#keeps asking his agent to get him a scene with her

[deandoesthingstome]

You guys. I love music. All kinds. I also love a good mash-up. All kinds of those, too.

So I heard this for the first time a few weeks ago (this song is 20 fucking years old wtf???) and I can't get it out of my head and now you get it, too.

IDK. It's giving pornstar!August at the disco vibes.

[reiderwriter]

Hi Kacie!! Now that your requests are open... Could I request a smutty fic where Spencer finds out reader has a not-so-common sensitive spot (like her legs, hair, arms, whatever body part you want). Maybe he finds out kinda in a public setting after she gets all flustered and wants to keep pushing to test his theory?? You can take as much inspo from this as you want<3

(If this emoji's not taken)-💃 anon

A/N: Hello! Sorry for going MIA for a while there. It was the beginning of a new school year here in SK, so I've been really busy! I've been chipping away at this one little by little, and it's finally done! I hope you enjoy it ♡

Warnings; Smut, 18+ Minors DNI, case details, misogyny from a bartender in the opening scene, Semi-public sexual experimentation, edging, PinV sex, use of pet names (good girl), slight degradation, cum play, etc.

Masterlist

The back of the bar was dimly lit as you walked through it, keeping pace with your teammate as you kept one eye on the shady inhabitants of the bar. 

You'd been sent - with Spencer of all people - to ask the local dive bar staff about suspicious regulars. A fact that didn't exactly take into account his general lack of intimidating looks and your status as the newest member of the team. 

A trial by fire if you'd ever seen one. 

You tried your best not to stick out like a sore thumb, but the people in these parts could spot a Fed from a mile away. And though Spencer was remarkably pipe-cleaner-like, they'd certainly recognised enough FBI in him to clam up upon your entrance. 

“We got some visitors, I see. What can I be getting you, little lady?” The barman greeted you as you reached the first stool at the counter, a patronizing smile on his moustache clad lips. 

“If it's okay, we'd like to ask you some questions. I'm Agent Y/N with the FBI. This is my partner, Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“You're a Fed? Now, why would you bother doing all that hard work when you could be warming my bed, girl. It's definitely more honest and satisfying work.” 

The way the man leered at you over the counter has you freezing momentarily. Your instincts were saying fight, but you held your tongue just long enough to not ruin any rapport your team could build with locals. 

“I'm flattered, but already spoken for I'm afraid. Have you seen any suspicious men in here in the last six months, one that would pass through only semi-regularly, maybe with a few female companions, though never the same.” 

Professionalism at the cost of your peace of mind was going to be a hard learn for you as you grit your teeth and swallowed the bile in your throat. 

He just continued to leer at you as he dried up beer glasses. 

“You're looking for a man who likes cheap whores? Maybe you are in the market for a career change after all.” 

That was about all you could take, and luckily, Spencer Reid was well aware. 

Quickly grabbing you by the wrist, he pulled you behind him defensively and leaned over the bar, his voice low and somewhat chilling. 

“Disrespect my partner like that again, and I'll have you charged with aiding and abetting a murderer who has kidnapped and ended the lives of three local girls. Local girls whose fathers you're more than likely acquainted with, who absolutely have multiple acres of property and just enough bullets to put you in the ground.” 

The blood rushed to your ears at his voice, but the light grip of your wrist held you in place indefinitely. 

All the fight left your body, as you found yourself coming dangerously close to melting into Spencer in relief. 

He forced the man to answer some more basic questions, but it wasn't as if you could hear them. He stroked a quick thumb back and forth across your wrist as all the thoughts fled your head, and the words fell asleep on your tongue, resting there until he released you from his grip. 

You'd known that the area was slightly sensitive for a while, having accidentally brushed up against things and felt serious chills shoot up your spine. What you hadn't known was that it was that kind of sensitivity. 

Though, in all honesty, you hadn't exactly known that you could feel that kind of excitement for Spencer either. You just hoped he wouldn't notice. That much. 

Having finished his line of questioning and reiterating his threat, he moved his hand from your wrist to the small of your back and adeptly guided you from the restaurant and out of the line of vision of every pair of eyes in the place. 

“Are you okay?” He asked when he finally got you to the car, voice still quiet and low, and slightly too close to let you fully relax. 

“Peachy. He talked to you at least.” You turned away from him and began opening the passenger side door. 

“Nothing new or useful, though. Your bpm is high,” he joined you in the car, putting on his seat belt while you completely let go of yours, letting it zip back into itself.

“My… my what?” 

“Your bpm is high. Your heart was beating so fast,” he said, reaching over you to help you reclip it. “Were you nervous, Y/n? Or just sensitive?”

“Your mouth is entirely too close to mine to be asking that question,” you breathed out, cursing your eyes from stealing a glance at his lips. 

Only five minutes into this sudden attraction to Spencer Reid, and you were already mortified and extremely horny. In equal measures. 

“What would be the appropriate distance to ask that, then?” 

“I hear Australia is lovely this time of year.” 

He chuckled softly at you as he finished adjusting your seat and then moved far enough away to let the ground swallow you in peace. 

Never one to leave well enough alone, it seemed that Spencer took it upon himself to experiment with you for weeks on end after that. 

He'd constantly ask you to pass him papers, pens, anything that'd allow him to run a finger across the inside of your wrist. On more than one occasion you'd caught him staring into your eyes as he did it, and it took a nearly embarrassing amount of time to realise he was checking how dilated your pupils were before and after. 

When he'd gathered enough data for that line of questioning, he moved on to bigger things. 

You knew you were in danger of seriously falling head over ads when he offered to walk you to your motel door in a seedier case location. 

You, an FBI agent with a real-life gun and badge and job at Quantico, and you were jumping at the chance to have a man walk you to your room. You'd have been embarrassed if you weren't burning with anticipation. 

You hoped that like every other man in history, he was gently trying to insinuate himself into your bedroom, and by extension, your bed and more intimate places. 

So you were more than slightly disappointed when he started wishing you a good night. All of the aforementioned disappointment fled your body, though, when he picked up your hand and dropped a kiss to the inside of your left wrist, repeating the action on the right before wordlessly retreating. 

You stared at his back as he walked purposefully down the corridor and into his own room, leaving you to pick up your jaw and retreat to your room to lick your wounds. 

You wished it was him picking you up instead and found your brain imagining just that as your fingers dropped between your thighs that night. 

It became a case tradition for him to tease you like this, kissing your wrist after innocently walking you back to your hotel room. The others thought it chivalrous, almost cute and childlike, a form of courting that graced the good old days. They didn't know he grabbed you by the waist and held you against his hard-on every time you rode an elevator together. They didn't know his tongue darted out a few times to lick your wrist on occasion. They didn't know how you once mentally begged him to bite you there and how you shuddered as he ran his teeth along the vein there. 

Spencer was coming to the crux of his research regarding how far he could push you before you cracked. Only now, it was how far he could get without pushing you against a wall and jumping your bones. 

You knew you were in danger when he offered to escort you home after a case. 

“To walk you to your door, you know? Like always,” he smiled at you, the picture of innocence as you became damp between your thighs. 

“Sure. Yeah, okay, I'll get my keys, let's go.” 

You weren't sure how no one else noticed that Spencer didn't have a car to drive himself home after taking you to yours. You were unsure if they'd connect the dots between him escorting you home and his own apartment being 45 minutes in the opposite direction. 

Luckily for you, you could keep your hands at 2 and 10 the entire journey, away from his grasp. If he'd have touched you right then, you're sure you'd have driven both of you right off the road into a ditch. 

Or a pedestrian. 

The drive was calm, but pulling up forced your heart to your throat and kept it suspended there, almost like it was frozen at gunpoint, a deer in the headlights. 

“We're here.” 

“Great. Let me walk you in.” 

In. You swallowed hard, wishing very much for him to be inside of your apartment. 

“Okay.” 

Stepping into the elevator a few minutes later, he waited mere seconds after the doors began closing to pull you into his personal space. He was hard, he was so hard once again and his cock was now straining against your ass.

“Spencer, we need to talk about t-that,” he stroked your wrist as his hand splayed across your stomach, holding you firmly against him. 

“About what, Y/N?” 

He pulled your arm up almost as if inspecting the wrist for imperfections, and your head melted back into his chest. Why was this elevator so goddamn slow? 

You sprung out quickly when the doors pinged open finally and moved straight towards your door without a glance back, but you felt him close behind you. 

“Y/N, wait for me, wait, I'm sorry,” he called out quietly as you forced your keys into the lock as fast as possible. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry if I stepped over the line, I didn't mean too, please look at me-” 

You got the door open and turned back around to grab a firm hold of his tie and yank him into the apartment behind you. 

“Months. Spencer, you have been edging me for months, and I am sick of it.” You half growled at him, slamming the door behind him and then pushing him up against it. 

“I can feel how hard you are right now. Obviously you want to fuck me, so why aren't you?” 

His face went from shocked to intrigued, then shot straight for mischievous as he cracked a smile, and you felt his hands wrap around your wrists slowly. 

Before you could react, he had your positions swapped, your arms above your head pinned at the wrists and his breath hitting your neck as he answered. 

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to break.” 

Your lips leapt to his, hitting him angrily as you searched for more pleasure in his touch, one leg pushing up to wrap around his waist as his hips settled between yours. 

He met you at your level, giving just as good as he got.   

“Call it scientific curiosity,” he murmured, lips trailing down your neck, but hips pinning you in closer to the wall, keeping you trapped there. He made his way along your shoulders and then pressed light teasing kisses up your arms while rutting his hips into you, dry humping you against the wall as your eyes glazed over in lust. 

“You react when I touch you, you heat up. But it gets worse if I touch you here, right Y/N?” His lips again found your wrist, but this time his teeth grazed across the veins he found there. 

“You get so horny now when I look at you. I can grab your wrist and make you beg for my cock, isn't that right?” His mouth was back by your ear as your legs went limp under you. He still had you caged against your own door, and you had no idea what to say to that. 

Part of you wanted to protest purely because of the rough tone of voice he was using. The other wanted to flood to the floor and tell him yes, beg him to just fuck you and be done with this pure torture. 

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Isn't that right?” 

“Yes, yes, Spencer fuck, I don't care anymore, yes. You can touch me and I'll react to you, please help me.”

“Good girl.” 

He pulled away instantly, but his hands wrapped firmly still around your wrists. Slowly, he pulled you towards him as he slowly walked backwards further into your apartment. You thought for a second about just throwing yourself back into his arms, to close the space he'd created again between the two of you. 

You tried it, lifted your head slightly, begging his lips to return there, but he held firm. Each step was an agony of need, and you fought to hold your tongue, begging yourself not to beg him so pathetically. 

“Such a good girl, I'm holding you by the wrist, and you won't even protest about how slow I'm being.” 

Your mouth fell open as you registered his words. 

“You're being an ass.” 

“What was that? You want me to touch your ass?”

“Spencer!”

“Don't worry, we'll get to that.”

His back finally made contact with your bedroom door, and you stumbled forward into his chest as he kept his grip even still. 

“You're going to listen, right? You're going to listen to me and do what I ask you to do, aren't you?”

You wavered again. He'd been teasing you, but now he was serious, his tone light and his voice soft, but you could feel the strength in his grip. You could feel his arousal at your hip. 

“Yes, Spencer.”

“Good. Get on your knees on the bed. No clothes.”

He released your hands and opened the door for you as you tried your best to walk forward calmly. 

By the time you reached the bed, you'd removed most of your clothes, but you hesitated at the underwear as he watched from behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder saw him palming his cock through his pants, still leaning against the door he'd opened for you. 

He was getting off watching you, and you were frozen in arousal. 

“No clothes, Y/N.” 

“I know.”

“Underwear is clothing.” 

“I know that, too, Spencer.”

“Then take it off.” 

You shot a quick glare over your shoulder as you unclaimed your bra behind your back and threw it to the floor. 

“On my knees, right?” You said, climbing on the bed still clad in your panties. 

“I also said no clothes.” 

“If you're so invested in my state of dress, how about you come and help me rectify it.”

His lips twitched in small annoyance, but he followed the trail of clothes you'd left, ridding himself of his tie, shirt, jacket, and pants along the way. 

He climbed on the bed slowly behind you, not opposite as you'd presumed he would. His hands reached out to touch your back before slowly sliding all the way up to your neck and pushing your upper body down into the sheets. 

You let out a little squeak in shock, but let his hands guide you, feeling especially pliant when he grabbed your hands and crossed them behind your back. 

“Maybe the panties can stay. I'll just decorate them afterwards,” he said, and with that, he pulled your hips up with his free hand  guiding you into the position he wanted you in, and pushed two fingers into you. 

“Fuck, Spencer-” your brain short circuited as he pumped the digits slowly in and out of you, setting an agonizing pace but holding you so tight that.you couldn't even press your cunt back into his fingers. 

“What? What is it, Y/N? Tell me how you feel?” 

“Feel good, so good Spencer, p-please more.” 

He shifted slowly behind you, pulling his fingers out almost completely before pushing them back in, this time with another finger added. He didn't quicken his pace as you assumed he would, but he took his time stretching you out further as you moaned and whined underneath him. 

“More. You wanted more,” he reminded you, and his voice was like a sharp hit straight to your cunt, rough and hot and filling you completely. 

You barely registered the orgasm that flowed over you, your brain replaying his words on a loop as he continued pleasuring you. 

“That's it. That's a good girl. Get my fingers nice and wet.” 

When you finally grounded yourself in the moment again, your cheeks flushed as you realized just how wet you'd gotten. You felt your arousal still dripping down your leg and turned your face further into the sheets to hide your embarrassment. 

He pulled his fingers out of you, though, and with his now free hand he crouched over you and hooked his fingers under your jaw lifting your head and body up, forcing your crotch back into his as your back arched. 

“Don't hide from this. Look how wet you are for me, Y/N. Taste it.” He tapped his fingers against your mouth and you were ashamed at how fast your lips dropped open, tongue falling out to let him wipe his cum stained fingers against your pretty little lips. 

You tasted yourself on his fingers, wrapping your tongue around them and sucking as he dragged his dick across your back, trying to relieve himself in any way he could. 

“Good girl. It's time for one more, Y/N.” 

You released his fingers with a wet pop as he pushed you back into the sheets. Lining himself up, he entered you easily, your cum providing ample lubricant. 

You whined at his first few pumps, certain he was going to continue his torturous pace and leave you begging for more hours into the night. 

Instead, he let himself work you up to it, each thrust gaining in speed and strength until you could hear the slap of your skin against his more vividly than your own heartbeat. 

His cock was thick, filling you perfectly as you lost yourself in the sensations. 

“One day, I'll handcuff you to this bed,” he said, leaning down and whispering in your ear as each part of your body vibrated with lust. 

“I'll tie you down to this bed, and I'll treat you like a princess. I'll eat your cunt for hours until you cum every time my breath hits your cunt, and I'll cover your pretty tits in my seed. I'll let you use my cock as your personal sex toy, and I'll fulfill every single need you have.” 

His hand released your wrists as both of his hands came to wrap around your waist, pushing you deeper into the plush covers and changing the angle of his dick. 

You screamed at the pleasure, forgetting the paper thin walls your apartment boasted. 

“Fuck, Spencer.” 

“And you're going to love every single second because your brain switches off every time I touch your delicate little wrists.”

With that, another wave of pleasure spread through your body, sending prolonged shivers throughout your body. 

You felt him withdraw and heard the sticky mess of him stroking himself behind you until he made good on his promise and sprayed his generous load across your ass and panties before collapsing on the bed next to you. 

The two of you laid there for what felt like hours, sharing nothing but your labored breaths and the space of the bed before he finally rose. 

You tried not to sleep, but your entire body felt stiff from the awkward, if enjoyable, position he'd held you in. 

Your eyes drifted shut, and you just listened to his movements. A creaking floorboard here, a stumble against some furniture there, culminating in some running water and a return to your space. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, cautious to rise you from what he assumed was much needed sleep. 

“Mmmm,” was all you could reply.

“I realize now that I made a pretty big mess, so we need to get you in the bath.” 

“Mmm,” you protested, brows furrowing as you tried to gather your sheets closer around you, cradling yourself in the warmth. 

But doing so only made you more aware of the sticky wet mess around your torso and legs, and you let out a small, frustrated sigh. 

“You're stubborn, you know that, right?” He said, admiration coating his tongue as he lifted you slowly and helped you place your feet on the floor and walk towards your bathroom. 

“Spencer, shouldn't have a bath, too sleepy.” 

“I know, I'm going to stay.”

“In the bath?” 

“In the bath.” 

“Good.”

And it was. You let him lift your legs one by one into the scorching water and melted back into him, your head resting on his shoulder as if it were the most comfortable pillow you'd ever used, and you slept. 

[luveline]

I read the Derek and Spencer fainting bit and now I want to complete it with Hotch :)))

If that’s alright of course…

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Aaron knows you harbour more affection for him than anyone else on the team, which is a true compliment to him, as you adore Spencer. He can never tell if you're friendly or loving, if you want some or all or nothing, the line between you blurred. 

When Morgan and Garcia first began their flirtatious friendship, Aaron thought they were seeing each other on the sly for a whole fortnight. He's a profiler, but he doesn't know everything. 

He does, however, know that something is wrong with you today. Hand held up over your eyes, you squint out over the crime scene with a wrinkled nose. The lakeside smells as bad as it looks with gore blackening the surrounding grass. He's been telling you for months to get some shades. You've been ignoring his advice. 

Your disapproval of the smell is normal. Your unsure footing is not. You take his forearm when he offers it and step across the muddy bank to the body without audible complaint, though you give him a 'this fucking sucks' narrowing of the eyes when he gives you the time. 

"Agent Hotchner," a deputy greets, "Agent L/N. We found the second body here. Bystanders pulled the first out thinking she was still alive, but that was unfortunately not the case." 

You shift unprofessionally close to Aaron. He doesn't really care. The sheriff barely looks at you both, his attention on the corpse hidden between overgrown cattails. 

Aaron hates to admit that he gives you more of his attention than is helpful. You seem odd. Call it intuition, call it plain old profiling, Aaron reads the next minute of events in the smallest twitch of your finger.

You put your hand on his back and he doesn't think, he just grabs you. The sheriff deputy startles as you fold over Aaron's arm like a marionette with strings sliced, exhaling hard as your body does its best to hit the grass beneath your feet. 

"Agent L/N!" The deputy yelps. 

"I got her," Aaron says, easing you down to the ground. He keeps a hand behind your head to lay you down flat, the other quick to leap from your side to your cheek. You'll likely have bruises in the shape of his hands at your waist. "Y/N?" 

He rubs his thumb under your eye. Quick, he leans down with an ear to your lips and relaxes at the sound of your shallow breathing. He pulls away, resting a hand atop your chest. 

"Can you hear me?" he asks, conscious of and ignoring the copious pairs of eyes watching over you. 

You don't respond. Aaron goes into emergency mode, flagging down a cop who races for a paramedic, hands at your throat unbuttoning the first button on your blouse, the second in an overabundance of caution. 

"Y/N, if you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that?" His tone wavers somewhere between demanding and desperate. "Come on. Come on." 

Fainting is one thing. Fainting with no signs of dehydration and little sun exposure is another, especially considering you hadn't moved from one position to another. You've passed out with no obvious cause. Any number of things could be wrong. 

He doesn't slap you —it works in the movies and not often elsewhere. In fact, Aaron finds himself at the opposite end of the spectrum. Patient outwardly and insanely panicked on the inside, he holds your face in his hand and waits for someone to tell him you're alright. 

Your breath catches, your head lolling into his palm. He straightens it, weary of your airways. "Y/N? Tell me you can hear me." 

The whirlwind of your fall and the eternity of your recovery has him holding his breath. 

"I can hear you," you mumble, again attempting to turn your head. He lets you this time. He's so relieved, he'd let you do anything. 

He fights the urge to shout, Where's the medic? instead following your face, tilting his head to the side. "Open your eyes, honey," he murmurs, for your ears alone. 

Your lashes twitch against his pinky index finger. You frown as though you're in pain and finally rouse to attention. 

"What hurts?" he asks, brows furrowed.

"Nothing hurts…" Your frown worsens. "You look really unhappy." 

"I'm not ecstatic about this," he says. He gives in, shouting, "Where's the medic?"

"Oh, no, please," you say, trying to sit up, "that is so embarrassing."

Aaron pushes you flat to the grass beneath you. "Stop, you need to stay flat. You passed out. This is the solution–" He puts his hand flat over your chest as you put in some effort. "Hey, this is what you need to do. Listen to me, agent." 

"What happened to honey?" you ask quietly. 

"That's when you were doing what I wanted." 

You close your eyes in a faux strop. "I guess I'll have to do what you want more often, sir." 

"That's enough." He sounds fond. Why does he sound so fond? 

The deputy clears his throat. "Paramedics are here." 

You groan. Aaron hides a smile. Through everything, his hand has stayed on your cheek. He doesn't pull it away until he absolutely has to, and even then, he holds some part of you. Your elbow, your wrist. He has the sense to be sheepish about it when the paramedic ushers him back, but even then, he's thinking about when he'll get to touch you next; he needs the assurance that you're okay. 

He gets it a half hour later when you're sipping on a gatorade in the back of an SUV. 

"Do I still get paid for today?" you ask, smiling playfully. "Or is this a write off?" 

He wants to joke about it with you, but there's work to be done. He sends you back to the hotel with a frankly unprofessional hug and a demand to take it easy. He's sure you'll be back stepping on his heels by late afternoon. 

[zylev-blog]

Jazz is Special Agent Fenton of the FBI. She doesn’t go by Fenton when she’s out on a case though; she uses Nightingale. She does this because it keeps her identity secret.

Jazz is investigating a series of crimes. One of the other agents goes undercover to try and set them up in a sting operation. Things go south and now Jazz is going to Gotham to view the murder scene.

When she gets there, GCPD try to stop her at the crime scene barrier. She flashes her FBI jacket and her badge and is given access. She walks over to the police commissioner, a man named Gordon. Gordon obviously doesn’t recognize her, and neither does the vigilante with him—Batman.

“This is a closed crime scene, Miss…?” Gordon asks.

“Nightingale. FBI.” She shows Gordon her badge. “You and your men can clear out. This is our jurisdiction now.”

“We haven’t gotten approval to—“ Gordon stops, but was interrupted by an officer walking over to Gordon and whispering something in his ear. “Fine.” Gordon grumbled, and started telling his men to leave.

“You too, Spooky. I don’t need a vigilante’s help.” She waves off the man without another thought, but Batman doesn’t move. Instead, he completely ignores her and starts walking towards the crime scene. “Obviously, you didn’t hear me.” Jazz scowled. “If you don’t leave, I will remove you with force, Batman.”

Batman turns to look at her. “That isn’t how things work here, Agent Nightingale.”

“It is now.” She kept her expression neutral. “Clear out, or be removed. Your choice.”

Batman tried to look intimidating. Jazz refused to bow. The two stared each other down before Batman took another step towards the crime scene. She reacted instantly. Pulling out a taser, she placed it on his back before he could even react.

He reacted quickly, and sent three batarangs at her in rapid succession. His movements were a bit slower than normal after getting tased. She dodged two of the batarangs, and opted to catch the third in her hand. She flicked it away lazily and cracked her knuckles with a small smile. “I love it when they choose force.”

Batman didn’t react to her comment. He seemed to understand he wasn’t going to be able to get around her without a major fight. He let out an annoyed grunt and grappled away.

Three days later, they meet on the roof of an abandoned building. It seems like Batman was still on the case after all. Jazz was not happy about it. She felt that he was going to ruin the entire operation. She couldn’t trust someone to have her back if they didn’t show their face. She doesn’t let the annoyance show on her face as Batman joins her at the edge of the rooftop.

“I thought I told you to stay off my case, Batman.” She said quietly.

Batman gave a quiet grunt. If she had to put it to words, it would translate to a ‘I do what I want.’

She didn’t speak to him again, but she didn’t kick him out, either. The two didn’t speak a word as they sat for two hours, inspecting the warehouse across the street. It was nearly morning by the time Batman left. She did make sure he left, too—she watched him grapple down the street and heard the roar of the Batmobile pulling away before she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Watching the building was doing nothing. She was going to have to get closer. She was going to have to go undercover herself. The thought didn’t make her any happier, even with knowing what happened to the last agent that went undercover for this operation. She also knew that to keep her tracker on her at all times, she would need to shove it inside a place that nobody would look for it. And boy was that uncomfortable.

Two days after she met Batman did she meet Brucie Wayne for the first time. By now she had been undercover with the modeling agency for a day, and it was going well so far. She was playing her part perfectly, but it could take weeks for them to trust her enough to give her information that she needed to know.

She had been hired to be arm candy for a wealthy man in Gotham. It wasn’t Brucie, though she knew he had a few models on his arms as well. She had gotten through most of the night without incident before she ran into Brucie. Quite literally. Brucie’s champagne spilled down her dress, and she gave a mock scream of outrage.

Brucie tried to clean up her dress, but she swatted his hands away and went to the bathroom to clean up. She never noticed the tracker that Bruce put on the nape of her neck. When she came back out, she noticed her date looking for her. She rejoined him and the rest of the night went smoothly.

A month into the operation and she finally was getting some results. She had been moved from building to building more than once, but she finally got breadcrumbs for what she needed to take them down. It took her another three weeks after that to gather all of the evidence she needed.

At the final takedown, she was joined by none other than Batman. She had half-expected him to show up after she noticed the tracker on her neck six hours after it was placed. She didn’t know when she had even run into the Batman at a stuffy charity gala. She had debated crushing it, but she didn’t have backup and she figured his help was better than nothing. She still didn’t trust him, though. She made sure he knew that, too.

Bringing the tracker up to her lips, she whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to listen in on a lady, Batman?”

Together, she and Batman took down the traffickers. They had been using models and trafficking them all over the world to be used as sex slaves. She feels a certain satisfaction while watching everyone be escorted out in cuffs.

“Nice work.” Batman says, figure tall and dark.

She hums. “Thanks.” The silence stretches on for a few minutes before she adds in, “Thanks for having my back.”

“I thought you didn’t need a vigilante’s help?” Batman teased.

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear the teasing on his voice. She smirks and crosses her arms. “I don’t. But you’re harder to get rid of than a ghost in a net.”

Batman didn’t respond back to her, and it takes her a few moments to realize what she had said. She was of course, referencing her parents ghosthunting activities. But he didn’t even know her real name, so how would he even know what he was talking about?

“When do you leave?” Batman asked.

“After everything’s wrapped up. Why, you going to miss me?” She finally turned to look at him. She wished she could run facial recognition and figure out who was under that mask. The psychologist in her wanted to know just why a man would put on a bat mask and fight crime.

“I have a case that could use your input.” Batman deflected her question.

Was that a compliment from the Batman? His way of telling her that he trusted her opinion? Or was it an olive branch?

“Mine or the FBI’s?” She already knew the answer to his question, but she wanted him to say it.

Instead, he just grunted in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and pulled a card out of the pouch that she kept her FBI id at and handed it to him. “That’s my office phone number.” She tapped the card with her finger as he held it. “If you want my personal cell, you’ve got to earn it.”

He nodded and tucked the card into his utility belt. She could see the beginnings of a smile from Batman as he disappeared into the shadows and grappled away.

Surprisingly, it only took Batman a week to call her. She had gotten settled back into her office in DC, and had mostly forgotten about the encounter. She had to report Batman’s appearance in her report, but beyond that, she didn’t have to explain that he helped her take down the ring.

She made a flight back to Gotham the next day. Batman brought her into the Batcave and told her everything she needed to know about the case. She didn’t know where the Batcave was, as Batman had blindfolded her, but she was impressed with his initiative.

“Im not wearing that.” She glared at him with all of the venom she had—which was quite a lot.

“You can’t go out in your FBI jacket.” Batman deadpanned.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Do you think I’m a rookie?” She shook her head and gestured at the costume that the vigilante had made for her. “That doesn’t give you the right to—to—ugh! Im not your Batgirl, or Batwoman, or whatever! I came out as a consult. I don’t dress up in latex, and I don’t wear costumes!”

The costume itself was gorgeous, not that she’d ever tell Batman that. It was solid black, had a red bat on the front of it, and was fully equipped with a utility belt, knife holsters, and a taser. It had a full cowl like Batmans, along with the pointy ears on top.

“I don’t see the problem.” Batman’s voice had undertones of offense in it.

“Look.” She gestured at the costume. “Im honored, truly, that you want me to watch your back. But I’m not a vigilante. Nor will I ever be!”

She had watched what vigilantism had done to Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie over the years. Sure, she’d gone out with them more than once. Without a mask. But there was something more complex about the costume sitting on the table in front of her.

“You said you were going to help.” Batman’s gruff voice got closer as he took a few steps towards her.

“And I did.” She gestured to the Batcomputer. “I already gave you my opinions of the case. I dedicated a weekend of PTO time to be here. But this is as far as my help goes.”

“What about the last operation? You owe me.”

“Owe you?!” She exclaimed, thumping her finger against his chest. “I told you to get lost. You still stuck around. You could’ve cost me the operation!”

“It worked.”

She groaned in frustration. She was close enough to him now that she could smell the faint smell of Kevlar and aftershave from him. She rubbed a hand down her face as she thought over what had happened last time she was in Gotham.

“What about all your other winged vigilantes? You had uh.. Nightwing, and Robin, right?”

“It’s only Nightwing.” Batman responded. “He’s unavailable.”

“I could’ve sworn you had a Robin, too.” She looked up at him and noticed the stiffness of his body.

“Robin has moved on.” Batman replied.

Hmm. Touchy subject. She wasn’t going to push. It wasn’t any of her buisness.

“You must be really desperate if you’re trying this hard to get me to go out in that.” She smirked.

“Things could go wrong.” Batman said with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t they always?” She tilted her head.

“Not always.” Batman mimicked her actions, clearly studying her. “What will it take?”

“If I put that mask on,” She gestured to the table behind her, “You take yours off.”

“No.”

“Fine. Deals off, then.” She pulled her phone out and immediately started looking for flights back to DC.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I can’t trust someone who won’t tell me who they are.” She shrugged.

Batman let out a quiet growl. As he took his cowl off, he scowled. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Fenton?”

“Holy shit.” Her eyes got wide.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

[noparadiseinthis]

English is not my first language. Bear with me, Grammarly helps, but it doesn't work miracles

I've never got past that part

Spencer Reid/fem!Reader

Warnings: Literally none, just cuteness - if you ignore Spencer's slight insecurity.

Summary: Morgan encourages Spencer to ask out the barista at the nearby BAU coffee shop. Already expecting a rejection, he is surprised by the result. (I like to imagine Reid from the first season here, the one who had never asked anyone)

"Come on, handsome. You'll never know unless you ask her." Morgan said, adopting a big-brother demeanor with Spencer as he slipped one of his arms around the boy's neck. "First time for everything, huh?"

Spencer cursed the day he let Morgan know that he never asked anyone for a date. Since then, the man seemed to be on a mission to set him up on a date and as soon as he saw the red cheeks and wandering eyes the young doctor had for you, he knew immediately.

"You clearly have a crush on her."

"No, I don't." Spencer hissed, trying to get out of Morgan's grip. "And keep your voice down." He whispered gruffly, glancing quickly at you to make sure you hadn't heard anything.

Derek rolled his eyes, puffing out his chest to start a motivational speech, or his version of it, at least. "Look, I don't want to spend the rest of my life making fun of you for not going on a date. Stop wasting opportunities."

Spencer looked up at his friend, looking a little wary and shy as he asked, "Opportunities?".

"For a genius, you can be pretty oblivious. The girl has a crush on you too."

Reid's eyes widened, although he tried not to show too much reaction. Was it possible? That you look at him the way he looks at you. "You think?"

When Spencer met you, he was sure he was screwed, completely paralyzed by your appearance, and he embarrassed himself by spending long minutes in silence until he pulled himself together and made his request. With his increasingly frequent visits - and the extra coffees he brought for the team members in the morning, which no one complained about - he saw beyond your beauty, and what he saw only made his crush grow stronger. He had already decided, however, to ignore it completely and let nature take its course and put an end to his feelings for you. But what if he didn't have to do that? What if it could be more?

"I'm sure."

The heart eyes, the excited smile you opened when you saw Spencer walk through the door and the way you blushed and fiddled with your hair while he ordered didn't lie. Reid may have missed those signs, but Derek didn't.

You watched the scene with more curiosity and amusement than you probably should have. In the corner of the café, the two men stood with their backs to you, Derek - the one you met today - cradling Spencer in one of his arms while they seemed to be having a serious discussion. You weren't the nosy type, but you'd give anything to know what they were talking about.

Spencer was a regular customer, as were several other FBI agents, but there was something special about the young genius who could recite complete passages of foreign poetry in their original language and still blush every time you drew a heart next to his name on the glass.

You liked to think that you put a dose of affection into every drink you made, but with his, you certainly took twice as much care, never failing to laugh at the huge amounts of sugar that were needed. You finished the two coffees, wrote the names on the cups even though you didn't need to at that point, and called out loudly. "Spencer and Derek."

Spencer was startled to hear his name called and Derek smiled at seeing his friend so affected. "Go on, tiger." He said with a laugh, pushing Spencer towards the counter and giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Spencer preferred to think that he didn't approach the counter as slowly as it seemed in his head. Thousands of phrases came to mind, but none of them seemed right. When he only took the coffee with a quick "thank you," turning to leave, Derek regretted it internally. No, kid, he thought with agony.

One step away from you and Reid reconsidered, taking a deep breath so as not to chicken out before turning back to you, who stared at his departure with the feeling that you had done something wrong since he hadn't stopped to have his usual conversation, which would normally last until work dragged him down or your manager started looking at you with something akin to anger

"I was thinking..." He began, but stopped midway, looking into your anxious eyes.

God, was that really happening? Was it what you imagined?

"Do you want to do something? One day when you're free." He said, scratching the back of his head.

It was what you had imagined. Your heart raced as you jumped inside. "Like a date?" You asked, just to make sure you hadn't taken it the wrong way.

And before he could turn around again, you gave your answer. "I'd love to!"

"Yeah, like a date." He replied, interpreting your question as surprise and refusal. "But it's not necessary, you know? Just... forget I said that."

That's it, kid! Derek smiled proudly, watching the two of you with total indiscretion.

Spencer's eyes widened, taking a few seconds to process the fact that you had accepted! It was real. Maybe Elle was right.

"That's... great." He said, a small, shy smile appearing as he looked away.

"And where are you taking me?" You asked, flirting with him a little.

That's when Spencer realized. "I don't know," he admitted embarrassedly, "I've never got past that part."

You laughed, but you didn't seem to be mocking him, you seemed to be laughing with him. "You're cute," you murmured, making him blush a little. You looked around, and when you saw that your manager wasn't around, you pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, wrote quickly, and handed it to him. "Tell you what, you decide where we're going and let me know, OK?"

He took your number as if it were some kind of treasure, his eyes a little delighted, and almost forgot to answer. "Of course! Yeah... I'll see you later."

"Bye, come again!" You exclaimed happily, returning to your dedicated barista facade.

As they left the establishment, Derek's huge smile returned, as did his arm around Spencer's neck. "I said, congratulations, big boy. You're a man now."

Spencer hardly minded the teasing this time, thinking about your smile and asking Gideon for the address of that restaurant he had praised.

[gghostwriter]

Still Alive for My Lover

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The four times Spencer brushes with death and the fifth time he's reborn to find his way back to you

Warning: angst with happy ending || [Part 2A of Death of a Love Affair; Part 2B is the sad ending]

A/n: I did a poll the other day on if I should post both different part 2s for Death of a Love Affair and posting both won so here is one of the endings--the happy one! I actually scrapped my first happy ending idea for this (I dreamt about this plot just the other night) so like a maniac, I wrote and edited it in one sitting. Also he has been through a lot so I had to choose scenes that I think would affect his psyche. Hope you enjoy!

Part one || Main masterlist || Part 2B

The first time Death came close was during an Anthrax attack

In Spencer’s quest in solving the time sensitive and nation threatening case, he made a series of misjudgments that had led him to being exposed to the chemically engineered Anthrax.

During his months of adjusting back into being single and alone, he poured all that he could to his job. No longer were the cases viewed with a clear objective mind, they all became personal. Case distance from Virginia, where you were, meant nothing. He viewed each killer a threat to your existence. In the most convoluted way, this was him protecting and keeping you safe when he no longer could beside you. 

“Hey, Reid.” Garcia softly said.

“Reid, wow, no, uh—no witty Garcia greeting for me?” Spencer joked to try and lighten the mood.

She shakily exhaled her breath. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.” 

“Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?” His voice trailing off at the end.

“Anything.”

“I, uh-I know I can’t call my mom without uh—“ he cleared his throat. “Without alerting everyone at her hospital and I can’t call Y/N since—since it’s protocol and we broke up.”

She paused, nodding her head. “What do you need?”

“I-I need you to record messages for them, in case anything happens to me.”

“Oh, nothing’s going to happen to you,” she tried to be optimistic. “You’re gonna—brilliantly find out who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

He sighed with a slight smile on his face. “I hope you’re right, but if you’re not, I just—I really want to make sure that they hear my voice.” 

“Ok, just give me a second.” The taps from her keyboard echoing in the background.

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked.

“Ready.”

“Hi, Mom. This is Spence. I just, um-I just really want you to know that I love you and—i need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.” His tone fluctuating from holding back tears. “Y/N, I know we broke up months ago but—I need you to know that I love you and that I’m sorry—” A shiver passed through his body, a sign of his fever escalating. “Sorry for pushing you down in my list of priorities—should have done better. I don’t resent you for leaving me and if—if this is my last message, I want you to know you’re one of the last things on my mind, Angel.” 

The thought of you finding out through the news that an FBI agent had died or worse, not finding out at all, sent him into a tailspin. You were a worrier and Spencer didn’t want you to question your judgement of breaking it off with him and drown in the not knowing, what ifs of it all. He wondered where you were at that very moment as he crept closer and closer to Death’s door. Were you wallowing still? Maybe out for brunch with your friends or a date—his breathing stuttered at the thought. He tried and failed to imagine you smiling at a faceless man in front of you, preening under your attention. Who wouldn’t? He shook his head as an effect to bring him back to the present.

The pause made Garcia panic. “Reid?”

“I-I gotta go.” 

Click.

***

The second time was when Maeve died

Spencer thought he was finally going to get it right with Maeve but it was false hope, his speculation far from the truth because Maeve—his second chance in love was dead, killed right before his very eyes. He loved her, truly did even without knowing what she looked like—not in the encompassing way he loved you, no, but Maeve still carved a space in his heart that was one filled by you. She was comfort and a healing balm for the pain of losing you.

He associated navigating life with you as something like entering a luscious forest. With you leading the way though the beautiful greenery and kind animals—a fairytale kind of love. But when you let go of his hand, the forest turned dark and the animals turned into monsters that haunt his every move. Maeve was a cabin in those woods, lighted and warm with a fireplace—a respite for his lost and terrified being. He knew what was out there but housed in her presence, he felt safe and believed himself ready to defend his newfound solace. He was wrong, the security was temporary. His shelter torn down and taken away, leaving him back out in the woods with no light or guiding star to see him through. 

Curling into himself on the floor beside his bed with ‘The Narrative of John Smith’, the copy that Maeve gifted, tucked to his chest, uncaring of the the pathogens that it can carry, a folded piece of paper under the dresser caught his eye. He stretched his hand, feeling the settled dust on its surface scatter, and pulled it into the light. Gingerly, he opened the yellowing sheet and found himself staring at your handwriting—a note that he had never seen before.

He once asked about your penchant for leaving hand written notes for him to find. You shrugged then and nonchalantly called it a treasure hunt for him to partake in. During the times passed, he’d encounter lingering, forgotten notes from you all over his apartment. In his cupboard, pushed in the dark recesses, in his rarely worn patterned coat, and slotted in between the books on his bookshelf. He thought he had found them all but here was one left unread as if it knew when to make its presence known. As if it knew that he needed a sliver of light to guide him home.

Spence,

I’m not sure if we met at the right time, but because we’re both here, let’s do our best and if there does come a time were we must part, know that I love you. I’ll love you enough until we meet again. 

His tears broke free from his battered walls and streamed down his face. He loved Maeve. He was thankful for the peace each phone call had given him and although his memory of each talk may fade into the back of his mind, the relief and emotion she had given him will linger in his chest. He slowly got up from his position and approached his beloved shelf. With one last look at his book, he slotted it within the nook and walked away.

His love for Maeve will always be there but he loved you too and he thinks he always will. And when sadness and grief comes to pull him back under in moments of weakness, he unfolds his talisman—the note—kept near his heart as a reminder. A reminder that he has loved, was loved, and is still loved. 

***

The third time was when he was shot in the neck

Fading in and out. 

In—liquid seeping into his shirt and tie.

You were the only thing he could think of. Not the case, not the team, only you.

Out—sirens blaring in a distant background.

In—Morgan’s voice calling his name.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer was terrified. He was so terrified that death had come to collect his borrowed life without having a chance to right his wrongs. Without any contact and without any way to say how much he has loved you still after all these years and months. He could probably recite how long it had been, if only he wasn’t loopy from the pain. 

Out—muffled voices all around him. 

In—a gentle sway in the ambulance as it rushed to the hospital.

He wanted to tell you how much he’d learned from recalling all his memories with you. How much you had taught him about love—a teaching he could never find in books. How love was selfless and tenacious—just like when you didn’t give up on him early on—when it needed to be. How love is fueled with respect—like how you respected his choices and demands of his career, and how love—true love, knew when it’s time to go. 

Out—streak of bright lights passing him by. 

In—professionals dressed in scrubs and white coats touching him. 

Your face was the only image settling behind his closed eyelids. He tried to remember the crinkle around your eyes when you smile, the scrunch of your nose when you laugh, or the he arch of your brows when you teased him but all were hazy, as if he was staring into a deep depth of water that rippled nonstop. All he could conjure up was your face with tears sliding down to your chin from the hurt he caused. He was deathly afraid that his last memory of you were in pain. 

Out—laying cold on the operating table.

All he could muster to repeat to himself as he faded under local anesthesia was your name. Like it was a mantra, a prayer, and his own personal saving grace. 

In—surrounded by beeping noises and fluffed pillows.

Mind still hazy when he came to, he sent a thank you to the stars. Grateful that Death was unsuccessful and to have been given an opportunity to correct his mistakes. Wishing that somehow, somewhere your paths and his would cross again and he could tell the story of all his adventures and yours, and how he has changed, hoping once again to be worthy of you.

***

The final time was during his stint in prison

He’s changed. In the dark forest you’ve left him behind, the once scared and hunted by monsters had become the hunter. The anger and agitation that simmered near the surface of his every waking moment was something he did not know how to accept. He was worried about the new him and how you’d perceive it. There were no signs of who he was before and during you. If he’d cross paths with you on the street, would you recognize him? He hoped so. Would you still accept him? He needed you to.

Along his long route back to you, he grew thorns and horns. He became decorated with wounds and scars. His talisman—your note—had aged, just like him, and had ripped along the folds. His once brilliant mind—now in a haze from trauma, memorized the words. It was your writing that grounded him while he was stuck in the cell of a mad woman’s making. The slants and loops studied and the grooves and indentations caressed with his calloused, bloody hands. 

He loved you still, very much so, but with his change, it had also mutated. What once was compared to a fairytale kind of love had now been smudged with darkness and desperation.

He felt lethal in his journey back to your embrace. Gone was the boy who felt remorse in shooting an unsub between the brows and replaced with the man who felt no qualms in killing should safety be threatened. He knew he had to talk to someone about the path his thinking had taken but instead, he entered his home with a single-minded purpose, walking straight to your side of the drawer and clutched another memento that will buoy him through the ravaging waters of emotion—your engagement ring. Looping it through a chain that he now wears on his neck and near his heart, a symbolism of his will to see things through, come hell or high water, he’ll crawl home to you.

***

And his second life started when he left the BAU

Spencer wanted to see you. Once inside the building elevator going down, he fought the urge to dial your number—regardless if it was still even yours. He needed to know. To know if you’ve moved on after all those many years apart or lived just like he did—tried but unsuccessful, always comparing and always coming up short. The eyes not as kind as yours, the smile not as radiant, and the heart not as beautiful. Was it awful of him to wish for the former? Yes, yes it was. He knew you deserved happiness and support after all the times he had let you down, knew you deserved a life after him, knew you deserved a happy ending but here he was, hopelessly wishing that your happy ending was still with him. 

He didn’t keep up with your life as much as he wanted to. The wounds of his failure and the battle scars he received along the way were still fresh. He didn’t have the right to know—a self imposed punishment. Although Garcia offered to look into you whenever he would reach rock bottom, and he’s been there a lot, he refused. By returning your ring, the engagement ring hidden underneath his shirt, you’ve taken back his privilege and he respected your decision.

You deserve better than to have him contact you without his life in order. If you’d still have him, you’d get the best of him. And so for the past six months, he focused on himself. He gained his footing in teaching young agents, he worked on his anger and made progress with his therapist, and he got to know who he was again beyond being an FBI agent. And it was as if the stars took notice of the changes and decided to reward him.

It was late into the night when he decided to make a quick grocery trip for some perishables missing in his pantry. This was out of his normal routine and he was forever grateful to the impulsiveness that took over him that night ever since. It was what led him to cross paths with the only person he had once considered home—you.

As he was entering the store, you had come out in all your beauty, struggling with one bag in each hand. Whenever he would recall this story, you’d scoff and tell him that you didn’t feel beautiful then—hair in a sloppy bun, t-shirt all crumpled, and face bare from any makeup. He’d object as no matter what the circumstance, you were always the most beautiful to him. 

He cleared his throat then. “Y/N.”

“Spencer,” you breathed out, surprise painting across your face.

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, voice cracking at the end. He thought he outgrew his shyness, time in prison does that for a person, but here you were reverting him back to how he felt when he first met you. “I’d like to walk you back to your car, if that’s alright,” he added on as he was afraid of your refusal. The parking lot was dimly lit and almost deserted. Years of solving cases has made him hyper vigilante and even if he was technically no longer a fed, his experience stayed the same. He still wanted to make sure you were safe, after all the time away.

You hesitated before nodding once in agreement. 

He smiled, letting go of his breath he didn’t know he was holding, and reached out to take your grocery purchases. “Let me get these for you, lead the way.”

The silence was uncomfortable. Years of being away from each other has made him a stranger to you and you to him.

You crossed yours arms, a sign of defense, before clearing your throat. “How’s the team?”

He pressed his lips into a straight line, not wanting to spill every little change that has happened while you were gone. “Good, good.”

Silence.

“No case tonight?”

“Uh—I only consult now,” he explained. “I went into teaching.”

Your arms dropped, a sign of openness, and you peered at him. “That’s—different. I mean, are you happy about that?”

He laughed and almost felt like preening at the care that you still had for him. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a normal schedule for once.”

“Somehow normal and you being mixed together doesn’t compute in my head,” you teased, swinging your hands in a clear sign of nervousness. He felt good—glad that he still could read your tics. How the slight downturn of your eyebrow meant you’d table the information to ruminate on it later. How the little bounce on your walk, that wasn’t there earlier, meant you were accepting of this situation. And how you slightly shifted closer to him meant you find his presence a protector. 

As he was documenting each non-verbal cues into his memory, the back of your hand brushed with his, sending a jolt of electric charge. It was as if both your bodies needed a physical reminder that the other half is back and nearby. It was as if a defibrillator had charged his black and blue heart to life once again. 

You giggled. “Sorry about that.”

It was a cold night but each laughter wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, warming his weary bones that had been lost in the dark cold woods for so long. “It’s alright,” he stated as he watched you unlock the trunk of your car. 

Loading in your grocery in silence, he shuffled ever so slightly out of the way as you closed the trunk and rocked on your heels.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. It was the only way he could prevent his hands from reaching out and caressing your pink cheeks. He didn’t have the permission to touch you yet—not matter how much he wanted to. So wanted to.

“You look—you look great, by the way,” you stammered out.

“Thanks, you too—look great, I mean,” he stated. He wanted to sing out more praises on how you’d gotten more beautiful, more radiant, and more lovely but he settled on something simple lest he scares you away with the intensity of his feelings. “Do you think could have your number? You know, just in case you’d need help with groceries again.” A feeble excuse.

You smiled. The type of smile that was once reserved for him and he wished for it to still be his. Please don’t say no, please, he realized that if you do, that will be it. That there will no longer be any saving the tragedy between him and you.

As he was starting to slide down the familiar slope of sadness, you nodded. “I never changed it.” You unlocked the driver seat before facing him once again. “Spence—”

He basked in hearing you say his name.

“—I’m different now. So you’ll have to get to know me again.”

“I’m different now, too,” and while you uttered yours as if it was an apology or a forewarning, he uttered his as a promise. A veiled promise that he was now the man that you wanted him to be after all those years.

He reached his hand out. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid,” he hoped you’d play along.

You laughed, clearly intrigued at changes that had happened to him. Here he was, a germaphobe, reaching for a handshake to a stranger regardless of pathogens. You weren’t really a stranger, not really, but he wanted to write a new beginning. The last time was too tragic and ended with goodbyes. This time, this time, it’ll be perfect, he vowed to himself. A perfect fairytale with a happy ending that he could share with his kids with you one day. 

“Hi, Spencer,” you reached out your hand into his, engulfing yours in his tight grip. “I’m Y/N.”

He watched as you got into the car, fastening your seatbelt and roll down the window. “I��ll call you.”

“Please do, I’ll be waiting,” you whispered out before backing away from the parking lot.

And he did.

And after a few dates, he slid back the ring that once hung around his neck, sitting near his heart, back to where it belonged—back to your fourth finger where the Romans once believed a vein ran directly to the heart. Vena Amoris, the vein of love. Where it will stay forevermore, never allowing time and the outside to separate what once was meant to be. Never allowing ‘him and you’ as separate, there was just ‘them’.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Double-Edged Seduction (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as requested! Set in the current chem ov timeline.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader's top secret campaign is officially launched.

Matty

"So? How's the missus?" Max, Fabien's brother, asks as Matt rejoins the table.

The brothers and Matthew decided to meet up at a bar in the Soho area of London. As with every reunion, the conversation inevitably turned to their current romantic interests.

Matt had excused himself and walked out back when you called, unable to suppress the grin spreading across his face. That same smile still lingers as he takes his seat. Max and Fabien exchange knowing glances, clearly noticing the impact you have on him.

"Look at the lad's face. He's smitten to bits, isn't he?" Max teases, nudging Fabien to join him. Fabien merely shakes his head with a smirk, taking a long drag of his beer - he knows it's not all cut and dry, not when Ewan's in the picture.

Oblivious to the underlying tension, Max continues, "I've met her at your party, right? She's the new actress in your show?"

Matt leans forward, eager to chime in, "Yeah, she's new, but there's no shortage of talent there. She's already outshining me in our scenes!"

"Oh, I'll bet. Let's see now, hold on." Max pulls out his phone. "I'm not too familiar with her other stuff. Let me look at her IMDB or something." Then he gets to clicking, typing in your name on the search engine.

"Are you seriously Googling her?" Fabien laughs dryly. "You've met her a couple of times!"

"Yeah, yeah," Max waves him off, "just making sure that our boy Matty here is all set."

Matty? Or Ewan? Fabien thinks, but he keeps it to himself. No need to drag his brother into the drama. As it stands, the nosy guy's gonna find out eventually.

Max hums and ahs as he scrolls through your relatively brief filmography. But when he returns to the search results, he notices a series of headlines. They all seem to cover the same news: your latest Agent Provocateur campaign has just been released.

“Oh? Oh... Oh!” Max exclaims, his cheeks flushing red as he lowers his phone. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be seeing this,” he jokes with a sheepish grin.

"What the hell is going on with you?" Fabien laughs, but it quickly fades when Max shows him the news headline.

"Hey, now," Matt says, "if this is about my girl then I should be the one to see this."

And he does. Heat runs through Matt's body, and it isn't due to the alcohol. No, you are something far more intoxicating. He clicks on one sultry photo after another, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. "Oh, fuck me," he mumbles weakly.

"Oh, god, his face!" Fabien exclaims. "Mate, you are so gone."

"Well, shit." Matt hands the phone back, then says in a lighthearted tone, "Don't look at that anymore. Those aren't for you."

Max raises both hands in surrender, amused.

A hush falls over the lads, which breaks when Fabien lowers his head in a fit of suppressed giggles. "Your face, Matthew!"

Matt chuckles heartily, mirroring Fabien. "Fuck, can you blame me?"

Ewan

"Hello to all, I am Josh Horowitz, here interviewing two upcoming stars of the next big franchise... well, it will be a global sensation, I'm saying it now. Jenna Ortega and Ewan Mitchell!"

Jenna and Ewan both turn to the camera, displaying grateful smiles.

"We're so happy to be here, Josh," Jenna says.

"Well, thank you for being here," Josh replies. "Ewan, how was the flight from across the pond? Do you miss it already or does LA have your heart now?"

"Flight was all good." Ewan nods, smiling. "Yeah, and I mean, LA is great, it's lovely out here for sure. But my heart remains back home, I have to say."

Donna, his publicist, stands tense behind the camera, hoping that he doesn't making any revelations regarding his lovelife. They don't need another talking-to about the conditions of his contract, especially after that whole Instagram fiasco.

Josh asks several routine questions about the upcoming film - the production process, the locations for filming, the costumes. Ewan does well, his answers full of depth, evidencing the dedicated actor that he is.

But Donna wishes he would just smile more in Jenna's direction. This is meant to be a taster of their budding relationship - what fans will look back on and deem the initial flirty stages.

Ewan is, without a shadow of a doubt, a great actor. Fantastic. A star all-around. Donna knows this well - it's the reason why she chose to represent him in the first place. But man does he suck at PR.

Josh then asks a series of rapid fire questions to test their friendship.

Where did they first meet? The director's office in LA.

When is the other's birthday? Neither gets it right, but not for lack of trying.

"Well, I'm a Libra," Jenna says, "and you're a... "

"Pisces?" Ewan answers, unsure of himself. "At least I think so. I've been told that I do act like a true Pisces."

"Oh?" Josh responds. "And Pisces and Libra... are those compatible signs?"

"I think so," Jenna glances at Ewan with a smile. "I hope so!"

"You tell me," Ewan shrugs good-naturedly. "I'm not a big astrology guy, but you know, it seems interesting."

"Okay," Josh moves on. "Last text you sent each other?"

"Oh, wow," Jenna exhales.

"I don't know, let me check," Ewan says, quickly pulling out his phone, and Jenna follows suit. "Maybe something about this interview..." he trails off, distracted by a new notification - a message from Phia that starts with SOS.

What the hell? His mind races. He glances around the room, making sure no one noticed the flicker of concern on his face, before tapping the notification to open the message.

SOS! Our girl is so damn delish!! I don't know how you can ever handle it 😫

Ewan scrolls down, and his entire body stiffens. He is overwhelmed by a mix of surprise and disbelief, yet his face remains a stony mask as he processes what he's seeing. There's a lot to take in - your figure tastefully showcased in delicate lingerie, every curve accentuated with an air of elegance and seduction. His eyes hungrily flick over the images, as he tries so hard to remain composed.

So what if this franchise basically sets up his entire career? So what if he's already signed every contract that ties him to it? And who cares if a Hollywood mogul destroys his image?

Ewan needs you.

He is also, almost certifiably, going mad.

Get it together. He tells himself.

"Ewan? Ewan?" Josh's voice cuts through, snapping him out of blissful momentary delirium. "Care to share with the class?"

"Oh, he's so out of it," Jenna laughs. "What did you find? I looked through and our last message was about this interview."

"Oh, was it now?" Josh chides. "Or did Jenna send anything particularly interesting?

"What, me? I'm the worst texter ever," Jenna replies, shaking her head. "My messages are so plain and boring."

"Oh, sorry, that was nothing." Ewan says, managing an unaffected laugh. "I just got distracted by an Oasis headine. Are you guys going to see their show this year?" He masterfully switches the subject, but his mind lingers on images of your bare skin in lace and silk and...

He crosses his legs, stretches his neck, smiles and nods at whatever the others are saying. Anything to quell that familiar grawing tension in his trousers.

Not now. He prays. Not here.

If that happens... he is well and truly fucked.

Some notes in the margins...

If anyone's got any ideas on a name for the Ewan/Jenna film, I'm all ears. Also - on Ewan's elf character name? I call him Elfmond but I think that might be too telling... hehe.

Cold showers for Mitchell in LA. A lot of cold showers.

And for Matty? 😏🤷🏻‍♀️

[bluerosefox]

Our Strengths

"What do we do now? Tucker asked. His voice cracking with stress and worry as he stared at the scene before him not able to look away as his best friend and his family were being dragged out of their home.

Danny cuffed in anti-ghost cuffs and knocked the heck out with a ecto-gun pointed at his skull by one of the GIW agents, they eventually tossed Danny into their van that was parked right outside the Fenton Works. Jazz was pleading, begging them to let her brother go, even though she too was cuffed and not caring that another gun was at her back. Maddie was hissing like angry feral mama cat at the two agents, ignoring the other two that were holding her shoulders to keep her from squirming around and saying "you dare touch a single hair on my babies I will rip-" before she too was lead away to the GIW van. The last to come out was Jack and he looked haunted and stressed, and despite being a huge guy he was trying to make himself look small. He too was sent into the van, and one of the last things Tucker could see before the doors close was Jack kneeling down next to Danny and going to cradle him but being stopped by the GIW agent in the van.

Sam chewed on her lip, her eyes wide and wild as she tried to think of... well anything to save her friend and his family from this.

To think Vlad would be so petty after Danny finally told his parents about being Phantom and them accepting and loving him regardless and even apologizing for trying to hurt him that he would go and tattle to the GIW about Phantom.

Danny hadn't even told them about Vlad being a halfa either. Not even a bit. All Danny told them was that Vlad made him super uncomfortable. About how the guy seemed obsessed with his mom but seemed to be shifting his obsession to him.

And for once Jack listened, especially after Maddie finally told him the times the man flirted with her and had even tried getting her to leave Jack. With only Danny. No mention of Jazz, only Danny.

After that Jack turned papa bear mode.

Say what you will about Jack Fenton but his love for his family outweighs any kind of friendship.

So yeah Vlad finding himself being 'cut out' of the Fenton's lives, realizing the only times he could even get close to Maddie and Danny was because Jack was always welcoming to him, and finding out Jack point blank said he no longer wanted him around his family, he raged and decided to get back at Danny was to go tell the GIW about him being Phantom.

No doubt the creep was going to show up later, 'save' them and start making demands or indebt them to him.

And now here they were. The Fenton's, after being told about Phantom, were being unjustified hauled away by the GIW while all of Amity watches from the streets and despite the protest from, mostly teens, Amity Parkers no one could do anything with both weapons pointed at them or the 'law' decree.

Closing her eyes, Sam took a breath. When she opened them back up she finally looked away as the van and the rest of the GIW began to leave, her hands clutched so tight that her knuckles were turning a deadly white. When she finally released her grip she felt something in her hand.

Confused, Sam opened her hand and gasped as she recognized a familiarish green sticky note and words written in purple ink. She's never read any of the sticky notes CW would send Danny but she has seen them appear out of no where.

She read the note, ignoring Tuckers questioning, and once done she snapped her head to look at him. It was so fast that Tucker jumped for a second. Her eyes were alight with a new found kindle of hope, determination, and a plan.

"Sam? What is it?" Tucker finally asked once more, he had a feeling whatever she had in mind was going to be insane but if it sent by CW and meant to save his best friend he'd do it.

"We play into our strengths and get some help." She said as she brought the sticky note up for him to see.

"Help? From who?" Tucker asked as he took the note and instantly noticed the drawn symbols on the bottom. When he snapped his head back up to look at Sam his mouth fell open and he said in shock, awe, and disbelief "No. No way. Them? But I thought-"

"Gonna stop you right there Tucker. Remember what Dani told us last month? About that new under the radar teen hero group?" Sam cut in.

"OOoooh. Them.... Yeah I can totally get behind asking them over asking the adults." Tucker responded, his mind coming up with a plan as the sticky note words played into his head 'Use your strengths'

"Good we have no time to loose. I'll contact Dani to find out where we can find their base, you get ready to hack and find what you can so I can use it to help... persuade them into helping us."

-x-x-

Young Justice was having a normal, well as normal as a bunch of super-powered and very well trained teens could have day.

Or at least it was until their comms and entire system were hacked by an unknown hacker, a goth girl appearing on their main sceen and her saying this

"Hey, Young Justice right? Look I'll be blunt about this. We need help, our best friend and his family got taken by some shady government jerks that wanna experiment on him and we need to save them. It's a long story. However, we do not like the JL too much and don't trust them, we have our reasons, so to make sure you don't go crying to them, we're taking your systems hostage and blackmailing you with things our hacker found out." Her eyes narrowed at them, her face in a scowl and it left no room for negotiations at all, she was determined to get things her way "So that's the deal. Help us save our best friend and his family while not letting the JL know, and we let go of your systems and forget about what we found out."

[kikohao]

ᅠᅠᅠᅠ ⠀⠀⠀⋆˙. operation: one bed

★ ㅤㅤpairing ; agent!jeonghan x agent!reader ★ ㅤㅤsummary ; you and jeonghan were assigned a case together, you both played the roles of an engaged couple. why is it that you had to share a bed to sell the act? ★ ㅤㅤthemes ; spy au, one bed trope. fluff, mentions of seungcheol, soonyoung, and joshua ★ ㅤㅤwarnings ; cursing, kissing, slight jealousy, use of nicknames ("babe") ★ ㅤㅤword count ; 2k ★ ㅤㅤtaglist ; @nonononranghaee @abodyhasbeenfound ★ ㅤㅤa/n ; one bed trope with jeonghan has been rotting my mind for almost a week omg im really happy i was able to finish it on time! i've never really wrote a "kissing" scene before so im really sorry if its weird bye 😭 requests are always open! (texts, ot13 scenarios, drabbles, fics, mtls, etc) send an ask to be added to my taglist! likes and reblogs appreciated! <3

"Agent Kim, do you hear me?" You try to maintain a formal persona, as you talk into your built-in earphones as you make your way to the grand venue.

"Loud and clear. Make sure your earpiece is switched on at all times." A tuneless voice followed.

Upon entering the hotel, you and Jeonghan were greeted by the expansive lobby that screamed elegance and sophistication.

"They must be bloody rich," Jeonghan muttered quietly, but loud enough for me to hear. He was right though, there were multiple marble chandeliers, casting a warm, golden glow upon all the guests. 

It was extraordinarily exquisite.

"Pass the details," Jeonghan spoke into his earpiece as we moved to a certain corner of the corridors, hoping to maintain a low profile throughout the whole party. 

After a few shufflings of his notes, he responded.

"Agent Yoon, you're Jacob Choi, son of the most prestigious Grand Celestial Palace. I'm pretty sure no one would go into more detail about you, but make sure they buy the act. We can't risk anything. Agent Y/N, you're Ana Wang, Jacob's fiancee, I'll get back to both of you with more details on the individuals. For now, you both are an engaged couple, seemingly having an Alliance with Mr. Lin."

"Got it."

You and Jeonghan made your way towards the reception to mark you both in now that you've got your "personal" details. By doing so, you both were accompanied by a middle-aged man, possibly someone who worked there. He wore a black suit and bow, around 5'8?

"Keep an eye on everyone you see tonight," Agent Kim spoke from the earpiece.

"Why are you so tense?" Jeonghan muttered, "I'm not." You replied swiftly with a scoff earning nothing but a soft chuckle from him that kept on making my ears ring.

Why did your stomach suddenly start to churn? You disregarded it, possibly assuming it was hunger or thirst. Your train of thought was interrupted by a man who made his way towards us. He looked old, although, his rosy cheeks and flawless demeanor said otherwise. Guess he was the well-known, Mr. Lin.

"Oh, Mr. Choi!" He exclaimed out loud for everyone to hear, grabbing Jeonghan's hand and shaking it vigorously.

You tried extremely hard to keep in the giggles that were trying to escape your mouth as you looked at Jeonghan's reaction to the sudden interaction from the man. You forcibly had to look away because you knew you'd fuck things up the second you made eye contact with him.

"It's been so long! How're you and your fiancee? Ms. Wang ain't it?" He questioned, looking towards you. Maybe it was just you and your overthinking capabilities, but you swore something was off about how he looked at you compared to how he looked at Jeonghan, but you decided to brush it off.

"We're doing quite well, thank you." Jeonghan put out, maintaining a calm composure that very well contrasted with his normal personality.

"How's your mom doing? I'm so sorry that happened to her," continued the man. You and Jeonghan shared a quick glance at each other, one that said -- "Oh we're so fucked if we mess this up."

"Mom is doing quite well, thanks for asking. She's doing much better." You replied, noticing the intense tension that followed. Seems like staying here for too long may be risky.

"Babe, why don't we get something to eat? I'm starving." You shared teasingly, looking at Jeonghan, enjoying the flushed expression that lay on his face as you managed to throw in a pout to make it seem more genuine. You both needed to instantly get away for a while to ask Agent Kim about the next plan, and this was the only resort.

Jeonghan excused himself as walked towards one of the empty tables, hand in hand. As soon as we took our seats, Jeonghan voiced through his earpiece, "What do we do next?"

"So far, we haven't found anything. And, I'm guessing neither have the two of you. I checked with Agent Kwon regarding the party details. Seems like everyone attending is encouraged to stay the night, I'm pretty sure it's just for them to make more affiliates, either that or just to show off how rich they are. Either way, I and the crew think it would be beneficial if you did so, in order to uncover more details on Mr. Lin, it would also help in selling your facade since I'm pretty sure he's catching up with suspicions of his."

"Are you sure about that?" You spoke softly into the earpiece, observing the surrounding area, "It sounds quite risky,"

"It is, indeed, but it's your call on whether you want to."

You look at Jeonghan, he seems to have similar thoughts as you do -- he doesn't seem too fond of the idea.

"What do you 'reckon?" you ask him, simultaneously taking a sip of the non-alcoholic wine they'd provided all the attendees.

"Well, it is pretty risky. But, we'd better do as per Mr. Kim and Mr. Kwon since we'd have to put up with these titles until we get the requirements. It'd help sell the act." He finally spoke.

It was unusual. It was unusual how he seemed calm and collected amidst something like this. You'd imagined him to be some kind of reckless person like the persona he usually played so you weren't quite fond of going with him.

You nodded -- he had a point. The faster Mr. Lin believed us, possibly the quicker we could get this case over with.

And, this was it.

Jeonghan hurried towards the hotel management before it was too late to get a room while you sat at your spot, gazing at everyone who attended such a social gathering.

Guess you realized you zoned out when a young man, maybe in his 20s, sat next to you and started up a conversation like good old friends.

"No way, Ana? Is that you?" He put up a question, his face in awe.

"Oh, yes, hello." you manage to spit out, giving off a small smile as you gaze at Jeonghan, his back facing towards you as he converses with the management team.

Guess I'm fucked.

"You were never the one for these kinda parties, you always mentioned that they were too crowded. Guess you grew out of your phase?" He smiled cheekily avoiding the fact that he most possibly just insulted you, or at least the role you're currently playing.

Is this gaslighting?

A phase? How is not wanting to go out and talk with people a phase? You didn't know who Ana was nor did you ever meet her, but you most certainly didn't like someone like him straight up insulting someone.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You questioned, maintaining a small smile. The last thing you wanted was your cover to get blown.

"Oh, Nothing. How's Jacob? He be treating you well?" He continued as he took a small sip from his cocktail drink.

You nodded, glancing every now and then at your so-called "companion" who's left you to talk to some guy who supposedly knows you. It made you laugh how he thinks he's all that -- you could easily spot how the guy was wearing a worn-out suit and tie, most probably already used, and how he just seemed sketchy. 

"Keep an eye on everyone you see tonight," 

He did seem quite sketchy.

You spotted Jeonghan making his way back, guess God did hear your prayers after all. As soon as the guy spotted "Jacob" making his way towards us, he excused himself and left. Possibly to get another drink.

"Guess who managed to get us a room with my good looks," he winked at you, holding the keys high up. You couldn't help but chuckle.

Cute, you thought. Instantly regretting it when Jeonghan pointed out who flushed your face looked.

"Oh shut it, Yoon. Look, now you've ruined the mood." You shot back before he got a chance to say something sly.

His smile didn't last long though. "Oh and, who was that?" He asked, most likely mentioning the guy who'd been talking with you while he went to get the keys.

"Some guy who knows Ana. No clue, but he seemed sketchy." You replied, taking the keys from him.

A few hours passed with nothing but talking with the other participants, drinking, eating, talking again, drinking, talking...

"Huge thanks to everyone who was able to attend today. I wish all those returning back home a safe ride. Everyone who's staying for the night, you may make your way towards your rooms. Have a wonderful night!" Mr. Lin spoke out after clinking his wine glass, attaining attention from everyone present in the hall.

You followed Jeonghan as you made your way toward your room, slightly gazing in awe at all the picturesque art on the walls.

As soon as we entered our rooms, we both noticed the same exact thing.

There was only one bed.

One bed.

Anyone would expect Jeonghan to take up the sofa that was present in the room. Well, guess what? You were wrong.

There was a minute of silence before Jeonghan spoke out loud. "I'm taking the bed. You can take the bed if you want, but I'm not taking the sofa if that's what you're thinking." He smirked as he took off his shoes and placed them on the shoe rack before heading towards the bed.

Well, what did you expect?

That Jeonghan would give up the bed?

No chance and not at all surprising.

"You're such a gentleman aren't you?" You placed your shoes alongside him, making your way to the bed, not ready to give it up either. "They should've sent Joshua with me," You sighed out loud for him to hear.

"Joshua?"

"Well, anyone taking a good look at us would know that we're meant to be," You reasoned, followed by a breathy scoff from Jeonghan. You cooed at his reaction, "Aw, babe, didn't know you were the jealous type," you added, teasingly. You hated to admit it but playing Ana was fun.

"Yeah, right." 

We both had got into bed by the time it was 11. You switched the lamp that was present in your dimly lit room.

4 AM.

He stared right at me, with his dusk-brown eyes. But, it wasn't a normal stare. But a stare that held desire within. You both faced towards each other, the middle barrier made of pillows long gone.

"What?" You slurred slightly, still half-asleep, heart, leaping in your chest.

It was now that you realized that you failed to realize how ethereal he looked. His tired eyes bore into yours, as his bangs lay lazily on his face.

He leaned in slightly, reducing the gap between us. 

"Your eyes are really pretty," He muttered. It always amazed you how he didn't have much of a deep voice like other men, but still seemed dominant without it.

That was a stab to the heart. Not in a bad way though. In a way that made you want to kiss him. You wanted to hold him.

Maybe it was an exaggeration, but you swore you couldn't breathe as soon as he gently placed his lips, carefully molded into a heart, onto yours, locking it in place for a swift second before pulling away.

It lasted like a second or two, but your face looked as if you'd just run a marathon.

"Yoon, are you drunk?" you finally spoke out, not believing what just happened. You thoroughly enjoyed it, but how could he kiss you just like that?

"Yoon doesn't sit right with me, 'Babe' sounds much better."

[lookingforhappy]

Five should never have been with the CIA, he should have been with the Keepers

the CIA is incredibly reminiscent of the Commission, the thing that Five has been trying to escape since s1, and that has repeatedly dehumanised, manipulated and hurt him.

not only is it a secret organisation that aids in the manpiluatation of the lives of others by a higher power but he is also constantly monitored, with and without his knowledge -

he has to report to his boss, he is constantly followed/attended to by Derek (who is lightly implied to also be a keeper), and the keepers are undoubtedly reporting back to his boss to keep him in line without his knowledge.

(just look at how many are keepers.. thats insane for Five not to have noticed anything after spending so long in the commission on high alert - what happened to him always checking the surroundings first??)

sounds similar to him having to report the handler, constantly being followed by her (into the bathroom, the tube room, etc) and always being watched by the infinite switchboard and his tracker.

there's also the "Five is one of the top agents at this secret and shady org. and Diego is the butt of the joke because he wants what Five has and Five won't give it to him & when he does get it it's a comedy scene" thing.

which is honestly just another nail in the "cia is too similar to the commission to be comfortable for five" coffin for me..

he is also constantly referred to as "Mr. Five" a name that is only ever seen used by the Commission,

and which is supposed to show the Commission's false respect for Five by tacking a "Mr." onto his name while also refusing to add on a surname (Hargreeves) - or in the circumstance that Five doesn't accept a last name, then addressing him by his full name "Number Five" or "00.05" or just "5" - which dehumanises and detaches him from his family aka his reason for leaving.

Five also calling his boss "sir" is incredibly out of character as at no point in the series has he called anyone by a honorific, not the Handler, not his father, and especially not someone younger than him.

and also that he calls the cia director (lance ribbons) "boss"

like not even "my boss" or "the boss"... just "boss". it just feels like such a young mans word, which Five decidedly is not. if i had to pick how he would address ribbons id have him say "ribbons", "director" or maybe "director ribbons" if he was in a formal situation. never "sir" or "boss"

There's Five adapting to the timeline/circumstance and then theres Five's entire personality changing.

and honestly, if this is a survival technique for Five in this timeline, to play into his apparent youth, then why not show that?? or even explore it in a more interesting way like how the comics had him disguise as a kid with a backpack, bike and binoculars???

instead they kept giving him stupid little props that only served to further hammer in the obvious "hey! five works for the cia now!"

all it does is make him look ridiculous, and i know that five is holding the gun and torch in the correct way but god it makes him look like such a cop. and after hes been fighting authority for his entire life it feels so fucking weird.

what's interesting though, is that he would have fit in fine with the Keepers! and we see this demonstrated perfectly in their first scene

just.. the way that perfectly sums up Five.. plus our concerns that he wouldn't have anything to do after the apocalypses are solved and aidan's comments that Five was feeling like he had nothing left/suicidal.. for there to be a group of other people that not only believe him but support him unconditionally?

(aaand im out of pictures... great)

for Five to be able to say this to other people? and to not be thought of as insane?? thats big.

and then for Five to be hinted at not keeping up with his siblings aside from Diego - the deleted scene with Klaus at the party shows that Five doesn't know how long Klaus' been sober for, he also asks Luther where Viktor is, clearly hasn't seen Allison or Ben in a while.. it's all such a perfect set up for Five to join the keepers.

and not only does this set him up with other people, in a support group setting. but it also perfectly sets up his arc to have conflict with his siblings without losing their trust (sorry fivela stans but i cant get on board bc it destroys his relationships with the family).

while Viktor was negotiating with Ben, the others could have been negotiating with Five. which would have brought us full circle, of five disappearing and fighting like hell to get back home, to returning but not feeling like he belongs, to being brought back into the fold. this is also the perfect opportunity to bring Lila in, as she would have the best understanding of where he stands after being manipulated by the commission.

it's also the perfect opportunity to have Five cause the apocalypse, instead of save it. people have talked about Five being set up to cause the next one since forever, and Klaus has a perfect set up for it too.

I personally think that each season should have rotated who causes the apocalypse instead of randomly making it Viktor's fault. this way we could explore the siblings individually and their trauma and recovery. give them all a seasons worth of focus.

season 1 gave us Viktor's apocalypse.

season 2 should have given us Diego's via JFK's survival causing the apocalypse (exploring his hero complex and how his ignoring his family in favour of pursuing his own ego/comfort isn't good for anyone etc)

season 3 should have been Allison's via her desperation to get Claire back - the kugelblitz shouldn't exist (because it doesnt work with the established laws of space time) but instead her deal with Reginald should have caused the apocalypse maybe as a way to motivate the others like Five into finding a solution.

season 4 can still be Ben's but ultimately for the final season it should have been a joint effort or at least come full circle and actually been impactful with more connections to Ben's death instead of the 2 second reveal of him getting shot in the most anticlimatic and confusing reveal i have ever seen. Ben has literally haunted the narrative for 4 seasons, between his death being the reason they disband, to his ghost being the reason they survive at the end of s1 and s2, and his alternate reality self in s3 and s4. he didn't get the send off he deserved for someone who has influenced near everything in the show.

there should have been 8 seasons - 7 to deal with the issues of the individuals, and 1 to deal with their recovery as a group, almost acting as an epilogue.

instead we got 4 poorly planned and incomplete seasons..

anyway, thats what i think Five should have been doing this season, not joining the CIA

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Neighbors 🩵 Lovers

Part Four

Shutting his door, he placed his sturdy back against it. His head collided gently with the surface and he shut his eyes tightly. An even breath escaped his nose and his built chest rose up and down. Diesel’s barking brought his attention down to his pit bull. Erik slid down his door until his bottom touched the floor. Diesel relaxed next to him and Erik rubbed his back. His obsidian eyes stared off into space, but his mind replayed scenes from the night’s festivities over and over.

He dragged his other hand down his face.

Faedra McAdams almost made him say those three words.

Erik brought his left knee up and rested his elbow there while stroking his bottom lip with his thumb. He couldn’t believe it. From the outside looking in, you’d think he’d only known her for several weeks. Truth is, he’d known her for months. Five long months. From a distance. Through his telephoto lens while parked in a car or on a rooftop at night through a 10-power scope.

To understand why, it’s best to know what Erik does for a living more extensively. He is a Mercenary nicknamed Killmonger turned professional Hitman and a top agent for the International Contract Agency. Both Killmonger and his partner, Diana, work together during missions and she controls what jobs he’s hired to take on.

Before the ICA discovered Erik, he was a JSOC Special Ops who was kidnapped and became the product of a HYDRA experiment. The Winter Soldiers were HYDRA's elite group of assassins that were administered with Howard Stark's version of the Super Soldier Serum. Due to the mental side effects caused by Stark's serum, the Winter Soldiers were all kept in cryostasis at the HYDRA Siberian Facility, during which they were killed by Helmut Zemo. All except for Killmonger who escaped.

His genetically-engineered and enhanced body and mind (combined with his extensive knowledge and training) made him become the world's deadliest and most efficient assassin. Killmonger was a relatively emotionless assassin until Fae came into the picture. He couldn’t understand how this woman altered his controlled lifestyle so much. For once, Erik was able to relax and be himself. He was able to have real emotions.

The Ghost Fugitive was his current elusive mission he’d been hired to do months ago but Erik stalled because of Fae. He decided to move into an apartment here to keep an eye on his target. He was told to eliminate everyone involved or suspected to be involved. Instead of getting the job done, he purposefully dragged himself. He knew soon enough, Diana would come along asking questions. And that’s why he’s currently stressing. How was he going to explain this to Diana?

Erik’s phone buzzed and he turned his hip to retrieve it from his back pocket. Looking down at his phone, he paused when he’d seen her name. He hated the way he left her. She’s probably in her apartment right now questioning his change of plans. She’s probably blaming herself. Erik picked himself up from the floor and took off his shoes. He placed his jacket on the couch and took a seat.

Erik’s leg bounced as he tried to figure out what to say. She’s probably overthinking.

It wasn’t okay. He fell for her. He wasn’t supposed to fall for her.

She did have a point. He was supposed to be snugged behind her in her bed—well, that bitch nigga slept there too. He’d much rather she be in his bed right now. Cuddling with Fae beneath his sheets sounded so much better.

Erik stood up from his couch and strolled over to his door. He could see Fae leaving her apartment with Deuce in her pajamas. She knocked on his door and Erik opened it quickly. Fae slipped inside with Deuce in her arms and he shut the door. Fae’s big brown eyes looked up at him and Erik looked down at her beautiful face. Fae had her braids up in a messy bun and the cutest nightgown on. One of those nightgowns you get from Target.

“Hi.” She greeted him with a soft-spoken voice.

“Hi.” Erik replied.

“You wanted to talk?” Fae questioned.

Her eyes followed Diesel as he walked up to her. He sniffed her feet in a pair of Ugg Tasman slippers. She placed Deuce down on the floor and both dogs scurried off.

“Yeah,” Erik reached out for her hand, “Let’s go to my room.”

Fae took his hand and they walked to his room. Once inside, Erik cracked his door. Fae climbed onto his bed and kicked off her slippers. Erik took off his cargo pants and settled next to Fae. She was resting on her side while her head is propped up in her hand.

“…I’m sorry that I stormed off. I just…I was worried about Cordell popping up unexpectedly. I was thinkin’ about how he comes home every night after doing whatever the fuck it is that he’s doing and just…laying next to you after all that like shit is cool is fucked up to me. It’s manipulative. I don’t like it.”

Fae listened intently. Her eyes blinked slowly at Erik.

“…you’re too sweet, too beautiful, too much of a good woman to endure that. I love that you’re cheating back, I love that you let me do you in your apartment. I love it, I just don’t like that he’s still there…with access to you…and for that I’m sorry. It’s not my place to feel that way. You don’t owe me an explanation, ma.”

Erik turned away and stared down at his hands. Fae sat up on her knees and grabbed Erik’s shoulder. He looked up at her through his curled lashes. Fae’s eyes scanned his handsome face before she scooted closer, pressing her soft lips against his. Erik’s brows furrowed and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer. Fae swung a leg over him and plopped down in his lap. They kissed for a while, Erik’s fingertips rubbing up and down the dip in her spine, Fae’s hands tugging on his locs.

Erik broke their kiss and he stared into Fae’s eyes before his gaze dropped down. He couldn’t look at her without those three words echoing in his conscious. Fae kisses along his neck, causing Erik to grunt.

“Faedra,” Erik said with a hushed tone.

“Hm?”

Fae’s face was so close to his that their noses touched.

“You’re asking for it, girl…”

Fae giggled softly, “What if I am?”

Erik’s low eyes stared her down. Fae bites her lip and Erik licked his own. Fae leaned back and grabbed the bottom of her nightgown, lifting it up and over her head in one motion. Erik’s eyes fell to her breasts with stiff, brown nipples. His hands came up to palm them and Fae grabbed his face, pulling him in for another kiss. Erik’s hands roamed all over her body. He couldn’t get over how soft her skin felt.

“Don’t think, just fuck me,” Fae shoved Erik and he fell back against the bed, “Let me ride it.”

She didn’t give Erik any time to pull his briefs down. Fae’s dainty hands tugged with force and his dick bobbed out and stood tall, pointed towards her mouth. Fae slid down his body in a rush and wrapped her plump lips around his tip.

“Fuck, girl,” Erik hissed, “Damn…”

Fae swallowed him and she gagged a little. Erik’s hand curled around the base of her head and he forced his dick deeper. So deep that his balls were almost touching her chin.

Fae drew back and started sucking his length down her throat. Erik’s toes dragged across the carpet of his bedroom floor and his thigh muscles flexed. This is probably the best head he’d had in a long time. She had him shaking.

“Dayum,” Erik formed a crease in his brow and pouted his lip, “You’re such a nasty girl….ughhhhh—”

His orgasm caught him off guard. He fell back against the bed completely and dragged both of his hands down his face in disbelief. Fae’s lips popped off his thick pipe and she licked her lips before climbing up and straddling him. She squatted over him and Erik held her up with his hands beneath her ass.

Fae aimed his fat tip at her wet hole and she circled her hips over his sensitive head before slowly lowering her hips. They both sigh in unison. She placed her hands on his chest, arched her back, folded her feet beneath his strapping thighs, and bounced. Erik’s hands fell to his sides and he stared up at her with his eyes ablaze.

“Uhuh, Uhuh, Uhuh, Uhuh,” Fae moaned.

“You love this fuckin’ dick…look how you’re taking it,” Erik bites his lip, “Don’t stop.”

Fae forced her eyes shut and focused her attention on giving Erik the best ride he’s ever had. The sound of her wet pussy and skin slapping against his thighs filled the room. Fae’s braids fell from her bun and crowded her face. One of her hands came up to grip Erik by the jaw and her eyes crossed.

“You cumming? That pussy cumming?” Erik questioned with a soft voice.

Fae could only nod her head.

“You’re so fucking sexy—”

“Oh!”

Fae fell and she was pressed against Erik. Erik wrapped his arms around her and rolled over so that she was on her back again. He dragged her towards the edge of the bed and spread her thighs. With her ankles in his hands, Erik stood up and started fucking her. Fae clung to the sheets for dear life. Erik watched the way his fat dick split her pussy open wide. That clit was poking out at him, her labia was spread open and wrapped around his dick like a pair of lips, his dick was glossy from her arousal. It was beautiful.

“Erik!” Fae shouted.

He hunched over her and wrapped his hands around her neck. She looked up at him with surprise and her mouth agape.

“Oh! Uh! Yes! Daddy!”

Her body seized up and her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head.

“I love making you cum, baby…”

He slipped out and Fae gasped. Erik picked her up and placed her on her stomach with her head on a pillow. Fae’s hand slipped beneath his pillow and she could feel weighted steel. She withdrew her hand quickly and Erik noticed. Fae looked back at him over her shoulder and Erik's eyes were steady on hers while his hand slipped beneath the pillow to grip the handle.

“Why do you keep it under your pillow?” Fae asked.

Erik revealed his GLOCK G20 and sat it down carefully on his bedside table with the barrel pointed in the opposite direction.

“Just a habit.” Erik said.

He spread her thighs a little so he could find her entrance. Fae’s eyes shut when his dick pushed inside deep. He propped himself up on his fists behind her and he fucked her in flat doggy-style.

Fae smashed her left cheek against the pillow and both of her hands fisted the sheets. The constant clapping and bouncing of the mattress was enough to prove how deep Erik was dickin’ Fae down.

“You’re mine..your ass is mine,” Erik said with a shaky voice from the way Fae’s pussy clenched around him.

“Yes! Yes!” Fae shouted.

Erik dropped to his knees and grabbed Fae by her braids. One hand came down on her ass with a wide open palm.

“Bring that ass up,” Erik watched with hard eyes as Fae arched her back, “Good girl…”

He went in like he never stopped. Erik used Fae’s hair to turn her head so she could look back at him. Hot tears stained her cheeks. Tears of ecstasy. Erik released her hair and placed one hand around the front of her neck. His hot tongue slipped into her drooling mouth and he licked and sucked all over her lips.

“Mhm…mmmmm,” Fae could only moan.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” Erik spoke against her lips with a smirk.

“Please?!” Fae begged with a whiny voice.

“Ask me better than that, Fae.”

Erik released her and Fae dropped forward, hiding her face when Erik started going faster. In and out his thick pipe thrusted.

“Ask me…,” Erik whacked her across the ass again, “Open your mouth and ask me, Fae.”

“Daddy–Daddy please?—can I cum?” She spoke with a hushed tone.

“You wanna bust on this dick you better fix your arch!!!”

Fae whimpered as she pushed herself up and arched her back. Erik hummed in approval and it sent a shiver up her spine so intense her shoulders buckled. Even the kiss he placed in the center of her spine made her gasp as if she’d been doused in cold water.

“Better?” Fae replied with a trembling voice.

“Good girl, that’s my good girl!!!”

Fae couldn’t believe how fucking wet she was. That dick was sliding in and out her pussy with ease. She felt a heat in the pit of her belly and it caused tears to stream down her cheeks. She almost saw heaven. It was that intense. An out of body experience. Like her soul left its vessel for a brief intermission. She didn’t even have to announce her release, Erik felt it.

“Oh, yeah? Oh fuck yeah,” Erik grunted, “FUCK.”

He slipped out and his hot cum painted her backside. Fae dropped down on the bed like she’d been knocked out. Erik sat back on his haunches and tried to catch his breath. He was sweating so much that it dripped from his nose.

“Fae?” Erik called out to her, “You okay?”

“…mhm.”

Erik’s chest was burning from trying to catch his breath. He carefully climbed off of the bed and walked up to Fae. He smoothed her braids from her face and wasn’t surprised to find her sleeping. He palmed her booty and gave it a light slap. She squirmed and scrunched her face in such a cute way.

“I love you.” Erik said.

“Mhm.” Fae responded.

Erik knew she didn’t really hear him. But damn, he wanted her to. So bad. He grew to love her from a distance before they officially met. It was hard to explain. It hit him so fast. What was supposed to be a mission turned out to be a pleasant distraction. Erik honestly didn’t know if they would ever be together. That stung worse than the blade once wedged in his side.

Erik brought the sheets over Fae’s body and she snuggled against one of his pillows. Erik went to take a piss and when he returned he could hear his work phone vibrating. His chest grew tight with anticipation as he retrieved the phone from his side table drawer. Bringing the screen to his gaze, he shut his eyes briefly.

Diana.

Erik walked out of his room, cracking the door behind him before walking into his office. He cracked the door and answered the call.

“Meet me at Liberty State Park.”

She didn’t even wait for a response from Erik before ending the call abruptly. Erik slowly moved the phone away from his ear. He knew exactly what this was about.

Twinkling night sky, glassy ink-black water, and the reflection of the New York skyline ablaze with many lights was the view that greeted Erik’s eyes. Hands in his all black hoodie pockets, he spotted the statuesque figure of Diana with her back turned towards him. She glanced over her shoulder and her golden eyes met his briefly before she tore them away.

Erik took his place beside her silently, eyes scanning the lively city. His black Doc Martens tapped the concrete impatiently. The forty-five minute drive over felt like a waste. Whatever she has to say she could have said over the phone.

“Killmonger.” Diana greeted him.

“Diana.”

Erik looked at her with a tight jaw.

“The Ghost Fugitive.”

Erik exhaled.

“I’m handling it—”

“Faedra McAdams has been a distraction, Killmonger. Since when do you get distracted?”

Erik remained silent. He had no reason to argue Diana’s point. He had been distracted and thrown off his game.

“Do you know how long it took? Do you understand that if you don’t end this now, it would have been for nothing?” Diana said.

“Listen—”

“I know you don’t care about politics, Killmonger, but we decided to do this together because of the ICA. We can’t allow ourselves to be manipulated. You know all about manipulation, don’t you?”

Diana fully turned to stare at Erik. Her wind blown shoulder-length hair fell into her eyes and she combed her hair away. The chilly air caused her to slightly shiver.

“They’re asking questions. Do you want them to step in?”

“No.” Erik replied begrudgingly.

“Let me give you a brief reminder of how the ICA system works, Killmonger. You get three penalties. Three,” Diana emphasized the number three with her fingers, “which is generous compared to other agencies like HYDRA, but after those three strikes are up, they send a top agent such as yourself, to eliminate the Assassin. You should know about that, you do it all the time.”

Erik closed his eyes and released an even breath.

“I’m aware of the logistics, I know what the fuck I’m up against—”

“Then get it done. You have until the start of the Bankok job. If you have to burn it to dispose of your little distraction, do it. Otherwise…”

Diana retrieved an all black pistol from the back of her tight black pants and Erik’s eyes didn’t leave hers. He knew that Diana would kill Faedra. Without hesitation. In that case, he’d have to kill her. No one was going to lay a finger on Fae.

“…I’ll do it for you.”

Silence stretched on for another five seconds until Erik’s sinister chuckle caused Diana to narrow her eyes.

“…Let me make myself clear, Diana,” Erik rolled his shoulders in a threatening manner and his voice took on a deeper more menacing tone, “I’ll kill you.”

Erik’s face was centimeters away from Diana’s. His eyes didn’t blink and they looked cold and dark.

“…You don’t touch her. You don’t speak to her. You don’t even breathe around her.”

Diana’s eyes narrowed at Erik and that pistol was still in her grasp.

“Partner or not, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes, Diana,” Erik looked her up and down, “Do we have an understanding?”

“How dare you—”

“I SAID…do we have an understanding—”

“How long have you known about her? Five months?! What will she think when she finds out who you really are? Then what? You think she’ll love you, Erik? You’re incapable of love. Maybe I should remind you about what you did all those years ago to your ex. You almost killed that woman. If Fae was in her right mind, she would run so far away from you—”

Erik snatched up Diana’s gun and pointed it at her forehead. Diana stared at him wide-eyed and he could see the fear beyond her gaze. He took the safety off of the pistol and Diana stared into the barrel.

“You don’t talk about my past, Diana. You don’t get to stand there and fucking judge me. You don’t know what the fuck I’ve been through!”

Diana stared at Erik with a stony expression.

“Get that gun out my face, Erik.” Diana commands with a low, threatening tone.

Erik didn’t do it right away. After another minute he slowly lowered the gun and placed it behind him in the waistband of his pants. Dianna scuffed and shook her head before creating space between them.

“Doesn’t matter. If I don’t kill her, they will.” Diana said matter-of-factually.

“I’ll get it done. Get off my ass about it.” Erik replied.

Diana looked at Erik with disappointment. He could feel her judgment through her hard gaze.

“Have you been training for the Bangkok job?”

Club 27 is Killmonger’s current high-profile mission. He’s tasked to kill Jordan Cross and Ken Morgan. One year ago, promising young actress, Hannah Highmoore, fell to her death from Cross' penthouse loft in Dumbo, New York. According to the police, Ms. Highmoore's death was a tragic accident but her parents remain unconvinced. They firmly believe that Cross murdered Hannah and only escaped justice due to the power and influence of his father: billionaire media mogul Thomas Cross.

A secondary target, Ken Morgan, corporate fixer and attorney to the Cross family, is also staying at the hotel. Cunning and unscrupulous, Morgan was a key agent in the cover-up of Hannah Highmoore's murder and Jordan Cross' subsequent acquittal. The Highmoores understandably want retribution. And while the system may be powerless, Killmonger is anything but.

“There’s a room waiting for me at the Himmapan Hotel as we speak.” Erik replied with a dry tone.

“In that case, we’re done talking.”

Diana turned to leave and Erik caught her by the arm. She didn’t look back at him.

“…I’m really sorry about putting that gun in your face. I don’t take threats lightly.”

“What a way to apologize,” Diana chuckled, “it’s just a phase, right? You fuck her?”

Erik released Diana’s arm and she finally faced him with a sly smirk.

“You did. Oh, Killmonger…”

Erik looked at her with unblinking eyes. Diana held her hand out for her gun and Erik lifted the back of his hoodie up, retrieving the pistol. He placed it in Diana’s hand and she accepted it.

“Expect a debrief in two weeks…”

Diana walked away, leaving Erik alone to his thoughts.

Fae tried to calm him down. Her tears flooded her vision. Cordell stood there with his hands up and a frightened look in his eyes. Erik was in full rage mode. It was understandable, Cordell was really asking for it.

“I’ll kill you for what you did to her!” Erik barked out.

They were standing on the rooftop of the apartment building.

“Erik, listen to me, put the gun down.”

Fae placed one hand on his arm tenderly. Her eyes were pleading with him to put the gun down. He took one look at Fae and then his eyes were back on Cordell molten hot. He lowers his P365 slowly, eyes unblinking.

Thump!

Fae watched with wide eyes and her mouth dropped open in shock.

Erik kicked Cordell off of the rooftop. Erik watched with sinister eyes as his body dropped to his death.

Erik!

He looked back at her with a villainous smile.

Fae opened her eyes and her heartbeat settled to a lower rhythm. Sleeping on Erik’s bed felt like sleeping on a cloud. Fae yawned and her sleepy eyes looked down at Erik’s side of the bed. She had a nightmare about Erik and Cordell fighting over her. It ended with Cordell falling to his demise. Fae sat up fully and climbed out of bed to use the bathroom.

When she returned after freshening up, she stared down at his Glock on the bedside table. Fae reached out and picked up the heavy gun. She turned it every which way, wondering to herself if it was a habit of his because he was a Bodyguard for important people. That would explain why he was always on high alert.

Speaking of Erik, he disappeared again. She went on a search for her phone and found it on his dresser. Fae called Erik and each time she did, it continued to ring and ring. She started to grow worried. It was so early in the morning, why would he leave so suddenly?

She opened his closet and grabbed a random hoodie from a hanger, pulling it over her head. She left his room and walked down the length of the hallway, her eyes searching from room to room. Fae sat on the sofa while Diesel and Deuce were stretched out on the floor. All of them were waiting for Erik’s return.

She reached for his remote and powered on the TV. As she flipped through random channels, an episode of House Hunters caught her attention. Time stretched on until It was six o’clock in the morning. Fae had tried his phone multiple times again and that’s when she started thinking the worst. She figured she could feed the boys so she gave them both a quick meal. She knew that they needed to go for a walk and relieve themselves.

After another hour, the door knob jiggled and Fae shot up from the couch, almost hitting her knee against the coffee table. Both Diesel and Deuce were on their feet, tails wagging expectantly. Fae watched as Erik opened the door and he looked at her then down at the dogs. He secured the door and pushed his hood off before approaching Fae.

“Erik? I tried calling you.”

He stared at her for a second and then his eyes scanned the room. What she didn’t know, was that he’d left last night in such a hurry, he forgot his personal cell phone.

“I had to step out to prepare for that job. I’ve been caught up lately and I needed some time to get it done. I gotta leave in a matter of days…I’m sorry I didn’t let you know.”

Fae’s expression softened and she tried to hide her annoyance with a smirk and a dry chuckle.

“I was—I was just worried—how did training go?”

“Good. I feel better about the job now.” Erik replied.

“Great,” Fae rocked back and forth on her heels, “I was thinking we could walk the boys? I know they need to go to the bathroom…”

“Yeah…yeah. Go throw on a pair of my sweats and meet me out here.”

Fae disappeared down the hall and Erik exhaled. She took two minutes and she was back out and ready to go.

“Ready, pretty girl?”

“Yep.” Fae replied with a blush.

They left the apartment together and Fae walked ahead of Erik to catch the elevator. Erik caught up with her and grabbed her hand. Fae looked from their intertwined fingers and up to his face. Erik smirked at her and she returned the smile.

“I had an idea. I don’t know if you’d be down for it or not…”

The elevator doors opened and they walked inside.

“What’s that?” Fae responded with curiosity.

She leaned against the wall of the elevator and stared up at Erik with attentive eyes.

“Since this is going to be my last few days with you before I leave for Bangkok, I was wondering if you’d be okay if I took you to work in the mornings? I could even pick you up…”

Fae’s brown eyes widened and Erik chuckled.

“Uhm…yeah, I would like that. Cordell usually works late and he doesn’t come home until an hour or so after me. You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

Fae wagged her arched brows playfully.

“Nahhhh,” Erik smiled, “You got me in a trance.”

Fae giggles. The elevator doors opened and Erik gave her two quick pecks to her soft lips. They quickly left the elevator and strolled out of the apartment building and onto the busy sidewalk. They made their way to the dog park hand-in-hand.

“We could have a quickie before you clock in. A quickie before I drop you off…”

Fae nibbled on her bottom lip. Erik’s eyes scanned her body. Deuce and Diesel both sped up at the same time, pulling Fae and Erik along.

“Looks like we’re moving too slow for them!”

“Guess so—AYE!”

Erik almost stumbled over the pavement from Diesel taking off running when the dog park came into view. Fae laughed boisterously at Erik trying to gain control of the leash.

“You should have seen your face! Priceless,” Fae was bent over laughing, “Looked like your life flashed before your eyes!”

Erik shook his head before crouching down to let Diesel free, “Aight, Fae, wasn’t that funny.”

“If it was me, you would be laughing, shut up!” Fae teased.

“You shut up, midget,” Erik fired back.

Fae shoves Erik and he fell back on his hands. He looked up at her with a glare and he shot up to his feet, wrapping his arms around her trim waist and lifting her from the ground. Fae writhed in his grasp and Deuce circled Erik’s body, barking at him.

“Momma’s good, Deuce!” Erik shouted.

“Put me down, Erik!” Fae yelled.

They were causing a scene. Others that occupied the dog park were looking their way.

“Manners.” Erik said.

“Please?!”

Erik placed Fae onto her feet and she gave him a death glare.

“Aww, you’re so adorable,” Erik teased before reaching out to pinch her cheek.

“You better had let me down or Deuce was gonna bite that ass!” Fae argues.

“Deuce is my friend,” Erik placed a hand against his chest, “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

After Diesel and Duece went to the bathroom, Fae and Erik let them both run around for a bit. Fae sat on Erik’s lap and they both watched their dogs sprint around. Fae looked down at Erik and she reached up to play in his hair.

“Hmm,” Erik gave her a tired look, “That feels good.”

“You haven’t slept. You know that?” Fae said.

“I know, mamas. I’m gonna take a long nap when we get back.” Erik reassured her.

“I don’t wanna go back to my place…”

Erik’s exhausted gaze stared up at Fae.

“Then don’t. Stay with me.”

“…you know I can’t.” Fae replied.

A silence filled the space between them. Erik scratched the side of his nose and looked down at his feet.

“Why can’t you?” He questioned.

Fae sat quietly for a few seconds. Erik knew she was trying to figure out what to say. But what was there to say? He cheated on her multiple times. He’s no good for her.

“Fae?” Erik called out to her.

“Huh?” She replied with a small voice.

“What’s up?” Erik peeked up at her.

“Nothing…I don’t know why…”

Erik felt his chest tighten with anxiousness.

“Hm, okay.”

Fae was struggling to look at him. She turned her head towards the front. Erik exhales.

“Fae…what’s it gonna take for you to leave this nigga?”

“I am gonna leave him—”

“When?” Erik cut her off.

“Soon—”

“Soon as in when that nigga get home or…?”

“Erik…”

Fae climbed down from his lap.

“I just don’t understand what the hold up is.”

Fae rolled her eyes.

“You still love him?”

She looked at Erik and opened her mouth to speak but Erik could tell.

“You do, don’t you?”

“That’s hard to just say—to stop—I don’t want to—he’s been there for me through a lot—I’m gonna leave him it’s just hard. I’m gonna be on my own. The apartment is expensive—”

“You don’t need him. Trust me, you don’t.”

Fae’s sad eyes made Erik feel guilty.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I keep overstepping. I just…I don’t understand why you just don’t leave.”

“…You’re right.”

Fae exhaled a shaky breath.

“You know, I’ve always been so dependent on a man. Even now with everything, I feel like I’m lost, you know? And it sucks. It hurts.”

Erik’s eyes softened as he stared at her.

“You don’t need to feel that way. Fae…listen, look at me, you’re such an amazing woman. You deserve so much better. I don’t want you to feel like you have to settle. So what if he lives there? The more you allow him to stick around, the more in control he is. He’s been in control long enough.”

Erik’s jaw clenched and his eyes were ablaze. Fae’s big brown eyes became watery and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Erik thumbed her tear away and Fae released an uneven sigh.

“I’m gonna leave him today.”

Erik nodded his head and he couldn’t hold back his smile.

“This is gonna be tough…”

“I’ll be right there if you need me, Fae.” Erik said.

Crazy enough, two days had gone by with no trace of Cordell. No text, no call, nothing. Fae was more than prepared to confront him about his cheating and end things for good. She contacted his mother and even she hadn’t heard from him. She was very very worried. It wasn’t like Cordell to disappear without letting her know. Even if it was a lie, he wouldn’t have gone this long without checking in. Fae couldn’t sleep, work, or think without wondering where he was.

She checked the news and even a murder page on Instagram for any updates but wouldn’t his family know? Wouldn’t the police have shown up to her door by now? Erik had been busy himself. He would call Fae whenever he had time to check in to see how she was doing and if there were any updates, but it was getting closer and closer for his departure. She had to reschedule brunch with her friends because she was distracted mentally. Plus, she knew they would start asking questions and Fae wasn’t prepared to tell them.

Fae got herself dressed for work on a chilly Wednesday morning and Erik knocked on her door. Fae grabbed her work bag and made sure everything was good before leaving. She opened the door and Erik greeted her dressed in lounge wear like he just rolled out of bed. His head was covered in a black beanie. Fae accepted a kiss from him but she wasn’t really in the mood to kiss. Cordell was missing and she didn’t have any answers. Erik however didn’t seem fazed at all. Not that she was expecting him to.

“How are you?” Erik finally questioned when they were both in his car.

Fae adjusted her black spectacles and exhaled, “I’m worried. I don’t know where he could be or what he’s doing.”

Erik pulled out of the garage. He one-hand whipped his car.

“Do you think he might be with that woman?”

Fae shut her eyes and shook her head.

“I don’t even want to think about that. I’d probably kill him when I see him.” She said.

Erik glanced over at her.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on the news myself. Nothing out of the ordinary. Unless…he was abducted—”

“Who would want to kidnap Cordell?” Fae laughed, “He’s just a teacher from NY who can’t keep his dick to himself.”

Erik bit his tongue. He had a lot to say but he remained silent. It was best for him to remain silent.

“I don’t know. I’m just worried. I have this nervous feeling in my gut. I just…I don’t understand why he hasn’t reached out. I know he isn’t shit, but this isn’t like him at all.”

Fae rubbed her temples. Erik caressed her thigh.

“Relax, Fae. I know it’s easier said than done, but you can’t keep stressing out over it. You’ve been in contact with his family. I’m sure they’re looking into it.”

“I hope so,” Fae sighs, “I even tried his job and they acted like I was crazy.”

Erik formed a crease in his brow, “Whatchu mean?”

Fae exhaled, “Apparently they don’t know a Cordell. Which makes absolutely no sense. He’s a teacher there and a coach. How the fuck wouldn’t you know?”

Erik cocked his head to the side.

“Maybe you spoke to someone who’s a new hire?”

“Maybe. I need to speak to Miss whatever her name is. The girl he’s been sleeping with.”

After another twenty minutes, Erik pulled up at Fae’s job and he reached behind him to the back seat. He got out of the car and jogged around to open her door. Fae slipped out and Erik handed over her work bag. He kissed her cheek and rubbed her arms.

“Have a good day at work. Call me when you get a break. I’ll see you at five.”

“Thanks, E.” Fae gave him a small smile.

“No problem.”

He got back in the car and watched Fae enter the MET. When the coast was clear, Erik drove off.

Fae greeted her coworkers as she made her way to her desk. After taking her seat, she checked her work phone voice messages and none were from Cordell. She booted her laptop and tried his phone again. A hand to her shoulder startled her and Fae jumped.

“Faedra! So sorry.”

It was her supervisor, Linda. Linda was a tall, lanky Caucasian woman with salt and pepper hair that she wore in a neat bun. Her oblong face with alabaster skin came into view. Fae stared into her concrete gray eyes with a startled look.

“I came to say goodmorning and to remind you about the field trip this morning? From the middle school? Manhattan Middle?”

Fae completely forgot about that.

“Oh! Yes, yes I remember. When will they be here?”

“In about twenty minutes or so. The teachers name is Miss. Rio.”

Fae couldn’t believe her ears. She didn’t know if this was the universe giving her a sign, but Miss. Rio being here at her job had to mean something. She was with Cordell this past weekend. He could be at her home right now. Fae was going to ask questions.”

“Great. I’ll go greet them.”

“Excellent,” Linda smiled before sauntering away.

After twenty minutes, a small history class of students in a single-filed line with their name badges and wandering eyes headed towards her. Fae could make out Miss. Rio and it took a lot of strength to be professional and smile. Miss. Rio looked at her and for a second, Fae knew that she’d recognized her.

“Hello! My name is Fae! Welcome Manhattan Middle! I’m so excited to be your tour guide for the day. We have a lot of ground to cover. Please, stay together and pay attention. We’re going to start in the African Origin of Civilization exhibition first.”

Miss. Rio was dressed in a dark purple, form-fitting pencil skirt with a black blouse and black flats. She walked to the front of the line while a substitute teacher remained in the back as an extra eye on the children. Miss. Rio gave Fae a nervous smile and Fae returned the smile.

They started making their way into the exhibit and while Fae did her thing, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of Miss. Rio.

“Scholars today recognize Africa as the source of our common ancestry. But in 1974, Senegalese scholar and humanist Cheikh Anta Diop shocked and challenged historians by asserting the influence of ancient African civilizations in his groundbreaking book The African Origin of Civilization: Myth or Reality…”

Fae continued, “This exhibition pays homage to Diop by presenting masterpieces from the Museum’s collections from west and central Africa alongside art from ancient Egypt for the first time in The Met’s history.”

Fae spent time on each exhibit and answered any questions the students had before they went to the next exhibition. Three exhibits in, the children took a lunch break before finishing up. Miss. Rio excused herself to the restroom and Fae took that opportunity to corner her. The substitute teacher had an eye on the children. Fae stepped to the side to allow a mother and her two daughters to walk out before she entered. Ironically, Miss. Rio was the only one remaining in the bathroom.

Fae only waited two minutes and the bathroom stall door opened. Miss. Rio walked out and her eyes landed on Fae’s. She shut the door behind her and walks over towards the sink. Fae locked eyes with her through the mirror and after Miss. Rio dried her hands off, she turned around to face Fae.

“What do you want to know?” She said.

Fae chuckled. Miss. Rio crossed her arms and shifted her weight on one hip.

“That’s what you have to say? After sleeping with my man? Coming to my apartment and fucking him in my bed? Are you serious?” Fae fired back.

“I didn’t know he was with anyone at first—”

“So, you just went to my apartment and not once noticed anything that made you think, oh! He’s in a relationship?!” Fae whisper-yelled.

“Listen, what do you want me to say?! An apology wouldn’t be enough, right?” Miss. Rio fired back.

“Wow…You’re a joke. Anyway, that’s not why I’m confronting you, you can have him. My beef is with him. I just want to know was he with you this weekend and is he still there? He hasn’t been home in two days.”

Miss. Rio hesitated.

“Well?” Fae pressed impatiently.

“Yes. Yes he was there this weekend. He left this morning.”

Fae turned away from Miss. Rio and shut her eyes. This motherfucker has been staying with that hoe for two days and didn’t even bother to say anything.

“I have to get back to my class.”

Fae didn’t have anything further to say. She didn’t like the woman, but what good will it do to whip her ass? She’d lose her job. Miss. Rio left Fae standing in that public bathroom with tears in her eyes. She felt like a fucking bozo. Fae grabbed a few tissues and blotched her cheeks before exiting the bathroom. The students, Miss. Rio, and the substitute waited for her.

“Okay! Who wants to see the European Paintings?”

Erik was seated in Grand Central Station. He could make out an old friend of his that worked with the ICA. His name is Ethan and he’s Asian. Ethan sat behind Erik, dressed in business attire to not draw attention. Erik turned his head slightly to his right to speak.

“Sean Thomas is missing. Anything you can tell me that I need to know?” Erik spoke with a hushed voice.

Ethan took out his phone and slipped it behind him so Erik could grab a hold of it through the opening in the bench. He retrieved the phone and his eyes dropped down to look at the screen. What he could make out was that the ICA attempted to exterminate him two days ago and Sean got away. This was bad news for Erik. He’s most likely lying low until things died down. A hoard of people made their way towards them. Ethan started speaking in mandarin.

“Tòuguò zhècì xíngdòng, tāmen zhèngzài shīqù duì nǐ de xìnrèn, kè'ěr máng gē.”

Erik nodded his head and cocked it to the side. Losing their trust in him meant penalty number one.

“Wǒ gāi xiāngxìn dài ānnà ma? Wǒ gǎnjué tā duì ICA gànrǎo wǒ de rènwù fù yǒu zérèn…”

Ethan pondered before he spoke, “Dài ānnà zhàozhāng bànshì. Guòqù yīgè yuè tā yīzhí zài niǔyuē. Wǒ bù huì xiāngxìn tā.”

So, Erik shouldn’t trust Diana. His guess was correct. She’s discussing things with the ICA behind Erik’s back. He needed to call her after this and schedule another meet up. He was going to cut ties with Diana and work alone. A lot of Hitmen work alone. It’s just a heavier workload and room for more mistakes.

They waited until the coast was clear. When the last person walked past, Erik cleared his throat.

“Have they been keeping an eye on her?” Erik asked.

“They plan to do whatever it takes to find him, Killmonger. If that means taking the girl, they’ll do it.” Ethan whispered.

“How long before they strike again?”

“Twenty-four hours.” Ethan said.

Silence stretched on. The background chatter and rushed footsteps of people surrounded them. Ethan stood up and adjusted his suit jacket before retrieving his work satchel and the phone from Erik’s hand between the seat.

“Rúguǒ nín xūyào wǒ de bāngzhù, nín zhīdào rúhé liánxì wǒ.”

Ethan pat Erik on the shoulder before walking away. Erik leans forward and props his elbows up on his thighs. This was his fault. If he didn’t get caught up with Fae and tapped into his cold, blood thirsty nature, Sean Thomas would already be dead.

He had to remain ahead of the ICA.

On his way out of Grand Central Station, Erik walked up to his car and hopped in. He dialed Diana’s number and after four rings, it went to voicemail. Erik checked the time and Fae would be off within the next hour. He made his way to her job to wait for her since he was on the other side of town. He knew that he had to be honest with Fae now. It wasn’t fair for him to keep his life a secret knowing that she had a target on her back. Even if the truth would push her away, protecting her was his number one priority.

Sean Thomas is a murderer, and a Con Artist. He’s good at stealing identities and disappearing under a new alias. He’s responsible for murdering four women across the U.S from Detroit, to Chicago, to Georgia, and now New York. He got landed in prison for a robbery charge that led him to a man named Cordell. Cordell has a history of drug-related crimes and he’s from New York. While locked up with Cordell for three years, he learned everything about his cell mate.

His family, his dream job, where he grew up. Sean planned on stealing his identity and creating a new life for himself. He got out of prison and hooked up with an old partner of his to help him with his new life. He settled in N.Y.C and reunited with his “family” who hadn’t seen him in years since he was adopted at the age of three. They welcomed him in like he never left.

What he didn’t know was that he’d been tracked down by Erik. Erik was hired to find out everything he needed to know about Sean and kill him. He’d burned too many bridges and stole from too many people. While Erik finally secured his target, he was also informed to kill anyone else who may get in the way, and that included a significant other.

Fae.

Erik had to keep an eye on Fae as well and the more he watched her, the more he fell for her. He did the one thing he normally wouldn’t do: get close. Now, he’s sleeping with his targets girl friend.

Erik’s car came to a slow stop outside of Fae’s job and he called her to see if she was finished for the day. Her phone rang and went to voicemail. Panic crept up Erik’s spine the more she wouldn’t answer. He opened his car door with force and stepped out onto the busy street. His eyes searched for anything that would give away someone watching her. From what he could tell, there was no sign of danger below.

His obsidian eyes looked towards the tops of the skyscrapers and buildings. His eyes double-backed to a short building with an open window across from the MET and three spots over. Erik knew that the window hadn’t been opened before. He had a snipers eye as well, so his gut instinct told him that a sniper was camped out in that building, waiting for Fae to arrive.

The best way for Erik to know for sure was to enter that building himself. It was broad daylight and rush hour in one of the busiest cities in the U.S. Erik rushed across the street as fast as he could and took long strides towards the building. He noted an alley and a back entrance to the building. Erik dipped down the alley and ran towards the end until he came across a lengthy fire escape. From what he remembers, the open window was on the top floor.

Erik climbed the fire escape two steps at a time. It took him five minutes to make it to the top since the building was only eight stories tall. Once there. Erik retrieved his gun and stood stealthily to the side of the cracked, dingy window. He risked a peep inside and all he could make out was a bunch of plastic sheeting since the building was still under construction.

Erik crouched down and with his back pressed firmly against the brick wall, he used his right hand to open the window carefully. Once fully opened, Erik ducked inside swiftly, his foot crunching down on broken cement and dust. His Maxim 9 pistol with a silencer integrated into the gun aimed in front of him, Erik moved haltingly with his eyes scanning the abandoned floor like a hawk. He made it into a room almost the size of a box and there, propped up in the window was a Mk 13 Mod 0/5/7 sniper rifle.

Erik surveyed the area to make sure the coast was clear. Whoever had been occupying this spot must have been here for less than eight hours. Erik got down on his knee and peeked through the sniper scope. It was aimed for the MET. He knew that Fae hadn’t been killed, but the sniper would have taken a shot if Erik hadn’t shown up. Just then, Erik’s phone vibrated deep in his back pocket. He quickly stood up and when he grabbed his phone, it was Fae calling him.

“Fae?” Erik answered.

“I’m sorry. I had to leave work earlier today. I took an Uber.”

Erik paced back and forth.

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have picked you up.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’ve been busy lately. I’m at the apartment now. Just got here.”

“Any luck with Cordell?” Erik questioned.

“No. Still nothing.”

“I’m on my way, Fae. Just—”

A garrote wire wrapped around Erik’s throat from behind, cutting off his airway. His phone dropped from his grasp and fell to the hard floor, the screen cracking and blacking out. Erik’s fingers gripped the edge of the wire and he could feel it cutting into his fingers and drawing blood. He planted his feet firmly against the floor and with brunt force, Erik shoved the person trying to choke him back, their body hitting the wall with a loud thud.

The wire slipped from Erik’s neck, leaving behind an indentation and slight blood. Erik didn’t have time to properly catch his breath. He turned and came face to face with a masked man dressed in dark camouflage and boots. The man charged Erik and Erik’s closed fist planted between the bridge of their nose and forehead. It was a sharp punch with a lot of recoil. There was no coming back from that. Erik put them to sleep.

Their body went limp and they were splayed out on the dusty floor like a starfish. Erik took that time to rub his neck and catch his breath. Suddenly, the man clipped Erik and he fell backwards on his hands to catch himself. The masked man did a kick up and was on his feet within seconds. Erik did the same move and they both broke out in combat with hard punching, dodging, kicks, and grunts.

Erik caught both of his arms and head-butted the man before body slamming him so hard his back bowed. While he squirmed, Erik’s fingers fisted the front of his camouflage jacket and he dragged him over to the wall where he tossed him against it like a rag doll. Erik put his foot in that man’s stomach before using his bloody fist to take off the mask. A Caucasian male with a rough face covered in blood and bruises met his ferocious gaze.

“The ICA sent you?” Erik questioned with a hoarse voice, “ANSWER ME!”

Erik pressed the barrel of his pistol into the man’s chin. He was probably seeing double with how hard Erik thumped him.

“Y-You’re supposed to-suppose to be one–one of us.”

As he attempted to talk, blood sprayed from between his lips.

“So that’s a yes,” Erik chuckled darkly.

He pistol-whipped the sniper with the handle of his gun, knocking him out for good. Erik emptied his pockets and found a phone, wallet, keys, and a few knives. Erik combed through his wallet before pocketing it. The phone was locked, so he wouldn’t be able to figure out how to hack it until he got back to his apartment.

He needed to get back to his apartment.

Fae was alone and an easy target without him there. Erik rushed to grab a dust barrier, snatching it from the wall and he shielded himself from the blood splatter that would come from killing the sniper. Silencer aimed at his head a safe distance away, Erik fired his pistol and the bullet hit his target in the temple. Erik cleaned up any other traces of him being there and wrapped up the dust barrier, tucking it beneath his arm before making his escape.

“Erik? Hello? Erik?”

Fae stood outside of her apartment with her phone to her ear. The call dropped suddenly between her and Erik. She pulled the phone away from her left ear and gave the device a puzzled look. Dialing him again, Erik didn’t answer.

“What the fuck?” Fae mouthed.

Confused, Fae fumbled with her keys while trying to enter her apartment. The door opened and she pushed her way inside, exhausted mentally from the amount of stress she’d been experiencing because of Cordell. Fae sat her work bag on the hardwood floor beside the door and removed her shoes. After tossing her keys on a small table next to the door, Fae proceeded to walk further into her apartment. Just then, rustling could be heard coming from her room. Fae paused, her ears perked to catch the noise again. She knew that Deuce was there, but he wouldn’t be in her things like that.

Fae walked towards the back of her apartment, her eyes staring straight ahead cautiously at her cracked bedroom door. A hard thump followed by soft cursing had Fae paralyzed with fear. One hand pressed to her chest, body frozen in that hallway, Fae’s eyes fell on her guest bedroom door and noticed it had been shut. She didn’t close it before she left that morning. Deuce was most likely in there so he wouldn’t get in the way. Deuce would be barking right now if it were a stranger. So it had to be someone he was familiar with rummaging around in Fae’s room.

Fae rushed towards her bedroom door with a fresh wave of courage, pushing the door open with force and coming face-to-face with the cheating man himself.

“Cordell?!”

The room looked as if a stampede passed through. It was filthy. Papers everywhere, clothes littering the entire room, dresser drawers out turned and hanging from the hinges, closet ransacked, mattress hanging from the box spring. Fae’s wide, shocked eyes looked back at Cordell with her mouth parted.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” She shouted.

Cordell simply looked at her with distant eyes before focusing back on finding whatever the FUCK it was he was looking for. Fae was livid.

“HELLO?! I’m talking to you!!”

Fae stomped over to Cordell, almost slipping on the papers scattered across the carpet. She caught herself by falling backwards onto the bed.

“Hey, HEY!” Fae gripped Cordell by his shoulder and forced him to turn back, “ANSWER ME ASSHOLE!”

“Get off of me, Fae.” Cordell finally spoke with a cold tone.

“Get off of you? Why don’t you explain to me why you’re vandalizing my fucking room, dick head?!!”

“WHERE DID YOU PUT IT?”

Cordell stood at his full height, towering over Fae. His voice seemed to change. It was deeper. Unfriendly. Unfamiliar. Cold. Fae cocked her head back and created space between them.

“Put what, Cordell?”

Cordell blinked at her and then he dropped his eyes down to the floor, “Doesn’t matter. It isn’t here.”

He was on his knees now, spreading the papers out, important papers that belonged to Fae. What is his deal?

“Where have you been, Cordell? I’ve been calling your phone and texting you for two days now!”

He ignored her again. Fae was shaking with rage.

“You know what! I’m sick of this shit. I’m so fucking sick and tired of your no good, CHEATING ASS!”

Cordell halted in his pursuit to find whatever it was he was looking for. His eyes slowly ascended to meet Fae’s. His face was void of expression.

“Yeah, I’ve known for days now that you’ve been cheating on me. Not one, but two women! One of which had a field trip at my job today. Miss. Rio?! She tells me you’ve been shacking it up with her all this time!”

Cordell bowed his head and exhaled.

Fae had a finger pointed at him aggressively and her voice was so loud it bounced off of the walls, “How could you disrespect me and bring these nasty women to MY APARTMENT WHERE I SLEEP?! How could you do this to me?! After everything I opened up to you about?! How I’ve been cheated on and mistreated in the past?!”

Fae’s vision blurred as tears flowed from her eyes. Cry-face and all, she was on a rampage. Cordell finally stood up and he just looked at her with no ounce of remorse. No sorries, no care as to how she felt. Nothing. Just a piece of shit man.

“YOU NEVER LOVED ME, HUH?!!! I loved you! I would have done anything for you!!!! How could you—just–how could you just stand there and say nothing?!!”

Fae threw her hands up and stared at Cordell with sadness. She was broken. He broke her. She tried to stop herself from crying, but the more she stood there, waiting for him to speak, the clearer it was to her that he didn’t care. He didn’t love her.

“ANSWER ME, CORDELL!!!!”

Cordell slowly blinked at her and then he started smirking. SMIRKING?! Fae was taken aback. She didn’t even know how to react to that. What kind of sick individual do you have to be to stand there and find this situation amusing?

“…what is wrong with you?” Fae questioned with a tremble in her voice.

Cordell turned his gaze towards the ceiling and released a slow, even breath. Fae waited, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach.

“You wanna know why I was so drawn to you, Fae?”

Fae squinted her eyes at Cordell with confusion.

“…it’s because I could see that you were broken. I could see the pain. I could see that you craved love and affection. No matter how many times your heart had been broken, you still loved hard. An easy girl. Easy to manipulate. To control. To trick. That’s what I craved. And guess what? That’s exactly what I needed to secure what I really wanted from you…”

A hand covered Fae’s mouth and she scanned Cordell’s face, in full disbelief of what he was saying to her right now. It was so disheartening and cruel. She was stunned to silence even though she wanted to break down and cry.

“You see, I’d just gotten out of prison before I met you. I had no place to go…to start fresh…to make a new living for myself. Just like the other bitches before you, I played my part and used my skills to weasel my way in. As soon as I found out about all that money you were sittin’ on…fuck…I knew I hit the jackpot.”

Fae couldn’t believe her ears. She lowered her gaze and scanned the floor. She’d recently moved her paperwork that had all of her information regarding the money she’d gotten from her mother’s death. It was a lot of money. Fae hadn’t thought about it much lately because she planned to use that money to purchase a home soon. A beautiful home in upstate New York. Now, she wondered if Cordell had been planning to steal from her all this time.

“And now, I need that back, Faedra.”

Cordell stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to reveal where she’d put them.

“…Do you even work as a teacher?”

Cordell narrowed his eyes at her.

“No.” Cordell replied nonchalantly.

“So, what was all that shit about seeing Miss. Rio at school?!”

Cordell shook his head and chuckled with annoyance.

“I go to the school during her lunch break and fuck her, Fae.”

Fae was numb to it all now.

“Wow…wow…”

She placed her hands on her hips and tried to fathom why she ended up in this situation.

“I know it’s a lot to take in right now….but I need that bank information.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me for it?” Fae mocked.

Cordell tilted his head and stared at her unblinking. Fae stared at him with a mixture of shock and fear.

“Believe it or not, Miss. Rio is in on it. The other chick? She had bank too until I cleaned her out. Miss. Rio and I have an understanding where no matter how pissed off we are with each other, we’ll always get back together. It’s been that way for years. Anyway, I played my part to get what I wanted.”

“Wow…Congratulations, Cordell. You really fooled me. Too bad I fooled you too.”

Cordell gave Fae a confused look.

“You wanna know what I’ve been up to these past few days? Closer than you think. Right next door actually.”

Cordell’s entire demeanor switched to anger.

“That’s right, I’ve been fucking the neighbor.”

Cordell balled his fists up and his nostrils flared. He was becoming even more aggressive. Fae folded her arms and smirked at him.

“It was good too. The first time. So good I ain’t never have dick like that before in my life. He’s big, he’s attentive, he knows how to work my body, he spoils me, he adores me, Deuce loves him. He fucked me so good in our bed when you were gone this past weekend…mmm…all over the bed. In the shower…on the sink…”

Cordell’s eye twitched. He was ready to snap. Fae knew she was pushing her luck, but one thing about Cordell, he hated Erik. He knew deep down that Erik is more of man than he ever was. He was afraid of Erik. Afraid of what he was capable of. Not only did Fae feel his big dick energy the moment she laid eyes on him, Cordell did too. Erik stole the one thing Cordell thought he could control forever. That struck a nerve.

“I can still feel him inside of me right now…raw…thick…long…”

Cordell took a step towards Fae.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it? Knowing that another man makes me cum with his mouth and his dick? Treats me with respect? A man I barely knew? Stings, doesn’t it? I hope it does. Because that’s how I felt. You’re right, I do love hard. I did allow myself to be mistreated more than once. Guess what? I took back my power! And it felt soooo good.”

Fae’s tears rolled down her cheeks. She shook with rage. She felt empowered.

“Damn,” Cordell shook his head with disgust, “Just desperate, huh? You think that’s a flex? You offered up the pussy to a random nigga you barely know just to get your lick back? That’s some wild shit…”

Cordell broke out into a fit of laughter. He doubled over and laughed. Fae simply stared at him. She knew he would deflect and turn it against her. Didn’t matter, she still won. She could see past it all. His ego was bruised.

“Now, since you got that off your chest, back to the main issue,” Cordell started walking towards Fae, “Where…is…the…bank information, Faedra?”

Fae backed away and almost tripped over a dresser drawer. She caught herself against the wall and eased towards the bedroom door.

“Don’t act scared now, Fae. You were so bold not too long ago.”

“I’m not giving you the information, Cordell.” Fae said.

“Hm, you will. Even if I have to choke it out of you.”

Fae took off running and Cordell was right on her heels. He pushed her and she fell to the floor in the hallway. Deuce started clawing at the door and aggressively barking. Fae lifted herself by her arms and looked up at Cordell. He grabbed her by her hair and forced her to look at him. Fae gasped, trying to unravel Cordell’s hand from her braids.

“It’s okay. You must want me to take it by force, huh? I got just the trick…”

Reaching behind him, Cordell revealed a Glock 17. He aimed it at Fae’s sternum and pressed the barrel firmly into her chest. Fae squeezed her eyes shut and her tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Now, I’m not gonna kill you here. I’m taking you with me. On your feet, NOW.”

He yanked her by the hair to control her movements and it felt as if he ripped her hair from her scalp. Fae whimpered in pain and looked up at Cordell with a petrified gaze. He trailed the barrel of the Glock 17 up the side of her neck and then stuck it deep into the flesh of her cheek.

“Get your shit, we’re going for a ride, baby girl.”

With one forceful shove, Fae stumbled further down the hallway, afraid to look back at the gun aimed at her head, ready to fire.

Ding

The elevator doors separated and Erik didn’t wait for them to fully open before he rushed out and into the hallway of the thirteenth floor. He jogged up to Fae’s apartment door and banged.

“Fae?!”

He couldn’t use his cell phone because it had blacked out. His other phone is in his apartment, but all he cared about at the moment was whether or not she was safe.

Erik tried the door knob and was shocked to find it opened. Shocked and anxious. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, looking from left to right.

“FAEDRA!!!”

Erik shut the apartment door and sprinted towards her bedroom. Deuce’s barking stilled his footsteps and he opened the door for him to come out of the guest bedroom. Deuce leaped up at him, continuously barking as if he had something important to communicate to Erik.

Erik’s heart practically rattled within his rib cage when he followed Deuce in the direction of Fae’s room. Erik’s thick fingers pushed the door back and as it creaked open, his eyes grew wide and his lips parted. It was a disaster.

Sean had been here. He was looking for something and Fae showed up at the wrong time. He’d taken her. Erik combed through the room to find anything that stood out at him. Most of the papers chaotically covering the floor were important documents like bills and work information. Erik made his way back out towards the living room, scooping up Deuce and leaving the apartment.

Out in the hall, Erik quickly opened his door and rushed inside, placing Deuce on the floor and locking his door. He knew no one had been to his apartment because he would have seen them coming and going. He couldn’t check the surveillance on his broken phone so he entered his room and retrieved his work phone.

Erik had placed a tracker on Fae’s phone the night she’d discovered Sean AKA Cordell had been cheating on her. It was the best way to keep tabs on her while he was away. Using his private tracking app, Erik was able to see where she was. Sean was on his way to the Bronx. Erik was never able to track Sean’s phone. The man may be a coward, but he was a great criminal. He was good at what he did. Swindle, rob, and murder.

Erik made his way towards the foot of his bed and after placing his cell phone within his back pocket, he used both of his hands to lift his mattress. Underneath was a gun safe filled with all types of weapons. Erik tucked a few hand guns in his waistband, two blades in his socks, extended clips, and a few silencer attachments

Lastly, he retrieved a full face, tactical mask in all black. Diesel tried to gain his attention, and Erik didn’t want to leave Deuce and him alone, but he had to save Fae or Sean was going to kill her. Rushing into his office, he opened his closet door and grabbed a vest and a pair of biker gloves. Before Erik left the apartment, he made sure there was enough food for the boys and then he was out the door.

Erik was out of that garage and onto the street. He used his all black sport bike to get their faster. The sun was setting and the longer it took to get there, it would be too late. Erik would never forgive himself. He refused to let anything happen to her. Bluetooth connection from the bike allowed him to follow their trail. Her sensor paused on Edson Avenue. Erik was fifteen minutes away.

Fae was led towards a beautifully maintained residence, a place where comfort meets convenience in the vibrant neighborhood of the Bronx. The large fenced-in private yard is adorned with men who didn’t look like the type to mess around with. One look past the weed smoke, you could sense the evil within.

She was taken around the side of the home to a set of concrete steps that led down towards a door. Cordell forced Fae to walk down the steps and she took her time so she wouldn’t fall. When they finally reached the bottom, Cordell banged twice and five seconds later, the door swung open and Fae locked eyes with Miss. Rio.

“La trajiste aquí, Sean?!” Miss. Rio argued. Rolling her eyes at Fae.

“Cálmate, I had to, Alejandra.”

She kissed her teeth and stepped to the side. Cordell entered the basement and Alejandra shut the door.

“Did you find it?” She questioned impatiently.

“No. I combed that apartment and ain’t find shit.”

“After playing house all this time you still don’t know where it is?!”

Fae cut her eyes at Alejandra and mugged her. She had a gun pointed at her back, there was no use in fighting her way out of there.

“She moved shit around, baby!” Cordell fired back.

“We had a plan! Our plan was to take that money and get out of New York! What now? No money, no leaving. I thought we were going to give Gabby a better life?”

Who’s Gabby?

“We will, we will. I promise. I’m not going anywhere, we’re back together as a family. Stop stressing.”

“estúpido,” Alejandra rolled her eyes, “you fucked her because I gave you permission!”

“Alejandra, I’m not getting into this argument with you right now. Listen, baby, while you stand there yelling at me, we’re wasting time. Get the chair and the rope for me.”

Alejandra turned on her heels, jet black hair swaying behind her as she walked away to get the chair and rope Cordell requested. Fae was beyond dumbfounded. Who the hell is Sean and who the hell is Gabby?! Alejandra appeared and with an aggravated look on her face she sat the folding chair down and presented red rope for Cordell to take.

Fae was reminded of the gun aimed at her spine when Cordell aggressively shoved her with it. She winced, walking over to the chair while Alejandra forced her to take a seat with her hands on Fae’s shoulders pushing downward. Fae took that opportunity to raise her leg and put her foot in her back so hard Alejandra fell face first on the floor of the unfinished basement.

“You BITCH!”

Fae didn’t see it coming. She wasn’t prepared for Cordell’s assault.

WHACK!

A hard, crisp, head-hurting, back-handed slap to Fae’s face caused her bottom lip to split open and bleed. Hot tears flooded her vision and she bowed her head, stunned and embarrassed.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” Fae shouted.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED HER FOR WHAT SHE DID!”

Alejandra wrapped her small first around Fae’s hair and yanked. Fae looked her in the eyes with a rage beyond words. Alejandra smirked with her glossy lips before spitting in Fae’s face. Fae squeezed her eyes shut to avoid it from getting in her eyes.

“perra estúpida…estás muerta perra…”

Fae wipes her face free of tears and spit and she used her tongue to lick up the blood. Cordell pressed the barrel of the gun into Fae’s temple.

“I need you to give me your information so I can get the money myself. I want you to write out a check for the full amount and take it from there. Do you understand?”

“…Yes.” Fae responded.

“That’s all you had to do, baby. I wouldn’t have put my hands on you if you weren’t being so fucking difficult.”

Cordell disappeared behind Fae and he tossed Alejandra his gun so she could keep it locked on Fae. Cordell wrapped Fae to the hard, metal chair tightly.

“We’ll keep you here for the night. First thing tomorrow morning, we’re heading to the bank.”

Fae watched as Cordell strolled over to Alejandra. He gripped her chin delicately and used his thumb to caress it. They closed the space between them and kissed passionately, like lovers would. It was just a reminder that he never loved her. It was all a game to him.

“Who’s Sean and Gabby, Cordell?” Fae questioned with a shaky voice.

Cordell slowly turned his head to look at her.

“…I guess I owe you that much. Gonna be dead within the next twenty four hours anyway…”

He leaned his back against a wall and folded his hands over his crotch.

“…My real name is Sean. Cordell is a stolen identity from a cell mate of mine some years ago. I decided to make a new life for myself since I was on the run from other shit that went down…anyway, I got in with his family. They accepted me without hesitation, because Cordell hadn’t been in their life since he was three. I knew that I needed money, so I did what I do best. I found you, did my best impression of the perfect man, and finally I get to take what I’ve worked so hard for…”

Fae listened, hanging on to every word. She was dealing with a real criminal mastermind. The worst kind of individual.

“Alejandra and I go way back,” Cordell laughed and Alejandra blushes, “She’s been my down-bitch since I could remember…yeah…I met her in ‘08 through her brother which is a partner of mine. Derrick and I used to get into some shit back in the day. We reunited when I got out of prison and we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other…she got pregnant with a beautiful baby girl, and it made me want to work harder to get us a better life. We plan to get away to Mexico hopefully.”

“Wait…you have a daughter?” Fae was stunned.

“…All those times I went to work? I was actually spending quality time with Gabriella. She’s three, almost four. Full of life, funny, smart. The best thing to ever happen to me…”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. A secret child? A life of crime? An ex-con? On the run?

What the fuck?

“Story time is over, papi. She knows too much already.” Alejandra said.

“When the lady speaks, you listen.”

Cordell wrapped his arms around Alejandra’s waist and stared longingly into her eyes. Fae wanted to vomit.

“Make sure Pedro and his guys keep an eye on her. You know what I want, right?”

Cordell smacked Alejandra on the butt through her jeans.

“Está bien, papi.”

With a bite of her lip, Alejandra peeled away and towards the basement door leading to outside. She shouted at the men standing in front of the house. Two of them descended the stairs into the basement. They stared at Fae with amusement. Sinister smirks and dark chuckles.

“You know what to do if she tries anything. Slap her around.”

Cordell and Alejandra leave Fae alone with the two Latino men.

4403 Edson Avenue.

The night sky and flickering street lights made Erik blend in. He parked his bike a few homes down and slipped on his tactical mask. Erik knew a little about the neighborhood. It was a community full of Latin Kings. One of the biggest Hispanic gangs in the U.S with a power base built on massive amounts of drug trafficking and a reputation for violence. So much power that the law couldn’t even control them.

Derrick Rio is a member of the Latin Kings and Sean’s partner in crime. Alejandra Rio is a wolf in sheep clothing. She’s a friendly teacher by day, and a drug dealer by night. Erik had known about Sean and Rio for a while now. However, he doesn’t know what their plan is with Fae. Why hold her hostage? Why not just go on the run again?

As Erik stealthily made his way towards the house, he couldn’t help but blame himself. Fae wouldn’t have been kidnapped if he killed Sean when he had the chance. He brushed this job off as a side hustle. If he’d known from the beginning that it was much bigger than he initially thought, he would have handled it before the ICA intervened. He called himself trying to be multiple steps ahead. Turns out he was wrong. He’s never wrong.

Outside of the single family home, Hispanic men littered the front yard smoking weed and goofing around. Erik assumed this house was Mis Rio’s. His assumption was correct when the lady herself appeared from the side of the house.

“Oye, ¿podéis ustedes dos vigilarla hasta que regresemos?”

She asked if two of the men could keep an eye on Fae. That meant that Erik didn’t need to go on a search for her. She was in the basement. Two men separated from three others and headed towards the side of the home. Erik crouched down and moved along the side of a black Chevrolet Tahoe. He could smell their weed and his eyes searched to see if there was a way he could get around them and do a sneak attack.

Two mean were leaning against an all black Honda Civic while the other was pacing back and forth. As far as physical appearances goes, they didn’t appear to be a threat. All three of them looked between the ages of eighteen and twenty five. Erik guessed that they didn’t have a say in whether or not they would join the Latin Kings. If your friends and family are affiliated, then it’s destined for you to be.

Erik got down on one knee and grasped the handle of his B&T SS9 pistol and plucked a silencer out of his front vest pocket to screw on. With a full magazine, Erik took a second to position his pistol and then he shot up from behind the car so fast they didn’t see it coming.

The muzzle blasted off followed by a reduced pop similar to the sound of a puff of air. The first two young men slumped backwards against the car and the last man was two seconds two late trying to grab a hold of his gun before Erik put a bullet in his head.

Erik made his way over to them to make sure he’d finished the job and after close inspection, all three of them experienced instant death. Erik moved as quickly as he could and he dragged their bodies one-by-one towards the yard of the house, stacking them next to a trash can. Now that he had that taken care of, Erik jogged over towards the stairs leading down into the basement.

There is a short, black curtain concealing the window within the door. He was able to get a tiny peek inside of the basement and he could see two men guarding and watching Fae like a hawk. Straining his neck, Erik could only see Fae’s lower half sitting in a folding chair and restrained with red rope. The best option was to draw one of them out. Erik knocked on the door with two quick rasps before speeding up the short concrete stairs and hiding.

Like clock work, a short, beefy, latino male with buzz cut hair opened the side door and stepped out. Erik tightened the grip on his pistol when he started to climb the stairs. His shadow could be seen coming closer so Erik turned fully to face him. With quick precision, Erik raised his gun, and as soon as his feet touched the top step, Erik gave him a head shot to the temple. With all his strength, he caught him before he hit the ground hard. He slowly lowered him to the steps.

Now, he descends the stairs. He didn’t even waste time. Erik appeared within the doorway and the other guy—slicked back stringy hair, tattoos all over his face and arms—did a double take and stood up. He raised up on Erik and grabbed his hand gun from the front of his jeans. Erik was faster; swifter. He snatched his gun and used his pistol with the silencer to kill him.

He hit the floor with a hard crash. Fae could be heard trying to catch her barely audible breath. Erik turned his relieved eyes onto Fae and he quickly revealed himself so she wouldn’t think he was trying to harm her. The way her face transformed in front of him almost made him emotional.

Fae looked as if she’d seen a guardian angel. Her eyes lit up like sparklers in the summer and her lips spread into a slight smile while tears streamed down her cheeks. As Erik approached her, Fae continued to cry, only this time she was breaking down. As Erik got closer, he could see a blue-black bruise on the side of her face and her lower lip was swollen and bleeding.

She looked as if she wanted to shout his name. Erik watched her writhe and cry, too anxious to wrap her arms around him. Erik worked fast and after a final knot the rope fell from her body. Speedily, Fae shot up from the fold chair and turned, embracing Erik with a hug similar to a boa constrictor. Erik rubbed her back and with one gloved hand he cupped the back of her head, leaning in to plant a few kisses to her forehead.

“Thank you…thank you…thank you…”

Fae wouldn’t let him go. She was cutting off his circulation.

“It’s okay…I’m here now…you’re safe…no one’s gonna hurt you any more…it’s okay, Fae. It’s okay…”

He pried her arms from around him and stared down at her.

“We gotta go. The longer we stick around, the more dangerous this shit becomes…”

Erik gripped Fae’s much smaller hand and they both made their way towards the stairs leading up. Erik halted his steps and turned his eyes onto Fae with intensity.

“You have to stay back at all times, do you understand? I refuse to let you die.”

“Okay,” Fae swallowed spit, “What about Sean and Alejandra?”

Erik looked at her for a second before speaking. So, he told her his real name?

“I’m going to kill them.” Erik replied.

Fae nodded her head and let out a sigh of relief.

“Listen to me, stay right here. I’ll come back for you.”

Erik kissed Fae’s forehead one more time, put his mask back on, and made his way up the steps.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

The music continued to blast and all eyes turned towards Erik materializing from the basement. In unison, they all stood to their feet, guns raised and aimed at him. Erik put both of his hands up and slowly backed away towards the door. The closer he went, his eyes scanned the room and one of the thugs closest to him had an AK47 pointed at Erik. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of him.

“NO TE MUEVES!”

Derrick Rio marched out from the kitchen. Erik locked eyes with him. He’s a pretty boi with slicked back wavy hair, earrings in his ears, and swagger. Teardrop tattoos on both sides proved that he was a killer. The scar on his right cheek let Erik know that his face had been sliced open. Nothing scary to Erik. Just a wanna be gangsta. He’d killed plenty of those types.

“Do you know who you’re fucking with?”

Erik remained silent.

Derrick squinted his eyes, “Can’t speak, brother? Hard of hearing?”

“HABLAR!!”

The AK47 almost touched Erik’s cheek. Erik finally parted his lips to speak.

“…quita esa arma de mi cara antes de que te haga.”

The man laughed in Erik’s face.

“KILL HIM, ACE—”

Erik did a move similar to Denzel in The Equalizer and now he had possession of the AK47. His finger didn’t hesitate to fire off rounds in Ace’s ugly face. Erik dropped behind a couch and it was guns blazing. Erik would appear from behind the couch and fire off rounds into anybody he had his eyes on. He didn’t miss. He was better at this. In the middle of it all, Sean and Alejandra were at the top of the steps, no intentions on going down stairs. They didn’t know what was happening or who the masked man was.

Bullets flying, holes in the walls, shattered glass, ruined furniture. Derrick was the only one left standing. He couldn’t believe one man took out a room full of Latin Kings. Erik walked from behind the couch and made his way over to him. Derrick didn’t know whether to point his gun at Erik and shoot or run for his life.

“Ima get yo’ ass either way, Derrick. Just put the gun down and put your hands behind your head.” Erik said.

Derrick hesitates, but eventually he complied. His pistol dropped to the floor and both of his hands raised and his fingers interlocked behind his head. He tilted his chin up and gave Erik a prideful look.

“I’ve waited for the moment I get the chance to kill off a Rio…”

POP! POP! POP!

Derrick’s body slowly and dramatically slid down the eggshell-white wall, a vertical trail of crimson painting the surface. Derrick’s head dangled to the side and he went limp. Erik peeled his eyes away from his lifeless body and just then, from the stairs, Sean began shooting at Erik. Erik ducked and moved out of the way just in time.

“COME OUT MOTHERFUCKER!!”

“Derrick! Oh my God! NO—”

“STAY BACK ALEJANDRA!”

“MY BROTHER! mi hermano esta muerto! ¡DERRICK!”

Erik looked at Fae from the top of the basement stairs. She was holding onto the railing with a vice grip. Erik extended a hand for her to take and Fae clung to him as Erik pulled. Fae rushed up the stairs and pressed her small frame against Erik’s back. Sean continued to fire off rounds at nothing.

“COME THE FUCK OUT! FACE ME!”

Erik dropped the AK47 to the floor and grabbed another fully loaded pistol with a silencer.

“Get down, Fae.”

Erik walked out and shot back at Sean. Fae crawled out on her hands and knees, staying back while she looked up at Erik putting in that work. If it was any other moment, Fae would have been turned on. Right now, all she wanted to do was get her hands on Alejandra. Sean didn’t stand a chance with Erik.

POW! POW! POW!

POP! POP! POP!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“URRR! UGH!”

Erik got Sean in his shoulder. Sean quickly scurried backwards up the stairs, shoving Alejandra as he went to get her to move. She got to her feet and tried her best to move Sean.

“BITCH! GET BACK AND HIDE!” Sean shouted.

Alejandra dropped him and ran away towards the room they were having sex in. She wasn’t even fully dressed. She only had on a pair of panties.

“Shit,” Sean hyperventilates while trying to apply pressure to his wound, “Fuck—”

POP! POP!

Sean fired off his gun and Erik dodged a bullet to the face. Sean got to his feet and stumbled into a vacant room to his right. He pressed his back against the door and tried to catch his breath but each time he breathed in, his lungs were on fire.

Erik was at the bottom of the stairs and Fae came come out of hiding. She creeped over towards the side of the staircase and out of sight. One look at her beautiful face, Erik wordlessly reminded her that everything was going to be alright.

“STOP HIDING, SEAN! WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT TOUGH GUY SHIT?” Erik yelled up the stairs.

“FUCK YOU, NIGGA!” Sean replied with a shout.

“YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON FAE! YOU COWARD ASS NIGGA! I SHOULD’VE KILLED YOU A LONG TIME AGO!!”

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO QUESTION ME?!”

Sean peeked his head out of the room and his eyes widened and bulged. Erik had taken off his tactical mask.

“You…” Sean spoke with astonishment.

“WHAT’S UP, NEIGHBOR?!”

POP! POP!

Cordell moved out of the way and two holes formed in the door. Erik took two steps at a time and Sean jumped out at him, swinging a bat and hitting Erik in his ribs. Erik couldn’t feel the impact too much since he wore a vest. Snatching off his gloves, Erik gave Sean a mean uppercut in his stomach and then a jab to his face, clipping him in the jaw. Sean stumbled backwards, blood gushing from his mouth.

“THAT’S FOR PUTTING YOUR HANDS ON FAE!”

Fae cautiously climbed the stairs. She remained a safe distance away while Sean and Erik tussled.

“GET THE FUCK UP!” Erik barked out with a sonorous voice and spit flying, “NOW!”

Sean would try to stand on his two feet and Erik would knock him back down again with his fist colliding with his jaw. Erik released a menacing chuckle with his fists covered in blood.

Alejandra dashed out of the room and charged at Erik. She started windmilling him and Erik grabbed her frail arms and shoved her ass back. That was Fae’s moment.

“ALEJANDRA!”

Brown eyes connected and Alejandra tried to escape but Fae grabbed her by the ankle and she fell to the floor in the hallway. Fae clawed her way up towards Alejandra’s face and she wrapped her fist in her hair and yanked so hard a chunk of her hair ripped out.

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Alejandra screamed.

“Baby!” Sean shouted.

Erik put Sean in a head lock. Sean struggled, his left fingers grabbing a vase from a small table and smashing it over Erik’s head. Erik ate that shit like he had a skull made from steel. He picked Sean up and like Bane, he put his knee in his spine and dropped him to the floor.

“SEAN!” Alejandra cried out.

Alejandra punched Fae in the face and kicked her off before racing down the hall and back to the room. Inside, she found a gun and turned on her heels. Fae moved out of the way and Alejandra fired off the gun into the hall. Erik took this opportunity to use Sean as a shield. He picked him up by the back of his neck.

The bullets entered his torso and his body shook from side to side. Erik had Sean by the neck and he brought his lips to his ear to give him one last word before he fell into eternal slumber.

“That fake LV bag you gifted Fae? That shit was a chew toy for our boys.”

Erik let out a dark chuckle and then dropped Sean to the floor. He could see Sean crawling and Erik cocked his head back and scrunched his face up in a disgusted manner.

“Nigga, you still moving?”

POP!

Fae was paralyzed. To witness her ex being murdered in front of her felt unreal. She turned away so she wouldn’t look into his dead eyes.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!”

Alejandra shot at Erik and he caught a bullet in the chest. Fae gasped, ready to come to his aid, but Erik’s vest is bullet proof.

Click click click

She was out of bullets.

Fae ran so fast towards her Erik didn’t have time to do it himself. She tackled Alejandra to the floor in the room and Erik jogged over, watching them tussle. He went to grab Alejandra by her arm but Fae pushed him back.

“No! No Erik! Let me handle her!”

She drew her fist back and jabbed Alejandra in the face.

“She spit on me!”

Erik furrowed his brows and looked down at Alejandra like she was the scum of the earth.

“That’s some nasty shit.” He said with a hushed tone.

Fae climbed on top of Alejandra and wrapped her fists around her neck. She squeezed and squeezed, Alejandra turning purple in the face.

“AYE!”

Erik had his pistol in his grip fast and turned to shoot down the hallway. More thugs came to the rescue. The entire neighborhood was full of Latin Kings. A neighbor probably put word out that they were in trouble.

Alejandra used Fae’s hair for leverage and flipped them over so that Fae was on her back. She stood and dragged Fae by the hair towards the bathroom where she lifted the toilet seat with her foot, preparing to water board her. Fae saw what she was attempting to do, so she used her legs muscles to stand and she had Alejandra by the hair again, twisting her neck.

“GET OFF ME!” Alejandra screamed like a banshee.

“YOU GOT MY HAIR, BITCH!” Fae yelled.

Alejandra tugged and Fae tugged harder. They were out of breath, muscles fatigued, and hearts racing.

“LET ME GO, STUPID BITCHHHHH!!!!!!!” Alejandra screeched.

POP! POP! POP!

POW! POW!

Erik was holding it down at the top of the stairs. They just wouldn’t stop coming. At first, he was shocked that the police hadn’t shown up, but then he remembered the power that the Latin Kings had, and that most of the police were on their payroll.

Back in the bathroom, Fae was finally able to get Alejandra off of her hair. She picked up a rat tail comb with a metal tip and stabbed Alejandra in the thigh. She let her go and leaped back, pulling the comb out, blood spraying out of the small puncture. They were both pumped full of adrenaline that any pain they felt didn’t register in their minds.

B-cup titties swaying, Alejandra lunged at Fae and Fae stepped out of the way, watching her trip over the toilet. She got behind her and smushed her face along the rim of the toilet seat.

“AHHHHHHH!!!!” Alejandra shouted.

Water covered the floor and Fae slipped.

“COME HERE!”

Alejandra grabbed Fae by the ankle and Fae kicked her in the face. Fae fell back against the wall and pushed up on her feet. Before Alejandra could attack Fae again, Fae pushed her so hard, her head hit the mirror and put a crack in it. Alejandra fell to the ground and Fae could see a laceration on her scalp and blood.

“FAE!”

Erik returned to the room, face sweaty and locs wild in his face. You couldn’t tell from his dark clothing that he had blood there. Fae’s knees buckled and Erik caught her. He gripped her face and examined her.

“I gotta get you outta here,” Erik looked down at Alejandra, “I’ll finish her off.”

Erik didn’t hesitate when he aimed his gun for the back of her head and pulled the trigger. Blood pooled out of her head and onto the tile floor.

Erik grabbed Fae’s hand and they ran so fast down the hall and steps. They decided to leave through the basement. Fae collected her things and Erik made sure he didn’t leave any of his guns behind. They left the home in just enough time, taking the back way and down an alley. Just then, like a scene from a movie, the entire home exploded. Fae had never seen anything like it.

“How—”

“Let’s go, Fae.” Erik urged.

They ran two blocks until Erik could spot his sport bike. Putting his mask back on, Erik worked quickly to take off his vest. He had a hoodie on underneath that he slipped over Fae’s head.

Fae’s tired eyes scanned his body covered in a fitted black beater. Erik put the vest back on and hopped onto the bike. With his strength, he wrapped an arm around Fae’s slim waist and placed her on the bike behind him. He revved it up and Fae wrapped her arms securely around him. Hood up, Erik zoomed off down the street. When he finally made it off of the block and onto the busy rode, he could see NYPD, Paramedics, and two Fire trucks.

Even as the bike slowed down to a stop, Fae didn’t take her cheek off of Erik’s back. She opened her eyes and looked around, noticing that they weren’t back at the apartment. They were parked outside of a warehouse in Staten Island. They’d been riding for an hour and a half. Time was lost to her, all she kept thinking about was the nights events. Erik climbed off of the bike and turned towards Fae.

Fae looked up at him as he removed his mask.

The tears began to pour. She will be forever grateful that Erik rescued her. He removed his gloves and cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs smeared away her tears.

Fae parted her dry lips to speak, “He was trying to steal the money I’d gotten from my mother’s death.”

“That explains why your room looked the way it did. How much money did you get?”

“About 100k…”

Erik strokes her cheek.

“I moved the information to a safe that I have hidden in my guest bedroom. That’s where I keep all of my personal documents.”

“Smart,” Erik smirked at her, “I’m just happy to be looking at you right now. I thought I was too late…”

“How did you know where to find me?” Fae questioned with a trembling voice.

Erik hesitated speaking and Fae noticed. She searched his eyes and then Erik dropped his gaze to the dirt.

“Fae…I haven’t been honest with you.”

Fae tilted her head but remained silent. Exhaling, Erik took both of her hands in his and squeezed.

“…I’m not a bodyguard.”

Fae nodded her head slowly her eyes lowering to their hands.

“I’m a professional Hitman.”

Fae’s head lifted to look at him again.

“I’ve been assigned to a job to track down Sean and kill him. He has an extensive history of murder and scamming from all across the U.S. I’ve been assigned to the job for five months…”

Fae stared at Erik with an intense gaze.

“I have something to show you.”

Erik helped her off of the bike and they headed towards the warehouse.

“As a Hitman, we have these specific safeguards implemented in different states. In New York, there’s three. I’m stationed here until I decide to relocate.”

Fae allowed Erik to lead her towards a door on the side of the warehouse. Erik used his thumb against a fingerprint identifier and it ignited green. The door clicked open and Erik walked inside. The door shut on its own behind Fae and as if the warehouse was controlled by some artificial intelligence, everything came to life.

She didn’t know which area to take in first. On one end of the warehouse, there were parked cars and bikes. On another side there was an area for combat. In the middle there is a work station with many computers and a giant TV screen suspended from the ceiling. Fae’s eyes fell on a wall covered in weapons from guns, to knives. Finally, she spotted another wall with a spotlight. This wall was covered with a diagram of photos thumbtacked together.

Erik made his way over to that specific wall with Fae in tow. As they inched closer, Fae recognized something that caused her to pull her hand away from Erik’s. She walked around him and over towards that wall. Fae’s footsteps paused right before the giant billboard and she looked back at Erik with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“Erik…why am I up here?”

Fae’s eyes scanned the billboard. The covert photography of her made her feel uneasy. There were photos of her leaving work, her apartment, New Jersey, walking Deuce, out with friends, on dates with Sean. Any and everything she could be doing. There were even photos of her through her apartment windows from a distance.

“Wha–wha—I–I don’t—I don’t understand. I—”

Fae wrinkled her nose and her mouth fell open. She blinked her eyes rapidly, as if trying to make sense of what she was staring at. Erik stood in front of her, a guilty expression on his face.

“Fae…I was given the job to Kill Sean—”

“You told me that already.” Fae spoke.

“…So, with that job came rules. Rules that can’t be broken. Not only was Sean a target…you were too. I had orders to assassinate you and him.”

Fae’s lower lip quivered.

“All this time? So what? You moved in next door so you could keep tabs on me? You showed up and tricked me into having sex with you—”

“NO.” Erik cut Fae off.

“So why did you get close to me?! Why did you even do that knowing the risk?!!”

Erik shrugged, unable to find the right words. He looked towards the ceiling, hands in his pockets.

“I just…Fae I fell for you.”

Fae narrowed her eyes at him and tightened her jaw.

“This may sound crazy, but all that time I spent following you, watching you, learning everything about you…I started catching feelings—”

“STOP.”

Fae put her hands up and shut her eyes.

“This is crazy,” She ran a hand over her frizzy hair, “So you fucked me and sent me back to a psycho when you could have told me the truth?! What is wrong with you???!!!!”

“I COULDN’T TELL YOU THE TRUTH!” Erik shouted.

“”WHY? WHY NOT?” Fae yelled back.

Erik put his hands together, leaning in with his face inches away.

“WHY NOT, ERIK?”

“Fae, please. I fucked up, I know that, okay? But you gotta understand me when I say this…what I do, and the people I work for…they don’t play about shit like this. They will interfere and fuck shit up. The ONLY REASON why shit hit the fan, is because of my partner. I have to update her on everything that’s going on. She put a bug in their ear, making me look bad. SHE WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU.”

Fae flinched when Erik’s tone went dark as his tone elevated. He was pissed. Locs in his face, slugs peeking through and muscles flexed.

“AND I WOULD HAVE KILLED HER!!!!…okay?” Erik lowered his voice to a soft timbre and tucked his chin, looking at fae through his lashes with a penetrating gaze and flared nostrils, “I fucked up because I caught feelings. It was deeper than a hit, baby. I fell in love with you. I couldn’t be cold-blooded Killmonger. All eyes were on me 24/7. If I would have said one thing to you, I could have found you dead in your apartment.”

His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Fae hugged herself and her vision blurred with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Erik shook his head, “I truly am, baby. I know I fucked up. Sean would have had the entire Latin Kings coming after you if he so much as caught a whiff of anything. Alejandra and Derrick are a part of the Latin Kings. She was in your apartment. They knew where you worked, where you lived…Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?!”

Fae nibbled on her bottom lip to try and calm her hiccuping from crying. She nodded her head rapidly in understanding.

“You have every right to hate me right now. I wish I could go back and fix this. I wish I could, baby. I wish you never met that fucking nigga…”

Erik’s hands pulled Fae into his body. She looked up at him and her hands were pressed against his chest.

“…I wish you didn’t have to go through what you went through tonight…”

Erik’s body shook with rage.

“I knew where you were tonight because I put a tracker on your cell phone that night after the bar. I’m glad I did. Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to find you…”

Fae shifted from one foot to the other. She was nervous. Erik lifted her chin so she could look at him.

“I want to be honest with you. I want…”

Erik’s eyes went from her lips to her eyes.

“I want what you want. Even if that means you want nothing to do with me…but I’ll never stop loving you, Fae.”

Fae lowered her head and stared at her hands against his chest. She had a migraine, her face hurt, her body hurt, her hair was a mess, her ex was a murderer and used her for her money, Erik is a Hitman. It was all too much. Her head was ready to explode. And now, she’s finding out that she was supposed to be dead too? Not only did Sean want to kill her, so did the people that Erik worked for. But wait did he just say—

“Fae?”

Erik’s voice snapped her out of her daze. She slowly lifted her head to look at him.

“You love me?” Fae asked.

“…Yes.”

It all made sense to her now.

“Was that why you left my apartment that night? You were going to tell me that you loved me, weren’t you?…”

Erik smirked, “Yeah, I was.”

Fae chuckles as tears rolled down her cheeks, “You should have.”

She broke down crying and Erik wrapped his arms around her and hugged her right.

“This is a lot,” Fae said with a shaky voice.

“It is. I couldn’t wait to tell you tomorrow. You deserved to know…you been deserved to know.”

“…Wow,” Fae shakes her head, “I can’t believe this is my life…”

She pulled away from Erik so she could look at him.

“Erik, I’ve only known you for such a short while, but when I’m with you…I’m a better version of myself. You bring out this confidence and self worth in me that I never knew I had,” Fae released a shaky breath, “I’ve been so broken so many times,” Her bottom lip trembled, “And you showed me the true meaning of what it’s like to be loved.”

Erik stared at her, a soft smile on his face.

“…You didn’t have to fall for me, you could have just—just done your job and got rid of me. And as much as I don’t like that you kept this a secret, all of it just proves that you cared for me, a girl you barely even knew…you saved my life in so many ways. And I just want you to know, I love you too.”

Fae pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes to control her tears. Erik felt his own eyes sting. He blinked his eyes rapidly to stop himself from crying.

“Fae,” Erik picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, “I told you, you’re special. You’re amazing. I love you...”

She buried her face into his neck and Erik rubbed his hands up and down her spine.

Fae sniffled, “I want to go home…”

Erik couldn’t agree more.

The energy felt different.

The moment she entered his apartment, she felt like it was her home. Her apartment didn’t feel like home anymore. It was tainted with Sean. Everything he touched, his side of the bed, his clothes, his scent. She didn’t want any part of it.

Erik took her bag from her and helped her remove her boots. They silently walked together, Erik guiding her to his room. Diesel and Deuce were excited to see them. In Erik’s room, he shut the door behind him and proceeded to undress Fae. His eyes never left hers as each layer of clothing peeled away from her frame. Erik walked her to his bathroom and sat her down on the toilet while he ran her bath.

Fae watched him take off his vest, beater, boots, and socks. They were both filthy, but Erik was concerned with making sure Fae was clean and comfortable. The bath water ran and Erik poured in epsom salt. He opened his medicine cabinet and grabbed all the first aid items to tend to her injuries. When the water had finished, Erik turned off the tap and he helped Fae into the tub.

He got down on his knees and went to work cleaning her off. He gently washed her off and after each pass of the sponge, he would press his lips into her wet flesh. Fae felt an instant jolt of arousal. She couldn’t control the pleasant tingling between her legs when he washed her there with a rag. She gripped his wrist and they locked eyes. Even with a bruised face and scared lip, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Fae’s hand covered Erik’s and she guided his fingers lower. He got the hint and sat the rag on the edge of the tub. Two thick fingers found her entrance and pushed inside. Fae gasped, Erik muting her noises with his lips. Fae gripped the edge of the tub and fell back so that she could tilt her hips for deeper access.

Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her. Fae pressed her face into his arm and nibbled on his skin. Erik could see her juices and feel how creamy her pussy is for him. Her nipples were rock hard and making Erik’s mouth water.

“Erik…”

She squeezed her thighs together and the water sloshed as her body moved back and forth with her climax. She exhaled an airy breath and her walls convulsed around his fingers. Erik slipped his fingers out and sucked them clean. He let the water out and helped Fae to her feet. Erik grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. Back in the room, he sat her down on his bed and proceeded to rub her body down with a soothing and calming body oil scented with a sweet aroma of vanilla combined with a surprising touch of lemon.

“Killmonger.” Fae spoke.

Erik chuckled while massaging her body with the oil, “That’s my nickname.”

“Why Killmonger? I mean, I know you’re a killer…”

“…I earned the nickname from the amount of kills I racked up. It was so impressive that they had to give me a nickname for it…”

“Okay,” Fae giggled, “I like it…it’s sexy.”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind his locs.

“Hmm, really?” His dimples popped out while trying to hide his blush, “I’m glad you think so.”

Fae rolled her eyes, “I mean…it’s fitting…”

“Fitting for what else?” Erik looked down at her while massaging her feet.

“…with the way you kill this pussy—”

“Huh? What was that, Miss Fae? I couldn’t hear you.” Erik teased.

“I said, with the way you kill this pussy…”

Erik bowed his head and laughed. When he finished, He dressed Fae in an old graphic T-shirt of Jimi Hendrix and he excused himself to take a shower. Fae used that opportunity to go see Deuce. The last time she’d seen her dog was before she left for work that morning. Fae walked out barefoot with her frizzy and loose braids up in a bun. Her scalp felt so tender and sore. She found Deuce and Diesel both lying in Erik’s office. Deuce ran up to her as Fae got down on her knees. Up on his hind legs, Fae hugged him and couldn’t help but to cry.

Sean could have killed Deuce. She was so happy that he was safe. She was so happy that she didn’t die and she could come home to her boy. Diesel rubbed his head against her and Fae gave him a hug too. She smiled brightly at both of them and couldn’t help but to giggle. I guess that means Diesel was her dog now too.

Fae stood up and walked around Erik’s office. Her curious eyes moved about the room, taking it all in with a new perspective. Sure, he was in Special Ops and she understood that killing people came with the job, but it felt different knowing that he’s a Hitman. Fae skimmed her fingers over his books when Erik appeared. He was oiled down himself and wearing a pair of all black ball shorts.

“I came to see the boys and I started snooping around. I know, I’m pryjng,” Fae tucked her chin bashfully.

“It’s okay. You’re curious.” Erik said.

“It just seems so…mysterious…”

Erik walked up behind Fae and pressed his lips against her exposed neck.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

That made Fae feel good knowing that. She turned to him and Erik’s lips were on hers. They tongue kissed while their hands roamed all over each other’s bodies. Erik had his hands full of Fae’s ass and he backed out of his office. They walked backwards into his room and Erik slammed the door shut to keep the boys out. With only a single lamp light on, it gave off the perfect vibe.

Erik sat down on the edge of the bed with Fae between his legs. She cupped his face while they continued to kiss. Their heads moved back and forth and their tongues reached crevices that elicited sounds of pleasure. Fae needed him. She didn’t care that her body was sore, she needed him inside of her. Erik did too, his dick was brick hard and tenting the front of his shorts.

Fae broke the kiss and she lifted his T-shirt over her head, naked body the perfect shape in Erik’s eyes with the softest skin that glistened similar to honey. Fae took her place in his lap with her pussy sitting directly over his clothed erection. Erik couldn’t get over how soft and smooth her skin felt beneath his calloused hands.

His lips kissed her neck, her collarbones, and between her breasts. He tilted Fae’s body back and her breasts were pushed out towards his mouth. He sucked each dark brown nipple into his mouth and flicked them greedily with his thick tongue. Fae arched her back and gripped Erik’s shoulders tight when he started humping her from underneath.

“Unh….”

Fae’s moans sounded angelic.

Erik pressed his face between her breasts and grunted. His dick was twitching between her pussy lips.

“Fuck…I need you,” Erik whispered.

“I need you too…”

Fae dug her fingers into Erik’s shorts and they wrapped around his fat dick. She whipped it out and lifted her hips while her hand pointed his tip towards her opening. Erik exhaled a longing breath. She sat down on him fully and Erik bounced her.

“Fuck…fuck…” Erik was staring up at Fae through hooded eyes, “I missed this pussy…”

“Mm!” Fae’s mouth fell open, “Mmm!”

Her moans were driving him crazy.

“Mm! Mm! Unh! Uh! Ooo!”

“You’re a fuckin’ angel, baby,” Erik praises.

He secured one arm around her waist, sliding his hips lower so he could plant his feet on the floor, and he pumped upward while simultaneously bouncing Fae, bringing her down on his dick himself. She had a death grip on Erik’s shoulders. She was so small and limber while Erik’s much larger and more powerful body controlled her movements.

“Ahhhh, ahhhhh…” Erik couldn’t hold back from making his own noises, “That’s it baby…let me do all the work…”

“Oh gosh,” Fae moaned, “Yes!”

“I’m deep and I ain’t leaving, baby,” Erik groaned, “Mhm…too much big dick?”

“No,” Fae said with a whiny voice.

“That’s my good girl…”

She came on his dick and Erik raised his hips to the bed again. He lifted her off of his dick and got down on his knees. He started eating Fae’s pussy while she was standing up. She couldn’t believe it. He hiked her thigh up and proceeded to suck on her pussy while his other hand fisted his dick.

“Shit,” Fae wrapped her fingers around his locs, “Mmm!”

Fae’s leg shook out of control and she fell forward against the bed. Erik’s hand smacked her on the ass and she positioned herself so that she was hanging over the edge of the bed. Erik turned and started eating it from the back. Fae rocked her hips back and forth, feeding her pussy to his plump lips and thick tongue. Erik spread her cheeks as best as he could so he could get every inch of that pretty, pink puss in his mouth. He was sucking that shit off the bone and Fae was losing her sanity.

“Daddy, please don’t stop,” Fae moaned weakly.

He slurped her pussy, put his tongue in that pussy, sucked on that clit, tongued her folds. Fae was drooling into the sheets.

“OH FUCK!”

She bit down on her bottom lip, the pain from her scar mixed with the pleasure of getting her pussy devoured giving her a big orgasm. She convulsed and released into Erik’s waiting, gluttonous mouth.

He sat up and Fae turned her body. Erik was on his feet and with his lustful eyes watching her, he took off his shorts, revealing his fat dick and balls. It was so hard that the veins in his shaft popped out. His tip is covered in pre-cum and dying to be sucked on. Fae arched her back and grabbed his dick. She looked up at him and wrapped her lips around him.

She took her time putting him down her throat. It’s a big boy. Erik’s humming and grunting caused her clit to jump. It was thick enough to make her jaw muscles sore and long enough to trigger her gag reflex.

“There you go…good girl…such a good girl,” Erik tilted his head so he could watch, “Get daddy’s dick in there, baby…”

She started sucking him while tugging on his sack. Erik’s brows furrowed and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His eye rolled shut and his head went back. All Fae could see was his beautifully-sculpted body and the long swath of his neck.

“Just like that…look at you…mmm, mmm, mmm…”

Erik groaned when Fae focused on slurping his wide tip between her lips. She knew that’s what he liked. He loved it when she did it nice and slow. Her spit rolled down her chin and she looked into his eyes while sucking. That’s what did it.

“Fae…”

She loved it when he said her name.

“Fae…”

Keep saying my name.

“Damn, here it comes—”

Fae swallowed him whole. She tightened her throat and milked him while the tip of her tongue wiggled in his slit. Thick, warm, nut coated her tongue. She slowly released his dick from her mouth and it popped out covered in spit. Erik stuck his tongue down her throat with his fingers around her neck to control the flow. Fae sucked on his bottom lip like a pacifier.

“I’m gon’ fuck you all over this bed,” Erik said with a husky voice barely above a whisper, “And your ass gon’ take it every single time…”

“I need it, big daddy,” Fae whispered seductively.

Erik raised a single brow at her.

“I can handle it,” Fae spoke confidently with a smirk.

Erik picked her up and put her ass on the edge of his dresser.

“You can handle it, huh? Yeah?” Erik plopped his dick down on her pussy and guided his hips so his dick could glide up and down between her fat, outer lips.

“Yes,” Fae moaned.

“Your pussy is wet and gushy, mamas…”

He hooked his arms beneath her knees and with his hips, he thrust forward and his tip slipped between her labia and popped right into that wet pussy. He pressed further inside until he was halfway in before retracting his hips slowly, only to thrust back inside again.

“Fuck,” Fae gasped when Erik twisted her hips, “Mmm!”

She gripped the edge of the dresser with one hand while the other wrapped around Erik’s neck. His crotch and lower abdomen collided with Fae’s inner thighs and it stung so good.

“Daddy, you’re fucking me so good!”

“Mhm…I know it is, look at this dick.”

Fae tried to watch but he was digging her out so good she couldn’t focus.

“Oooo…I know whatchu finna do, pretty mama…daddy making that pussy cum, I know it.”

“I can’t control it, daddy—”

Fae’s pussy pushed Erik’s dick out and she rubbed her clit back and forth, her juices like a fountain.

“So that’s what I gotta do to make that pussy squirt like that?”

Erik crouched down to lick it up. Fae couldn’t control her legs from squirming and shaking. Erik needed to make her do that again. He moved her to the bed and parted Fae’s legs with his hands on the back of her thighs. Erik got up on that bed, dug his toes into the mattress, and started grinding his hips so that his dick could hit her spot. Each time he would thrust, his hips would grind, making his fat dick hit her spot.

“Oooo!” Fae started crying, “I’m gonna squirt again!”

“That’s what I want, give me that shit,” Erik commanded.

“It’s all for you!”

That was music to Erik’s ears. Fae looked up at him and he had his bottom lip between his teeth and a smirk on his face. She was falling apart beneath him and he just fucked her like that with a dimpled smirk and a big dick. He was dangerous.

“My pussy, daddy!”

Fae’s eyes crossed and Erik was pushed out once again. It just kept going. He beat her clit with his tip and she just covered him and the sheets.

“Dayum, you’re my little waterfall for real, fuck. I love it when you make a mess on me…”

“It’s so much, I’m sorry,” Fae shielded her face with her arm to hide her blush.

“Don’t be sorry about what that pussy can do, baby…”

He had his mouth on her pussy again. Fae was growing lightheaded. Erik looked up at her through his lashes and licked his lips.

“You okay?” He questioned.

“Mhm,” Fae replied.

Erik gave her a moment to catch her breath and then he sat up in the middle of the bed. He made a come-hither motion with his fingers and a bite of his lip and Fae crawled to him. She straddled him and Erik lined his dick up with that beautiful pussy again for more. Fae sank down on him fully until her ass was sitting on his balls. Erik dropped his thighs out and leaned back on one hand. He rolled his hips up slowly and fae rolled her hips down on him. Her hands were on his shoulders and she was looking down at him from above. They were locked in a sensual gaze.

“Tell me you love me.” Erik whispered.

“I love you,” Fae whispered back.

“Say it again.”

“I love you…”

Erik hooked his arms beneath her armpits and gripped her shoulders from behind. Fae cupped his face and they kissed passionately. Erik broke the kiss and his tongue licked along Fae’s jaw. He dug his heels into the bed and surprised Fae with sharp upstrokes with his hands planted on the bed. She was squirting again.

“UNH! UNH! UNH!”

It was ball-slapping strokes. Erik lowered his hips back to the bed and his dick slipped out with ease. He shook his locs from his eyes and lifted from the bed.

“C’mere…bring that pussy here.”

Fae took one look at that dick and she whimpered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll l be back in there. Arch that back.”

She did as she was told. Erik nibbled and kissed all over her ass. He put a humb in her butt and his dick deep in her pussy from the back. Fae’s hips bounced off of him causing her cheeks to turn red.

“Go head, cry into the sheets, tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels so good!”

“You taking it, mamas. Just watching you take this dick makes me so hard.”

“Yes, daddy!” Fae moaned.

“Don’t stop taking this dick…don’t stop taking this dick…”

Fae turned her head back and forth, she fisted the sheets, she cried out. Erik would speed up, then slow down. Bring her to the peek, then edge her.

“Can I cum daddy?! Please?! Can I cum, please?!”

“Cum on this dick right fuckin’ now.”

“Unh—ahhh!”

It was creamy and slippery. Erik watched with his bottom lip pouted and gold slugs gleaming. That pussy was hot and tight.

“Daddy, I feel you throbbing inside me!”

“Yeah?” Erik growled, “SHIT—”

“YES! Right there—”

“UGH!”

Erik gripped her waist for leverage and he withdrew his hips. Fae spun around quickly and opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. Erik held her gaze through his locs and his mouth formed an ‘O’ while he jerked himself. His cum shot out like a spider’s web. It covered Fae’s face and tongue. Erik couldn’t believe how much it was. Fae cleaned off as much as she could and then Erik left to grab a wet rag.

He returned and cleaned Fae off. They both went to the bathroom and after using the toilet, took a shower together. Fae let Erik fuck her up against the shower wall with her chest pressed against it. She reached behind her to hold onto his thigh while he took that pussy from behind. He slipped out and Fae got down on her knees again to clean him off. They were both satisfied.

When they were done, they both rubbed eachother down with the oil again and stood at his sink to tend to their scars. Fae sat on the sink and Erik took his time tending to her. She did the same for him, it was mostly his knuckles. It was so intimate.

Teeth brushed, Erik put a towel down on the bed to cover Fae’s mess and snuggled together beneath the sheets. Fae rested her head on Erik’s chest with one arm draped across his torso. Erik stared up at the ceiling while playing in her hair.

“I love you, Fae. I mean it.”

Fae sat up and looked up at Erik through her lashes.

“I know you do. I love you too.”

Erik shut his eyes and smirked. Fae caressed his thick lips with her fingertips. Erik caught them between his lips causing Fae to giggle.

@goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @theeblackmedusa @lisayourworries @bellleame @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cecereads209 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixit @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @bakarisprxncess @melodicheauxxlovesfood @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @bluesole16 @90sisthenew80s @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @unbotheredblackchild @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @why-wait-4-eventually @angelicniah @queenfaithmarie @soulfulbeauty19 @asweet-serendipity @aijha @novaniskye @princessxotwod @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @palmstreesallday @kokokonako@coolfancyone @soulsparker @d3kstar @richgirlaesthetics @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @beautybyfire @abluesforlyssa @xo-goldengirl @mbakuetshurisprincess @4ftwonder @raysunshine78 @sensitivelegend @sourbabynaee @gotbeefbitch-blog @cool-fancyone @efonteno @akimi-youngblood @badassdoll @shyblackgurl @childishgambinaax @teheeboo @skylahb @gigafaex @readingaddict1290 @circeaphoenix @xsweetdellzx @carewornblackgirl @queengodiva619 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @seyven89 @jamaicanqueenaa

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Imagine…

BAU!reader being married to Hotch but keeping her maiden name in the field to avoid assumptions and judgment. The team knows, obviously, but then a former colleague of Aaron’s from the Seattle office happens to be in town for a conference and wants to catch up over a drink. You can’t help but tease him, of course:

“Knock, knock,” you murmur, leaning against the doorway to your husband’s office. With a glance at your watch, you ask, “Y’gonna be late for your date?”

Aaron looks up at you with a frown before returning his attention to his case file and mumbling, “Not a date.”

“Mm, my apologies,” you respond with a twitch of your lips as you approach his desk. You lean your elbows on the dark wood and rest your chin in your open hands. Batting your eyelashes, you amend, “It’s a meeting betwixt old coworkers.”

Aaron rises from his chair, pressing his fists against the desk opposite you and positively towering over your smaller stature. He meets your fiery gaze with equal defiance, then leans forward to press a kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Are you our resident Reid while he’s with his mom? Who says ‘betwixt’?”

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” you taunt back between kisses of your own. “You collected coins; I played Scrabble. Now get going! Can’t leave a lady waiting for the Aaron Hotchner.”

—————

But WAIT! There’s more! Said agent gets a call while they’re out for a drink and asks Aaron and the BAU for help on a new case. Naturally, you all have to fly to Seattle together…

“Mama, you know this cabin is pressurized, right?” Derek teases with a nudge of your shoulder.

You mumble back around a sip of coffee, “Yeah, so?”

“So if you glare any harder, you’re gonna burn a hole through the jet and we’re all gonna die up here.”

Emily snorts out a laugh and you steal a Cheeto from JJ’s snack (for which you’re met with a stern, “Hey!”) to throw at her. Emily collects the offensive projectile from her lap and pops it into her mouth with a ferocious chomp in your direction, receiving an, “Oh, bite me, Prentiss,” in response.

“Just find a way to slip in that you’re married,” JJ counsels, moving the bag out of your reach to avoid further retaliation.

“Or accidentally fall into his lap. Turbulence can be nasty, you know,” Emily offers as a follow up.

“Like that?” you deadpan, jutting your chin toward the scene at the back of the jet. Aaron and Agent Brandt are over by the coffee, and she’s just steadied herself using your husband’s broad shoulder.

“Or,” Derek counteroffers, tugging at the chain around your neck that holds your wedding and engagement rings while you’re out in the field, “put this rock on and go claim your man!”

“This is dumb. I’m being dumb,” you grumble, flipping open the case file and burying your head in it. “Can we get back to talking about this sociopath and not my high school-esque jealousy?”

“What’s happening? Did I miss anything?” Garcia’s blonde curls bounce up on the monitor before your group, ready for the next installment of this evidently riveting saga.

“Nothing is happening, Pen,” you respond with a sharp look her way, “and y’all need to get out more. Watch a romcom or something if you need some angst.”

“You all completely suck,” Penelope sighs dramatically. “My cup runneth empty in my lair!”

“Then go get yourself another cappuccino, baby girl,” Derek answers smoothly with that dazzling smile of his, perched on the armrest of your seat.

You feel his presence before you hear his voice, every atom in your body suddenly on high alert and keenly aware of everything that is Aaron. “Hey.”

You look up at him with an easy smile, determined to not let your unwarranted bitterness reflect on your work. “What’s up, Hotch?”

He squats down in the aisle beside you so he’s not looming over you and brushes his knuckles across your cheek in an uncharacteristically tender touch, given your current audience. “Do you have that travel bottle of Advil? Brandt may have been overzealous with the margaritas last night.”

“Yeah, it’s… in the side pocket of my bag,” you answer, brow furrowed because he tossed it in there this morning to ward off your inevitable headaches during the coming late nights.

“You’re the best, honey,” he murmurs, standing halfway to press a kiss to your forehead before returning to his full height and going off in search of the pain killer.

“‘Overzealous with the margaritas’, huh?” Emily teases, then starts singing the viral song about just how many margaritas are needed to perform certain acts that shan’t be discussed in polite company.

From across the plane, Dave glances at Aaron who’s rummaging through the overhead luggage bin, then turns his attention to you with a knowing gaze. You avert your eyes, feeling a blush creeping across your cheeks, and settle back in your seat before flipping through the case file in front of you. “So crime scene photos would suggest we’re dealing with a disorganized killer…”

—————

But WAIT! There’s even more!

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[confused-pyramid]

Tell Me Some Things Last | s3

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

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

word count: 23.1k

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

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

series masterlist

"Excuse me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He answers immediately. "Every 10 minutes."

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

Griffith frowns. "Yeah. Why?"

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

"You can tell that just by the arms?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The first two victims were the same."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hotch was popular?" Reid asks in disbelief.

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

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

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

"There's been another murder."

***

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

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

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

Your mouth falls open. "What?"

"Two weeks."

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

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

"StraussaskedmetospyonyouandIthinkshealsoaskedEmily!"

He blinks. "Can you say that again?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Need any help?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

You miss them all.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You miss work, don't you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods and you follow Haley to the door, where she gives you a quick squeeze and another promise to have you over for dinner soon. The sun starts to set as you drive home, and before you can second guess yourself, you're turning into a local farmer's market that is about to shut down for the night.

You rush through the stalls and stop in front of the flower shop, where you buy a dozen pink carnations. The vendor ties the bouquet with a silky ribbon and you hold the flowers close to your heart as you walk back to your car and start driving.

This time, you're more aware of the direction you're headed. You don't stop your car until you're in the parking lot and you don't stop moving until you're past the front gates and up the grassy hill where Jeff's headstone sits stoically under the waning sunlight.

You take a deep breath as you sink down to your knees, blissfully unaware of the grass stains coloring your slacks. You set the flowers down in front of his headstone, which you haven't seen in months.

                                                 Jeff Adler

                               Beloved Son, Husband, Brother

                                        Until we meet again

The carnations look bright against the gray stone, and you arrange them neatly so that they don't get blown away.

He loved flowers. He knew they were impermanent and likely a waste of money, but he still loved all of the different emotions they symbolized, and how beautiful they could be for as long as they lasted.

He brought you a bouquet of heliotrope almost every week after you got married, and when you asked him what it meant, he insisted that it was something you had to find out in your own time. That time came a quick Google search later, and when the words 'eternal love' flashed on your screen, you knew you had picked the right man.

You brush your finger against the petals of the pink carnations you brought, remembering the rest of what the search yielded. Angelica for inspiration, calla lily for beauty, and pink carnation for gratitude.

You're so grateful you met him. So grateful he loved you as much as you loved him.

"I love you," you whisper, suddenly needing to say the words out loud. There's no one around, and the sun has set far enough that there's barely enough light to see, but your words feel strong as they come out of your mouth. "Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for giving me 10 beautiful years."

You wipe away the tear that falls from the corner of your eye. "Goodbye."

***

He takes his time as he walks through the halls of the Virginia field office on Monday morning. He hasn't been inside in two weeks, and after he and Haley agreed that he should request a transfer, he likely won't be back again for a very long time.

When he walks past the glass doors of the bullpen, he spots you at your desk, pointing out something to Morgan in a case file. He hastens his pace so you don't see him. He still doesn't know how to tell you that he isn't coming back.

"Good morning, ma'am," he says when Strauss beckons him into her office.

"I was hoping you'd do the right thing," she says, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Have you given any thought to what department you'll request?"

He shakes his head. "I was under the impression that if I left the BAU, I'd have my choice of posts."

"Well, I'll consider it after I fully complete my investigation."

She pauses before looking at him again. "You were a prosecutor. What about heading up a white-collar crime task force? That'll get you home at night at a reasonable hour."

That sounds like exactly what Haley wants for them. They spent hours over the last week discussing what the best path forward would be post-suspension, and after countless late-night arguments, they finally agreed on a transfer. It would be best for the team, and best for his family. So why does he feel so guilty?

"Sorry to interrupt."

Prentiss barges into the office, as though she had an appointment. She glances over at him, and he can't read her expression. "Sir, I've decided to resign from the FBI, effective immediately."

"I don't understand," he frowns, taking in her rigid posture. He remembers your suspicions, as well as his own, but this can't be where it ends.

"I'm taking the foreign service exam. With my connections, I'd stand a good chance of landing in the State Department."

"Prentiss," he urges, trying to convey his understanding in his tone. "I think that's a mistake."

She shakes her head with a sigh. "Well, don't try to talk me out of it. Garcia saw my name on the list, and she already tried."

That makes him pause. "If she can't talk someone out of doing something, no one can."

"Sorry for the interruption, but, sir, it's good to see you back." She turns her gaze to Strauss, even as she continues speaking to him. "The team needs you."

She stalks out of the room after a quick "Ma'am", leaving him alone with Strauss, who looks like she's up to her last nerve. "I'll be overseeing this next case until I can assign your replacement."

"You don't have any field experience, do you?" He doesn't mean for the words to come out so critically, but his emotions are a jumbled mess that he can't decipher well enough to fix his mood right now.

"My job is to protect the Bureau. If I have to hold the team's hand for one case, so be it."

Hold the team's hand. He can't imagine that Strauss will be of much help in the field, but he keeps his mouth shut. He's been around enough authority figures to know when to keep his criticisms to himself.

"Ma'am," he says gently, hoping he can turn his thoughts into useful advice. "In order to function effectively, this team needs stability."

She clasps her hands together on her desk, and he knows it's done. There's nothing he can do to fix this for the team, at least not on this case. "The BAU has some very talented people, and they're Bureau assets, and I believe it's time that they were out from underneath the leadership of you and Jason Gideon."

***

Hotch was supposed to come back today. It's not until you're on the plane that Derek informs the team that he's requesting a transfer.

"What?" you burst out, unable to keep your composure even with Strauss seated a few rows behind you.

"He didn't tell you?"

You shake your head with a forlorn frown, and Derek jumps back in quickly to remediate the situation. "I only found out because I ran into him on the way to the jet. He didn't seem like he was in the mood for talking."

But he tells you everything. At least you thought he did.

"It's okay," you say, forcing your face into a neutral expression. "This isn't about me. I just can't believe he's leaving."

"Yeah," JJ grimaces, "and I can't believe we're stuck with her now. You know, from this angle, she looks almost human."

You all glance behind you, but thankfully, her face is still buried in the case file.

"Emily didn't come in today, either," you point out, turning to the empty seat next to you. "We're down two agents, and Gideon's MIA."

Reid blinks, and you curse yourself for being so cavalier. You know how hard Gideon's absence has been on him.

He recovers quickly and leans in to the center console with a raised eyebrow. "Has Strauss ever even been out of the-"

A chorus of shushes come from Derek and JJ and he shuts up as Strauss walks down the aisle and sits across from you all. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it's protocol to brief everyone before we arrive at the crime scene?"

JJ turns red and she nods hastily, opening her file. "Yes, ma'am."

Strauss has only been here for ten minutes and you already want to strangle her. JJ explains the case details succinctly, and when the plane lands, you all head over to the crime scene to find Detective Wolynski, who called your team in when the murders got out of hand.

Within minutes of meeting them, Strauss manages to ruin your relationship with the local police by questioning their decision to wait so long to call in the BAU. JJ immediately takes matters into her own hands as she explains that we have to work with them if we want to be included in the investigation at all, but she doesn't seem to care.

You get a call from Penelope as you're heading back to the SUVs, and you step aside to get out of Strauss's earshot. "What's up, Pen?"

"I tried everything I could," she wails. You can hear the distinct clicking of her keyboard in the background. "I tried to convince him to stay, but he's so stubborn."

You sigh, glancing over at the scene, where Strauss looks positively nauseous. You can empathize with her emotions, because you know how hard it was for you to see your first crime scene in person, but this just further proves how unfit she is to understand what being on this team really means. "If he made up his mind, there's gonna be no changing it, unless he changes it himself."

She huffs, before audibly perking up. "I gave him the Milwaukee case file before he went home, and I also, uh, saw that his transfer hasn't passed through the system yet."

You're almost certain she had something to do with that, but your mind immediately starts going through the possibilities of what this could mean. If his transfer isn't in the system, then that means he technically still works on this team...which means him not being here is in dereliction of duty. If there's anything that can convince Hotch to show up, it's duty.

"You've been more help than you know," you tell her, before hanging up and hopping into the SUV.

***

When he arrived at his house with the case file Garcia gave him, he immediately stuffed it in his bag and tossed it onto the floor. He definitely didn't think about reading it the entire time he was changing out of his suit, and making a quick lunch for Haley and himself. When she went upstairs to put Jack down for his nap, he couldn't help himself any longer.

Reaching into his bag, he pulls out the file and flips it open slowly, being careful to angle the gruesome photos away from the stairs in case Haley came down without him noticing. Women taken in the afternoons and killed. Bodies dumped in the morning. Hearts cut out of their chests. The words pop out at him as he skims the page, and he's so engrossed in the material that he doesn't hear her until she's standing over him. "I thought this was over."

"It is," he sighs, closing the file. "I'm just curious." He doesn't know when he started lying to his wife, but he doesn't like it. The bitter taste of it in his mouth.

He can see her gearing up for a fight when their home phone rings. He picks it up and clicks the button to answer, but even after saying 'hello' a couple of times, no one responds. For a split second, his mind flashes back a year to the Fisher King and the secret message left on his home phone, but he pushes the thought away.

He clicks the phone off, looking up at Haley again, but then a shrill ringing sound starts again, this time from her purse across the living room.

An unfamiliar queasiness fills his stomach, and he maintains eye contact with her as her eyes flicker back and forth a couple of times. He promised himself he would never profile his family, but the analyses come before he can shut off that part of his brain. Shifting eyes. Rigid posture. All indications of lying and shame.

"What did the Section Chief say?" she asks, her hands going to her hips. Stance of power to overcompensate for-

He shakes the line of thinking from his head. "She suggested that I transfer to a white-collar-crime task force."

"Would you have to travel?"

"No, I'd have a nine-to-five life."

She nods, and he can see the finality in her stance. "Then, it's a no-brainer."

***

You haven't been able to focus as well as you'd like to with the knowledge that Hotch isn't coming back hanging over your head. When you get a spare moment at the station, you step out of the conference room where all of the evidence has been scattered around and press the first number on your speed dial.

"Hello?" It's Haley.

You stumble over your words as you say 'hello' back. You weren't expecting it to be her who answered. She clearly wasn't expecting you either, because she sighs dramatically when she hears your voice and you hear a quiet "It's Y/N" before the phone is handed over.

You can understand where she's coming from. When Jeff was about to start his undercover assignment, you were so angry at him for choosing to be away from you for so long. But then rationality won over, and you remembered why he was doing it...for the same reason you are.

"Hey."

He sounds guilty. You can imagine.

"Hey," you say simply, waiting for him to fill in the gaps. He owes you at least that much.

"I'm sorry," he says after a long pause, "but you knew this was coming. You know Haley hates what this job turns me into, and you know sometimes I hate it too."

That wasn't really the explanation you were expecting. Not willing to let him off the hook, you turn your face away from the conference room windows to hide your expression and lower your voice. "You should have told me, and you know it. That's why you're hiding behind this false justification...but I guess you know that too."

There's a small rustling sound over the receiver and you can imagine him running his hands through his newly cropped hair. "This doesn't change the fact that I'm leaving."

Sometimes you forget that he was once a young boy with an alarmingly developed moral compass that didn't always point in your direction. It's times like this that remind you.

"Fine." You feel like an irritable teenager again, but you can't contain yourself around him. Even when you want to hide a part of yourself, you can't.

"How's the case going?" he asks finally. His voice has gotten softer and you know he feels bad about how this call has been going, but with neither of you willing to concede, you decide to ignore it for now.

"Well, Strauss just offended the lead detective 45 seconds into her first crime scene."

He chuckles softly. "I'm not surprised."

"This isn't about to get any better, is it?" you ask, huffing out a forlorn sigh.

"I doubt it," he agrees. "I'll keep looking at the file from my end. Any idea how he's getting control of these women? Is he blitzing them or coercing them?"

"So far, we're coming up blank," you admit, glancing back at Morgan and Reid, who appear to be in a productive debate.

"All right. Keep me posted."

***

Another victim turns up and you're not any closer to figuring out who the unsub is. Derek steps away from the group a few minutes after you and you see him pacing the halls of the precinct, his phone pressed to his ear.

A break in the case comes when Garcia identifies school records of children who exhibit signs of perfectionism and co-dependence, leading you to a profile for the unsub. You're all listening to Garcia as she reads off the records when the door opens, with two figures standing in the entrance.

"Look who's here," Morgan grins, shaking Hotch's hand. Emily looks sheepish as she glances over at Strauss, who is downright fuming.

"How fast can you get us up to speed?" Hotch asks without another greeting.

Morgan scoffs. "How fast can you sit down?"

Strauss opens her mouth to say something, but Hotch beats her to it as he takes a seat next to you. You ignore the gesture. "We're only here to help."

She sighs. "We'll deal with this later."

With two more members back on the team, at least for the time being, the SUVs are split more evenly, and you join Emily, JJ, and Strauss in the first one as you head to the crime scene. Strauss is the first one to walk up to the scene, but the moment she sees the mangled body, she breaks down, her face contorting into a sob that she tries and fails to hold in.

You make a move to go and help her, but you're surprised when Hotch is the first to step in. "If you need a second, take a second. This is what it is. Just don't let the public see you break down."

He's so kind to her, even though she's the reason for all of his professional stress. You suppose she's not the only reason, but that isn't something you get to have an opinion on.

The devolution of the dump sites leads to an update of the profile, which gets you an address for a young boy who left school early with the nurse on duty. It doesn't take long to get to the house, and Derek and JJ coordinate some of the local police and SWAT as you strap on your kevlar vests.

After an initial argument about the probable cause of entering a house you don't know is dangerous, Emily pipes up with an idea. "Let me go in alone."

"Wait..." you start but she steamrolls over you, clearly needing to compensate for not being here before. "The boy's in the family room. He's looking for female authority figures. If he lets me in, I can signal as soon as I see anything that gives us cause."

"Technically, you're not even in the FBI," Reid points out.

She nods. "All the better."

Strauss steps in with a frown, to no one's surprise. "She's interfering with a federal investigation."

"Well, if I'm no longer in the FBI, then you have no authority over me." Emily shrugs and turns to Hotch for the approval she actually wants. "I'm just a civilian knocking on a little boy's door."

He nods and she pulls her hair back into a ponytail. Derek hands her his gun, and you suddenly remember that Hotch doesn't have his gun either. Reaching into your other side holster, you pull out your second firearm and hand it to him without a word. He doesn't lift his hand at first, but then he nods at you and takes the gun, his eyes filled with an earnest gratitude, and you know you've forgiven him.

Once she goes inside, you all wait in silence for the signal to breach the home. It takes almost too long, but eventually your earpieces fill with a loud beeping, and Derek yells "Go!"

You find her in a back room, where she's on the floor, her forehead bleeding from a thick gash. You enter just in time to see Hotch leap forward and take Emily's weapon from the little boy, before lifting him up and carrying him out of the house.

"I can't officially approve of how that transpired," Strauss says when you all come outside. You sit next to Emily and squeeze her hand as the paramedics patch up her forehead.

Hotch shakes his head, clearly done with the bureau politics. "The arrest was clean. It would be a mistake to break up this team."

She looks at him pointedly. "None of you will ever move up the chain of command, you know that."

"Why would I ever want to leave the BAU?"

You almost believe him. It's not that you don't think he wants to stay. You know he does. You just also know how much his family means to him, and how thin Haley's patience has worn.

Morgan asks if he means it, and he gives a vague answer that you expect, before turning to look at you.

"Here." He reaches into his waistband and pulls out your gun. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

His hand brushes yours when you take it back, and the warmth of his skin makes you shiver against the slight breeze. "You're welcome."

***

When he gets home, the lights are off.

"Haley?" he calls out into the empty silence. He tries to convince himself that he didn't see this coming, but after her last words to him before he left, it's a futile exercise.

"Make sure to give your son a kiss before you leave."

He left, even when she begged him not to. Now his wife has left, and she took their son with her, and once again, he is utterly alone.

***

Gideon's resignation comes through and you find yourself missing him more than you thought you would. If Hotch is the backbone of the team, he was the stoic foundation. He formed the roots of the BAU as a unit altogether, and you owe your life's work to his intelligence and foresight. But more than that, you can't help but remember the fact that out of all the members on the team, Gideon knew Jeff the best.

He attended countless lectures about past unsubs that Gideon put on at the academy, because he believed understanding why people do things was just as important as knowing how or what they were doing. He even went to Gideon's home for the occasional dinner, and he brought you along once after you got married.

You're not sure what the team will look like without his guiding hand, but you don't have to wait long to find out when JJ calls you with the notice that you're going to Portland.

Spencer is reading a piece of paper over and over again when you get to the office, and when you peek over his shoulder, you see the familiar scrawl of Gideon's handwriting.

Taking a deep breath, you reach forward to put your hand on his shoulder for a moment of comfort, but think better of it and pull back at the last second. Derek sees your indecision and cocks his head towards him.

You walk over to his desk and perch on its edge with a sigh. "I can't believe he would leave just like that."

"I can," Morgan shrugs, his eyes hard with contempt. When you shoot him a look, he softens. "I just mean that he's been showing signs of withdrawal for a while now. It still sucks for the kid, though."

You both look up at Reid across the aisle, where he is still scanning the letter. "At least he got a letter." You try to bring humor into your tone, but it doesn't work.

"It's not about us," Derek says gently, in a show of empathy for the older agent that is unfamiliar coming from him. "He did what he had to do to keep himself sane. We just have to let him."

You nod, just as JJ emerges from the hallway with Hotch on her heels. "We're starting the briefing."

***

"You must be the BAU."

A handsome man with a thick East Coast accent comes forward to introduce himself when you all enter the Portland field office. "Special Agent Bill Calvert."

"Hi, Jennifer Jareau," JJ smiles, extending her hand. "This is SSA Aaron Hotchner. This is Dr. Reid and Agents Morgan, Prentiss and L/N."

He smiles at each of you but his eyes linger on yours for a moment before he takes JJ's hand. "I appreciate your help on this case."

"You're from Boston?" you ask, trying to place his accent after having heard nothing like it since you landed. 

"The accent's kind of hard to miss in Oregon, right?" he grins, before reaching his hand out to you. "Agent L/N, was it?"

You shake his hand, shooting him a thin smile. You can already see Emily and JJ's smirks behind your back.

"We'd like to take a look around Jenny Wittman's apartment," Hotch steps in, moving forward to stand beside you.

Calvert nods. "I'd take you myself, but I'm waiting to meet her family, so I'll have another agent drive you."

"Thank you." Hotch rushes off with Reid and Morgan, and you stay back with JJ and Prentiss to work the victimology.

"Can we set up in here?" you ask Calvert as you start moving the boxes of case files and evidence onto the conference room table.

"Of course," he says, before leaving the three of you alone.

The first ten minutes of looking through the evidence is silent, and for a second, you nearly let yourself believe the other women won't bring up the elephant in the room, but then JJ lets out an involuntary giggle and they pounce.

"He's definitely into you," she says, making no effort to hide her gaze as she unabashedly stares at Calvert through the window. You want to retort immediately, but after seeing her check her phone about a dozen more times a day than she usually does, you suspect she may actually know what she's talking about when it comes to love these days.

Emily nods, biting her lip. "He couldn't stop looking at you."

"You're profilers," you argue, tossing the file in your hand onto the table. "You notice all kinds of insignificant stuff."

"So are you," JJ points out. "What do you think, then?"

They have you boxed in, and you can't think of any answer that would sufficiently appease them so you just groan.

"She's into it, too," JJ grins at Emily, who replies with, "I can't believe Y/N's gonna date someone from Portland."

Without thinking, you huff. "He's from Boston." All three pairs of eyes widen as you realize your slip in not denying her statement.

Emily laughs. "Ohh, it's so happening!"

***

When the men return from Jenny Wittman's apartment, Hotch instructs JJ to televise a statement warning possible future victims who fit the unsub's victimology. When Emily and Derek later find an ad hung up in a local laundromat that suggests he's been killing for longer than you'd previously thought, you decide to head back to the trail where the first bodies were found.

When you arrive on the scene, a dozen new bodies have been found further down the trail and near the water.

"How did we miss this before?" you think out loud, not realizing that Calvert has come up behind you.

"The trail's 40 miles long."

You jump when you hear his voice, and he apologizes after a small chuckle. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Special Agent Calvert," you say, your voice slightly airy as you catch your breath. "No need to apologize."

"Okay," he smiles, turning to stand in front of you, "and you can call me Bill."

He's a good looking man, and you don't dislike the feeling of someone showing interest in you, especially as clearly intelligent and qualified as him.

"Sure," you say, returning the smile. "I'm Y/N, btw."

"That's a pretty name," he says, his eyes glinting with mischievousness, before he turns back to the scene before you. "They dug up eight new graves before you got here."

You frown. "So the unsub didn't stick to the pattern."

"Guy had a busy year."

You nod, pondering what this change in M.O. could mean, when Bill interrupts your thoughts. "I'm interested to hear more about how this profiling thing goes."

You give him a quizzical smile, and his lips quirk up. "I took a class in criminal psychology in college, but I don't remember enough to be useful in this area."

"We observe human behavior," you explain, ignoring the subtle smirk Emily is flashing you from behind his back. "Profiling is about making connections and predicting future actions based on history, victimology, and behavior."

He takes a moment to digest your words before huffing out a laugh. "Sounds to me like we called in the right team."

When another agent comes by to ask him about the crime scene procedure, you take your leave and walk up the hill of mulch by the open graves. You are nearly to the SUV when you spot Morgan beelining towards you.

"Not you too," you sigh, rolling your eyes dramatically as you stalk away from him.

He catches up to you easily and throws an arm over your shoulders with a grin. "I'm not gonna give you the giggly girl talk that JJ and Prentiss clearly have covered. I just wanted to say one thing."

You look at him expectantly and he brings you both to a stop by the cars. "You're a catch, L/N." You start to roll your eyes again, but he shakes his head. "You are, so if you want to have a little no-strings-fun, then I'll have your back through and through."

You have no idea what no-strings-fun would look like, but you glance back at Bill, who is speaking animatedly with another agent about the change in digging patterns of the graves.

"I don't know what I want," you admit as Derek drops his arm and turns to face you.

"That's okay," he says, before the corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. "But figuring that out can be just as much fun too."

***

He would be lying if he said he hasn't noticed you talking to the Special Agent on the case. Calvert, he remembers as he thinks back to the capture and subsequent suicide of the unsub from the roof of his old therapist office.

They were able to find the final victim before she died, so even with the unsub's death, the case feels like a victory, and the whole team looks light on the way back to the jet.

He has been trying to keep himself light too, but every time he gets a moment to himself, his mind reverts back to the silent darkness of his home after he returned from the last case. The reminder that he hasn't seen Haley or Jack in days.

When he reaches the tarmac, he spots you talking to Calvert again, but the conversation looks different than before. The special agent looks nervous, and he tries to gauge whether you seem comfortable, before realizing how relaxed you look.

When he gets closer, he catches the end of a question that likely started with "Can I have your number?" You smile at the man, and he turns away, trying not to eavesdrop.

He can't tell what he wants you to say. He knows it's been enough time since Jeff's death that real dating isn't out of the question, but he can't reconcile the protective instinct flickering in his gut.

Regardless of the distance he tried putting between you and himself, your voice carries over the tarmac, and he hears you say, "I'm sorry." before the rest of the sentence gets jumbled in the breeze. Something that feels alarmingly like relief settles in his chest and he frowns at the foreign feeling of it coursing through his veins.

He boards the plane and purposefully chooses a seat with an empty spot next to it, knowing you'll choose to sit beside him after he practically ignored you all day. He really wasn't trying to shut you out, he just doesn't know how to broach the topic of separation with anyone, let alone someone who had as stable a marriage as you did.

When you board the jet and take your seat next to him, he glances over at you sheepishly and murmurs, "I overheard the end."

He's surprised when you laugh lightly. "It's okay. Everyone was going to find out soon enough, especially with how excited Prentiss and JJ were about it."

He nods, glad that you aren't angry about his invasion of your privacy. Then, before he can stop himself, he looks at you and asks, "You didn't want to see him again?"

"I don't think I'm looking to just date for dating's sake anymore," you explain, your eyes flitting around the cabin at the sleeping forms of the rest of the team. "I had a true love...I don't want to settle down again for anything less."

He understands that completely, but he can tell there's something else bothering you, and not just because of the rhythmic bouncing of your knee that you don't seemed to have noticed. "What else?"

You shrug, not meeting his eye. "I used to have my usual excuse, but I can't really say it's too soon anymore, can I?"

He frowns as he notices the visible strain on you that this burden has caused. "You get to decide that for yourself."

"I know," you sigh, rubbing your eye with a loose fist. "I just worry sometimes that I use Jeff as an excuse to keep myself closed off." Your knee stills, and Hotch scoots closer, even with the armrest in the way.

"You don't seem closed off to me."

Your eyes crinkle with laughter. "I'm not sure if that means much coming from you. You're not exactly the picture of openness, Hotch."

He knows you're mostly joking, but your read punches him in the gut in a way he doesn't expect. You must see the shock on his face, because you immediately lean in closer. "What is it?"

He shakes his head, trying to delay for as long as he can. If he doesn't say it out loud, maybe he can pretend that he's still a happily married man. That he didn't fail his wife and son by being as absent as he had wished his father had been, early in his life.

"It's not about Gideon leaving, is it?" You scrutinize him for a moment before shaking your head. "No. Hotch, what's the matter?"

"We agreed not to profile each other," he sighs, gritting his teeth against the pain of having to vocalize one of the lowest moments in his life.

"Aaron," you whisper. Your voice is soft and gentle, and he breaks.

"Haley left."

Your mouth parts in surprise, and he looks down at his lap, taking a deep breath. "And I don't know if she's coming back."

***

You've been waiting in the arrivals lot of the airport for almost an hour. You're assuming his flight got delayed, and you're grateful for the time to get yourself ready to see him, but the wait hasn't made your jitters any better.

You haven't seen Hotch since you left for college last year, and with his pre-law internship that he somehow snagged as a first year, it was a lonely summer.

When he called you last week with profuse apologies for not staying more in touch and a somber tone that had to be about more than his regrettable phone habits, you had told him that you would love to see him, but your winter break doesn't start for another month. After a few hushed breaths and a second of thinking, he told you that he had bought a plane ticket out to California for the following weekend.

That's why it's Friday afternoon, and you're still waiting for his familiar mop of dark hair to appear through the exit doors. A boy walks out right then, with the same raven hair and fit stature, and your heart rate hastens for a split second, before you realize it's not him.

You look down at your car's radio and twist the dial to change the station. It's been playing the same Madonna song nonstop, and you shut off the volume when the other stations are no different. Your shift in focus takes your attention away from the airport exit, so you jump in your seat when a quiet knock sounds at your passenger side window.

He's here. Your lips curve up into a bright smile and you unlock the door, letting him get in.

"Hi," you say, your voice weaker than you'd like.

"Hey, Y//N," he replies, pushing his long hair back from his face. The simple motion sets off butterflies in your stomach and you turn back to your steering wheel to keep your emotions off your face. He could always read you so easily. "It's good to see you."

He grins at you and leans forward to give you a quick, awkward hug over the center console. You involuntarily inhale as he pulls back, and the scent of his natural musk mixed with whatever new cologne he's been wearing smells dreamy on him.

You said you were over it, you tell yourself in your head. He has a girlfriend who he's going to marry, and you are his best friend. At least you were.

You don't really know where things stand between you two now. A year is a long time to go without seeing someone, and you're sure college has changed him in similar ways that it has changed you.

"I have one more class today," you say quickly as you pull your car out of the lot. "It's criminal psychology, so I figured you wouldn't mind coming to the lecture with me."

"Sounds fun," he says, before leaning his cheek against the window to watch the scenery that zips by. "God, the weather here is crazy."

"It's definitely warmer than I'm used to," you agree, struggling not to glance over at him. "We never had 70 degree winters growing up."

"Which do you prefer?"

You grin. "Home, of course."

"Of course."

You look at him then, and his expression is one you don't understand. It's the same look he gets when he's in the library and he finds a book he's been looking for.

The drive doesn't take long, and you bring him to your lecture, where he proceeds to pay more attention to the information being presented than you do. The class usually feels too short for you, but today, the time ticks by, because you can't focus.

It's been so long since you've sat next to him in a class, and the sight of him jotting down notes on a scrap piece of paper takes you back to high school, when he was still the more attentive one.

After the lecture, you both grab a quick dinner in the dining hall and settle back into your double dorm room, which you painstakingly cleaned up before he arrived.

"So, how long have you guys been friends?" your roommate, Katy, asks him as he drops into your desk chair. You've been watching her ogle him since he arrived, and if he's still as perceptive as he was in high school, it hasn't escaped his notice either.

"Forever," he says, looking at you with a grin. "We met when we were eight. When she judged my taste in The Beatles, it was over for me."

You can't help the heat that flames in your cheeks, even though you know this story by heart. Katy keeps glancing over at you as he explains how you guys met, and eventually she gets up and flops down onto your bed next to you. "You're bringing him to the party tonight, right?"

Your eyes widen as you remember that was today. "Oh, I don't know. We might just stay in."

"You have to come!" she squeals, shaking your arm. She turns to him with a pointed look. "We already have outfits picked out."

"I guess we gotta go, then," he smiles at her, before looking at me with a small raise of his eyebrow. You okay with that?

You dip your chin into a nod, and he stands up. "I'll head out for a walk as you guys get ready."

"Sounds good!" Katy says, grabbing your hand and sliding off the bed. "We'll see you in an hour."

Once the door closes behind him, Katy turns to you, her mouth agape. "You never told me how cute he is."

"What?" you sputter, your cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

"You also didn't tell me you're, like, in love with him."

You scoff involuntarily, your usual diversion technique when someone brings up a topic you want to evade. "What are you talking about?"

"Okay," she shrugs, reaching into your closet and tossing you the dress you were planning to wear. "If that's how you want to play it."

You go into your attached bathroom to change into your outfit, but after seeing Hotch, the mini sundress you picked out feels like too much. You hate how much you're overthinking something as stupid as an outfit for a party.

You turn away from the mirror and go back into your dorm, where Katy is applying her signature shade of red lipstick in her little mirror stand.

"He has a serious girlfriend," you whisper, almost too quiet for her to hear you. But she is more perceptive than you give her credit for. "Like eventual marriage-serious."

"Oh, honey," she coos, patting the bench seat next to her. You scoot in until you're side by side and she wraps an arm around your shoulders. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay," you shake your head, leaning on her shoulder. "I just need to get over it. It's a stupid crush that I've had since high school, but it's time. Maybe this party will help."

"Yes, exactly!" she grins, turning her head to look at you. "Nothing that a little music and a few shots can't fix."

"A few shots?" you laugh.

She nods. "Each."

~

You down another shot of whiskey before tossing your cup onto the table and following Katy onto the dance floor. She grinds against her boyfriend as you dance beside them, moving your hips side to side with the rhythm of the music.

Being in Los Angeles, the temperature outside is already warmer than it should be in November, but inside the house, your dress is sticking to your skin from the sweat and body heat surrounding you.

You're feeling the alcohol enough to have a good time even in the sweaty throng of bodies around you, and you throw your head back as you close your eyes and feel the thump of the music vibrating the floor boards.

Meanwhile, Hotch can't find you anywhere. He's drunk enough already that he knows he won't be able to find you himself, but he doesn't know anyone else here, so he grabs a half empty bottle from the drinks table and makes his way to the dance floor, where the life of the party seems to be centered.

He's usually a lot more fun at parties, but lately he hasn't felt like himself. Ever since you left for school across the country, it has felt like something in his life was wrong, like he was missing a limb. Then, things started looking up with Haley, and he pushed you away in the hopes that he would forget about any of the doubts he had, but it didn't work. The more he missed you, the worse things got in his relationship, and suddenly he wasn't sure what his life was supposed to look like anymore.

He takes another swig from the bottle and leans back against the counter as he watches people dance against each other in the dim light of the house. His eyes flicker over the mess of bodies until they catch on someone he almost doesn't recognize.

Your eyes are closed and your hands are in the air as you move to the beat. It's not exactly graceful music, but you have managed to find some semblance of a rhythm as you slide your hands down your thin dress, which is sticking to your body in a way he can't take his eyes off of.

He doesn't realize he has lifted the bottle to his lips again until the liquid is burning his throat, and he tears his eyes away from you as his head starts to spin. Maybe he's had enough for tonight. He puts the bottle down just as your roommate spots him. Katy, he thinks, or is it Sadie?

"Aaron!" she calls, stumbling over to him as a man holds her up with an arm around her waist. "Where's Y/N?"

"Not sure," he lies easily, barely conscious of the way his words have started to slur together. "I may head out soon."

"Don't leave without her," she instructs, her voice suddenly getting serious. "I'm staying with him tonight." She pats the man's arm. "So I won't be going back with her."

He nods with a resigned sigh, and slumps down on a couch in the next room, leaning his head back to stop the room from spinning.

~

When you tire of dancing, you push to the back of the crowd and look around to find any familiar face. You can't see Katy or her boyfriend anywhere, but after exiting the room, you spot Hotch asleep on the couch.

You walk forward with a slanted smile and put your hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. "Hotch, get up."

He groans, peeling his eyes open slowly. "I'm awake. Just resting my eyes."

"Yeah, yeah," you tease, looping your arm through his to help him up. "How much did you drink?"

He shrugs and you wrap your arm around his waist to hold him upright as he stumbles forward. "Whoa there. Okay, let's get you back."

You manage to get him out of the house, and once the fresh air hits, he can almost stand up straight on his own. You keep your arm around him just in case, trying to ignore the way his tee shirt is slowly riding up around his waistband.

You make the walk back in silence, and he falls back onto your bed as you lock the door behind you.

"I'm sorry," he whispers when you perch on the edge of the bed next to him.

"It's okay," you say, huffing out a laugh. He looks so young with his hair falling onto his face, and you resist the urge to push it back off his forehead. "Happens to the best of us."

"No, not that." He rolls over with a groan, flopping onto his back and scooting back so he can lay on your pillow. "I'm sorry I stopped calling."

Your heart skips a beat and you tuck your hair behind your ear, needing to occupy your hands somehow as your mind races with a million questions. "It's my fault too."

"No, it's not."

He isn't slurring his words anymore, but you can still hear the earnestness that only comes when one's filter is completely shattered. He was never one to hide things from you, but you also know how truthful people can get when alcohol takes their mask away.

"Haley and I have been having problems for a while," he mutters, making you sigh. So that's why he flew here in the middle of the school year. "We haven't been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things, and we decided to take a break, but I haven't told anyone, because the only person I wanted to tell was you."

You can't look at him. His gaze is too much, his eyes too full of truth and intensity. "Hotch-"

"I miss you so much," he says, cutting you off. "You're the only person I've ever really been able to talk to, but you know that, don't you? It's the same for you, it has to be."

You don't say anything. The air feels thick with tension, and you're afraid that if you say something, the room will explode.

"She's the perfect girlfriend," he says wistfully, his voice tight with an emotion you can't decipher. "I know it's me who's fucking it up, and I hate myself for it, because she's trying so hard to make this work. But every time it feels perfect, and I think I've finally gotten what I wanted, I just remember-"

"Aaron."

You look at him and his eyes are already staring into yours. You have wanted him to love you the way you loved him for years, but not like this. Never like this.

"You can't fuck this up," you whisper, your voice stronger than you expect it to be. "Call Haley tomorrow morning. Tell her you're sorry, and that you love her, because you do. You know you do."

"I love her," he nods as sleep pulls his eyelids down. "Tomorrow..I'll call her."

You watch him as his limbs relax and his breathing evens out, but you don't fall asleep until the sun starts to rise and you physically can't keep your eyes open anymore.

***

"Happy All Hallow's Eve, folks."

Reid pulls his mask off as Derek looks at him with a frightened frown.

"Are you scared of Halloween?" you ask him, trying to keep the grin off your face.

"I didn't say I was scared," he corrects, glancing over at Reid, who drops his mask on his desk and pushes his hair back from his face, "I said I was creeped out."

"What creeps you out about it?" Emily asks, before grinning at you.

"I bet it's the candy," you joke. "Those muscles probably cower at the sight of anything that isn't meat or protein powder."

Emily snorts and Derek frowns at both of you. "It's the masks. I don't like people in disguises."

"That's the best thing about Halloween," Reid chimes in. "You can be anyone you want to be."

Derek grins. "No, I'm pretty good just being me."

You and Emily share a look. "Yeah, why is it that neither of those points of view surprise me?"

"Guys," Reid suddenly calls out, his voice hushed. "He's here."

You turn around to see Hotch walking down the stairs, accompanied by Agent David Rossi, who you've heard a lot about in your years at the bureau. He was one of the founding members of the BAU, and you can't help but wonder what made him want to come back.

JJ introduces him to everyone, before Reid starts spouting off a list of facts from one of the old cases he solved when he was the chief of the unit.

"Reid, slow down," Hotch says with an uncharacteristic smile. "He'll be here for a while. Catch up with him later."

He nods. "Right, sorry."

Agent Rossi doesn't seem fazed. "No problem, Doctor."

This pleasantly surprises you. It's all too often that new people who meet Spencer don't immediately treat him with the respect he deserves.

"Let's start the briefing."

***

The flight back from Texas is hushed. The case went about as well as you could hope, with them catching the unsub and saving the final victim, but the way Rossi went rogue over and over again has rubbed you the wrong way.

You watch him across the cabin as he pores over his little notebook, and you wish you could peek inside his head. You know that the team aspect of the BAU is a newer addition to the unit, but you don't understand how he can keep all of his thoughts to himself.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Gah," you fright, jumping in your seat. "When did you sit next to me?"

Hotch shrugs, his lip quirking up. "A few minutes ago."

"Well, you should really wear a bell or something, god."

"Y/N," he says, giving you a pointed look. He doesn't let you use your evasion tactics anymore. Given your penchant for aimless talking, you suppose that's a good thing.

"I was just thinking about Rossi," you sigh, glancing up at him again. "Lying to the press to get a reaction from the unsub? Taking over that phone call? I don't like how he works, Hotch."

"He's from a different time," he says, even though you can hear the agreement in his voice, "but he worked with Gideon, and if you remember, it took you a while to warm up to him too."

You heave out a breath but it's the only concession you're willing to give in this moment.

"He's used to an older way of doing things, but he's a great agent."

"He clearly has good ideas," you whisper, "but I just worry that you'll have to work over time to keep him under control."

Hotch ponders this, and you think that maybe he knows you're right. Your eyes shift up and you realize his hair has been shorter for a while now, but you're still not used to seeing so much of his forehead. Not that there's anything wrong with his forehead. It's a fine forehead.

"He was the team leader before he retired," Hotch says suddenly. "He may be tough as a subordinate now, but I'm still glad he's back. We needed someone to fill Gideon's spot, we were low on hands."

"Speaking of, why do you think he's back."

He looks at you with a quizzical frown. "Is it really so hard to believe that he may just want to help us out?"

You think for a second, before shrugging. He laughs.

"I don't know," you concede, with a small chuckle. "I think I'm just expecting things from him that aren't fair."

He turns his body to face you. "Like what?"

You press your lips together, trying to formulate your words properly, so you can clearly articulate the tornado of thoughts in your brain. "I know Gideon wasn't a father figure exactly, but he was someone that Reid and Elle latched onto."

Hotch exhales. "I don't know if Gideon is someone I'd want as a father."

You let out a surprised laugh. "Fair enough."

"How is your father doing, by the way?"

You blink in surprise. It's not that he doesn't talk about your family, it's just that the timing is uncanny. You haven't spoken to him in months. After your mom died, you two were almost inseparable, but then you left for school, and you realized how much bigger the world could be when you weren't always bogged down by your grief. "I haven't called him in a while."

"What did he say after Golconda?" he asks, his voice gentle. After Frank, he means.

You close your eyes, guilt flooding your body. "I never told him."

"What?" You don't look at him, but you can see the shock in the stiff line of his posture. "Did something happen between you two?"

You shake your head, your protectiveness over your family flaring up at the concern in his eyes. "Nothing happened. I just didn't want to worry him."

"That's his job," Hotch stresses, scooting his leg over so his knee bumps yours. "If something like that had happened to Jack, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"That's what I'm scared of," you tell him, your eyes flitting over to the window, where the clouds are dancing across the horizon. Sometimes, when you're on the jet, you like to pretend that the time up here isn't real. That as long as the world looks like a series of splotches and blinking lights, nothing can really hurt you. "My mom's death nearly killed him. I learned to cook when I was ten, because he couldn't leave his room for a month." Hotch knows all of this already, but he lets you vocalize your thoughts, obviously knowing how badly you need reassurance for the guilt you're feeling. "Then, when Jeff died, I stayed with him for a few weeks to have some company, but...but.. I was so glad when I left, because then I could finally let myself fall apart."

He reaches under the armrest and clasps your hand in his, extending the comfort you didn't know you needed.

"I've never told anyone that," you whisper, feeling your voice tighten with tears. "I love my dad, I love him so much, but I just needed the chance to recover on my own."

"He loves you too," Hotch says, finally breaking his silence. "You know he loves you. I still remember the themed sandwich baggies that he packed your lunch with all through middle school."

You choke out a laugh. "You would always steal the Spiderman ones."

He smiles, squeezing your hand once. "Maybe you just need to give him another chance to be who you want him to be. He might just surprise you."

You know he's right. Somehow, he's always right.

You nod, flashing him a small smile, and lean your head on his shoulder as the clouds float past your window.

***

He glances at his watch for the tenth time since he sat down in his office. The plane landed just over an hour ago, and he sent you home immediately with the instruction to get some rest. He probably should have gone home too, but ever since he got his new apartment, home hasn't felt the same.

He used to be able to look around any corner and see a memory: the couch where he and Haley made love on their first night at home, the soft carpet where Jack took his first steps, the doorframe where he measured his height on his first birthday as Haley held him up by the arms. He also remembers that he wasn't there to see Jack's first steps; he was in Pittsburgh, working a case and thanking his lucky stars that Haley had had the foresight to take a photo as his son stood upright all by himself.

He lifts the picture frame from the edge of his desk, running his fingers over the cool glass and looking at the blue drawing underneath. Jack had drawn his favorite cartoon character and left it for him on the kitchen table, a few nights before his suspension went into effect.

Putting it back down, he looks at the photograph of him holding onto Haley as she clutches newborn Jack to her chest in the hospital. He still has the photo of just him and her on their wedding, but he pushed it to the back, behind the pictures of Jack, and the one of you and him at law school graduation.

A knock sounds at his door and he looks up to see Dave standing in his doorway. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," he says, waving him in. He doesn't sit down, so Hotch stands up too, unsure of how he feels about the power imbalance in the room. "What can I do for you?"

"You said out there, 'The team shares everything.'"

He nods. "That's right."

"There is no 'I'?"

He nods again, not liking where this may be going.

Dave glances down at his desk, where his phone sits next to the picture frame of his family. "Seems a big thing to withhold. Separating from your wife, your child."

He freezes, unconsciously looking at the door to see if anyone heard. "What are you talking about?"

"You used to call Haley 10 times a day," Dave says, his voice not unkind. "We've been together 48 hours and I haven't seen you call her once. You haven't mentioned her, and you're not going home now."

He frowns, feeling his brow settle into place like it's a uniform he wears whenever he's at the office. "What's your point?"

"I guess you're just not used to sharing."

He doesn't say anything, but Rossi seems to interpret this the wrong way. "Or maybe it's something else." He looks out the window at the empty bullpen, but the implication is still clear. "Was it because of...?"

"What?" He doesn't know where this is coming from, but he can't stop the anger that rumbles through him at the connotation. Unable to help it, he looks down at your desk, and Dave tuts.

"I won't say anything."

"Dave," he shakes his head, trying to remain calm. "You have it all wrong. She's my best friend...since we were children. It isn't like that. It was never-"

It was never like that. That's what he's about to say, but that wouldn't be true. Rossi is a good enough profiler that he would be able to spot a lie from a mile away, so he shuts his mouth and shakes his head again. "It's not like that."

"Okay," he accepts, lifting his hands in surrender. "My mistake."

Hotch nods, and Dave leaves his office, but he can't get their conversation out of his head until later that night when his head hits his pillow and his eyes finally fall shut.

***

"Hey, Dad."

You called him when you got home from work that night, and he answered on the second ring. "Hi, sweetheart."

"How are you?" you ask, clutching the phone to your ear as you sink down onto the couch in your living room.

He doesn't answer for a moment, and you can hear him taking a breath. "I'm good, Y/N, how are you? Is work going well?"

"It's good," you tell him. "Really good. We were able to save a woman today, before the unsub could kill her."

"Unsub?"

"Unknown subject," you explain, quickly realizing just how long it's been since you've spoken to him. "It's what we call the bad guy before we know who he is."

"Right," he says, and you can practically see him rubbing a hand over his face, his nervous tic. "I knew that. Anyway, how is everything in your life? Do you still work with Aaron?"

"Yeah, I do," you say with a laugh. "He was actually asking about you earlier today."

"That's nice of him," your dad says, his voice brightening slightly. "He was always a good friend to you."

You tell him about your most recent case, and about Gideon and Elle leaving the team, but eventually you can't evade the topic you've been trying to avoid all night.

You're okay, you think to yourself. Frank can't hurt you anymore.

"Dad," you whisper, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. In 1, 2, 3. Out 1, 2, 3. "I have something to tell you."

Then you tell him everything, and he just listens, exactly like you hoped he would.

***

"I met this guy." You didn't even see Penelope approach you, but here she is, looking at you like she's about to say something dirty.

"Hell yeah," you grin, trying to match her energy. "Where?"

"A coffee shop," she smirks. "He was having trouble with his computer, so I fixed it for him, and then he asked for my number."

"Look at you," you joke, giving her a side squeeze, "putting your technical analyst skills to good use."

"Thank you," she huffs, throwing an annoyed glance over her shoulder. "That's more of the response I was looking for."

"What do you mean?"

"Derek," she says simply, and you nod, already knowing where she's going with this. You know they have an uncommon relationship, so you're not surprised that he didn't react exactly how she hoped he would.

"He's an idiot," you tell her, patting her arm.

She laughs. "You don't even know what he did."

"Uh, yeah," you say, turning around to face the bullpen, "I definitely do."

***

The case takes the team to Florida, where an unsub has been feeding women their fingers, killing them, and then carving pentagrams in their skin.

The pentagrams suggest a religious element, so you go with JJ, Morgan, and Rossi to the local church to meet with the priest.

"Rossi, do me a favor," Morgan says just before you walk inside. "You talk to the priest, all right?"

You remember his agitation on the jet when Reid prodded him about his beliefs, and given the cruelty of his childhood, a crisis of faith wouldn't surprise you.

"Hi, Father Marks," JJ greets the priest when you enter the church. She introduces all of you to him, before shaking his hand. "We're sorry we have to be here under these circumstances."

"It's good of you to come," he says, greeting all of you. "Abbey's parents are upstairs in my office."

"We'll go up," Rossi says with a nod, "but Agent Morgan actually has some questions for you."

Your eyes flash to Rossi, but he doesn't return your gaze.

"I have some questions too," you offer, and Derek nods gratefully.

The priest answers the few questions Derek spits out at him, and you watch as his eyes wander around the hall, his shoulders raised with tension. You insert a few of your own questions before heading outside with him to wait for JJ and Rossi to finish up with the victim's parents.

"What happened in there?" you ask when he doesn't meet your eye. "Being rude to Father Marks? That wasn't like you."

"You know what happened to me, L/N," he says angrily, kicking his foot out at a loose stone on the pavement. "I went to church everyday, and I prayed for it to stop, but you know what God did? Nothing."

"I know what a crisis of faith looks like, Derek." You stand in front of him, forcing him to look at you. "But Father Marks doesn't know your story. He's not judging you, he's just showing his faith how he knows best."

His shoulders are still tense as his jaw twitches. "Who does Rossi think he is, throwing me under the bus like that?"

"He's an instigator," you shrug, letting the topic slide for the time being. You'll talk to him again later if he still needs it.

"I didn't love the way Gideon did things either," Derek says, his posture going from agitation to annoyance, "but Rossi might just take the cake. Even if he is better with the victim's families."

"I can't help you there," you almost laugh. "I had the same conversation with Hotch after the case in Texas, and he managed to convince me to give the guy a chance. So...if you can't bring yourself to trust him, just think of it as putting your trust in Hotch."

Derek hums, bumping your shoulder with his. "I guess I can do that."

***

The search party for Tracey Lambert only leads to the unsub taking another woman, and suddenly the ticking clock gets a lot louder. By the time you find his lair and the bodies he has been cannibalizing for years, you're already struggling to keep down even the water you've been drinking. When he reveals where Tracey actually is, you feel so sick, you can't breathe.

When the jet lands back in Virginia, you go home immediately, desperately needing some peace and quiet away from the team for the first time in a while. But that doesn't last long.

You're awoken by the shrill ringing of your home phone. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you check the number and answer the phone. "Is this payback for the last time I called you past midnight?"

"Y/N...it's Garcia."

You shoot up into a sitting position as Hotch explains what happened. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know."

"I'm on my way."

You change into a sweater and a pair of loose jeans before grabbing your keys and flying out the door.

"She's in surgery," JJ tells you when you find them in the waiting room. She pulls you into a hug before returning to her hunched position in an uncomfortable vinyl chair.

"There's no other word," Hotch adds, giving you a quick hug as well. With his cheek pressed against your temple, he whispers, "Police think it may have been a botched robbery."

"Where's Morgan?" Emily asks, standing up from her chair.

"He's not answering his cell."

Reid nods, stepping away. "I'll call him again."

He squeezes your hand before he exits the waiting area, and you glance down at JJ again. Her eyes are red from crying, and her chin is pressed into her palm as she stares at the floor. You watch as Emily sits next to her and pats her hand, before clasping it in hers.

You don't realize you've been staring at the same spot on the floor until Hotch stands next to you and nudges your shoulder. You okay?

"I will be," you say out loud, barely registering that he didn't actually ask you anything. "As soon as she's out of surgery." When you got the call that Penelope was shot, you had been hit by an intense feeling of deja vu. Only this time, the call didn't come from bureau leadership, because she wasn't killed at the scene. Because she's going to make it.

He doesn't seem fazed as he checks his watch again, his frown lines deepening. "It shouldn't take this long to get an update."

"Where have you been?" Reid asks suddenly. You look up to see Derek walking into the waiting room, his eyes wide with panic.

"I was in church. My phone was off."

"There's nothing you could have been doing here," Rossi assures him, before nodding at Hotch and pulling him aside to discuss something with the deputies outside. You use the momentary lull to approach Derek, putting your hand on his arm as an initial test. When he doesn't jerk back, you pull him into a hug that he returns gratefully.

The doctor walks in a few minutes later and explains that Penelope will be fine, but she needs to rest until the morning.

"David and I will go to the scene," Hotch informs, his eyes fixing each of you with an empathetic look. "I think the rest of you should be here when she wakes up. I don't care about protocol. I don't care whether we're working this officially, or not. We don't touch any new cases until we find out who did this."

When they leave, you pull Derek down into the chair next to you and lean your head onto his shoulder. After a beat, he relaxes in his seat, and lets out a long sigh. "She's okay."

***

Early the next morning, the doctor shakes you all awake with the notice that Penelope's up, so you rush into her room, trying not to crowd her as she blinks awake.

"Hi," she says softly, her voice small. She looks so innocent, laying in her hospital bed with her blonde hair a halo around her head. You can't imagine how anyone would want to hurt someone like her.

"No tears," she smiles as you swallow down your anger. "I'm afraid if I start crying, I'll come unstapled."

JJ presses a kiss to her cheek, before Derek and Emily start gently plying her with the usual questions. When it comes out that the man who shot her was the same man who asked her out at the coffee shop, your anger turns to anguish, and you reach forward to squeeze Penelope's hand in an effort to comfort her.

"I just thought he liked me," she whispers, the pain in her voice breaking your heart.

"We need a name," Emily asks abruptly. You can see her mentally kicking herself at how serious her words came out, but you know Penelope understands the gravity of this situation.

"James Colby Baylor."

She asks you and JJ to stay back for a second as the rest of the team leaves to investigate Baylor.

"What's up, honey?" you ask, smiling at her sweetly as she uses her other hand to take JJ's.

"I feel so stupid," she sighs, her breath turning into a gasp as tears fill her eyes. "Maybe Derek was right about all of it."

"No," JJ says sternly, reaching forward to brush some of her hair behind her ear. "None of this is on you."

"What she said," you echo, nodding at JJ, "and don't listen to Morgan. He loves you, and he's very protective over you, but he's also a man."

She sniffles out a laugh, before pressing her lips together. "One last thing."

JJ blinks. "Anything."

"Please don't talk about me like I'm a victim."

***

The case wraps up back at the office, where Baylor, whose real name is Deputy Battle, was shot in the head by JJ, who doesn't seem as plussed by the situation as you would expect. You tried to talk to her afterwards, but after telling you she was fine, she put all of her attention on Penelope, who has spent the last week recovering at home.

Now, you're sitting in the break room stirring your black coffee, just for something to do. Hotch finds you in there and walks inside, shutting the door behind him.

"It's been a long week," he grumbles, looking longingly at the spot next to you on the worn couch.

You lift your cup and nod your head at the full coffee pot. "That's what caffeine's for."

"We really should sleep at some point," he says, filling up a paper cup and carefully dropping into the spot beside you. The couch you chose is small enough that his thigh presses against yours when he spreads his legs even the slightest bit.

You snort. "Sleep's overrated."

You both sip your steaming coffees in silence as you watch the other agents shuffle back and forth across the bullpen, unaware of your watchful eyes. The break room is the one place in the office to go for a little bit of privacy, but the unobstructed view of everyone's desks isn't unpleasant either. You imagine this is how Hotch feels when he looks out his office window.

Your eye catches on the stapled wood planks that are currently replacing the broken glass door that leads into the bullpen. He must be looking at the same thing, because he breaks the silence and says, "I think we may need to get JJ out into the field more."

His tone catches you off guard and you crack a small smile. "She does seem remarkably well-adjusted, given that it was her first time."

He nods, turning his head to look at you. "Do you remember your first time?" Killing someone, is the part he doesn't say out loud.

"Of course." You take a deep breath and gulp back more coffee. "He was a serial rapist in Texas. One shot to the heart. I wasn't trying to kill him, he just ran at the last second."

"Serial killer in Florida," he responds simply. "Headshot. He died instantly."

"That was your first year at the BAU, right?" He nods and you sink back into the cushions. "I wasn't even in the field then."

He hums, a low sound that you feel as vibrations on your skin. "I worry that I brought you in here too early. Jeff had just died, and I assumed that getting you out of the house and in the field would take your mind off of things, but I wonder sometimes if I made the wrong call."

"You didn't," you assure him, turning your body to face his, even as he doesn't meet your eye. "First of all, you brought me in six months after he died, and by then, I definitely needed an excuse to leave my bedroom."

He sighs, a small concession, and you continue. "The first case I went into the field for after he died, I could barely hold my gun. Every time I pulled it on someone, I would imagine his body...with all of those bullet holes...and I would just freeze up. It took me months to pass my firearm certification again, but I still don't regret it."

"You sure?" he asks, his voice almost timid.

"Positive," you smile, nudging your thigh against his. "Besides, I didn't realize it until later, but it wasn't getting out into the field that helped me through my grief...it was meeting the team. These people became my family in the moment that I needed one most."

You turn back to your coffee and sip it again, though it's no longer as hot as you'd like it to be.

"How are you doing, by the way?" he asks suddenly. "With Garcia, I mean."

An involuntary shudder runs through you as you remember her pale face in her hospital bed last week, but the warmth of the coffee cup in your hands makes it pass quickly. "I'll never get used to it. But she's okay now, so hopefully it'll be easier this time."

***

You're jotting down notes in the margins of a new case file JJ asked you to look over when your cell phone rings. Hotch and Reid are at a nearby prison, interviewing a serial killer on death row for the Criminal Personality Research Project, so you're not expecting a call from either of them. The rest of the team, except for Rossi, is scattered around the bullpen, but you don't expect him to call you either.

After finishing the line you were writing, you check your phone and see a name you haven't spoken to in weeks.

"Haley," you answer after clicking open your cell. "Is everything okay?"

"I know you're busy," she sighs, her voice tight with what you can only decipher as irritation, "but I didn't know who else to call. Aaron hasn't been answering my phone calls."

You get up from your desk and step out into the hallway to get some privacy. "He and Dr. Reid are at a prison right now, interviewing a criminal for this research project. There likely isn't any cell service out there."

"It's not just today, Y/N," she says, her tone getting colder as she inadvertently directs her anger towards the only person she can get ahold of. "He hasn't been taking my calls for days."

"I can talk to him," you suggest, trying to keep your tone light in an effort to keep this conversation from derailing. "I'll tell him to give you a call."

"I appreciate that," she sighs, losing her steam. "I'm sorry for involving you, I just really need to speak with him about something."

"Is everything alright with you and Jack?" you ask her quickly, wanting to make sure that you aren't making the wrong assumptions about why she's calling.

"Oh!" she inhales sharply. "Yes, of course, we're doing great. Well, great maybe isn't the right word, I didn't mean- I just-" She sighs. "You know what I mean."

"I do," you assure her as your heart twists at the sound of her shallow breathing. You know how hard the separation has been on Hotch, but you know Haley too, and she has always been better at hiding her pain that she seems. "Where have you been staying?"

"With Jess," she says, her voice brightening considerably at the mention of her sister. "She's been a godsend. I feel terrible taking up so much of her space, but she doesn't seem to mind."

You smile, remembering the few times you met Jessica Brooks while Haley and Hotch were together. "She definitely doesn't mind. She always loved children. I bet she's already scheming on how to steal Jack from you."

Haley laughs, and the sound is like wind chimes twinkling in your ear. "She totally is."

Her laughter slowly fades, and you both stay on the line for a few moments in comfortable silence.

"I'll tell him to call you," you promise.

"I know," she sighs. "Thank you."

***

The prison was a bust, but Reid got a chance to use his intelligence to get them out of a tough spot without anyone getting hurt, so the day wasn't a total loss.

He is sitting in his office, drafting an email to the project coordinator, when you walk inside and take a seat in front of his desk.

"Thanks for knocking," he says sarcastically before finishing up the sentence he was working on. Once it's done, he saves the draft and turns off his computer. "How was Indianapolis?"

"Good," you say, leaning back in the chair. "Great, actually. Rossi got to close up the case that's been haunting him for a decade, and the three kids are finally safe."

"I'm surprised he wasn't more excited when he got back," he notes, watching your body language. You look wired, but not about this. Something else is bothering you.

"The unsub wasn't exactly the most gratifying arrest," you sigh, rubbing a hand over your temple. "We don't even think he committed the murders intentionally."

He frowns, shaking his head. "Those are the worst kind."

You're silent for a moment before you sit up straighter and look at him. "Haley called me this morning. While you were at the prison."

"Oh?" Something that feels like ice slithers down his spine even though he can probably guess exactly how the conversation went.

All week, he has felt an enormous weight on his chest in the form of a stack of divorce papers that Haley served him with. She had called him right after, with the explanation that they both should have seen this coming, but he really hadn't. He was a profiler, whose entire job was to notice and analyze human behavior, and he truly hadn't been able to let himself believe that this could be a possibility. That his marriage could actually be over.

"She said you've been ignoring her calls."

He had been ignoring them. He knew she would just tell him to sign the papers, and he couldn't bear to hear her say it again. Once was enough.

He reaches into his desk and pulls out the manila folder that he hasn't opened since his initial read-through. He suspects you already know what he's about to tell you, but he also knows that it won't feel real until he says it out loud. And it's about time he came to terms with what his life would be from now on. "Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers, uncontested."

"She doesn't want to involve a lawyer?" you ask, your voice delicate as you walk him through the explanation with clarifying questions. It's the technique they use when interviewing the families of victims, to help them feel comfortable as they talk about the hardest thing they've ever gone through. He's surprised at how reassuring it feels coming from you.

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. It has grown out a bit since he last cut it, but he doesn't think he minds. Haley wanted him to cut it short when Jack was in his grabbing and teething phase, but now, he likes how he can push it back when he wants. "I don't want to sign, of course, but she's adamant that we get this done soon."

"You'll be okay," you say, and he looks up in surprise. "You're a good man, Aaron."

"I'm not," he whispers, heaving out a sigh. "I'm not doing anything right. At home, I was an awful husband and an absent father, and at work, Strauss would replace me if she had even the slightest bit more ammunition. I can't focus in either place. Maybe Haley's right, maybe I'm just selfish."

You lean forward and grab his hand, even as he doesn't look at you. "You're not selfish. You're the farthest thing from selfish. You don't want to sign, but you will. You're giving her what she wants, even though it's the last thing you want."

He nods, but his heart isn't in it. He glances down at the folder again and takes a deep breath as you give him a small smile and stand up.

"I'll see you tomorrow, boss?"

He nods again. "See you tomorrow."

When the door shuts behind you, he flips open the folder, faster than he meant to, but he's afraid if he doesn't do this quickly he'll lose his nerve. Grabbing a random pen from the mug on his desk, he uncaps it and scrawls out his initials on all of the earmarked lines throughout the stack.

When he finishes the last page, he shuts the folder and leans back in his chair, letting out a long exhale. He did it. He supposes he should feel some sort of severing away of his old life, maybe an audible snap as the ties to his marriage get cut, but there's just silence.

His office suddenly feels stifling, and he loosens his tie before reaching forward and lifting the picture frame with him and Haley on their wedding day. Her smile still looks beautiful to him, and his content expression as he gazes at her doesn't make him feel anything different. Their marriage may be over, but he still loved her.

He runs his thumb over the smooth edge of the frame, and then opens his desk drawer, before sticking it inside and pushing it closed.

***

"Thank you for watching him," Hotch says, his voice slightly muffled over the phone.

"Of course," you smile, sitting down on your couch with the pasta you made for dinner. "It was my pleasure. Jack's a total sweetheart."

Jess was out of town for a couple of days, so he had asked you to watch Jack while he and Haley met up to finalize the divorce in front of an attorney. She had been adamant about finishing the process over the phone, but he wanted to ensure that she and Jack would be taken care of after the papers went through.

"Did he eat lunch?"

"Kind of," you say, quickly swallowing the bite you took. "He didn't want a full meal, but I got him to eat some fruit and bread with cheese."

"I'll make him a snack soon," he says quietly, but you can tell he's just thinking out loud. "Alright, I'll see you at the office. Thanks again."

"Always," you tell him, genuinely. "See you."

The phone clicks off and you scarf down the rest of your pasta before doing your dirty dishes and cleaning up your kitchen. You're considering whether to change into your workout clothes so you can crank out a few miles on your Peloton, but then you hear a knock on your door.

You're not expecting anyone, and with Hotch watching Jack, it can't be him. You peek around the corner into your foyer to see who's at the door, and relax when you spot a familiar mop of brown hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't call first," Spencer says when you open the door, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his book bag. "I just didn't know how to ask you this over the phone."

"Spence, what is it?" you ask, opening the door further to let him in. He doesn't step forward, and a pinprick of anxiety enters your system.

"If I come inside, I won't be able to do this," he says vaguely, before reaching into his bag and pulling out a flyer. He hands it to you and you read the title, the tension seeping from your body as the words sink in: Narcotics Anonymous for Law Enforcement.

"I know it's a lot to ask," he whispers, "but would you drive me to the meeting tonight?"

Your heart feels like it's about to crack open. Only a boy who was never looked after, never given the love and care he deserved, would think that something like this was too much to ask.

"It's not too much," you tell him, glancing down at the address. "I'll get my keys."

When he's settled in your passenger seat, you pull out of the driveway, not commenting on the fact that his car is parked on the street beside your sidewalk. You understand the need for company more than most people.

The drive to the rec center where the meeting is being held is mostly silent, but you don't press him. He stares down at his hands for most of the ride, and when you stop in front of the entrance, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you. "Thank you."

"Of course," you smile. "I can wait, if you'd like."

He gives you a thin-lipped smile. "It's okay."

"You sure?"

He presses his lips together and looks at you, his eyes reflecting the question in yours.

"Go on," you say, patting his arm. "I'll be here."

He nods and steps out of your car, and you pull into a parking space to wait in while he's in the meeting. You turn on the radio and it's the same song they've been playing for the last week, so you turn the volume down low and close your eyes for a few peaceful moments.

You must have fallen asleep, because you're jarred awake by the chirping sound of your cell phone ringing. It's a bureau number, so you clear your throat and answer the call. "L/N."

"Hey, Y/N." It's JJ, and she sounds tired. "We have a case. It's urgent, so we're flying to Texas tonight."

You sigh louder than you meant to. "I can be there in 20."

"See you soon."

The line clicks off and you rub the sleep from your eyes. A quick check of your watch tells you that you were only asleep for about a half hour, but that's just half of the meeting time. You know Spencer will come back when he gets the call, so you turn the radio off and sit up in your seat.

A few minutes later, he returns to the car. You saw him just over 30 minutes ago, but he already looks lighter than he did when he got to your house.

"I'm proud of you, Spence," you tell him as you start the car.

He nods, a quick thanks. "This federal agent gave me his one year medallion after I left the meeting. I've only been clean for 10 months, but he still gave it to me."

"He believes in you," you say simply, glancing over at his confused expression.

"He doesn't even know me."

You shrug. "You don't have to really know someone to care about them, Spencer. You just have to see something of yourself in them."

"Is that what you see in me?" he asks, finally looking at you.

You consider this for a moment. Is that why you feel so protective over him?

"I don't know," you say eventually, not wanting to lie, even by accident. "I definitely wasn't as smart as you were, or as focused. I wasn't all that driven in high school at all, to be honest. I was lucky to have Hotch. He gave me the push I needed to get out there and focus on school."

He's silent for a minute and you worry you may have said something wrong. Then: "I didn't have anyone in school." He pauses for a beat, before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. "I was in the library one day, and this girl comes up to me, and she tells me that Alexa Isben wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa Isben was, like...easily the prettiest girl in school."

You frown, already not liking where this story is going. "Did she not show up?"

"No, she was there." His voice sounds almost resigned, but there's a note of something darker underneath. Something raw and painful, that likely still hurts after all these years. "But so was the entire football team. They stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post. So many kids were there, you know, just watching."

"No one stopped them?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I begged them to, but they just...they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left." He clears his throat, and the sound is small, like a little boy's. "It was like midnight when I finally got home. And my mom didn't...Mom was having one of her episodes, so she didn't even realize I was late."

"You never told her what happened?"

He shakes his head. "I never told anybody. I thought it was one of those things that I thought if I didn't talk about it, I'd just forget. But I remember it like it was yesterday."

"You don't need an eidetic memory for that, Spence," you whisper, trying to stay focused on the road even as his words swirl into your memories and create an agonizing hurricane of emotions. "I was only ten years old when my mom was killed, but I can still remember every moment of her funeral."

The field office comes into view and you push forward as you scan your badge and slide into a parking spot below the upper garage. When the car is in park, you undo your seatbelt and turn to him. "I know how hard it can be to push away the painful memories, but there's something more important that I need you to remember."

"Remember what?"

He looks at you then, and you reach forward to squeeze his hand. "You're not alone anymore."

***

"Is it always this hot?" You look up at the beating sun through your shaded sunglasses and fan your face with both of your hands.

"Every day, all day," Emily huffs, running her fingers through her bangs to unstick them from her forehead.

Everyone is sweltering in the Miami heat, but then Derek gets off the plane with a wide grin, his skin glistening in the sun, and you resist the urge to throw your bag at him. "South Beach, baby."

He immediately shuts up when he spots the stunning Miami PD detective who called your team in for the recent string of murders. JJ shoots you a smirk before introducing her to the team. "Detective Lopez. We spoke on the phone."

"Tina," she corrects, before shaking her hand. "Thank you for coming down so quickly."

"Hey," Emily says from beside you, making you turn to see what she's looking at. "Isn't that..."

You spot the person she's referring to, and your face splits into a big smile. "Detective LaMontagne!"

"He's here to ID the cop they pulled from the bay last night," Tina explains.

You don't miss the flush in JJ's cheeks as she shakes his hand. "Detective, good to see you."

"How are you?" you ask, giving him a quick hug that he returns.

"Yeah, Charlie Luvet and I worked together for seven years."

Derek frowns. "Sorry for your loss, man."

Tina looks confused, and you don't blame her. "So, you all know each other?"

"Professionally," JJ is quick to add. Will whips around to look at her, and you turn to Emily with an eyebrow raise, feeling like you're intruding on a private moment. You aren't sure why she won't just admit that they've been together since New Orleans, but that's her business.

***

You join JJ and Will at the IDing of Officer Luvet, and you keep your distance as he glances down at the body and affirms the report.

"Yeah, that's him."

JJ looks like she wants to comfort him, but instead she sticks to the professional approach. "If you need help making arrangements, liaising with families is part of what I do."

Will nods, his voice choking up slightly. "I might just take you up on that. Excuse me, I'll be outside."

When he steps outside of the coroner's office, you can't help but notice the longing look on JJ's face as she watches him go.

"Let's go," she says to you softly, her eyes still on the door. You follow her outside, but by then Will is nowhere to be found.

"It's okay, you know," you blurt out. You weren't really planning on talking to her about this, but sometimes your mouth takes over before your brain can catch up. "I know you worry that being around a band of profilers all the time makes you vulnerable."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," she says simply, not quite meeting your eye.

"JJ," you say seriously, trying to convey your pure intentions. "If you keep trying to hide it, you'll lose him."

She purses her lips, and you squeeze her forearm, hoping you aren't pushing past her boundaries. The whole team is sparing with details about their personal lives, but you like to think that you're someone people feel comfortable sharing things with.

"I know you, hon." You flash her a knowing smile, feeling a shot of satisfaction as her lip twitches. "I know that it's enough for you to know that you care about something, but it's not enough for everyone."

She exhales, tucking her hair behind her ears. "He's upset with me, but I don't know what to do. I'm still scared."

You sigh, understanding her predicament, but still wanting her to push past it. "You can let yourself be happy, JJ. You won't always get hurt."

She nods before glancing around the room again, searching for Will even though he's long gone. It's an instinct you recognize.

Later, when JJ finally acknowledges their relationship by pulling him in for a kiss at the police station, you can't help but take it as a win.

***

Your house feels emptier than usual when you get back from Miami. Seeing JJ and Will find each other again reminded you of how much you miss having someone to share your life with.

Deciding to take a night to yourself, you pop open a bottle of red, and pour yourself a glass, which you swirl around before taking a sip. It's drier than you tend to go for, and when you check the label, you realize that's because you didn't buy it.

How can you drink this stuff?

It makes me feel sophisticated.

Jeff would break out the fancy glassware every chance he got, because he didn't believe in special occasions. He used to say that people waste precious moments of their life waiting for the right occasion to come around.

The memory feels warm in the back of your mind, and you take another sip of wine before walking over to your cupboard and grabbing the fanciest wine glass you can find. You pour the rest of your wine into the new glass and place the other in the sink, before swirling it around again. No time like the present.

You bring the glass to the couch with you, where you turn on the television and skip through the first few channels. As the wine in your glass depletes, the loneliness sets back in. You're about to pour yourself another pity glass when your phone buzzes with a call from Hotch.

"Do your television channels suck as much as mine do?"

You smile, muting the television and pressing the phone to your ear. "Definitely not."

He chuffs. "I guess I'm not used to the new tv controls."

Right, his new apartment. After the papers were finalized, he gave the house to Haley and moved into a new place ten minutes away.

"We can share mine," you say, listening to the sounds of his breath over the receiver. "I also have wine."

That gets a laugh. "I'll be there in 15."

You hear a knock on your door exactly 14 minutes later. When you open it, you're greeted with the sight of Hotch in a tee shirt and jeans. "A little underdressed, aren't we?"

He snorts, taking the wine glasses from your hands and following you into the family room. "What are we watching?"

"You're the one with the broken tv," you grin, flopping down on the couch and taking your glass from him. "What do you want to watch?"

He thinks for a minute, before his eyes sparkle with an idea. You cut him off before he can suggest what you already know he will. "We are not watching Top Gun again, Hotch!"

"You asked," he shrugs, hiding his smile behind a sip of wine. "What do you want to watch, then?"

You can see him watching you over the rim of his glass, so you blurt out the first name that comes to your mind. "Footloose."

He looks at you blankly for a moment, before his brow twitches, and your jaw drops. "You haven't seen Footloose?!"

"It came out when we were in high school," he groans, taking one of the throw pillows off the couch and stuffing it behind his back. "Terminator and Dune came out that same year. I remember because you tried to get me to watch it then too."

"It's an amazing movie!" you exclaim, standing up to go dig through your movie cabinet. "We're watching it right now."

He groans and sinks back into the pillows as you find the DVD and start the movie. You've seen it at least a dozen times, mostly because it makes you nostalgic for your teenage years, but the opening still gets you excited.

As the movie plays, you keep glancing over at Hotch, trying to see if he's enjoying the scenes just as much as you did on your first watch. To his credit, he watches the movie faithfully, without checking his phone or straying from the television screen.

"Enough," he grumbles suddenly, startling you.

"What?" you question, whipping your head around to face the screen.

"I'm watching the movie," he huffs, fixing you with a pointed look. "You don't have to keep checking."

You frown, hugging a pillow to your chest. "I wasn't checking, I just like seeing people's reactions to my favorite movies."

"Either way."

You groan, reaching out to thwack his arm.

"Eyes on the screen," he berates you, pointing at the TV. "The dance scene is starting."

You sip your wine bitterly as you try to resist the urge to glance over at him. Eventually, the movie takes over your attention and soon it's the final town council scene where Kevin Bacon gives a speech to the whole town.

"'There was a time for this law'," you quote along with the movie, "'but not anymore.'"

The movie comes to an end, and you click the remote to turn off the television. When you turn to Hotch with an excited grin, you're surprised to see that he has fallen asleep.

His head has fallen to the side, resting on the armrest, and he looks so peaceful with his expression completely neutral. His characteristic frown is nowhere to be seen as he snores quietly through his nose.

Your lips curve into a smile as you stand up and grab a blanket from a basket beside the couch. You drape it over his body, being careful not to wake him, and take the wine glasses to the sink before heading up for bed.

***

"That's because you pick horses the same way you practice law."

You hold your breath as he glances into the crowd for a brief second.

"...by always taking the long shot."

Emily snickers under her breath, and you see even Reid crack a smile as the lawyer starts floundering. The rest of the day in court goes by quickly and you all wait for Hotch in the hallway of the courthouse as he finishes up inside.

"That was impressive," you grin, nudging his shoulder as he walks alongside you. "I can't believe that was my first time seeing you in full prosecutor mode."

"Hardly," he says, rolling his eyes lightly. "I was called to give testimony, it's very different."

"I'm just surprised that prosecutor is still walking after how hard you hit him." He shoots you a look and you raise your hands in surrender. "Metaphorically, of course."

"That was a straight knock out." Derek comes up behind you and throws an arm around your shoulder as he spins you both to face Hotch. "The crowd practically cheered when you cleaned the floor with him."

"Thank you," he concedes, flashing his eyes at you. "Now let's get back to work. We still have to get more evidence for the rest of the trial."

And just like that, everyone switches back into work mode. Derek drops his arm and jogs forward to catch up to Rossi and Spencer, while Emily calls Garcia to get the latest update.

Using the moment of solitude, you bump his shoulder again. "Do you ever wish you were still a prosecutor? Your life would certainly be a lot simpler."

He shakes his head, the answer coming quickly and firmly. "I couldn't do it then, and I still couldn't now. Seeing the murderers come in after they've finished killing...I needed to know I could stop them before they were done."

His sentiment sounds familiar. Your mind flashes back to the little boy who took matters into his own hands, because no one could stop the pain for him.

You blink and it's present day again. You loved your best friend who fought his own battles without asking for help, and, even though he's vastly different, you love your best friend as he is now.

***

"Five shootings in two weeks."

"It's about time we got the call."

The whole team, plus Garcia, flies up to New York, where an unsub has been shooting people around the city, seemingly at random.

"Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office," Hotch explains, glancing down at his cell phone. "She's running point on the case and called me directly."

You have heard of her, which isn't too surprising, but all you know is that she's British and seems to be very good at her job.

"You know her?" Morgan asks him, echoing your thoughts.

Hotch nods. "We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard."

They liaised. You don't know what that implies, but you also know that he and Haley didn't take a single break during their relationship after graduating college, so it can't be anything too personal.

JJ and Emily share a look, but you don't engage with them, instead looking back at the case file and trying to focus on any of the words that aren't 'Kate Joyner'.

***

"Kate."

A pretty blonde woman approaches you all with a smile only for Hotch. "Aaron. How have you been?"

He nods. "Well, thank you. This is my team." He introduces each of you to her, but you don't miss how her eyes linger on you when he mentions your name.

"Thanks for being here," she says, before walking you all through the background of the case. Shootings in different precincts, seemingly random, FBI only brought in after the fourth murder.

After explaining the details and introducing you to the local detectives on the case, she pulls Hotch aside for a private word in her office. You turn back to the team, trying not to let your gaze linger on them as they walk away.

The NYPD doesn't seem happy that SSA Joyner has taken over their case, but even though she comes off as a bit brusque, you can tell she cares about catching this unsub just as much as they do.

"What's your partner's problem?" Reid asks Detective Cooper, the only local officer who has made an effort to meet any of you.

"We're glad the FBI was brought in," he explains with a heavy sigh, "but all of a sudden Joyner's taking meetings with the mayor and calling in you all without us knowing anything about it."

You can understand his hesitation, but you also need his cooperation if you're going to get anything done here.

"We're only here to help," Emily tells him as you turn around to find JJ.

"Has Garcia gotten settled in with the New York tech analyst?" you ask once you find her staring at a map of the various boroughs. She doesn't answer immediately, so you nudge her shoulder. "JJ?"

"Huh?" she startles. "Oh, sorry, yeah. She called a few minutes ago, she's all good."

JJ is usually the focused one who brings you back on track, so you're surprised by how distracted she seems. You nod in acknowledgement, scrutinizing her expression for another second, before heading back to the team. Your eyes involuntarily dart over to Kate's office, and you notice how close together she and Hotch are. You're about to avert your eyes when their body language becomes a bit clearer: each time she leans in to say something, he subtly pulls back.

The dynamic of their relationship is suddenly apparent, and you mentally kick yourself for daring to assume the worst when he first mentioned her. You can't say the same for your opinion of her, though. He's still wearing his ring, for God's sake. Based on how little you've heard about her from him (nothing, you mean), you doubt she even knows about the divorce yet.

Derek and JJ head out with the detectives to check out the last crime scene, while you stay back with Emily and Spencer to build the anti-geographical profile. When another victim is shot, you head to the new scene to see if you can build a working profile.

"It's a different borough again," you sigh after getting out of the SUV and joining Hotch, Kate, Derek, and JJ in front of the body. "Prentiss and Reid are back at the office still working the profile from a geographical angle. We're starting to think maybe we should get officers out onto the high-traffic intersections, and maybe even get some of us out there too."

"Uniforms are rounding up witnesses," Kate jumps in, ignoring you. "It doesn't seem like anyone got a clean look."

You see Derek glance at you out of the corner of your eye, but you don't entertain the look. If she has some issue with you that you aren't aware of, you won't give her the satisfaction of letting her get to you. "The unsub's probably gone before anyone even realizes it's happening,"

Hotch nods, turning to face Kate. "Is this what it felt like during the Son of Sam."

She returns his gaze. "First we realized that if the violence was truly random, there was almost no way of stopping it. Seems like these people have figured that out."

You look up, trying to see if there's anything in the vicinity you can use to ID the unsub. Your eyes catch on a security camera outside one of the delis directly behind you. "From the placement of that camera, odds are the only view they're going to get is the back of his head."

She frowns. "Let's not be too quick to decide what we do or don't have."

This time it's both Derek and JJ that glance at you, but you turn to Hotch, who is avoiding meeting your eyes. Kate steps away to speak with the detectives at the scene, so you grab his arm and pull him aside. "What is her problem?"

He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. "FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn't bring this case home, she's going to be reassigned. And you are at the top of the list to replace her."

"Replace her?" you echo, trying to process what he's saying. "I haven't even been in the BAU that long."

"It's not about field experience," he says, angling his body so that you're separated from the others. "You've been with the bureau longer than I have, and your work speaks for itself. It's not a surprise that they'd want to promote you."

You still can't wrap your head around the fact that you could be leading a unit yourself, or that you may have to leave the team you love, so you focus on what you do know. "I thought the bureau was proud of the fact that they stole her from Scotland Yard."

"I don't know," he shrugs, glancing back at her. "Politics here are different."

***

After finishing up at the crime scene, the whole team heads to the hotel to get some rest for the night. You feel more alert than you usually do after a long day of building a profile, and you adjust your bag strap on your shoulder as you dig around the side pockets for your room key. You don't plan on going to bed for at least a few more hours, and you might as well use the time to work on the case, but you need your key if you're going to get any sleep at all.

When your fingers finally catch on the thin plastic card, you look up to see a familiar face that you've been seeing more often than not, as of late. "Wait, isn't that..."

JJ looks up with a start, and she doesn't look distracted for the first time all day. "Will."

He gets up from the lobby chair he was lounging in and approaches her. "Hey, I took a shot and flew to D.C., but when it didn't work, I figured a train ride to New York was only a few more hours."

"Detective." Hotch reaches out and shakes his hand, before glancing at you with a frown that says, Did you know he was coming?

You shake your head imperceptibly and turn back to Will as he looks longingly at JJ. "Look, I'm sorry for showing up like this. I know you're working, but I can't stand you being on this case and me not being near." He pauses for a beat. "Not with what's going on."

That makes you frown too.

Hotch echoes your thoughts. "Is there a problem?"

JJ takes a deep breath and turns around to face all of you. "I'm pregnant."

Oh my God.

"Oh, my God," Emily exclaims, pulling her into a hug, the first of you to regain her bearings after hearing the news. "JJ, congratulations."

"That's amazing, JJ," you grin, hugging her next.

You don't miss how stiff Hotch is as Will shakes his hand. "I've asked JJ to marry me."

"Will," JJ says tightly, a warning in her voice.

He chuckles. "Well, we're working out some kinks."

"We'll give you both some privacy." Hotch turns away from them, his face falling the moment she can't see him anymore. You know he's hurt that she didn't trust him with this information, but you're surprised by just how downtrodden he seems.

JJ rushes after him. "Hotch-"

"JJ, you could have told me," he says softly, his voice both confused and stung.

She looks down. "I know."

"Because I understand if you need to take some time."

"No," she shakes her head, without a look back. "I want to be here."

"Okay," he nods, not looking at any of you. "7:00 AM."

You try to catch his arm as he walks off, but he either ignores it, or he doesn't feel you reaching for him. You choose to believe it's the latter.

***

You all deliver the working profile to the police officers first thing the next morning. While you're explaining an alternate possibility, Garcia calls with an update that a possible unsub was caught on camera shooting someone on a subway platform at one of the intersections you suggested that your team patrol yesterday.

"We could have had that guy," you say, your voice fuming with anger as you turn to Kate with a glare you haven't used in ages.

She doesn't falter. "Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated."

"Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot."

She fixes you with a stare. "I had every available man on the street."

"And I suggested to you that you use this team." You can't believe that her decision to ignore your advice yesterday might have just cost someone else their life. You can see the rest of the team looking at you with some blend of concern or indignation on your behalf, but you don't care. You just need Hotch to back you up.

Instead he just looks at you. "L/N, second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now."

You're so angry, you can barely see straight. Emily reaches for your arm, but you shake her off. "Hotch, how are we supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them, if she won't let us do our job?"

"We're here to present a profile," he says simply, not quite meeting your eye. "That's what we need to do."

You gape at him, your back straightening as you get ready to stand your ground. You don't disagree on things like this often, but when you do, it's usually a civil conversation that gets resolved quickly. You've never felt this angry about his handling of a case before, but then again, he's never not had your back before. "We've got seven bodies, Hotch."

He looks at you then, and you can't discern anything from his expression. It's a blank slate that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's not your place to have this discussion."

"Screw you."

You spin around, shoving away Derek and Emily as they try to talk you down. You stalk past them and out of the field office, where the cool evening air fills your sinuses and clears your head for a moment of silence. You stand on the sidewalk for a few seconds, waiting, and when he doesn't follow you out, you just manage to convince yourself that you're not disappointed, but relieved.

***

You're sitting at the hotel bar when Rossi finally finds you. You only ordered a lemon water, still feeling like you're on the clock, even if there's a good chance Hotch won't let you back into the investigation.

"I know," you huff when he takes a seat beside you. "I was out of line."

"You got too emotionally involved," he says, turning to face you. "I know you and Hotch are friends, but that doesn't mean you get to be unprofessional."

You sigh, your body deflating as all the fight leaves you. "I just felt like he was taking her side. Like he didn't have my back."

"There are no sides here."

You nod. "I know."

"And he does have your back." You look at him then, and he flashes you a small smile. "That man will always have your back. Right now, he's just worried about how Kate is holding up, with the word on the street."

That surprises you. "You know about the promotion?"

He nods. "People talk. But if she were to get fired, it would be because we didn't solve this case."

You frown, lifting your hand in defense. "Rossi, I hope you're not saying you think I want her to fail."

"Of course not," he shakes his head. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I lost my head for a second," you acknowledge, taking a sip of water. "I think I just needed a minute."

"And you got it," he says simply. "But right now, I see someone who wants to get back on the job. Or is there another reason why you ordered a glass of water at a bar?"

You set your glass down, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Where is everyone now?"

You both stand up, and he leads you out of the lobby. "Joyner took your advice. We're spreading out across the city."

***

"Emily, what happened?"

You rush forward to where she is standing over the dead body of a young man. Detective Cooper was taken in an ambulance to a nearby hospital after getting shot, and you only just arrived on the scene.

"He was strangely calm," she whispers as Derek and JJ come up behind her. "It's almost like suicide by cop."

"Why?" JJ thinks out loud. "Why would he do that?"

Derek looks at you. "We need to walk back through this profile."

Hundreds of thoughts are swirling through your brain, but based on the look on everyone's faces, you can tell they're thinking the same thing you are: terrorism.

After the crime scene officials arrive, you head over to your SUV to get back to the field office. Derek heads out to brief Homeland Security, and Reid leaves to talk to the Port Authority police, while Hotch and Kate call with the update that they will be going to speak with the mayor's office.

You start your SUV and pull out into the street when a loud explosion goes off a few streets behind you, the plume of smoke and fire large enough that you catch the high end of it in your rearview mirror.

You screech to a stop, just as your phone starts to ring.

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @sanayikes, @yiiiikesmish, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog (message me to be added!)

[deanscherrypie420]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫

A/N: Hi! This was third most requested on the poll! I hope you guys enjoy, it took me forever to think of a story OMG!

Characters: BAU Team, Reader Y/N

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner X Reader

Warnings: Soft!Dom Aaron, description of crime scenes, antagonizing, sensitive neck area, implied smut but no actual, teasing, lots of kissing towards the end, pretty cute ending, praise kink, spitting (spits into her mouth once), getting interrupted (they were just kissing, don't worry), (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: After getting on your new boss's bad-side, you face his irritation throughout your case. When you get back, however, it seems he's a better profiler than you thought.

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

It was her first official day at the Bureau. She had been training alongside a different team for a few weeks before being sent to work with the BAU.

When she entered the conference room, she was greeted by a woman in a dashingly bright outfit. "Hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, technical analyst for the BAU. You're the new agent, right?"

Y/N nodded and shook her hand, a faint smile on her lips. "Hi, yeah. I'm Y/N Y/L/N." She stated simply, pulling out a chair to sit down. Penelope stepped out of the room for a moment, calling the rest of the team in.

One by one, they all piled in. Two other women came to shake her hand and she declined, passing it off with a joke. They didn't seem to mind, sitting down beside her and engaging in small talk.

The last person to come in was an older man dressed in a nice suit, clean cut black hair and dark brown eyes. She perked up, recognizing him immediately.

SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit chief.

"Y/L/N, good to finally meet you. We've heard great things." He complimented, reaching out to shake her hand. She gave a sharp smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Thanks, unfortunately I can't say the same about you." She set her hand on top of his, gently pushing it down to decline his offer. He noticeably stiffened, and the room filled with tension. "Excuse me?" He questioned, brows knitted tight together.

"I mean, you're practically a rogue agent. You're constantly under the microscope," She shook her head with a quiet laugh, "And from what I hear, you've always been off the rails, even with a stick up your ass."

Before Aaron could respond, Garcia interrupted, getting into the grimy details of a murder in Colorado. After the brief, everyone exited the room, leaving Y/N and Hotchner in the room alone.

His hand clamped down on her shoulder, squeezing tight as he leaned in behind her. "I advise you to stay in your lane. Keep that dirty little mouth of yours shut." He whispered in her ear.

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, heat rising to her cheeks. He patted her on the back before stepping out, returning to his office to collect his to-go bag.

She stood up and grabbed her bag from beneath her, already prepared for her first day. When she made it to the jet, she claimed a seat next to the blonde woman, who she vaguely remembered as Jennifer.

"Rogue agent, huh?" The older man in front of her asked. She studied him, his fingers in a triangle shape resting on the table, grey hair blooming within his black strands.

She grinned and nodded, leaning back into her chair. "I can't repeat what I've heard?" She prodded, tapping her foot on the ground. She knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but she didn't care.

As if he read her mind, he hunched forward and reciprocated her smirk. "Not if you want to last longer than day one. You may have heard some interesting things about Aaron, but I'm sure you've also heard that he doesn't take bullshit from anyone. Especially not from beginners."

She swallowed hard, feeling everyone's eyes on her. She tried to think of a witty response, something to drag her out of the pit she was in. Her brain paused when the same hand from before ruffled her hair, a stiff smile on Aaron's face. "I'm sure it was a mistake on her part. Right, Y/N?"

She nearly choked, reaching up to fix her hair. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." She croaked out, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Rossi just shook his head and 'tsked' in disapproval.

After another quick conversation about the case, Aaron paired everyone up. "Morgan, JJ, you check out the body. Rossi, Prentiss and Reid, set up with local PD."

After not addressing her, she raised a brow. She turned to face him, an annoyed look on her features. "What about me?" She questioned, and he gave her a smug grin.

"You're with me. We'll examine the crime scene." Was all he said, turning his attention back to the file. She slumped in her chair, glaring at Morgan when she heard him chuckle.

Dammit.

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

"So what do you see?" He quizzed her, motioning towards the crimson stained kitchen. She studied it for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek as she thought.

"Rage fueled kill. Blood painted on the walls, clearly over-kill. He doesn't like authority figures, this is the third he's killed this week." She explained and he scoffed.

"You aren't projecting, are you?" He asked her, and she froze. "What do you mean?" Her fists balled up, biting her lip to withhold any rude remarks she might let slip.

"You have issues with figures of authority. You tried to embarrass me in front of my team, and the whole drive here you ignored everything I've had to tell you." He stepped closer to her, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"If I had to guess I'd assume parental issues. You have a sharp tongue, a defense mechanism to keep people at arms reach. Should I keep going?" He had a stern, yet calm look in his eyes. She bit her cheek and pondered, unsure how to respond.

"You're uncomfortable." He noted and she raised a brow. "Am not. You're not as intimidating as you think, Aaron." She snapped back, and he stepped even closer, his face mere inches away.

"I didn't say intimidated, but thank you for letting me know that's how I make you feel." He smiled down at her, making her stomach churn. She turned on her heel and hurried out, slamming the front door behind her.

He chuckled and shook his head, walking out behind her. "Where are you going?" He asked and she crossed her arms, stopping at the end of the road. "Away from you." She muttered and he stopped a few feet in front of her.

"You're acting like a child. Get in the car, now." She huffed and brushed past him, ramming her shoulder into his as she went. He had to hold back from grabbing her and slamming her onto the car.

She slid into the passenger seat, throwing her feet up on the dash and sinking her teeth into their spot in her cheek. Aaron got into the driver seat and stared at her.

"I understand this is your way of defiance, but it's not amusing. Legs down." He ordered and she unwillingly obeyed. "Sorry." She spat, sarcasm creeping in her tone.

"Being a brat isn't gonna work for you, not with me at least." He warned her and she barely nodded, glancing over at him. She didn't know why, but she kind of liked it when he talked to her like this.

However, she couldn't help but want the softer side of him too. He felt her staring as he drove to the local police department, finding it cute when he looked at he and she turned away.

"You're a lot more shy than I expected." He told her, making her look away again. "Pardon?" She croaked, heat rushing up her neck. He set his hand down on her knee and his thumb rubbed circles against it.

"Nothing, just keep your act together."

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After the case, Y/N was waiting in Aarons office. They had tension all throughout the trip, getting her in trouble and now having to have a mandatory "behavioral conversation."

When he entered the office, he closed the door quietly and turned to face her. His face was stone cold, unreadable and harsh. She bit her lip and fidgeted in her lap, picking at her nailbeds.

He sat down in front of her and cleared his throat. "Is this what you wanted?" He questioned her, catching her off guard. "I don't understand?" She responded, her tone rising at the end a bit too high for her liking.

"I'm a profiler, Y/N. It's my job to study behavior. What did you think you would get by throwing tantrums?" His words made her squirm, understanding what he was referring to.

She didn't respond, looking down at her legs and trying not to drown in humiliation. He chuckled and stood up, making his way behind her. He slowly started to knead her shoulders, earning a quiet gasp from her lips.

"I know, Sweetheart. You just want to be a good girl, yeah?" He cooed, adding more pressure and making her moan. She nodded and squeezed her thighs together. "Th-this is inappropriate." She mumbled between quiet groans and he smiled down at her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"You don't seem to care about what's appropriate or not, don't start pretending now." He whispered and she melted, her hands clawing at her knees.

His thumbs pressed into her neck, pressing nerves within and making her recoil, an unexpected moan bellowing out of her. He quirked a brow and raised one of his hands around the back of her neck.

"Well, that was interesting." He remarked before squeezing down on the pressure points, forcing her to curl up, such an intense reaction from such a little gesture.

Incoherent whimpers and whines escaped her lips, her hand buried between thighs as she tried to gain friction. He chuckled and shook his head. "Needy girl."

He jerked her head back, forcing another moan out of her. Her mouth hung open, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed. He loomed over her, spitting into her mouth.

He took his hand away from her neck and spun her chair around, crouching down in front of her with a small smile. "Swallow, pretty girl."

She obeyed, nodding mindlessly as she did. He kissed the top of her knee and then stood up, gesturing for her to do the same. He cupped her cheek and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Go to your office, get all your paperwork done, and then come meet me back here." He looked so comforting, and he felt that way too. "Okay.. I can do that." She spoke barely above a whisper, still flustered from the situation.

He smiled and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. She wanted more, but didn't say anything, just carefully pulled away and walked towards the door.

He grabbed her arm and brought her back to him, her chest flushed with his. "Use your words." He prompted her, and she bit her lip, a small smile of her own growing.

"Kiss me, please."

He leaned down and their lips met, a slow but passionate kiss. His hands slid around her waist and he crossed his wrists above her hips, bringing her impossibly closer.

Her hands cupped his cheeks and he smiled, the warm feeling of her palms making his shoulders relax.

Suddenly, Penelope and Emily barged through the door, David, JJ and Morgan not far behind them. "Dinner at Rossi's-" Penelope started in a cheery voice, but froze when she saw them.

Quickly, Y/N broke away from Hotch, her back to him as she smiled awkwardly. Emily's jaw was practically on the floor, and Garcia gasped.

"Oh my," She whispered, and Morgan glanced over her shoulder, quickly catching on to the situation. "Aaron. Hotchner. Gettin' some lovin' from the newbie is not something I expected." He teased and Y/N felt her face warming, something she was getting used to now at the BAU.

"Guys, it's not-" Aaron started but was quickly cut off by JJ. "This was not something I had on my bingo card this year." She joked as she sped away with Reid, who was quickly mumbling some facts about business hook-ups.

Following in suit, Penelope grabbed the door handle and apologized repeatedly. "Just come find us when you two are done." She said quickly as she slammed the door.

Aaron leaned down and snaked an arm around her, pulling her closer once more. "We'll catch up on this later." He said as he kissed her temple.

"Do I still have to do my paperwork?" She asked in a fake-innocent voice. "Absolutely," He said before leaving soft, bruising kisses down her neck. "But you can wait until tomorrow."

She rested her head back on his chest, breathy moans parting her lips. "That's not fair. I should get special privileges now." She pleaded and he sunk his teeth into her neck, making her gasp.

"You're a smart girl, you can do a little bit of work. I'll even reward you if you do a good job." He teased, squeezing her hip with his free hand. She giggled and moved his face up to kiss him, their lips easily melting together.

"Hurry up you two! This is Y/N's first cooking lesson!" Garcia yelled through the door. Hotch let out a quiet groan as he finally pulled away, placing a few more quick kisses all over the side of her face.

She giggled and hollered back, "We're coming!" He gave a playful tap to her ass and she waited for him to grab his coat before leaving. "I didn't expect that sleeping with my boss would make my co-workers like me so much." She joked and he raised his brows suggestively, collecting his stuff from beside the desk.

"We haven't slept together yet, but that's a great idea for dessert."

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A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! I finished this at three AM so I'm sorry if its a bit rushed or messy. This is my first Hotch fic so it took me a bit longer to get a decent idea.

Feel free to send in requests! <3 Like, comment, and follow :)

[lavenderlacedquill]

Angst idea: Will and Y/N are working on an investigation together and she gets seriously hurt. Since they had a heated argument before, she tries to hide her injuries but eventually feels dizzy due to the blood loss and he gets startled and rushes to help her.

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Trigger Warnings!: Blood, injury, guns

This request has been sitting in my drafts for WEEKS waiting until I could properly dedicate time to it. This angst piece was so fulfilling to write and I hope it was everything you hoped it would be!

My Masterlist <3

✧˖°

“No, absolutely not!” Will’s voice rang through Jack’s small office on desperate ears. His eyes meet yours, filled with a sad craze as he directs his attention back to you. “You cannot seriously be considering this!”

Your heart lurches in your chest, because you completely understand where he is coming from. What Jack is asking from you is no small ask. Your eyes fall to the floor as a whisper leaves your lips hurriedly, “What other choice is there, Will? He’s going to keep killing unless it’s me who goes in.”

The man’s eyes whip to Jack’s, his hair ruffled from his stressed hands running through it. Will’s calloused palms run stressily over his face, covering his eyes as he speaks through them to the Agent. “I’ll do it,” He begins, desperation laced in every word because how could this really be on the table right now? “Please, Jack. Just let me go in instead. Do you know how dangerous this is going to be?”

Jack gives out a hefty sigh. This wasn’t an easy decision to come to. Putting you in a direct line of danger was not his first choice, but it’s the only way that he knows will draw out the unsub. The threats the FBI has received over the last few weeks were alarming, each one bigger than the last. You’re the one he wants, and he won’t settle for anything less. The perfect crime. 

“I need both Graham’s on this. End of story. I’m not going to let anything happen.” His measly attempt at reassuring the frazzled man before him doesn’t make a dent, but the Agent walks out of the office without another word, making intense eye contact with you just before the door closes. 

Your eyes dart from Will to the ground, your arms wound tightly around your middle as you sway softly where your feet have planted themselves. “I don’t like this either, Will. But we have a job to do.”

You hear the soft padding of his footsteps for only a moment before his arms find their way around you, taking you into a soft and protective hold, almost like he’s shielding you from an invisible force. His stubbled cheek meets your temple as his rough whisper sounds, “Using you as a pawn is never going to sit right with me. Jack doesn’t understand just how dangerous this is. He could-”

You step out of his hold quickly, cutting his words short, “I’ll be okay,” you begin, your hands coming up to hold Will’s face. “You’ll get to me before anything happens. Then it will all be over.”

The wheels in Will’s brain begin to turn, you can see it as his eyes almost begin to tremble in their sockets while he looks over you. He leans in, closing the small gap between you two, a soft kiss burning into your forehead for only a few seconds before he moves towards the door. 

It’s go time. 

............

The back of the unmarked van that Jack and Will are cramped in grows mustier as they both breathe, Will continuing to get more and more anxious as he waits for Jack’s queue to burst onto the scene. 

Your voice sounds in the headset he has practically pasted to his ears, but all seems to go quiet for only mere seconds as the weight of this entire fucked situation hits Will. You’re in the hands of a killer. One that has murdered anyone that he could get his hands on that bears any resemblance to you. He’s got you. No vest. No gun. The FBI, Jack, handed you over willingly.

 Thank you for all of your notes. I looked forward to them everyday.

You did? Really? I was so scared you wouldn’t get them. 

I did. 

Your conversation with the unsub snaps Will out of his trance, Jack grabbing his arm as they both listen intensely to each word. He can hear you trying to keep your tone even as you speak to him, but he can hear its subtle tremble. You’re scared and it’s killing him. 

I’m sorry I had to kill the others. I didn’t want to, I swear. You’re just…perfect. Getting to you was impossible. 

Each word the unsub speaks grows sinister, his voice dropping to a whisper as he approaches you. The agents can’t see it, but he’s got you sat at his dinner table, your hands bound by a zip tie. Can’t let you get away from me now! 

Pictures of you litter the entire thing, moments you didn’t realize were a victim of watchful eyes. Moments of you coming and going from work, intimate moments you shared with Will in the safety of your own home, pictures of you changing in your bedroom. Pure terror has you paralyzed. Jack knew it was bad, so did Will. But no one could have prepared you for this. 

Beyond the table, the images cover the floor in a disgusting blanket, bloodied footprints gluing them to the linoleum below. The walls are covered in a layer of red haphazard writing, crucifixes hanging in any empty space. Every light socket is filled with a shattered bulb, the room dimming as the  evening sun begins to set. A stench of dead lingers in the air, thick and musty in each breath you force your body to take. 

WIll can hear your struggle from his headset, his eyes catching Jacks in a desperate attempt to get the go ahead to rush onto the scene. He just wants this to be over. 

Let’s take a field trip. I’ve got something to show you.

The agents hear your chair scrape against the floor, with only their imagination to guide them as a sliding door sounds through your mic. They hear you wince softly as you stumble and hit the ground. 

You silly girl! Always been so clumsy.

Will’s own breath begins to quicken as he grabs Jack's shoulder intensely. “We need to go in. Now.”

Crawford only sends him an intense glare before turning his attention back to the feed from your mic. He hasn’t gotten what he wants from the unsub yet, so interfering would only put you in more risk. 

You're dragged harshly by your arm as he pulls you up from the ground, a scrape on your side burning from air exposure, hot with running blood. The world seems to be closing in around you as he brings you to the edge of an empty swimming pool, the bottom completely covered in lit candles and splotched red splatters. He leans down, speaking directly into your ear. The disgusting heat of his breath spreads across the side of your face. 

You’re the last piece. My sacrifice to Him before I can finally ascend. 

You break at his words, everything feeling suddenly too real as you hear a gun cock just inches from your head soundtracked by his maniacal laughter. A quiet sob escapes you, sending a dagger through Will’s stomach as he hears you continue to break through your mic. He throws the headphones off, sending them clattering to the van floor as he straps on his vest, gun in hand. 

Jack tries to protest, but Will shrugs him off, opening the van door and jumping out. “It’s done!” He yells back at the agent, slamming the door behind him as he slowly treds across the street to the unsubs yard. A fence is all that blocks him from you as he approaches the backyard. 

Will listens carefully as the exchange continues between yourself and the man they’re trying to apprehend. 

It was always you, my dear! And now we can finally be His forever. 

The cold metal of the barrel meets a small patch of exposed skin on your stomach. You try to move away as best as you can, but the man only grips you harder, pressing the gun deeper into your belly. 

“Please! Please, you don’t have to do this!” You sob, any ounce of hope leaving you as the metal grows warm against your skin. He laughs behind you again, shaking your body as it only grows more intense. 

That’s where you’re wrong, silly thing. 

BANG….BANG

The gunshots sound through the air, leaving Will Breathless as he breaks through the fence. Only, who’s eyes he meets aren't the assailants, no, they’re Jack’s. His shock only takes over him for a moment before he hears a soft whimper emit from the ground, a pained cry he would recognise anywhere. 

Everything goes quiet at the sight before him. The unsub lays dead, facedown in the grass, his blood seeping into the dirt. The second gunshot, Will will deduce later, caused by Jack, who went around the other side of the house. But only a few feet away from him lays your trembling body, your hands desperately trying to hide your gushing wound. 

You almost look dead, your skin growing pale against the bright green grass, life slipping through your trembling fingers. 

Jack calls for medical as Will collapses onto the ground beside you, his own hands frantic as they try to remove yours from your stomach. “No no no no,” you call weakly beneath him, trying your best to conceal your wound from him, almost as if to undo it, “I’m ok-okay.” 

Tears trail down the raw skin of your cheeks as Will pries your hands away, peeling his own jacket hastily from his shoulders to press onto your wound, a pained cry escaping your throat at the pressure. 

“I know i know i know,” You feel Will’s palm wipe the tears from your eyes as he tries to comfort you amidst the pain, his head dipping down to rest his forehead on your own, “I’m sorry, baby. I know.”

“I-it hurts” your lips quivering at the admission. Your form begins to tremble in his hold, blood loss weighing heavily on you. Jack watches as his fellow Agent begins to break above you, his own shoulders beginning to shake. He hears the distant calls of an ambulance, rushing to the street to guide them back to you.

“Stay with me,” Will moves to pull you into his lap, holding you still from your shakes to prevent any jostling of your wound. Your head rests in the crook of his neck as his palms continue to press into your middle, warm blood covering his hands. “Please. Stay awake for me. You’re going to be okay.”

He pulls your head from his neck as he speaks, eyes searching yours for any sign, but he only finds you teetering between consciousness. Your head lulls back to its spot, a soft cry of Will’s name leaving you before he feels you go limp against him. 

“JACK!” The broken man cries, gripping your body to his, as if he could pass some of his life into you in this moment. His lips find your temple, kissing you softly, like you’re one crack away from breaking into millions of pieces. 

Somewhere in the mix, paramedics arrive, peeling your tattered body from Will’s hold, his begs of them to be careful and gentle with you are heard by every official on sight. 

They strap you onto the gurney, loading you up into the back of the ambulance before eagerly preparing for departure. You needed a hospital, and you need one now. 

The paramedic signals for Will to load himself into the back of the vehicle, knowing that he won’t respond well to having to travel separately, but before he can step inside, Jack’s hand grabs his shoulder. 

“Will, I’m-”

“Don’t.” The man shoots back, red eyes intentionally dodging Jacks before the door is closed between them. 

Will settles in on the small bench inside of the ambulance, his hand holding yours in his own. Your skin has begun to cool, your color drained as the paramedics begin working. His grip tightens over every bump in the road. 

5 minutes passed before he felt it, the softest grip your own hand returned to his. He is immediately on alert, leaning closer to your form as he watches your eyes open against the bright lights of the ambulance. 

You groan at their brightness, your voice hoarse as you try to call for Will, confusion laced within as you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. He hears the fear in your voice, immediately answering and bringing your hand to his lips. “I’m right here with you,” he whispers chokingly, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek. 

Your head whips around to meet his gaze, relief dawning on your form at the sight of him. Will’s stomach pangs at the sight of tears welling up in your tired eyes, lip quivering as you look at him with intense fear. 

He feels your weight shift as you lean your head against his knee, his own adorned with a messy mop of curls coming down to rest on yours carefully. “Will,” you hushedly sob, his soft lips meeting your forehead in response. 

“I’ve got you, I promise” 

✧˖°

AAA THIS ANGST PIECE WAS SO DIFFERENT!! I hope you guys enjoyed <3

The gif I used is from a set made by the lovely @hughdancybabyface

My request box is currently open, lovelies! Feel free to drop a request in there (or just Hannibal chitter chatter) just please read my guidelines first :)

[randomshyperson]

Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together. 

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around. 

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.” 

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army. 

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms. 

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.” 

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better. 

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you. 

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.