go, we need to go buy those things we talked about earlier’’

‘‘What things… AH!’’ Gabi yelped when Soap all but pushed her outside, grinning.

‘‘C’mon, hen, we don’t have all day, get on with it’’

‘‘What…? What are we doing?’’ Gabi whisper-yelled at Riot, who grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the department store. From the corner of her eye she could see Soap and Ghost getting out of the SUV and starting to open doors. ‘‘What’s happening? What are they doing?’’

‘‘Do you have field training, Gabi?’’

‘‘I… I had to undergo some basic courses back at The Farm, yeah, but I fail to see how that’s relevant, I just deal with communications…’’

‘‘Now that we’re in open air, in short, Ghost found a tracker in one of the bags’’ Riot explained, in a low voice, and Gabi almost stopped in her tracks, but the taller woman dragged her behind. ‘‘Don’t stop, we’re going to buy bags to move the gear. Then we’ll get rid of those and the car’’

‘‘Why the car? We rented it!’’

‘‘And we left it on the street for almost an hour, without vigilance, while those three idiots had you signing paper after paper’’

Gabi followed Riot inside the department store, feeling dizzy. The CIA had given them a bag with a tracker, and God knew what else there was in the bags. Now she understood why Ghost and Soap were checking the car thoroughly in the parking lot.

‘‘Laswell approved of this op, why would the CIA place a tracker in one of the bags…?’’

‘‘I doubt it has been Laswell’’ Riot commented, looking around and reading the floor plan before heading towards the luggage section. ‘‘But it makes sense they’d try to keep an eye on another HeadHunters operator in case Rico tries to kill me, doesn’t it?’’

‘‘Nobody is going to kill you!’’ Gabi whispered angrily, but Riot just chuckled.

‘‘I’m certainly not going to make it easy for them’’

*

Parking lot

‘‘Found another two in the bags, Lt’’ Soap sighed, tossing the devices on the backseat, and got a grunt for all answer from Ghost, who was hunched over the open bonnet, checking the engine.

‘‘That makes one for each bag, and two in the car’’ The Scot continued, closing the doors and walking towards the front to see what the Lieutenant was checking. ‘‘Guess the apartment will be full of them too’’

‘‘That’s why other arrangements have been made’’ Ghost huffed, straightening up and showing him another tracker. ‘‘I haven’t found listening devices though, only trackers. Which is good, we can get rid of the bags and the SUV with ease’’

‘‘What’s the plan?’’ Soap leaned against the car’s side.

‘‘We drive to the CIA apartment and leave the bags there. But we’ll move the gear in the car to the new bags Gabi and Christine are buying right now.’’ Ghost looked around, hooking his balaclava up to his nose and offered the Sergeant a cigarette. ‘‘You’ll search the apartment with Gabi for listening bugs and the like. Meanwhile, Christine and I will go and rent another car, and turn this one in’’

‘‘So yer leaving meh in an apartment alone with ma hen’’ Soap chuckled, and Ghost rolled his eyes, taking a long puff off his cigarette, but his own scarred lips were twisted in a sly grin.

‘‘Give them a show, will ya Johnny’’

‘‘Gladly’’ Soap laughed heartily, observing his friend as the tall Lieutenant, still grinning, looked in the direction of the department store. The scars that marked his face looked redder than usual, and there was perspiration on his upper lip. The unforgiving Spanish heat was getting to him just as much as the others, maybe more due to the balaclava.

Since Las Almas, Johnny had seen Simon’s face quite often, as the Lieutenant tended to take his balaclava off when they two were completely alone, like when they were playing videogames in the Scot’s room. Or with Gaz, the three playing videogames together. In those moments, Simon seemed at ease and relaxed with them, exchanging awful jokes and anecdotes, and laughing heartily.

In those moments, Johnny could see the man Simon had been, once, and understood the sadness he could see in Price’s gaze sometimes when looking at Ghost. One night, after Las Almas, both of them drunk out of their mind, Simon had opened up and told Johnny everything. Everything. Roba, his family, his torture, his revenge.

‘‘Have ye shown’er?’’

Simon looked at Johnny, cocking his head to one side. He wasn’t stupid and knew right away what his friend was asking though.

‘‘Have I shown who what?’’

‘‘Ye know what am asking’’

Simon sighed, meditating his answer while exhaling the smoke, slowly. Johnny just looked at him, waiting for what he already knew would be a curt no.

‘‘No’’

‘‘Why?’’ Soap moved closer, looking up at him, holding his cigarette between his lips, arms crossed. ‘‘What’s stopping ye?’’

The Lieutenant stubbornly kept his eyes looking forward, avoiding both the Scot’s blue eyes and his question, and Johnny laughed incredulously.

‘‘Yer scared of her reaction? If she sees yer face? For fuck’s sake, Simon…’’

‘‘It’s not exactly pleasing to see’’ The Lieutenant grunted, smoking. ‘‘Nothing to bring home to brag about’’

‘‘Aw, c’mon, cocky bastard. Quite the opposite, ye said, and yer right’’ Soap’s hand slapped merrily Simon’s broad shoulder, receiving a grunt in answer. ‘‘Ye cannae think…’’

‘‘What if she gets reminded of what she’s gone through when seeing this… marred thing, Johnny?’’ Ghost grumbled, retreating further into himself, like a dark cloud had descended on him. ‘‘What if she can’t bear looking at me without going back to…’’

‘‘Yer aff yer heid’’ Johnny huffed, rolling his eyes, and stepped even closer until his crossed arms were pressed up against Simon’s chest, forcing the taller man to look down at him. Simon’s dark brown eyes looked as stern as always, but he had learned to see beyond that in the months since Las Almas. ‘‘Yer telling meh that’s what ye think if ye look at her face?’’

‘‘No’’ There it was. The hard edge to his voice was back, the low, dangerous rumble. ‘‘What I think is I want to destroy with my own hands whoever did it to her’’

‘‘What makes ye think she won’t feel the same if she sees yer face? If she sees you?’’ Johnny had to laugh when Simon’s jaw relaxed slightly, mouth almost agape. ‘‘Ye should know’er better by now. She’d be furious. She’d track any of the bastards down if ye let any alive to off them herself. Bloodily. And ye know it. Everything else are excuses’’

Ghost meditated about his words for a second, the black cloud seemingly vanishing, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he pondered. Johnny shook his head and finished his cigarette, turning around in time to see their two girls on their way back, carrying several bags of different sizes. Christ, one of them was even pink.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw a flash of white teeth and a wide grin right before the balaclava covered it again. Welp, that only meant Gabi and him would have to work extra hard.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod oc #call of duty modern warfare #cod original character #call of duty original character #cod fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfiction #simon ghost riley x christine riot vega #christine riot vega #riot vega #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #gabriella gabi cruz #cod fic #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty oc #cod ghost #cod soap #cod riot #call of duty ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty soap

[bisexual-evan-buckley]

Emily was about to tell Cyrus she was the agent but, Spencer decided that he would do it he wanted to make a name for himself so he did it he spent so many cases being pushed around he wanted to protect someone.

"I am the agent I am the one you want it's me what are you going to do about it."Spencer said without hesitation he was sure he can handle it by himself as he was taken away.

He was beaten badly Emily knew what was going on with him so she had to escape to get to him.

She also knew a raid was coming she had the same Spencer there was no way around it she had to do it.

She was able to sneak away and get the Spencer she knew she had to protect him. She was older than him she had a responsibility and she knew that if he got hurt worse than what he already was she would be blamed for it.

So it was late at night when Emily was able to get in

"Spence I'm going to get you out but I'm going to have to pretty much stay behind there is going to be a raid."Emily said quietly Spencer nodded and went with her.

The raid was going on and Derek was the first one to come across them Jessica shows up just as Morgan shoots Cyrus Emily could tell what the girl was about to do she could tell what Jessica was doing so she quickly shoved Jessica into Spencer's arms and Spencer and Derek ran Jessica didn't know that the corn found was going to explode right after those two exited

Emily saw a really secure vault that was hidden inside the compound she was able to get in and close the steel door just as an exploded Spencer Morgan and Jessica made it out they were safely out Spencer was a little bit confused and couldn't hear but he was all right physically all right but mentally he wasn't.

(@dr-spencer-reids-hands

Ashley had had a crush on Spencer since he’d interrupted the lecture she’d attended. But when she joined the BAU, it was immediately obvious he had a crush on JJ. So she was content being his friend.

When the team landed in Colorado and drove to the Septarian Ranch Ashley jumped out of the SUV before Derek even put it in park. She found the man who authorized the assault on the compound, grabbed him by the collar to slam him into one of the tent poles, and punched him in the face. She saw red and hauled her fist back to punch him again but Derek pulled her away. She put on her bulletproof vest and put her earpiece in. Later when Cyrus was beating Spencer, she ripped the earpiece out and threw up in the grass, covering it so it wouldn’t smell.

Dave brought food to the compound, writing something that wouldn’t arouse suspicion but that Spencer would understand. They were coming in to rescue him and Emily, and as many other people as they could, at three am. Aaron told her that she couldn’t go in, since she was too emotionally invested, and she’d told him given a chance she wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in Cyrus’ brain whether or not he was armed. So she was forced to wait for the team to rescue Spencer and Emily not knowing Cyrus and some of his followers had rigged the compound to blow. When it exploded, Dave tried to hold her back, but she ripped herself from her grip and ran toward the building. She would have had no reservations running in, even with the building on fire and knowing it would explode again when the fire reached the gas tank. But she ran straight into Derek’s arms instead, and struggled against him.

“Derek let me fucking go!!! Spencer is still in there, he’s hurt because of Cyrus, what if he can’t get out?!!! I never told him how I felt. He could die thinking I only liked him as a friend if he didn’t die in the initial explosion. I need to get in there, please!!!”

#oh you didn’t #whyyy #Emily 😭