#i watched a compilation of him from the early seasons and i sobbed i missed him so much omggg

[miutonium]

I love early season Utonium so muchhh he has much more silly expression during this time and also i just personally love his design during this era aaaaa 🥺🥺🥺

[comma-souptra]

BBC Merlin 10th rewatch thoughts compilation:

(this is also my first full rewatch since I was literally 18 so prefrontal cortex is notably more developed or whatever)

This is SO long and rambled because it’s for me and putting my thoughts down on my blog! But feel free to peruse bc I am just crying sobbing putting words down. Thoughts under the cut for spoilers <3

-fuck this show fr

-starting off strong with Angel Coulby you are the most beautiful woman and the most perfect Guinevere possible

-something interesting is how much more the lack of communication drove me bonkers this time around, like please just explain everything in detail to each other we could solve so many problems

-Merlin also seems like so much more of an ill-moraled character this go around? Like he is truly so morally grey and his logic for “should I do this” is deeply just “does it in any potential way benefit Arthur/the fuckass prophecy”

-TO THE POINT THAT he’s literally like Magic’s #1 Hater for five straight seasons AND can’t see that he is actively making the prophecy unfold every single time

-Gwen/Morgana gfs my angels I’m so sorry this happened to you

-Morgana should have had a friend so badly like one friend (not Morgause) would have saved her

-same exact sentiment for Mordred

-Merlin/Arthur and Merlin/Gwaine literally no comments

-actually this show invented polyamory and throuples would have saved many of you

-ON THE TOPIC Lancelot so badly is both Arthur and Merlin’s queer awakening in my heart. I do think Merlin likely already knew (Will) but I think his relationship to Lancelot made queer relationships seem feasible in some form

-I do not think Arthur knew at all and that’s why he looks so damn confused every time he interacts with Lancelot

-Lancelot is around for SO much less than I ever remember too he really is just stepping in to be pretty and complicate the narrative and then leave again

-Arthur needs glasses so severely I fear because I can excuse a lot of the missing magic moments but I watched Merlin lock eyes with him and use magic during that S5 dice game you can’t explain that one away

-Gwaine my beloved! Proof that a fictional man can be both a butch lesbian to the women in his life and a pansexual man to everyone else

-Morgana and Morgause…. This script is fruity as hell can we be for real. Both actresses said “yeah we played it a little queer” I fear the BBC was not brave enough to give Morgana an evil fucked up gf and went the Kill la Kill route

-I think by Elyan’s death all the knights fully must know that the ambiguous secret Merlin seems to have is in fact his magic and they are just choosing not to say anything out of respect for him (“he’s tell us when he’s ready”)

-EXCEPT: Leon doesn’t know. I do however think Leon just thinks Merlin is gay.

-Gwaine absolutely knows there’s literally no way around that one

-Gwen I feel also had an inkling that Merlin had magic, which I feel is supported by her and Gaius’ conversation in S5E13, I do also think she thinks he’s gay

-I also do think Merlin is gay

-I forgot how much of a through-line the joke that Merlin crossdresses is, it comes up at least three times

-tangentially related, the early friendship between Morgana and Merlin… I mourn u every day! The friends they could’ve been and how happy he was when he thought she knew he had magic (S1? When she thinks he has a crush on Gwen)

-also I forgot how much angst Merlin had about magic towards Gaius, several (justified) comments about how Gaius doesn’t understand what he’s going through

-also so so interesting is that I feel like in so many Magic Revealed fics, we write Arthur responding with shock & confusion & anger (which all rock big fan), but in the finale, once he understands that Merlin is so for serious a sorcerer, he’s just so scared of him?? Which was crazy I don’t think that has sunk in before how scared he looks

-and then they start to get over it and we get the reminiscing about their fight from the first day they met where Merlin confesses to using magic and we get the devastating exchange “you cheated” “you looked like you were going to kill me!” “I should have”

-damn major nostalgia vibe killer from Arthur, DEVASTATING on this rewatch

-also S5E12 when Gwaine and Merlin and traveling through the valley of the fallen kings and get jumped by bandits and Merlin gets cornered and HOLLERS for Gwaine thank you BBC that one lives rent free in my head always

-fuck this dragon for real also because Merlin DOES kind of fail like none of the shit they planned for happened, they got pieces but so much more COULDVE worked out without this fuckass dragon whispering in Merlin’s ear every day Kilgharrah it’s on sight dude

-finally maybe the most sickening parallel I have to offer is S4E13 when Isolde is dying and she and Tristan are reminiscing on the plans they had that are obviously not going to happen anymore and she says “hold me”

-which obviously is striking a significant chord with Arthur as it spurs him to reconcile with Gwen (thank god everyone cheered)

-(also why was the full breadth of her enchantment never discussed back to miscommunication please she didn’t cheat on him like that justice for Gwen’s rep I’m sick)

-BUT ALSO! A season later in S5E13 we get Merlin and a dying Arthur with Merlin trying to explain that they have so much to do so Arthur can’t die, and Arthur says “just hold me”

-I will lose it every time about this one… watching half of a couple die and mourn the chance to live a life together and then mirroring that at your own death with the man you are unexplainably close and connected to

-also the “I’m going to say something I’ve never said to you before… thank you” had such a queer set up that even my parents thought it was going to be an “I love you” when we watched the show for the first time together in like 2014 so… it’s the Spanish supernatural finale dub in my heart

-I think that’s enough I’m just sick to my STOMACH over this show once again, obviously it’s a BBC show from 2009 so it’s not without criticism but it’s genuinely my favorite TV show I’ve ever seen without competition. There is a deeply clear allegory for queerness that has drawn in and continues to draw in queer fans constantly and keep the viewership active. I also just love so badly how campy and classic it is, it’s one of the few pieces of media I have in DVD because I fear so badly to lose it. BBC Merlin I love u what a brilliant and silly and devastating tv show from 2009

[cordytriestowrite]

Cupcake

Bucky Barnes x Reader

One Shot

Summary: All it takes is time and cupcakes (post-Endgame)

Cupcakes. You had awoken well into the night with the urge to bake cupcakes. This wasn't the first time you had shot up from a dead sleep with a rapid heartbeat and the need to whip up something sweet for the others to rise to. Sam said it was your way of processing everything post snap and as you pulled yourself out of bed and slipped into your slippers you thought about just how ridiculous that sounded.

No one else was awake, though there weren't many of you anymore. Your sleepy shuffle brought you past what had been Wanda's room up until two days ago when she had solemnly packed her bags and bid you farewell. You used to hear her around this time, gut wrenching sobs that would make you rush past her door lest you break down with your own despair. You still hurried to pass her open door and empty room. Your heart still squeezed with her sadness. 

The other doors were closed, as they always were at this time. You didn't know if the people behind them were asleep or awake but you compiled your ingredients as quietly as possible. Mixing bowls and pans you found easily by the light of the open refrigerator. Measuring spoons and cups sat clean in the sink, never put back to their shelf after you had made a bit too much noise bringing them down the first time. 

Eggs, milk, flour, sugar, and then a debate of flavor: strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, pumpkin? This was the part that didn't make sense to you when Sam said you used this time to process grief. Your thoughts never strayed to the five years you missed and if your mind ever even tried to dwell on Tony or Nat or Steve-

Pumpkin, you resolved with a firm nod. Pumpkin was in season and with the distinct lack of seasonal cheer within the house the smell of pumpkin cupcakes in the early dawn could be perfect. 

Cream cheese frosting too. Sprinkles perhaps, if you had any appropriately colored sprinkles. You could feel a bloom of energy open below your breastbone and flutter like wings at the base of your throat tickling you to smile.

You followed no recipe, having done this so many times now the ratios came naturally to you. You dipped a clean finger into the batter, curious to taste the pumpkin flavor and spontaneous pinch of cinnamon. Just as your lips were to close upon your batter covered digit you noticed a glint of metal in the weak light of the still open refrigerator door. Your body involuntarily spasmed with surprise, sending your finger across your cheek instead of into your mouth. Instinct brought your other hand to your hip to grab a weapon that wasn't there. 

The overhead light flicked on and your eyes clenched closed at the onslaught. It felt wrong to have the room so bright at this hour and once you took in the intruder you plunged both of you into darkness once more. 

"Jesus, Bucky, you scared the shit outta me."

Your words came out as a whisper as your eyes darted in the direction of the closed doors, except you couldn't see them in the dimness. 

Bucky was silent, his chin rested heavily in his metal palm. He looked tired, which made sense due to the hour, but it didn't look like he planned to move from the stool he now occupied on the other side of the counter. You shrugged and turned away wiping desperately at your face, then pouring the batter into tins once you were sure your cheek was batter-free. 

The process went all too quickly from there. As you slid the pan into the oven you felt a sudden drop in mood. Eighteen minutes you would have to wait for the runny batter to rise and thicken into a dense, moist cupcake. Eighteen minutes you would sit in silence and watch the clock, counting the seconds in your head as if you and the digital clock on the oven were competing for best capture of each minute. It was either that or falling asleep in the silence of the still hour and subsequently burning down the only home you had. 

You turned around, intending to sit yourself on a stool and begin your competitive time-keeping only to be suddenly reminded there was someone else in the room with you. Bucky had not moved an inch since you had acknowledged him. His bright blue eyes pierced through the darkness with an unsettling alertness and you shivered at the vulnerability he had thrust upon you. The hand that had shot to your chest was resting over a decelerating heartbeat. There was something instinctively you still feared about Bucky due to the lack of time you'd spent with him. It was in his eyes, you thought, or maybe the slight frown his lips came to rest in naturally. Maybe it was all in your head, your mind unable to separate the man before you with the Winter Soldier of HYDRA. 

Time did not stop even if you had your back turned to it. The stare that had you locked in place allowed you passage as Bucky glanced to the clock behind you. Your breath came out long and heavy and your lips tingled in gratitude at the influx of oxygen. Looking at the ground you crossed kitchen and around the counter to the stool beside him. Lips mimed the counting of seconds.

"How long?"

You lost count and the question sounded too loud in your ears. You glanced over to Bucky and quickly turned back to stare ahead, fidgeting in your seat as another sensation of unease rolled down your spine. 

"Seventeen more minutes."

It was too long. Too long to be spending with the man next to you. You swallowed and drummed your fingers against the counter. This minute was lost to you and you would have to wait for the next one to start counting again. The muscles in your neck cried for movement but you didn't dare spare yourself to turn your head in his direction. 

You wondered if Bucky knew you were afraid of him, if he knew how your body filled with adrenaline at his very presence. You wondered how it made him feel, if he cared at all. After so many sleepless nights alone in the kitchen you could not come to any conclusion as to why he was here with you this time. Unless you had made too much noise.

"Sorry if I woke you."

Your voice cracked. In your attempt to keep your voice low you had lost it all together. Despite this Bucky seemed to have caught the essence of your statement. You allowed yourself a quick glance of him. With his head down and eyes averted you felt safe to actually observe him.

His hair was short now making him look more handsome than feral. His strong jaw was on display to you now, clean shaven and marking an appealing path to his cleft chin and pouty lips. Bucky's profile sent a jolt through your system of a different kind, one that warmed you from belly to cheeks. He turned his unreadable eyes to you and that warmth abruptly faded. 

"Spent too long sleepin' anyway."

He might not have meant for the words to sound so ominous but the weight of them brought a cold sweat to your brow. The urge was there to comfort him, to wrap your arms around him and feel something from him other than wave after wave of detachment and disinterest. You stood slowly and like an out of body experience you felt you had no control over your actions. You watched your feet hit the floor between you and bring you ever closer to Bucky Barnes and in a last minute shuffle felt your mind gain back control.

"Want to help me make the frosting?"

Your voice was too loud again, the words said by you but not the way you intended. You were going to say 'I should make the frosting' with no 'we' involved. 

Bucky's eyebrows rose and with it the veil of intimidation. His eyes seemed brighter now that they weren't hidden under furrowed brows and the way his mouth parted in what could only be disbelief let the hard lines around his lips relax. With a single question he seemed younger and, with a sigh of relief on your end, less terrifying. The kitchen had shifted on its axis with both of you trying to right yourselves and adapt to its new position and maybe that's why Bucky decided to shift it all again and throw you both back to the ground.

"Sure."

He's off his stool, standing in the not-enough-space-for-the-two-of-you spot you were already occupying. Your chests were brushing, breaths mingling, eyes glancing then looking away again. You had no control and Bucky's eyes were so different now. So open and blue with a hint of astonishment pushing through anguish and anger. And those eyes, when they landed on you, it's like they were seeing you for the first time. It was all too much, making your breath swell in your chest like a balloon on the verge of bursting and you were afraid the loud pop of it would wake the house. 

"Ten minutes."

Air rushed from your lungs with Bucky's words and suddenly you felt very empty and stretched with exhaustion. You let out an undignified noise of confused to which Bucky reacted in a way so uncharacteristic of him your jaw would have dropped if it wasn't cradled in his hand. 

He was pointing your chin in the direction of the clock set into the stove. Ten minutes until the cupcakes were done. So much had changed in seven minutes making you momentarily suspicious that the clock had stopped. Nine minutes and everything was real again, including the fingers against your skin. You wanted to look at him, to see his expression and let him see yours, wanting him to see the confusion written on your face and receive an answer to how you had gotten to this point in seven minutes. Instead you kept your eyes trained on the clock and counted down another minute.

"We should get started."

You could hear the humor in his voice, a foreign lilt to your ears but a welcome song nonetheless. You smiled and nodded loosening what little grip he had on you. He moved away first and rounded the counter, standing to the side of it and allowing you to walk before him and take the lead. You tactically removed a mixing bowl from the crowded cupboard and grouped your ingredients to the side of it. 

You were used to working in silence and not so much used to giving instructions so you measured and dumped ingredients in without explanation, but Bucky didn't seem to need any. He stirred the contents of the bowl as you added more to it, working in a silent but effective tandem to create the smooth and fluffy frosting. With Bucky left to his mixing you glanced at the clock and excitedly donned the oven mits. You thought you might've heard a soft exhale of air behind you but paid it no mind as you opened the oven door.

The scent of pumpkin wafted in swells of heat and you breathed in deeply as you pricked the top of a few cakes with a toothpick which came out clean each time. With pan in hand you closed the door to the oven and turned it off, then set the pan on the stovetop. Smiling you turned to your unexpected, but not unwelcome, baking companion.

"Those will need to cool before we can- fingers out of the batter mister!"

Too loud, too demanding, too playful. If you could you would catch those words on your fingers and pop them back into your mouth the way Bucky was doing the frosting. His eyes were wide again and hopelessly blue but streaked with deviousness and guilt giving them a dimension you had never seen. His index finger pulled from his lips to give you a knee-weakening smile. 

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

He sounded anything but sorry. The smirk on his lips and the way his tongue darted out to gather a bit of frosting smeared across his bottom lip told you it wasn't safe to turn away from him again. You were afraid of him, but not for the reasons you were before. This wasn't the Winter Soldier who stared at you with empty eyes somehow seeing you and seeing through you. This was Bucky, the Bucky your Captain used to talk about, who flirts with all the dames and drags you on vomit inducing rollercoasters and is with you 'til the end of the line. He was there this whole time, under months of grief and mourning he was there, uncovered in only seventeen minutes, and you felt like a fool for not finding him sooner.

You felt it in your throat first. The bulge of a sob against your larynx that traveled up and out of your quivering lips. Too loud. Bucky was in front of your before the tears could spill so when they started to his thumbs were in place to wipe them away. Too loud. You were wailing like a lonely spirit, like you were watching it all over again on the battlefield, like the weight of your loss had finally slammed against your heart and cut it up, leaving it hurt and bleeding and expected to still beat. 

"I'm sorry, Bucky. I'm so sorry I didn't see you before."

He was shushing you, holding you. His heart torn and bleeding with yours. You could feel it in the way his chest convulsed with the sobs he was managing to keep at bay. 

"I miss them so much. I've missed so much."

Bucky guided your head to his shoulder but it was too late.

Too loud. Too bright. You weren't just wrapped in one pair of arms anymore. You couldn't see with your face buried in Bucky's shoulder but you could feel them holding you tight, sniffling, whispering. 

"Let it all out." Sam's voice cut through it all.

"You're finally letting it all out."

There was no clock to tell you how long you all stood together, no room in your brain to count the seconds. It was lighter outside and brighter inside, noises weren't too loud and voices weren't lowered. Your cheek rested against the tear soaked fabric covering Bucky's shoulder; he was the only one who hadn't drawn away from you yet. With tired eyes you watched Bruce pluck the edge of a cupcake liner in his large green forefinger and thumb. With his one good hand he maneuvers the cupcake upside down and proceeds to dip it into the bowl of frosting. You let out an indignant squeal as he raises it back up messy and dripping. A soft chuckle flutters the hair above your ear while a gentle palm stokes the back of your head.

"That's not how the frosting - oh forget it."

Arms squeezing a little tighter around Bucky's waist you rest your chin on his cold, wet shoulder, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and begin to count the seconds that you began to feel okay again. You knew you'd lose count soon enough, especially when you could feel the man wrapped around you extend a hand to dip into the mixing bowl again.

"Bucky, don't you dare!"

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[stunudo]

Infiltrated: Part 9

A FBI Agent reader thrusts herself in the middle of the Reaper investigation, leaving the BAU questioning if they need her. Foyet unleashes another layer to his manipulation of Aaron Hotchner and his team. Is this consulting agent trustworthy? Something about her tells Hotch that this case is just as important to her as it is him. Can she work both sides of the law to meet her means? A salacious series of smut and betrayal…. Spotify playlist 

Setting: Season 5

Series

A/N: If you haven’t seen episode 100, you’re not going to understand the leaps in this chapter. Go watch it, bring tissues. I didn’t want to do an entire episode rewrite as it is phenomenal and shouldn’t be touched. But I added some dialogue to continue the suspense of our reader’s fate. xoxo Stu

Warnings: Blood, violence, moral repugnancy, and general unsub behavior. Major Character Deaths. This is the definition of angst.

Aaron Hotchner had stepped down as acting Unit Chief after he felt pressured from his superiors to do so. As he looked Derek Morgan in the eye and admitted that he had been sleeping with a woman who had an unhealthy connection and possible vendetta against George Foyet, he finally saw that his judgement had been compromised. He was not fit to lead his team like this.

“What about Y/N?” Hotch asked Morgan after he went over everything that Garcia had compiled.

“Withholding evidence, impeding an investigation and accomplice to murder, for starters,” He replied, waiting for Hotch’s rebuttal. A lawyer always has to have the last word.

“You’re going to arrest her? She’s the best link to Foyet we’ve got!” Hotch was on the edge, his brain trying to keep up with the taste of copper in his mouth, he had been chewing the inside of his cheek as he had read the chat logs and looked over some grainy surveillance stills.

“Okay,” Morgan’s voice was calm, yet challenging. “How about we try it your way? Huh? Wine and dine her into handing over the unsub?”

“Morgan, that’s not what this is about.” Hotch started. “We need to set up a trace on her, she’ll draw him out without even realizing she’s helping us.”

“I think we both know that she’s better than that,” Morgan gave Hotch an indifferent head shake. Just then JJ rushed into Morgan’s office with a look of revelation on her face.

“What if Foyet was supplementing with over-the-counter meds?”

*

The thrill of it all, that’s what he was going to miss. Not the mindless hours of stalking his prey from afar, but the moments when sheer ingenuity paid off. Haley Hotchner fell for his distressed Marshal routine like a drunk prom date. Soon he would be rubbing Hotchner’s face in the mess that his self-righteousness had made. George had a few stops before he would be bringing the little family together again.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on Hotchner’s face when he showed up.

You hadn’t gone home since the night with Aaron, deciding to go for a run before reassessing how you could track down Kassmeyer and eventually Haley and Jack. Your burner rang in the glove compartment before you were out of the parking spot near the park fountain.

“I thought we were done with this game.” Your tone impetuous.

“I thought you should know your little buddies at the BAU caught my scent. Might want to watch your back.”

You swallowed, hard. The sweat from your run freezing down your neck and locking onto your spine. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Always so hostile the morning after? I guess Hotchner doesn’t know how to give you the release I can.” You shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still triggered your defenses.

“What are you going to do?” You changed the subject, not wanting to think about last night and what it meant now that the BAU were on George’s tail.

“Is that concern Agent Turner? You should probably look into keeping those emotions in check. We’re almost to the finish line.”

You felt it, the inevitability of trying and failing to control a force like the Reaper. He remained ahead of you, the FBI, the Boston PD and the US Marshals. You were truly frightened for the first time in a long time.

“Uh-oh, that’s my other phone. Sorry doll, but I think its your boyfriend on the line.” Without any formalities, the call went dead.

*

“After I finish you, I’m going to find that little bastard son of yours. And I’m going to show him both of his dead parents and I’m gonna tell him that all of this was all your fault.” George taunted and Hotch sprung back at him.

Each punch landing on the face of pure evil, each impact satisfying fuel to his grief and guilt. The rage of his father surged through him and he let go of his years of restraint.

“Oh, shit. You got me. I surrender,” George almost smiled up at him. Hotch was done listening. Each thing that this man had taken from him and others flashed through his mind as Hotch’s fist connected over and over to Foyet’s battered skull.

“Turner was right about you, Hotch. You’re no boy scout,” George groaned, that cocky smirk sneaking up as the life left his body. Before he even heard the sirens, Derek was pulling Hotch off of Foyet’s corpse. And he crumbled.

*

Hotch had never felt relief like this before. He found Jack, safe, in the cubby beside his desk in the home office.

“I worked the case just like you said,” his innocent voice was a choir of angels.

When Jack was firmly in JJ’s arms, Hotch lost his composure again. The gratitude and loss sending shock waves through his body. His feet took him back upstairs, finding Derek holding Haley’s lifeless hand. He drew her body to his chest and let it go.

“Get out of here, go see if they need help downstairs,” Derek’s deep voice spoke to someone behind him. Hotch’s sobs shook his entire being. Derek let him be, but all too soon, the scene needed to be cleared for processing.

*

“I don’t understand if Haley was killed in the front room and brought up to the bedroom, why is there so much blood in the pantry?” Emily asked quizzically to Rossi and Reid as they slowly walked out of the house.

Hotch hadn’t caught the details when he stormed inside, searching for his family and for Foyet. “How much blood?” His throat was raw.

“At least a quart,” Reid replied. Rossi froze and looked at Hotch, something inside them both told them Foyet wasn’t done yet.

Derek moved to the techs immediately, “I want this blood analyzed asap, we might have another victim out there.”

“Is there someplace he would take her?” Emily looked at Hotch concerned. “Would he have had time to kill her and move the body?”

“If he had killed Agent Turner while he waited for Haley to meet him, he would have.” Reid suggested.

“Wait, would she have known where he was taking Haley?” JJ asked.

In unison, Derek, Rossi and Hotch confirmed with a tense, “Yes.”

Emily and JJ shared a confused yet weighted look.

“We can’t be sure this is Y/N’s blood. Let’s send teams to search her place and mine. Derek, put out an APB and get a hold of Garcia to see if Y/N has somehow turned up to work today.” Hotch doled out instructions, over Derek’s authority.

*

Emily and Rossi led their team of agents up to the small apartment on the fourth floor. The old carpeting soft under their increasing footsteps.

“There’s no way he could have dragged her up here without someone seeing him.” Emily said in disbelief.

“Well, maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll get to arrest her instead.” Rossi snipped, the weariness laced through his voice. With the key they got from the super, they entered the large living-dining-kitchen combination. Splattered over every reachable inch of the main wall were photographs, maps and charts. Rossi grimaced as his team members’ faces squinted into the distance of surveillance shots scattered before him.

“Holy-” Emily stepped back.

Rossi didn’t reply, he just dialed his phone. “Garcia- send a full evidence collection crew to Y/N’s place. We need to find her before she’s too far gone.”

“Gone? As in dead gone or off the grid gone?” Garcia squeaked over the speaker phone. Emily glanced over to Rossi, “I’ll get Reid over here.”

*

You had wiped the dingy studio where you had first been with Aaron. Trying to remain calm, you pulled into your regular apartment, where George had spent the most time with you. This would take a bit more effort to clean up, but you figured the BAU had their hands full today. You had missed the SUVs on the curb since you entered from the underground parking lot. But the peons in blue windbreakers sent you back down the stairwell in a single motion. You were out of time.

*

You were walking along the quaint downtown street in a daze, your arms lolling at your sides as you hopped over the cracks in the sidewalk. Your belly was full of cotton candy, the remnants sticking between your little fingers. You were six years old.

Jumping out of the truck you waved behind you, trying to sneak in past curfew through the side door in the kitchen. The ceiling fan light whirred to life as your mother’s unamused face met you from the breakfast table. You were fifteen.

Your dad barked at the ump, the Sox were down by two. You had saved up your babysitting money all summer to buy an official jersey to wear on the first day of senior year. You couldn’t believe you were almost an adult and out in the world on your own.

Running into the police department with your waitress uniform still on, your eyes burned with tears. You had heard that the FBI wasn’t able to find the bastard, but you weren’t going to let them quit, not yet. A younger agent asked you to calm down in a low tone, you balked at him. His dark eyes framed with impossible lashes which only made you more angry that he got to stand there looking pretty while you were a fuming mess.

George’s eyes lingered on you whenever Colson took notes. There was something hypnotic about them. You had learned to channel your anger into your studies, graduating early and moving on to the academy had happened in a blur. Life as an FBI agent wasn’t as glamorous or dangerous as the movies had people believe, but it got you where you wanted to go.

You hadn’t expected that playing a part in this saga of violence would have you falling in love with the very agent who had turned his back on your parents’ murders. You hadn’t expected the control you had given George over your body would have been a grounding force for your tortured mind. You had lost your mission and therefore your redemption. It was time to leave the past in the past.

You got up from the bench in the library foyer and moved on.

Walking into headquarters you held up your hands, the security guards had their weapons raised as soon as they spotted you. The few agents checking in for their shifts backed them up accordingly.

“I’m here to turn myself in, but I need to see Agent Aaron Hotchner on the sixth floor first.” The head of security nodded and a heavy set man from the cyber crimes stepped behind you, locking your hands behind your back in a cold biting pair of cuffs.

The elevator ride was stuffy and filled with bitterness, your arresting agents’ comm units buzzing over your circumstances. You wanted to make a joke, but they didn’t deserve your charms at the moment. The called floor dinged and the doors spread open to their bullpen. You inched forward with the weight of the agent’s pudgy fists on your back.

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m a bit tied up at the moment. Hotch around?” You kept your head up and waited for JJ to sprint up the stairs, pass the chief’s office and duck into the round table room. Morgan and Rossi emerged followed quickly by Hotch, who was holding Jack as the gentle smile fell from his face.

You exhaled, letting the bruises and despair of Hotch’s face tell you what you needed to know. Haley was dead. But Foyet hadn’t won, not completely. Hotch stood tall and the little boy remained untouched.

“I, Y/N Y/L/N would like to make a formal confession of my crimes, Agent Hotchner. But only if you will hear me out.”

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