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mazikeenhyde · 2 months ago

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Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure - Part 3

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER)

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART!-

SMUT, GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING

I’m going to apologize to you all now, and prewarn you in advance, this is an absolute rollercoaster of a storyline! Shits about to get REAL messy!

TAG LIST - @babybatlover

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Part 3

Late afternoon had seen the sun burn the remainder of the clouds from the sky, leaving a beautiful blue horizon view from across the backyard. Flocks of birds gathered as they headed over the break line, waving in and out of the smoke coming from our BBQ pit.

I sat, gently rocking my feet back and forth on the chair egg swing we had attached to one of the older grand oak trees in our yard. It was all I had wanted when we moved in, somewhere calm and content where I could just exist. Enjoy my time, enjoy my life, and admire the world around me. Ponder life’s big questions…

‘LOCKER WITNESSES’

I re read that message repeatedly in my mind, who was it from? witnessed what?

I had deleted the other text from my phone, I wasn’t going down that road.

The sounds of two men’s deep voices bought me back, looking over to my lovers I could see Finn & Damien adorned in their matching ‘TOP CHEF’ aprons and cooking utensils with a beer in hand, either chatting away or debating about how best to cook the chicken.

Whilst further down on the sun loungers, Rhea had stripped down to one of her thin black bikinis with the metal skull clip fastenings, she was catching the last of the sunrays to her already perfect Sunkissed skin. Christ, how did I get so lucky as to be a part of this incredible love…. Pentagon? It’s a five-way love triangle, let’s leave it at that.

When we had been initially searching for a house to buy, one to really call home that is; we had all had something in mind we desperately wanted as a feature. We knew it needed to be a big house, one with a master bedroom where we could assemble out two King size beds that had been custom made to attach in the middle, I cannot begin to tell you how comfortable and comforting it is being held close and safe by the four people you love more than anything in the world.

The guilt though…

Still, obviously Rhea & Finn were dead set on having a large garage/ open internal space to set up the home gym. Of course, whilst on the road we still used a lot of public gyms and one-off hotel workout rooms here and there, but when we are at home, in each other’s company, away from the world, the fans, all that attention. It is so lovely knowing we don’t have to leave our little safe haven.

Damian had specifically made it clear he wanted a huge kitchen, open planned that backed into a dinning area. When we moved in, he had taken the time to build up a barista style coffee corner and a breakfast station on the central island. Then with Finn’s help, they worked on a D.I.Y project together to design and create a full bar set up next to the table and chairs where we ate. They had eventually given in and allowed Dom to help with the painting of the bar, because he wanted to be a ‘DIY Man’ too.

The boys always referred to it as the lad’s corner, a custom-built wooden bar that was painted a deep tranquil green and black with illuminated LED letters on the wall; ‘ALL RISE, ALL DRINK’. That however did not stop Rhea and I from emptying some of those back bar bottles on one of many messy nights! For some reason, whenever Rhea breaks out the Tequila, we always end up playing strip twister… Odd.

Dominick, of course… wanted a gaming room. Not just any gaming room mind you, a ‘Mens” gaming room.

*Sigh*

Problem is he is just so adorable at times, and we all give in, he had been granted his request of course! Although Priest put his foot down when Dom had asked for an indoor arcade style basketball hoop game, he was allowed a hoop outside but that was it. We had all seen enough broken windows during the season when Finn had tried to teach Damien and Dominick how to play golf.

It still makes me laugh when the boys talk about how they would feel guilty that they were off spending time together, while Rhea and I would miss out? Ha. Little did they know when they buggered off to do ‘man’s stuff’ we girls would high tail it upstairs to the family bathroom and strip off into the bathtub for some… girl’s time. *Wink Wink*

I remember one morning; Rhea and I were standing in the arched doorway at the crack of dawn waving the boys off as they set out on an early start to play a full days Golf. Leaning into her chest I rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes as she bent her head down and nuzzled her lips into the crook of my neck.

“I tell you now Y/N, I would rather run the risk of drowning when we get in that bathtub, and I bury my face deep in your pussy… then stand in a damp field hitting a stick at a ball.” Her teeth nipped at the skin of my ear lobe and my entire body melted at her touch.

Christ the things that woman does to me.

A loud crash had bought me back to reality, Dom had been trying to carry a tray of drinks out to the garden for us all but had tripped over some excess weigh plates we had left outside, sending the poor lad flying arse over tit.

“Shit! God damn it, ow fuck!” Dom pulled himself up to his knees, swiping the drinks tray away in frustration before noticing blood trickling down his arm from the glasses that he had smashed across the decking. He was quick to freeze, unable to process what to do next or how to stand up safely.

Rhea was quick to make her way over to him from the sun lounger, followed by Damian who handed Finn his spatula and beer before rushing over to help the poor lad.

I know, I know I should have been focused on the fact that the boy I loved so much needed some help, some TLC, compassion, and support…

But I am only human.

And Rhea Bloody Ripley….

Running….

In a mini black laced bikini…

Slightly wet from the heat of the sun touching her skin, God how she glistened. How she got my motor running and…

Finn had noticed my distraction and whistled loudly, gathering my attention.

“Aye! Lass, enough of that! Go... Take a lap!” He gestured, pointing to the end of the field in our garden. The yard stretched about 1/4 of a mile down and was cut off by the woodland. One of my favorite things about this house was the nature that came with it. It all felt so…natural and back down to earth compared to the chaos and mayhem at WWE.

Pointing his BBQ tongs and Damian’s spatula at me, Finn raised his eyebrow.

“No distractions, ya hear!”

I tried not to laugh at his remark, turning my face away to hide my snicker and rolling my eyes. I was still wearing my gym gear from before; except I had nabbed one of Dominick’s merch shirts on the way to the garden from the drying rack, I was self-conscious about my stomach, and I liked to hide my body where I could.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?!” Finn sternly questioned me as he put the utensils down.

At this point Rhea was taking Dom inside through the double doors, whilst Damian stood back up and turned in my direction.

Fuck… they are hot when they get all dominant.

“Mi Vida, did you roll your eyes?” Damian’s words were colder, flat, and prominent. I could tell he was almost looking for a reason to get me upstairs into the bedroom. Christ I was half tempted to give him a solid reason.

Put me across your lap Papa Priest, let me feel the strength between your thighs and lay it into me Goddamn it!

The devil on my shoulder sang its heart out at the idea, but I remembered earlier when Finn has spun the actions back against me. Leaving me alone and sexually frustrated I thought better of the situation.

“Me? I would never…” I said quite obnoxious/sarcastically and smiled that cheeky brat look at them before hopping up off the tree swing. I could see Damian trying not to break or give in… but a slight smirk crept into the corner of his lips.

“I’m going to take a lap!” I stated and grinned before making a run for it, heading down and out of sight from the lads. I had a much better plan in mind to deal with my frustrations when I got in the shower later anyway.

I was out of breath by the time I got back towards our street, less than a ¼ mile to go! I had decided to go for a proper run to clear my mind. A good few miles should do the trick, that’s what Rhea always said! With my headphones in and a decent playlist on, nothing was going to stop me!

One foot after another I pressed on, sweat dripping down my neck I desperately tried to Shake off all that nervous energy I had built up now that WrestleMania was less than 2 weeks away. I had been on edge at times, and it showed when I trained in the ring with Rhea and Dom. Running back-to-back moves, counters, pins, and submissions, it was like every time I thought I had learnt it someone would come along and wipe my slate clean, and I knew nothing again.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to be a champion?

Maybe I was out of my depth?

Rhea should be in this match not me.

Me? Y/W/N? Was I really cut out to be a champion?

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket as I continued running. I tried looking at my smart watch as I ran, though it was tricky to focus on a smaller screen.

I could see a couple messages from Finn stating the food was ready, one from Damian also telling me the food was ready, one from Dom telling me he was going to eat my hot dog if I didn’t hurry up and one from Rhea telling me she wasn’t going to let Dom touch my food.

Honestly this lot, I love them so much.

Turning into our street I could see our house gate entrance just up the hill, with a little spring in my step I pushed on feeling like I was picking up speed. I felt energized, I felt incredible, maybe I could do this after all!

With the gate just in reach and the sweet smokey smell of the BBQ lingering in the air I put my head down to push those least few feet…

But within a split second I felt something behind me.

The music cut out as my headphones were launched to the floor and my arms locked in tight by a strength I hadn’t ever had to match. Kicking my legs out I felt them rise off the floor and before I could even fathom the mental capacity to make a sound the feeling of sticky back plastic tape suckered its way in across my lips. My eyes pooled up as the bag went over my head and my vision became darkness. A hard and cold metal floor was met with my body weight as I was hurled inside, my heart beating out of my chest the fear became all too real as I felt the ground under move away at speed.

A hot breath came down my neck, raising every last hair on my skin to react. The voice was muffled, as if speaking through a mask.

“You did this Y/N…”

“You did this… and now you cannot handle the monster you created.”

The silence in between each word was deafening, but it was the next voice that bought the fear of God into my soul.

“ Told you I’d find you...miss me?”

TO BE CONTINUED

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writers-potion · 24 days ago

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How to raise animals and plants?

Hmmmm I've never had a pet and I've basically killed every plant that has ever set foot in my life?? Should ask a gardening blog -

Okay just joking, I can adress that question in two ways:

"raising" animals and plant like how you'd raise a demon

raising magical/fiction animals and plants

Summoning Animals and Plants

I don't imagine raising animals and plants being too different from summoning anything magically. It could be as simple as:

Setting up a magic system that allows magic practitioners to conjure plants and animals out of thin air

A pentagon-and-candle style ritual that would summon animals/plants in the middle once the right spells have been executed.

A magical instrument (like a horn, flute) that would call out to animals and plants nearby to you

Some ideas for summoning spells/rituals:

You need to call the animal/plant's "true name" to get their attention.

Once summoned, you are stuck with them for life.

You can summon powerful animals/plants, but you'll need to share you "life force" with them, eating into you own lifespan.

You can only summon the animal when you have a piece of their body - like a tooth, feather, or droplets of saliva.

When you summon a young animal, it will imeediately consider you to be their "mother". Good luck raising them.

Humans and animal/plant have a contractual relationship where a mother would send their young to a human to be trained after a certain age.

Plants cannot be uprooted from the exact locations they've been raised. Even if it's your bed or toliet.

Nurturing Fantasy Animals and Plants

There are a few ways in which raising fantasy pets can be different:

What they eat: metal? human blood? a horribly large amount of paper? Would it be troublesome for the owner to feed them?

Their size: The fantasy animal may switch from one form to another, with drastic difference in size. Or they can be so small/ so large that it's hard to maintain them.

Level of intelligence: either very low or very high would be interesting

Capacity for language:/communication Give them an interesting way to communicate. Perhaps

Lifespan: would they live longer than you? Perhaps for centuries?

Capacity for empathy: do they understand emotion? would they snuggle up to comfort you during long, cold nights?

Mode of regeneration: how do they reproduce? Do their younglings look different from their adult form?

For plants, especially:

How they move around/do they move at all. Maybe you'll have to stuff them in a handbag and carry it around?

Carnivorous?

Can you define whether they are male/female?

Hope this helps! :) Happy writing.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2

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mortimermcmirestinks · 7 months ago

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a complete list

so we got the following already:

AFAB = assigned female at birth

AMAB = samesies but for the bros

ACAB = fuck them pigs

AHAB = guy who wants to fuck and/or kill a sperm whale

so I'm gonna give you the other 22. ready? let's go

AAAB: the muuuscle in your miiidseeection

ABAB: 🔥🔥swedish band typo🔥🔥

ACAB: fuck them pigs

ADAB: world's most rad dance move

AEAB: assigned evil at birth

AFAB: doctor said you were a dame right when you slunk out the pusspuss

AGAB: what the doctor said you was when you slopped on outta the verjubit

AHAB: from hell's heart I tap that cetacean or whatever I never read it

AIAB: all investigators are bisexual

AJAB: a friendly poke

AKAB: all kops are bastardz

ALAB: like asexual but for science experiments instead of sexual attraction. short for "alaboratory"

AMAB: doctor said you were a bloke the second you shot out of the ol' utero cannon

ANAB: someone very sneakily trying to name their D&D character after a banana. don't let them get away with it

AOAB: desperately trying to remember the official Maori name for New Zealand but I'm so so bad at spelling

APAB: assigned pussy magnet at birth

AQAB: the guy from the new GAY version of Moby Dick. this version's called Moby Pronouns. the woke agenda has gone too far!!!!!

ARAB: an ethnic group mainly inhabiting the ARAB world in West Asia and North Africa. A significant ARAB diaspora is present in various parts of the world. Arabs have been in the Fertile Crescent for thousands of years. In the 9th century BCE, the As

ASAB: ahh!! stinkyyy!!! aww, baby

ATAB: the thing you start at a bar when you don't want to pay up right away. ALTERNATE JOKE: the thing you hit to go to the next cell in Excel

AUAB: sound a turtle makes when it's ramming ham

AVAB: only known word to be a perfect anagram of both "balaclava" AND "baklava"

AWAB: assigned weeb at boston

AXAB: amnestic XK-class anomalous being

AYAB: alla youse are bullshit

AZAB: mystery option. nobody knows what this one is. if you know what this one is, send your knowledge to the Pentagon and they will send you a shiny American penny.

glad to help out!! just playing my small role in the queer community. fuck cops also

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birdofmay · 2 years ago

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I just saw one of those "autism isn't linear, it's a spectrum" posts again and one picture was that how much the traits are pronounced could look like this:

[ID: two golden circles filled with the spectral colours. There are five white dots in each circle, each for one of the five categories: "sensory", "language", "executive function", "motor skills", and "perception". One dot is connected with its neighbouring dot by a black line, making it a simple polygon. In the first circle, it's almost a triangle, in the second circle it's a pentagon. Unfortunately my maths isn't good enough to tell you the name of the pentagon, but the bottom and the right side appear to be of equal length. /end ID]

And yeah, exactly, to use the outdated terms "high functioning" and "low functioning" - this individual here would be considered high functioning. Some traits are very pronounced and in fact very disabling. That's why "high functioning" dismisses the struggles of those autistics.

But they are considered high functioning because there are many traits that aren't that pronounced.

To illustrate that, this here would be someone considered low functioning:

[ID: The circle from above, but now there's a black line subsequently drawn within the circle, almost bordering the golden line. There are no white dots, but just imagine that the dots are on the outer edges, meaning that the traits are very pronounced. /end ID]

And you do see the difference, right? Every trait is very pronounced, very disabling, there's nothing that's not on the outer edges.

Sure, low functioning doesn't make sense when it's applied casually to every autistic with intellectual disability, or when it's applied to everyone who has some traits that aren't very pronounced - and unfortunately that was the case way too often.

But I just wanted to illustrate "severity" to you.

This is why I was diagnosed with "severe autism", because none of my traits are "weak" enough to compensate for the pronounced traits.

I don't like functioning labels either, I especially think that high functioning is very harmful if it's applied to an individual by others because it ignores that many of those autistics still have needs that need to be met and still struggle and (often) still in fact are disabled.

But you do see the difference, right?

My language skills got better over time (as you can read), but I still can't speak. My motor skills got better over time, but I still need people to help me with BADLs. My perception got better recently - I now sometimes hear when people call my name. But everything else? My perception is still shit.

That's the difference. That's why "high functioning" dismisses struggles but at the same time definitely is different from people diagnosed with severe autism. You can't even compare your bad days with our good days. Our life is completely different because we don't have those "weak traits" in the circle that you have.

Right.

And we definitely need to talk about the "neither nor" category of medium functioning and medium support needs, but that's for another day. This autism acceptance month maybe 😁

#long post #me trying to be informative

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melhindips · 1 month ago

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Day 353

Lebanon:

‼️ Biggest Israeli bombings of Lebanon since 1980s massacre 492 people incl. 35+ kids & injure 1,645+ in south & east Lebanon today. Israel prepares for “next phases” possibly ground invasion

🇱🇧 Hezbollah attacks IOF bases, fires 180+ rockets at Haifa, Tel Aviv & West Bank colonies, causing casualties & striking Iron Dome facility

📳 80,000+ Israeli “psychological warfare” evacuation calls to residents as Israel demands depopulation of Bekaa Valley

🏫 All Lebanon schools shut, impacting 1.5 mil students

🔻 Hamas commander Hussein al-Nader killed by strike on Lebanon

🇺🇸 Biden-Harris admin’s Pentagon backs Israeli “right to defend itself”, prepares to send troops to Middle East in addition to 40k+ stationed

Palestine:

‼️ Israeli cabinet considers plan to fully ethnically cleanse north Gaza, make closed military zone

🇵🇸 IOF attacks on Gaza kill 24+ today

🚜 Israel demolishes same Palestinian Bedouin village in Naqab Desert for 230th time

🇵🇸 Deir al-Balah (central): IOF strike on home kills mom & 4 kids. 2 people killed, several injured in IOF bombing of vehicle

🇵🇸 South: IOF drone kills a Palestinian, wounds dozens in Khuza’a. Bombing of Khan Younis family home kills 4

(🗳️ Vote in the above poll + let us know what you want from us on Lebanon)

#lebanon #save palestine #artists on tumblr #free palestine #gazaunderattack #free gaza #gaza strip #gaza #palestinian genocide #gravity falls #gaza genocide

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oddballwriter · 6 months ago

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The Second

Summary: After going on an unplanned adventure with your best friend and crush, his host, and his host's wife to stop the end of the world, and ending up in an accidental love triangle... square...whatever shape it is, you go back to your hometown to clear your mind. It's a great success for you, helping you reconnect with your childhood friend and even bring him back to continue the fun and show him your life in London. But unbeknownst to you, it seems like it might just cause a rift that is born on one side of the triangle.

Warnings: Love triangle and unrequited feelings. The reader is referred to using she/her. Angst, it's soft but it's there. Third-wheeling. I can't think of anything else but I feel like there's more, if there is just tell me.

Author’s Snip: This is sort of a pilot for a series idea that I have that involves all kinds of love shape situations, rivalry, and dragging friends into all kinds of avatar shenanigans on accident. So if you guys like this, let me know so that I can prep and have it ready for writing and planning.

Notes: This is not proofread before posting, if there are errors blame Grammarly for not catching it. I might fix them later.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 2,892

Tag List: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

What an adventure you just went on. It all feels so unreal when you even try and think about it. Even as you stare up at the ceiling above your bed you find it hard to really digest fully.

Your good friend Steven turned out to be an alter for a person with DID who's named Marc Spector, whom you had not met, ever, throughout you and Steven's close friendship. In which Marc is the avatar and fist of justice for the Egyptian god Khonshu and was living his life while Steven was not fronting, unbeknownst to Steven, and has been playing a game of keep-away with a cult and their leader for a scarab. And you ended up finding all that out when some members of the cult kidnapped you to intimidate Steven and Marc. By the way, Marc is married and has been married, to a woman named Layla. And so you had to go on this whole adventure with all three of them to stop the end of the world, or something, nearly dying on several occasions, and now it's done apparently. Crisis averted. Also, there is a fucking third one.

You're sure that if you told someone outside of your journal and your new group of friends about this, then you would be thrown into a psychiatric hospital in record time.

And that isn't even mentioning all the complicated feelings you're having right now about the love triangle, that only you are aware of. Because of course, you're in a love triangle that the two other people have no idea exists. It's complicated. It was a little complicated at the start, and now it's so much more complicated because now there's another person involved.

Scratch that, four people involved. This is a love square.

Fuck it, now that Jake's here it might actually be a love pentagon now!

Either way, it all has to do with your feelings towards Steven. You had developed them pretty early on in your friendship with Steven because you just so happened to fall into your type. Dork, sweet, funny, and polite guys were your weakness. You tried to fight them off, not wanting to ruin the friendship that you honestly valued with Steven. But he just had this aura and energy that had your heart like a moth to a flame. Some might call it a slow burn. You'd say that it all was fast. But the warmth went to heat that got painful when you found out about Marc and Layla, and thus Steven and Layla.

You're not mad at Layla. Of course not! Why would you? She was there first, technically. It feels bad to say that. Both because you'd have to try and snuff out the feelings that you have, but also because it sounds wrong. It sounds like Steven's an object to be won instead of a person with his own thoughts and feelings. And you never once saw him like that. He was Steven. Nice, sweet, funny Steven.

You knew you needed to move on, even if it hurt. You know you don't have the guts and nerve to be 'the other person' even if you got the chance to be. It would be disrespectful to Layla, and Layla's a great woman. You settle on going back home, to your hometown, to see family and friends in hopes that it'll distract you, maybe even help you get over it if you're lucky. You call up your family who gladly accept the idea and will set up the room that you'll stay in by the time you get there. With that, you pack your bags, get ready for the trip, and head off.

You don't tell Steven that you're leaving to anywhere at first until you're just about to leave, figuring that if he tries to visit you and you're not there he'll assume someone else has kidnapped you and panic. You just send him a simple "As a heads up I'll be out of town for a while. I need a break.", at some point in your trip heading towards your hometown he texts you back with a single "Okay. Sounds nice.".

As it turns out, going around old loved ones really does help your blues. Matter of fact it seems like everyone from your life here heard the news that you'd be spending a few weeks in town and all got together to see you. Your uncle and dad actually threw a little family cookout so that everyone can come say hi to you.

Everyone had questions for you. What's London like? What have you been doing? How's life going over there?

Of course, you can't tell them about all the recent events and you also don't want to ruin your good mood by talking about Steven like you probably would have if this were a trip not spawned from him, in a sense. Overall, everyone's just happy you're back regardless.

You meet a really old face amidst the crowd of family and friends who've assembled. Samson. Sammy. God, you'd know his face anywhere and you know he'd know yours too. You and Sammy have been best friends since diapers. Your moms were friends. Apparently, the story goes that your mom and dad were at the courthouse waiting in line to sign the marriage papers and so were Sammy's mom and dad. Your mothers started talking and it turns out they have a lot in common. By the time both parties left the courthouse, they were in each other's weddings, to which they then found out that they both would be moving into the same area to settle down. Your moms swear that you and Sammy being close in age was just a coincidence but you always joked that it wasn't.

Sammy is hard to put into words. How do you describe the person who's been your best friend since both of you were coloring with crayons and all the way to high school graduations and beyond? The number one person you would talk to about things outside of your parents and through all of the other friends you've both had throughout your lives, the one that has always been the same. Sammy is just Sammy to you, in the most sincere way possible.

After seeing each other at the cookout you catch up on just about everything. What you've been up to, any life milestones you've gotten to while apart. You tell him about London and he tells you about his life here in town. Sammy's gotten up to a few things, had a few girlfriends, and apparently, he's developed his own business. Turns out he's a handyman and locksmith now and makes great money. Gets to make his own hours, so he says. Sammy teases you a bit and asks if you've been collecting British boyfriends. You know it's just a tease but it plucks at the still tender parts of your heart a little. You brush it off and say no.

"No?" Sammy questions, "Come on. Someone like you over there? You're kidding me. You've got to have some guys waiting like a dog for you to come back." he says. You decide to play along in the banter.

"Maybe I do. What of it, Sam-I-Am." you shrug, pretending like he's trying to compete and also pulling out old childhood nicknames. Sammy cringes and the nickname, "Oof, not the Sam-I-Am from kindergarten. You know only my dad called me that until you said it in class. Then everyone started calling me that till fifth grade." Sammy laughs. "Not you doing your shitty British accents when I said I had a thing for British boys back in seventh grade." you reference and make a call back of your own. "It made you laugh and that was my goal." Sammy playfully defended.

For a good half of your stay, Sammy was there, like always, and you would be talking about the old days. Referencing various moments and laughing or cringing together. It felt so nostalgic and good to just feel that bond again, have someone who knows all your little inside jokes and references because they were there when it was formed, and you both didn't want it to stop.

So when the day that you were to go back to London you threw out the idea that Sammy come back with you and continue the fun there. Show him what you've been doing and show him the little life you've created there.

Even though you live in a one-bedroom apartment you managed to accommodate your guest pretty well. You always knew that the pull-out bed extension of your couch that you bought second-hand would have a use someday. You two settled on rules and bases, along with where various things are in case they're needed.

After that, it was just more talking that made the time go by so fast and other things seem so minuscule. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact that you had a brief text conversation with Steven when you got back basically just telling him that you were back and what you're up to right now. It wasn't until he texted you something that sort of snapped you out of it.

You: I'm not really doing anything but my friend came back with me and will be here for a bit.

Steven: Oh that's nice

Steven: Can I meet them maybe?

You weren't sure how long you spent looking at that message, but it was long enough that Sammy noticed. "Something wrong?" he asks. "No," you reply, "Just one of my friends. He says he wants to meet you... if you're okay with that," you explain but hesitate slightly at the end, not really liking the sound of having Steven over right now after being able to get him off your mind. "Sure! I'd love to meet one of your friends here." Sammy responds, "If that's alright with you of course." he adds.

You take a second to weigh it out in your mind. On one hand, having the guy that you have feelings for over after you went on a whole vacation partially because he doesn't feel that way towards you doesn't sound like the best idea. But maybe having Sammy here will reduce that feeling of awkwardness since it can just be having your friends meet each other.

Taking the gamble, you tell Steven that he's good to come over.

The next few minutes are spent continuing to talk to Sammy, making jokes and having banter. When you hear the knock at your door you and a text from Steven that announces that he's arrived. You get up from the couch and make your way to the door, unlocking it and opening it up. And there he is, smiling at you and giving you his usual polite little "hello". You greet him back before stepping out of the way so that he can come in.

Sammy gets up from his seat on the couch and comes to shake Steven's hand. You see Steven hesitate briefly and sort of freeze up before taking the hand shake. You step in between them.

"Steven, this is my childhood friend, Samson. Samson, this is my friend Steven." you introduce them to each other and gesture to them respectively. "Nice to meet you!" Sammy comments. "Likewise," Steven responds.

You all take a seat, you and Sammy back on the couch while Steven takes a chair from your little dining table set. Sammy and Steven have some good small talk back and forth, talking the usual stuff when you meet new people. You can see Steven being a little fidgety, picking at his sweater sleeve, nodding along but having a small crease between his brows. All things that he does when he's nervous or concerned with something, you take it as Steven being shy about meeting and talking to new people like he usually is. You take it upon yourself to sort of help him by bringing up subjects that you know he's good at talking about.

"Steven loves Ancient Egypt and mythos. He knows pretty much everything," you mention. Sammy raises his brows in interest, "Really?" he questions. "Oh yeah," Steven confirms, "I would have made a bloody good tour guide if my superior wasn't out to get me." Steven remarks. You see Sammy hold back a laugh in the corner of your vision, you turn to him and light-heartedly scold him with a "Stop it.". Sammy looks towards you, his smile growing to a shit-eating grin. "Stop it," you repeat, "Behave. I told you not to laugh," you say as you struggle to keep your own laughter in. "He said the thing." Sammy squeaks out before letting a few laughs leave him. You lean in and bap him on the shoulder playfully, "Stop," you warn as you give him a few baps.

Steven lets out a small laugh that only you can tell is his fake trying-to-pretend-I-get-it laugh. "I'm sorry, Steven." you apologize, "Not even 24 hours in and he doesn't know how to act," you say as you look back to Sammy and give him a playful shake. "I'm sorry." Sammy says to Steven, "There's an inside joke to it I swear." he says.

"What's the joke?" Steven inquires. Your face drops, knowing what Sammy is going to say. "Don't you dare," you warn Sammy as you try to cover his mouth, but Sammy already knew that you are going to stop him and is ready to block your hand. You both spend a few seconds lightly wrestling as you try to cover his mouth and he blocks you in some way. "It has something to do with her-" Sammy says before you interrupt him with a "No!" in objection, "British boyfriend!" Sammy announces. "I don't have a British boyfriend!" you object through laughs as you hit him with a couch pillow. You both spend a few moments laughing. When you finally calm down you find Steven looking at the two of you like you've grown and extra head.

You sigh and look to Sammy, "Why don't you explain 'British boyfriend' to him since you want to talk about it so much?". "Okay, okay," Sammy submits. "This one," Sammy says pointing at you, "Had a thing for this one kid who was visiting family for the summer in our home neighborhood back in seventh grade, or seventh year, whatever it's called here. And so we have this joke that he was her British boyfriend. And I used to do a really bad accent to make her laugh and get all embarrassed.", Sammy looks at you and reassures, "I'm not going to do it, don't worry.".

The conversation goes on but you and Sammy can't help but say more jokes that you then need to explain to Steven, which leads to other stories and laughing fits between the two of you. You try to do the same with Steven in case he references something between the two of you, but you find that Steven just seems to sit there and listen, nodding along. You want to try and prompt something but at some point, you're able to sense this weird tension in the air whenever you do.

You aren't too sure what to do. You don't want to shoo Steven out since you've always said that Steven was always welcomed at your place, but the atmosphere is strange between the two of you for some reason. It isn't until Sammy gives something that would get the job done.

"You know, it's really nice to meet you, Steven. But I think the traveling is starting to catch up with me." Sammy says as he stretches his arms out. "Oh, no worry. I was actually thinking of getting out of your hair. You know..." Steven responds, "Since you guys probably had to get out early to get back here." he clarifies. Steven was already getting up to leave by the time he even started talking.

Sammy and you get up also, and you go in for the usual goodbye hug that you and Steven do when parting ways, Sammy shakes Steven's hand again and says his goodbyes.

Once Steven leaves, you and Sammy set up the couch so that Sammy can nap for a bit. You head to your room so that you can take one for yourself and reflect on the meeting. You still have a bit of that feeling of weird tension but figure that maybe Steven wasn't prepared for all the energy that you and Sammy created and all the inside jokes. Maybe a second get-together could help with that. After all, it might be great to have two best friends also be best friends with each other.

Meanwhile, Steven walks back, sitting in his thoughts quietly as he walks until Marc appears in a reflection along the walk. "What's with the long face?" Marc asks. Steven glances at Marc for a moment, "Nothing, it's just that..." Steven opens up with, "I felt like a bit of a third wheel over there." he admits. Marc shrugs, "Well it is her friend from her hometown, isn't it? I'm sure they'd be all chatty with each other.".

"Yeah, I suppose so." Steven replies, "It just felt a bit... off." Steven remarks.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant

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amagi2000 · 2 months ago

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Todd: Hello. Operator. Listen to me -- I can’t speak very loud. This is an emergency. I’m a passenger on a United flight to San Francisco. We have a situation here. Our plane has been hijacked. Can you understand me?

Lisa: (exhaling a deep breath to herself) I understand. Can the hijackers see you talking on the phone?

Todd: No.

Lisa: Can you tell me how many hijackers are on the plane?

Todd: There are three that we know of.

Lisa: Can you see any weapons? What kind of weapons do they have?

Todd: Yes. They don’t have guns. They have knives – they took over the plane with knives.

Lisa: Do you mean -- like steak knives?

Todd: No, these are razor knives -- like box cutters.

Lisa: Can you tell what country these people are from?

Todd: No -- I don’t know. They sound like they’re from the mid-east.

Lisa: Have they said what they want?

Todd: Someone announced from the cockpit that there was a bomb on board. He said he was the captain and to stay in our seats and stay quiet.

He said that they were meeting these men’s demands and returning to the airport. It was very broken English, and...I’m telling you...it sounded fake!

Lisa: Ok sir, please give me your name.

Todd: My name is Todd Beamer.

Lisa: Ok Todd, my name is Lisa. Do you know your flight number? If you can’t remember, it’s on your ticket.

Todd: It’s United Flight 93.

Lisa: Now Todd, can you try to tell me exactly what happened?

Todd: Two of the hijackers were sitting in first class near the cockpit. A third one was sitting near the back of the coach section. The two up front got into the cockpit somehow; there was shouting. The third hijacker said he had a bomb. It looks like a bomb. He’s got it tied to his waist with a red belt of some kind.

Lisa: So is the door to the cockpit open?

Todd: No, the hijackers shut it behind them.

Lisa: Has anyone been injured?

Todd: Yes, they…they killed one passenger sitting in first class. There’s been lots of shouting. We don’t know if the pilots are dead or alive. A flight attendant told me that the pilot and copilot had been forced from the cockpit and may have been wounded.

Lisa: Where is the 3rd hijacker now Todd?

Todd: He’s near the back of the plane. They forced most of the passengers into first class. There are fourteen of us here in the back. Five are flight attendants. He hasn’t noticed that I slipped into this pantry to get the phone. The guy with the bomb ordered us to sit on the floor in the rear of the plane...oh Jesus...HELP!

Lisa: Todd, are you ok? Tell me what’s happening!

Todd: Hello. We’re going down. I think we’re going to crash. Wait – wait a minute. No, we’re leveling off...we’re ok. I think we may be turning around. That’s it – we changed directions. Do you hear me? We’re flying east again.

Lisa: Ok Todd, what’s going on with the other passengers?

Todd: Everyone is really scared. A few passengers with cell phones have made calls to relatives. A guy, Jeremy, was talking to his wife just before the hijacking started. She told him that hijackers had crashed two planes into the World Trade Center. Lisa is that true??

Lisa: Todd, I have to tell you the truth. It’s very bad. The World Trade Center is gone. Both of the towers have been destroyed.

Todd: Oh God -- help us!

Lisa: A third plane was taken over by terrorists. It crashed into the Pentagon in Washington DC. Our country is under attack, and I’m afraid that your plane may be part of their plan.

Todd: Oh dear God. Dear God... Lisa, will you do something for me?

Lisa: I’ll try if I can. Yes.

Todd: I want you to call my wife and my kids for me and tell them what’s happened. Promise me you’ll call..

Lisa: I promise – I’ll call.

Todd: Our home number is XXX-XXX-1073. You have the same name as my wife. Lisa. We’ve been married for 10 years. She’s pregnant with our 3rd child. Tell her that I love her (choking up) I’ll always love her..(clearing throat) We have two boys. David, he’s 3 and Andrew, he’s 1. Tell them (choking) tell them that their daddy loves them and that he is so proud of them. (clearing throat again) Our baby is due January 12th. I saw an ultra sound. It was great. We still don’t know if it’s a girl or a boy ... ... ... Lisa?

Lisa: (barely able to speak) I’ll tell them, I promise Todd.

Todd: I’m going back to the group -- if I can get back I will...

Lisa: Todd, leave this line open...are you still there?

Lisa: (dials the phone) Hello, FBI, my name is Lisa Jefferson, I’m a telephone supervisor for GTE. I need to report a terrorist hijacking of a United Airlines Flight 93...Yes I’ll hold.

Goodwin: Hello, this is Agent Goodwin. I understand you have a hijacking situation?

Lisa: Yes sir, I’ve been talking with a passenger, a Todd Beamer, on Flight 93 who managed to get to an air phone unnoticed.

Goodwin: Where did this flight originate, and what was its destination?

Lisa: The flight left Newark New Jersey at 8 A.M. departing for San Francisco. The hijackers took over the plane shortly after takeoff, and several minutes later the plane changed course -- it is now flying east.

Goodwin: Ms. Jefferson, I need to talk to someone aboard that plane. Can you get me thru to the planes phone?

Lisa: I still have that line open sir, I can patch you through on a conference call. Hold a mo...

Todd: Hello Lisa, Lisa are you there?

Lisa: Yes, I’m here. Todd, I made a call to the FBI, Agent Goodwin is on the line and will be talking to you as well.

Todd: The others all know that this isn’t your normal hijacking. Jeremy called his wife again on his cell phone. She told him more about the World Trade Center and all.

Goodwin: Hello Todd. This is Agent Goodwin with the FBI. We have been monitoring your flight. Your plane is on a course for Washington, DC. These terrorists sent two planes into the World Trade Center and one plane into the Pentagon. Our best guess is that they plan to fly your plane into either the White House or the United States Capital Building.

Todd: I understand. Hold on...I’ll...I’ll be back..

Lisa: Mr. Goodwin, how much time do they have before they get to Washington?

Goodwin: Not long ma’am. They changed course over Cleveland; they’re approaching Pittsburgh now. Washington may be twenty minutes away.

Todd: (breathing a little heavier) The plane seems to be changing directions just a little. It’s getting pretty rough up here. The plane is flying real erratic. We’re not going to make it out of here. Listen to me. I want you to hear this. I have talked with the others -- we have decided we would not be pawns in these hijackers suicidal plot.

Lisa: Todd, what are you going to do?

Todd: We’ve hatched a plan. Four of us are going to rush the hijacker with the bomb. After we take him out, we’ll break into the cockpit. A stewardess is getting some boiling water to throw on the hijackers at the controls. We’ll get them and we’ll take them out. Lisa, will you do one last thing for me?

Lisa: Yes. What is it?

Todd: Would you pray with me?

They pray

Todd: (softer) God help me...Jesus help me...(clears throat and louder)

Todd: Are you guys ready?

Todd Morgan Beamer: Let’s Roll...

(H/T: Salena Zito)

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delusional-fantasising · 2 months ago

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Kai Anderson headcannons (Random stuff on the top of my mind)

Sfw

- Got a pet dog for therapy reasons after his parents died

- Stuck a few marbles in his nose as a kid

- I wholeheartingly believe that Kai has detached himself from reality completely like a disconnected

- He hated when he shaved his hair and regretted it

-He internally folds when someone or anyone cooks for him because he can't cook for the life of him. Like it's either burnt af or undercooked

- He owns way too many books about cults and I feel like he craved it as a intrusive thought but went through with it after his parent's death

- Major lactose intolerant like he blows up the toilet like the fourth of July if he forgets to take Lactaid pills and he eats just like a sliver of cheese

- Despite being lactose intolerant he eats a shit ton of dairy

- He doesn't like labels because all his life of the torment of his father calling him names causing him to resent the name calling if its direct towards him

- He found out he liked men by accident when he was in his early years in the military when he saw one of his close comrades in the communal showers

Nsfw

- Has no issues jerking off in front of anyone and everyone, takes pride in it as well if someone watches. I just think he likes to be watched and doted over

- Refuses to allow anyone to stick anything near his ass

- When he's super angry it translates into his sex drive and pace, like its vicious hate sex unless he's jealous and will make sure no one can think of anyone besides him

- Likes getting sharpies and writing shit on people's body when he's pissed as a way to mark them without actually afflicting pain or doing something physical

- Secretly wants to be a bottom but he thinks that if he does he isn't in charge at all and he hates that thought of that

- Also has a fantasy when he became president he would want to get a blow job in the center of the Pentagon specifically. Doesn't know who to do it with but wants that to happen so badly

- He wants to try a certain type of swing once in his lifetime

#evan peters #evan thomas peters #kai anderson #american horror story #american horror story cult #smut #angst #sfw headcanons #crack headcanons #headcannons #headcanon #spicy headcanons

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dotcie · 1 year ago

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— BAD DOG. [2]

》 PAIRING: simon 'ghost' riley x f!oc 》 NOTES: taglist is open! please let me know if you want to be added or removed. if you don't care about my OC, you can skip her backstory on ao3. 》 WARNINGS: 18+ | MDNI | hair pulling 》 CHAPTER: 3.9k | 2/? [masterlist] | AO3

Before she met Laswell, Jane did media monitoring for the DISA.

It paid well for a job straight out of undergrad. Had reasonable hours, pleasant enough colleagues. She commuted the twenty minutes from her shitty apartment in Kingman Park to the Pentagon—arrived at seven forty-five with a cream cheese bagel and a skim milk latte. Wrote reports, emails, and memos. Hours and hours of political speeches, barking rifles, and screaming civilians ingrained in her brain.

''Like a fucked up collage of the human greed for oil and retribution,'' she once called it over an almost empty espresso martini. Condensation pearled off the glass's rim and pooled on the table of an overpriced speakeasy bar, so unimpressive it was not worth remembering its name. Her questionable Tinder date had been late, his small-talk rather boring; No, she didn't like her job. Who ever did? But rent was expensive in DC, and Jane had student loans, expensive taste, and maybe eight hundred dollars in her checking account.

She covered newsstreams out of Egypt, Lebanon, and Jordan. Iraq, and Yemen. Algeria. Libya.

Ate lunch at her desk—usually a salad and a protein bar, four busy screens in front of her.

Had meetings with Cairo, Beirut, Amman, Baghdad, Sana'a, Algiers, and Tripoli.

She joined the white-collar crowd on their evening run around the Mall after work. From the Capitol steps to the Lincoln Memorial, around the reflecting pool. Two times, sometimes three. Always depending on the restlessness that hummed in her bones and tingled in her fingertips.

Jane shoved her damp hair up with a clip and hopped on the blue metro line afterwards; sweaty and breathless, body humming with spent energy. She stopped at Whole Foods on her way home; bought dinner-for-one and a four-pack of sugar free Redbull. Put on noise canceling headphones without listening to anything on her way home—spying into warm lit windows and other people's lives.

She ate in bed, crouched over her Macbook, the TV always set to CNN. She practiced Arabic. Scrolled through subreddits about zero-day exploits, but never commented on them. Went to bed late, woke up early. Got up the next day and did it all over again.

Washington is a big city, in a big country, in a big world, and nothing ever changed. Jane just sat in her gunny-covered cubicle and watched whole cities crumble to dust like sandcastles. The local newspapers only covered a watered-down version of the turmoil overseas, but the mental images were always in the back of her head—no matter how loud she turned the TV.

It's all part of a grand plan, she told herself. Just another rung on the ladder, an essential middle-step in her career. It was comfortable and disturbing. Exciting enough, but nothing impactful.

Nothing with an edge.

The job had a sky-high turnover; a bad impact on employees. Turns out, swallowing the documentation of invasions, and civil wars, and an endless flow of American exceptionalism was only manageable for a couple of months. Jane became miserable and angry. Tired and strung-out. When handing in her two-weeks notice without a back-up plan, her supervisor accepted the neatly printed note with tired eyes and an annoyed flick of the wrist.

Her therapist blamed her sense of weightlessness for everything she did afterwards: the thrill-seeking, the risk-taking. All her screw-ups in pursuit of sticking her fingers in better pies. When the agency sent her to the embassy in Urzikstan, Jane canceled her rent-controlled apartment lease early and donated most of her belongings to the Habitat For Humanity in Capitol Hill. Burning the boats, she called it.

For months, no one could get a hold of her.

Analyst positions for counter-terrorism overseas will chew you up and spit out your bones, a friend in the IOC had warned her. Jane was up for it anyway—of course she was. She had witnessed a few horrendous things through screens in Washington, but nothing compared to the situation in Sakhra. Like most soul-crushing things in life, it all wasn't real until it was.

The first time she experienced the ruthlessness of the real world, a local contractor whose family was killed by American soldiers blew up half a base with some DIY C4. 12 soldiers dead, 24 injured. If not for Laswell yanking her into the shadows behind a M1A2 when panic erupted, she would have been trampled to death under the burning afternoon sun.

Instead, Jane heaved, and coughed, then sank to the dusty ground with ringing ears. Kate towered over her with a drawn P890, yelling all-too-calmly over the wailing of sirens: You have twenty seconds to get it together.

They made her take time off two years later, after a black site she was stationed at suffered another, similar attack. Jane was resentful of it, but she wanted to keep her clearance, so she left with the next supply plane and said what she needed to say to pass the psych evaluation.

She considered moving back into her grandparents ranch in Arizona. Maybe traveling through Europe, starting a new hobby (rock climbing, pottery, crocheting); but there was no real drive or push behind it. Instead, she bled in secret. Fucked strangers on her frameless king-size mattress and worked out too much in her unfurnished apartment. She got offers; a few private-sector contracts she knew she couldn't entertain. Jane wanted to stick it out with the agency—and Laswell. Especially with Laswell.

The first question Shepherd asked her when she stepped into his office was if she had any family; a partner, kids, siblings. Parents to take care of. The General asked bluntly, but Jane was used to force as the most efficient method to get answers.

She had spent three years interrogating Al-Qatala members and contacts. Trading money, safety, and threats for intelligence. Sleeping through the sound of gunfire, bystanding interrogations, interpreting intelligence, and snooping in places Americans aren't supposed to. Jane had left her old life behind and dove head-first into a tunnel vision.

No. She had no one.

When saying it out loud she almost sounded proud.

Working for the General is different. Non-official cover work for SAD intel suits her better—scratches a certain itch, too. Like finally tasting blood after biting your tongue for years.

Laswell has been helpful, the additional training too; but nothing ever prepared her for the void between long-term missions. When the work is done and restlessness returns in weird jet-lagged hours of the fading days. When there are no objectives to sink her teeth into. No foreign streets to roam under false identities. No predictions to be made, no strings to pull.

She's stuck in Iceland now, attending debrief after debrief. Her target is dead, the missile prototypes returned to the lab, but that isn't enough. They want to know everything. First the higher-ups at the Headquarters, then the Senate Intelligence Committee. They want the process. The months of searching, the people involved, the rules she broke.

She did a good job, she got what she wanted, but she is part of Shepherd's system now, and he didn't approve of her moving forward with the operation.

Since she returned to the lab, he hadn't answered any of her calls.

Ghost is nothing but a silhouette in the low light of the crescent moon; sitting against a weathered wall of heavy concrete, a half-burned cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Insects batter against a naked lightbulb overhead—the light orange and warm against the dark of night, casting long, unproportionate shadows over the smoking area.

The sky hangs bruised and stormy over Vatnajökull, a million stars dotting the night. It's quarter to one, and the grounds of 102 are deadly still—so still, that the sound of a nearby metal door opening and closing shut remind him of gunshots piercing through the air.

Years ago, he would have flinched at the sound, but there is not much left that startles Simon Riley anymore.

Jane tips her head back in annoyance as she steps outside, cradling her phone between ear and shoulder. ''Listen—,'' she scolds into it, patting the outside of her clothes for the pack of cigarettes she bought from one of the kitchen workers yesterday. ''Louise, right? Louise, with all due respect—''

She takes a deep breath of restraint when she finds nothing but a crumbled straw wrapper in the pockets of her leather jacket. Sharp words spill on the other end of the line, and she squeezes her eyes shut, pinches the bridge of her nose. ''I'm not going to argue with some mid-level bureaucrat, get him on the phone— No, no, you listen! I need a black passport, don't— Fuck—''

Jane's grip on the iPhone loosens with the sound of a disconnected call echoing blatantly against her ear. Simon can hear her mutter a spool of curses, the sound of gravel screeching under her feet, and how all sound seizes as she pauses at the sight of him.

The smoking area is dimly lit, but there's no mistaking the broad-shouldered figure with the cramped up skull mask looming in the corner of the building. Simon appeared in her sight so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that Jane would not be surprised if he materialized out of thin air. It would suit him; Ghost that he is.

Smoke pools out of the soldier's mouth, the balaclava pulled up to his nose; exposing a sharp chin with a shadow of stubble forming its way up a jaw set tight. He is hunched over, his elbows digging into his thighs. He doesn't look up to see that the expression on her face is one of mute surprise, or that her eyes narrow at the sight of him.

''Thought you'd be gone already,'' she calls over, lounging near the door she slipped out of.

''Change of plans,'' he returns easy and low, eyes glued to the book in his calloused hands.

It's only been a few days, but his voice is as deep and as resonant as Jane remembers; it fills the air and makes her blood rush with the mental images of his fingertips digging into her skin.

There's always a certain quietness after she's been fucked good—the world stands still for a moment, and it helps to quench the thirst, to fill the void.

Jane needs to hold something in her arms sometimes. Something unattainable and distant. Something unwise. Something like him.

''Mind if I bum one?'' She nods to the lit cigarette between his scarred fingers, stepping closer.

For a split second, she thinks he's going to ignore her—then he dog-ears the page he was reading and abandons the book onto his lap.

Simon looks up all casually and unfazed, shakes his head.

''Last one,'' he says, half-lidded stare fixed on her in that particular Ghost sort-of-way. The way he always gets when you rip out the half-assed social niceties and expose the weirdo underneath.

Jane exhales through her nose, leaning against a pole holding up the roof. The urge for frustration refuses to be ignored, so she buckles, comments: ''Of course,'' like she's taking notes on the irony of it all.

''Stop pondering, will ya?'' Inhaling another mouthful of tar, Simon stretches out along the bench, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. The set of dog tags around his neck clink together when he scratches the underside of his chin. "No point in gettin' all antsy."

She shoots him a cold, hard look for it—the one that makes his blood sing, makes him remember the expression in her eyes when she told him she wanted her target dead.

''Thank you, Simon, for your unsolicited wisdom.''

The subtle fuck you isn't boarded in her voice, but it throbs under every word of hers. He doesn't bother scolding her for saying his name again, but the bitter taste of disapproval sure does coat his tongue. He's not foolish enough to argue with her when she's like this; all gutted and pent-up. Ready to hiss, bite, and lunge at his throat.

The familiarity of it all stirs something up in him. For a moment, Ghost almost believes that it's sympathy, maybe—or at least a pinch of pity. A distant part of his mind remembers the dogged woman he faced when they first met; working out of a one-room shithole in a broken-down, brutalist apartment building somewhere in the Balkans. Reviewing surveillance logs, transcripts, and maps in shorts and a sports bra because the AC was utter rubbish. He recalls her hunched figure and unwashed hair as she worked out of the tiny living room—the space a mess of cables and empty microwave meals, her tech always charging. Her curtains always closed, dust dancing in the beams of light that crept their way inside.

Two days after the exfil, he barely recognized her anymore; with fresh clothes, twelve-hours of sleep, and hair neatly cut to a shoulder-length. It was like meeting a stranger, a whole different woman. He was certain, then, that the only way out for her was the same as his: leaving rotten and zipped up in a body bag.

Simon holds his half-smoked cigarette out to her, and she lets her head roll to consider the silent peace-offer. Her expression bleeds into something less angry in the face of him, and she hates that it makes him snort in response.

Jane gives him the illusion of thinking it over before breaking away from her frozen stance and closing the distance between them. She takes the stub, and sinks onto the wooden bench next to him.

''Thanks.'' — ''Mhmh.''

Even with some distance between them, Simon towers over her. He doesn't make a sound, doesn't attempt to embarrass himself with comforting words and distracting small-talk. He's quiet—a man of few words and fewer smiles—but that's what drew her to him in the first place. There's caution behind his eyes, and his words are always cleaved off at the knee. A person weathered and hardy. A man who, just like her, has seen things most wouldn't even believe.

They both fall quiet passing the cigarette back and forth, and for a moment he thinks that the conversation has faded out completely. Simon's eyes return to the book in his lap, trying to find the spot where he left off before she interrupted him, but—

''Do you think I went too far?'' Jane keeps her eyes forward, burying her free hand in the left pocket of her jacket.

Simon hums in response, dark and low. ''Doesn't matter what I think,'' he says in a way that makes it clear he believes it, too.

''But you are somewhat capable of forming opinions, yeah?''

It coaxes a half-huff, half-laugh from him. He gets it. Logically, he gets it. Everybody is somebody's dog, hanging onto a leash; but he's military, and he much prefers to not comment on any of it.

''You ignored authority,'' he starts, then pauses. ''Whether or not it was worth it, all y'can do now is handle the repercussions.''

''That's not an answer.'' Two dimples appear on either side of Jane's frown as she tucks some loose strands of hair behind her ears and leans forward. ''Forget I even—''

''I think," he interrupts calmly, but stern, ''that your self-doubt won't help you.''

Jane keeps her gaze flat, level. Perhaps if she mimics the face of apathy, Simon won't be able to see that she's hanging onto every word of his. What he says resonates; a quiet truth echoing through the air between them. The regret in her chest strikes like a bomb and for a moment, she fears the possibility of Shepherd cutting her TS/SCI clearance once and for all. She's been ignoring the thought, avoiding any evidence of worry that could shape her suspicions into something tangible, something real.

''Just thinking ahead'' she says quietly, scuffing her boot against the pavement below. "Little catastrophizing, worst-case-scenario planning."

"Doomsday prepping?" He offers and gets a little smile for that.

His chest tightens at the sight, an aching warmth interweaving his thoughts with sympathy. He looks away then, trying to collect himself. Seeking control, reaching for reason. Better judgment. Something else.

Jane studies his side profile for a moment, and Simon suddenly feels like she's too close, too comfortable in his presence. It's only a split second, the length of a heartbeat, but it's enough for Jane to take in the way he blinks his intrusive thoughts away.

''Why are you still here, anyway?'' She asks in a change of tone, plucking the cigarette from his fingers.

''Taking a break,'' he drawls, words dripping slowly as molasses from his mouth. There is no further explanation offered, no words wasted on reasons or truths. Simon blinks languidly, his lips pressing together as he closes his book for good.

''Because of Soap?'' There's an off-tone in her voice. ''I thought he is getting better already?"

Simon exhales roughly. ''No,'' he says with a lazy shrug. ''Yes.''

It's short and curt, but she doesn't let his vague hostility deter her. Jane just stares at him, impatience reflecting in her eyes, and he's not used to it; all the questions, the curiosity.

''Do you know,'' he continues slowly, taking the cigarette back to keep his hands busy, ''the number of classifications and regulations I'd have to ignore to tell you shite like this?''

It's easier than admitting that he failed his psych evaluation for a second time in three years.

Price is doing the paperwork for him, because they apparently want to negotiate some kind of terms for him. No rumors, no records, no further questions asked. Simon would be mad about it, if he wasn't so bloody tired.

It's been years of regaining control and gripping bloody bathroom sinks. Endless hours of running, shooting, yelling over comms, and saving Johnny from the stupid, stupid shit he gets up to when nobody's there to keep an eye out for him. Simon is not a reckless man—at least not when he doesn't let his rage blind him—but you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

He's not sure why he hasn't been able to admit to himself that his life has been nothing but fear, rage, vigilance, wanting, and searching, wanting, and never finding what eases the pain.

He knows that Price goes back to a Rosewood desk with whisky and cigars in the upper right drawer, before driving home to a house and a woman that were once his. Laswell has a wife named June and a flourishing garden waiting at home. Gaz goes back to a two-bedroom flat in London, decorated by a girl he met during the siege of the U.S. embassy in Urzikstan. Simon doesn't have anywhere to be—nobody's waiting for him—so he stays. For Soap, he tells himself, and everyone who's paid to listen.

The Scot's injuries happened under his watch, so he might as well play messenger for his moms, sisters and one-thousand nephews until he can travel back home. It's what a good Lieutenant does. It's what Price would do.

''Alright,'' Jane says cold, flatly. ''It's none of my business anyway.''

She declines the last drag of the cigarette when Simon offers it to her, and he can't help but feel like he's been rude; like he just ruined something delicate. A particular flavor of guilt clings to the underside of his tongue, and he's willing to answer whatever her next question might be in order to make it up to her.

He stubs out the cigarette, and it takes a moment or two before he realizes that his guilt is the reason she gave in so quickly in the first place.

''I'm not gonna tell ya,'' he says, prompting a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth; like she doesn't fully believe it, but is willing to play along.

He is too exhausted to not condemn her for it, so he covers himself in heavy silence. Simon doesn't break eye contact, doesn't move—his dark glance intervenes with the amusement in her eyes, and when the quiet stretches on for too long, her eyes dart to his exposed lips shamelessly.

''Anyone ever tell ya' to mind yer' own business, Spade?''

It coaxes a genuine laugh out of her. Simon is not sure he's ever heard her laugh before; the way the sound bubbles out of her throat, limpid and clear, and then almost turns into a snort.

''I like you,'' she says pointedly, with purpose.

"You're just bored.'' — ''And you aren't?"

Simon remains silent, and the glint in her glance grows bright, pinning. Like she just learned a secret; an inside joke.

It's unhealthy, this habit she's developed of digging her fingers in his wounds. She feels like a parasite trying to crawl under his skin, and she should probably feel far more ashamed of how much she enjoys the thrill of it.

She has heard the stories, of course. The legends about the masked, faceless man; the perfect soldier, the silent killer. Everyone affiliated with Shepherd or Shadow Company in the slightest is aware of Ghosts' reputation, and Jane had been curious to meet the man. Dead-eyed, mass of muscle. A walking depiction of death.

The warning signs about him are written in blood, telltale stories, and that half-lidded stare of his; Stay away, they say. Keep your distance.

''Don't—,'' he starts with the exhaustive sort of contempt: the kind that says he is tired and bored of this tedious game. ''Don't look at me like that.''

Jane bats her eyelashes at him. ''Like what?''

''Like you want something from me.''

''Maybe I do—''

"You don't,'' he interrupts, tongue like a blade. ''All bark no bite, last time I fucked you.''

In some twisted ways, his fury excites her. The insistence on his dominance, too, and Jane laughs out loud at words that don't sting. She's practiced; chin tipped up, meeting his disapproving stare with a smirk.

''You ever let anyone kiss you, Lieutenant?''

He looks away, hisses through his teeth in frustration. ''That what you want?''

''I think,'' Jane retorts in a tone both cruel and tender, ''you want it, too.''

The hard look in his eyes lets something uncurl in her. Something satisfied, something real.

''You do,'' she says again, and then he's on her; hand tangled in her hair, pulling her close. His grip on her scalp is not gentle, nothing about him is, and she smiles—shows teeth—at the broad display of it.

Simon stares at her for a long moment, a frustrated hum forming at the back of his throat. She can feel his breath on her face. Almost hears the whir of the wheels turning in his head; calculating, calibrating.

''You don't know what you're getting yourself into,'' he finally says, loosening his grip.

''I've done worse,'' she spits out, pulling away.

It happens somewhere between her leaning back and him not wanting her to. It happens and it's familiar, and new all at once; the way he stops her from turning away, pulls her closer by a fist of hair. He kisses her like he does everything else: a little cocky, a little mean. Their teeth clack together, and Simon kisses Jane long and searching—like he was waiting for it to happen.

Like he means it.

》 Previous Part | Next Part 》 Masterlist.

》 Tag-list: @devcica @glitterypirateduck @queen-ilmaree @widemiffyhappy @cathnoneofyourbusiness

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x f!oc #cod fanfiction #mw2 #simon riley fanfic #simon riley call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #Simon Riley smut #ghost smut #call of duty mwii #simon riley x oc #call of duty #simon ghost riley x f!oc #simon ghost riley x oc #cod mw3

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zkylearnstherope · 4 months ago

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AvGeometry [An Analysis]

Disclaimer: This is a very short Analysis for Animation vs. Geometry by Alan Becker. I am not a geometer, (according to Merriam-Webster, a person who specializes in geometry) this purely for fun.

First of all, I will NOT explain everything in the video. I will just focus on answering a few questions to which I found the answer for. I also have some conclusions at the end.

I will leave the in-depth explanations of everything to those YouTubers. Also, I have linked my sources using hyperlinks.

So, let's get into it- shall we?

Let's start with-

Which version of TSC is the main character for this one?

If you read my AvPhysics Analysis, you would realize that I named the TSC with the cowboy hat TSC_0 of Universe D.

Since the start of the AvGeometry video, I immediately realized that this is NOT the same guy from AvMath, since he didn't show signs of aggressiveness with phi Φ.

He's more curious versus the guy in AvMath who attacked Euler's Identity immediately. This is also the same guy who spawned in AvPhysics, TSC_0.

I think this MC is a TSC from a different Universe. I will call him TSC_0 of the AvG Universe.

Now you might ask yourself, why did I gave him the 0 designation?

Because the video ended with another TSC knocking at the point.

Now, you might argue, that this is not a perfect loop because there is a line below the point. While the start of the video, doesn't have that line.

You are right. Again, if you read my AvPhysics Analysis, I said that the TSCs in there are not stuck in a time loop.

It's just an infinite cycle that happens to different versions of them. Everyone spends only a short amount of time inside the singularity.

So the next TSC to arrive will not be TSC_0 but TSC_1.

How did TSC and phi Φ beat that Boss?

To start, let's define a few things. Click the hyperlinks to view my source.

Polyhedron - is any three-dimensional figure with flat faces that are polygons. They intersect at straight, linear edges. The edges themselves intersect at points called vertices.

Tetrakis Hexahedron - It is a Catalan Solid with 24 isosceles triangle faces and 14 vertices. It is the d24 die. It is also a 3-dimensional polyhedron, not 4D.

Now, first of all, the Boss is not 4D. It is two Tetrakis Hexahedrons overlapping each other and rotates at different speeds.

Platonic Solids - a convex polyhedron that is regular, in the sense of a regular polygon. These are also 3D shapes. There are Five Platonic Solids

Note that this not the original image from the website, but I rearranged the rows to highlight my points. I also added the dice names, incase you're more familiar with DnD.

In fighting the Boss, TSC and phi Φ started with lines that has 2 vertices or points. Then they slowly moved to the Platonic Solids, eventually defeating the Boss using a dodecahedron.

The Boss had 14 vertices vs the dodecahedron that had 20.

Now, I can't really say why more vertices is superior. It could be structural integrity, or the idea that the universe's topology and shape, references the shape of dodecahedron.

Or, that the golden ratio is the length from the vertex to the center of the dodecahedron, and is also the ratio of the diagonal of the pentagonal face as demonstrated in the video.

The Hyperdodecahedron and Singularity

Hyperdodecahedron aka 120-cell is the convex regular 4-polytope (four-dimensional analogue of a Platonic solid.) It is the 4-dimensional analogue of the regular dodecahedron. It has 720 pentagonal faces and 600 vertices.

It's basically 4D dodecahedron.

According to ChatGPT, in higher-dimensional geometry and theoretical physics, singularities often refer to points or regions where certain physical quantities become infinite or undefined.

Here's how I see it. If that yellow dot is indeed a singularity, the only explanation I could come up with, is at some point, the hyperdodecahedron's infinite insides would shrink to a single point in its 4-dimensional space.

Fractals

Now I think these are fractals by I cannot be sure. Also, I couldn't get a definite answer as to how fractals would be relevant to singularities.

What I got from ChatGPT were related to the event horizon instead.

That irregularities of the event horizon might have fractal patterns or exhibit fractal characteristics in its shape when examined at a different (smaller) scale.

The visual and structural complexity of the event horizon evoke fractal-like qualities.

Now, this Analysis is a lot shorter, and also inconclusive. I did try my best. My brain is now mush.

#alan becker #animation vs geometry #animation vs education #animator vs animation #avg second coming

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suite-purgatory-a-hh-what-if · 2 months ago

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The Overlords in my rewrite

For the first lore dump of my AU is the Overlords!!! :D

So I will be going through a few details in this AU, Discussing a short overview of what the Overlords are, how many are there (as of season 1/ maybe season 2), what are some up and upcoming overlords, what areas they control and what are their respected… well overlord titles.

What Are Overlords?

Simply put, in hell the Overlords are Powerful sinner demons in hell/Pride ring, who have managed to control or grow their Powers/abilities and can make contracts to sinners when their power has been at their absolute peak. They also run districts/territories in Pentagram City That they claim by going into brawls and turf battles after every extermination to get more open land for themselves and to spread their businesses.

How many are there?

There used to be over 500 overlords over the past centuries but most of them have either:

A: died due to being stuck outside for extermination day and killed by an exorcist.

B: Killed with Angelic Weapon Slivers by either Sinners/Hellborn/Others.

C: Or had their Souls being drained(A trait that only Alastor can do)

How can you tell when someone is a overlord?

One simple detail to tell if someone is an overlord is with their sclera, Red sclera is one hell of a tale-tell sign that someone is an overlord some examples of some overlords with the sclera:

However, there are a couple of overlords with some exceptions to these rules (Zelestial, who is the main head of hell archival history, overwatches the current overlords and has to report to Lucifer around 4-12 times a year about their duties to make sure they're staying in line and oversees their districts. And Rosie a Cannibal overlord who owns a small county like town in Pentagram City called Cannibal District)

((No pictures of these two overlords yet.))

How many are there in total(As of the story's current set)?

Simply put there's a total current of 13 overlords(with only two half overlords those being Carmilla's adopted daughters) While mentioned earlier there were hundreds in the past but as of now most sinners in hell(or well those who have their souls not in a contract) aren’t patient enough to develop their powers to try and become overlords and there are those who are too afraid to defeat an overlord to even try.

As of now here a small list of the current amount of overlords:

Zelestial: The overlord who is also a right-hand sinner demon of Lucifer

Carmilla Carmine: The overlord of Ironworks, she created and distributes iron all over Pride and the other rings, she also hosts a bi-yearly underground weapons auction event that tends to sell weapons that cannot just kill sinners but also higher-ranked demons, although Zelestial tends to keep those meetings out of his reports…

VeeCorp: VeeCorp is a conglomerate of three overlords who have Vs in their names and they tend to run the media of Pride

Vox: He is the overlord of television, he runs at least 80% of all television channels and sells his tech products also used to have some sort of beef with another overlord in the past by the name of Alastor.

Valentino: He well, the overlord of pornography in the pride district, runs all types of pornography films and runs a few successful brothels in Pentagon City; as of right now he is very furious over the actions of a certain star in his contracts, one who goes by the name of Angel dust.

Lastly Velvette: Is the Social Media overlord, She is what Vox and Val consider the backbone of the trio itself; she posts pictures on social media, participates in trends, and participates in interviews hosted by Voxnews, and she is even working on her cosmetic brand, while people may think shes the weakest due to her powers not being all that stronger compared to her two male companions… it's her brain that is her true power.

Lastly as of now there Alastor: The radio demon, is considered to be one of the most deadly overlords due to going on a draining spree 8 decades ago draining and surpassing many overlords and becoming more powerful(he is only 4th strongest He’s behind in order Zelestial, Carmilla Carmine, and Vox) he also continues to host a radio show where he use to broadcast screams of all kinds of victims of his in the past. Lately, he's been MIA in the past 7 years with people thinking he had been either killed by Vox, or an extermination angel but now he's back and working for Lucifers wacky princess daughter

Wannabe Overlords:

Wannabe overlords are a simple definition they are sinner who are slowly growing their powers but are not yet overlords; and example of one of these is a spunky died around the 80’s explosive maianc who goes by the name Cherri Bomb, wannabe overlods tend to have a mix of their normal sclera(which is either yellow, green or lilac) being faded away with the red coming in. (example shown with cherri bomb) As for the current number their are many wannabes but an estimate as of now is around 50-100

(Right here is an example of what your eye would kinda look like if your a wannabe overlord)

What would happen if someone were to overpower/kill an Overlord?

If you were successful in Killing an Overlord; then you simply get the Overlord's area and of course all the resources they have(like Money for example). Soul contracts wouldn't be one of them; If an overlord were to die their soul contracts would be set free.

What areas do some of these overlords run:

Nearly every single overlord tends to run a certain area of pentagram,(The map here will show only a few select areas where overlords live and where their work is located ((map will be updated in the future)))

(Some more info will be updated In The future.

#hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel redesign #mydrawings #redesign alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #carmilla carmine #the vees #valentino #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #Zelestial #hazbin hotel #Mentions of some overlords #Rosie gets a mention

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honkytonk-hangman · 1 year ago

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Goodness! Gracious!

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You wouldn't say you were trying to give your 'Uncle' Mav a taste of his own medicine, after all, it was him who introduced you to Rooster in the first place, but you weren't exactly trying to spare the man, either.

Notes: Reader is named Grace for ease of writing, and is Charlie Blackwood's daughter. I headcanon Charlie as a lesbian like her actress, but have not described reader with any traits aside curly hair. this is just a little thing that has been on my mind, idk yet if i'll write more, but let me know!

I would love to hear any feedback!!! <3

Masterlist

“Hello? Anyone home?” you call out, slipping your sunglasses off to better see inside the slightly dishevelled space in front of you, also taking a moment to remove the scarf from your head, and place both items in your purse. A sound that could only belong to a heavy tool as it clatters to the ground somewhere further inside the building, followed by a sharp scraping noise on the bare concrete flooring, like a stool being kicked out of place hurriedly at the sudden appearance of visitors. You straighten up, giving your head a much-practised gentle little shake that you know tousles your curls perfectly every time.

You take a few steps further into the open hangar bay door, the soft echo of the approaching footsteps making you turn, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning with genuinely excitement at the sight of the man who steps out from behind one of several tall crates, looking around curiously as he wipes an already blackened cloth over his hands, however he falters when he spots you, the rag quickly tossed to the nearest surface as his own face lights up in a wide smile.

“Grace?!” Maverick exclaims in a mixture of surprise and disbelief, not only at your impromptu stop by at his Hangar, but at your presence on the West Coast as a whole. Regardless of any confusion though, he hurries toward you, wrapping you up in a warm hug that you more than happily return, holding onto Mav tightly for a few seconds before you break away again.

“What are you doing here?” Mav asks, his hands holding your shoulders now as if he was getting a good look at you for the first time in years, despite the fact that you were in regular contact. “I thought your Mom said something about you being North of the border until after Christmas!?” he goes on to add, his brows furrowing in concern. You roll your eyes playfully, and flick your hair.

“How that woman works for the bloody Pentagon mystifies me sometimes,” you chortle, and shake your head again. “No, I was asked to take the lead on a project up at the headquarters in Canada, but… I… I actually quit,” you reveal the truth like ripping a bandaid off, although you know telling Maverick the news was never going to be the hardest part.

His face converts briefly into shock before it deepens once more into concerns, his hands squeeze your shoulders firmly, and he takes half a step closer to you as if to conceal your conversation from the prying ears of his various boxes and crates.

“What happened, are you alright?” he sounds a little flustered as he asks, unsure what to even begin asking, but you quickly raise a hand to rest on one of his own outstretched ones and give it a warm pat and a reassuring smile.

“Everything’s fine, Mav, I know it’s kinda outta the blue, but it’s not for any bad reason…” you trail off realising although Maverick was the easier person to admit your truth to, explaining the whys seemed to suddenly become much harder.

Maverick nods carefully, but adjusts his tone and expression to match your own calm. You shrug, briefly looking away from him and toward the Cessna you can now see is tucked toward the back of the left side of the hangar. You squint at it, but force yourself to look back at Mav before speaking again.

“I don’t know how to explain it to you, or mom. I just realised I wasn’t happy anymore…” you swallow shakily and shrug your shoulders as best you can with Mav’s hands still holding them. You see his eyes searching your features but something very quickly in his demeanour relents and he softens.

“Hey, you don’t need to explain anything. Knowing that you weren’t happy is more than enough for me,” he tells you, and it’s almost embarrassing how immediately your heart becomes lighter.

“All my life I never had to worry about what I was going to do,”

“Your mom’s used to love it when you’d get asked what you wanted to be when you got older, and you’d confidently shout ‘Aeronautical Engineer’.” Mav chuckles warmly, and you can;t help but share his smile.

“Except for that one year-long period I wanted to be a Naval Aviator, like you,” you remind him, making him nod in vague remembrance.

“Remind me, was it the Cessna 172 flight I took you on that changed your mind?” he asks, earning an immediate embarrassed groan from you.

“God, you’d think at sixteen I’d have given more thought to what flying was actually like…” you roll your eyes, but you both share another laugh at the memory of you begging Mav not to tell your Mom’s how much you’d hated the surprise they’d organised for you, though you’d missed the knowing look the three adults had shared over lunch later.

Mav gives you a final little check-over as the laughter softens, and he squeezes your shoulders once more, before finally dropping his hands.

“I’m guessing the reason I haven’t already heard about this from your mom is because she doesn’t know…?” Maverick ventures, knowing Charlie would have forgone her usual email, and gone straight for a video-call to share news like this.

“... I know I need to tell her, but I just wanted to have something else figured out first, or a plan, or a…” you trail off knowing you had no real reason good enough for not telling her. “... I don’t want her to be disappointed in me…”

Maverick gives you a soft ‘tsk’ as he shakes his head, but his expression remains soft and he reaches out to take one of your fidgeting hands.

“Grace, believe me when I say I know how you feel. When your mom believes in you, it feels like that's all you could ever need to succeed, but as hard as it can be to feel like you’re going to let her down, if I’ve learned anything in the past thirty-something years, it’s that there's no such thing as disappointing Charlie Blackwood.”

You stare at him, feeling a little disbelief at his sentiments, but knowing for a fact that he of all people wouldn’t lie to you about this. You open your mouth to try and say something, anything, but before you can, he tightens his grip on your joined hands and gives you a knowing little smile.

“I know you have to learn that for yourself, but don’t sell her short, alright?” he asks, making your mouth shut tightly, but after a few moments you give him a short smile. He squeezes your fingers a final time before releasing you and placing his hands on his hips.

“So you planning on hiding out on the West Coast, then?” Mav asks lightly, as if you hadn’t just had a day-altering conversation with him. You nod a few times to clear your head, and cough away the tightness in your throat.

“I was actually hoping I could convince you to give me the keys to Mom’s chalet… at least until I find somewhere to stay,” you tell him.

Maverick’s eyebrows shoot up slightly, but he nods.

“You’re planning on staying out here a while then?” he asks, and you shrug, but relent your coyness quickly.

“I’ve got a job here in San Diego. How about I tell you and Penny about it over dinner soon?” you offer, feeling an edge of excitement fill your voice again. Maverick considers you for a few seconds, before dropping his hands from his hips as he nods.

“That sounds great. You know, you’re welcome to stay with Penny and I, but I think the chalet is probably more ideal while you get back on your feet.” he says in that way that tells you he really did understand you on a level many people just didn’t.

You open your mouth to reply something about living with newlyweds when you’re cut off by the sudden slamming of a car door behind you, the approach of another car going entirely unnoticed by the both of you in the midst of your heart-to-heart, but there’s mistaking the voice that immediately follows arrival.

“Mav?” this time the voice is closer, letting you make out the deepness and slight rasp this time. You turn to the open hangar door that you’d entered only minutes prior, where the silhouette of a tall, seemingly very fit man stands admiring your ride, and mimicking the way Maverick had just been stood with his hands on his hips, the man gets a good eyeful of your baby and lets out an impressed whistle.

The newcomer is only just pulling himself away from admiring your car when Maverick steps past you, holding a hand out to make introductions. Immediately once the taller man has stepped past the threshold, you take note of the way his eyes barely touch on Mav at all, instead snapping straight to your figure. You’re glad you decided to put a little more time into your appearance today, glad you’d bothered securing your hair with a scarf.

The stranger is both very tall and extremely fit, like you’d glimpsed from his shadow, but now that he nears and removes his sunglasses, you’re treated to the rest of his handsome features, strong and confident, his honey brown hair short but curling in slight waves where it’s been allowed to grow a little longer. His face is clean shaven except for a thick, dark moustache that he honestly pulls off more than you think he has any right to.

He seems vaguely familiar, you think, and briefly before Maverick speaks again, you see him come to the same thought.

“Rooster, you remember Grace Blackwood, don’t you? Charlie’s daughter?” Mav asks just as the man, Rooster comes to a stop in front of you.

“I think you were still a kid last time you saw each other,” Mav says mostly to you, but your memory has already been jogged, though you’re most familiar with Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw from name alone, hearing about the fallout between he and Mav from your mother more than anything.

“Right, the future aerospace engineer, right?” Rooster asks, lips quirked up as he clearly gives you another once-over, though this time attempting to be more subtle about it. “You get around to building that mega-sonic jet yet?” he asks, making your eyebrows tilt up into your hairline.

“I’m surprised you remember that,” you tell him truthfully with a laugh, but don’t bother to let yourself be embarrassed. “But no, mega-sonic technology has yet to be harnessed. But you’ll be one of the first to hear about it once it is,” you add warmly.

You recall then the time you had discovered that the older boy harboured dreams of being a Naval Aviator like Uncle Mav, and had subsequently cornered him for the afternoon, insisting that he take a look through your portfolio of various jet plane designs complete with detailed notes. To his credit, you remembered that he had spent an acceptable amount of time looking over each design, and had even asked you questions your mom’s or Mav hadn’t thought of.

“Do you prefer Rooster or Bradley these days?” You ask when the memory has passed you by, noticing how he seems to jump at your words, seemingly distracted completely. Your smile widens more and you cock your head.

“Rooster, Rooster is fine,” he tells you, shaking your hand firmly when you offer your own, his eyes locked on yours.

“Still go by Gracie?” he prompts after a moment's silence, neither of you seeming to realise that although having completed your handshake, you now simply stood with entwined hands. You wonder if it’s a coincidence that his gaze dips at the same moment your skin prickles with goosebumps, brought on solely by your name on his lips.

“Definitely,” you tell him. No reason occurs to you in that moment to tell him that you hadn’t allowed anybody to call you ‘Gracie’ since you were about thirteen, not even the men you’d dated since.

Maverick clears his throat loudly, and both you and Rooster tear your eyes apart, followed quickly by your hands. The older man looks between the two of you with as much evenness as he can seemingly muster, though you notice he gives Rooster a longer, sharper gaze.

“I’ll grab those keys for you Grace,” Mav tells you, his eyes swinging back to you and you blink at the slightly narrowed look of warning you find there. Unable to do anything but blink innocently, he seems to hesitate before stepping away, back toward the trailer in the back.

You watch Maverick jog back to his trailer, before shifting your gaze to the man in front of you. To your amusement you find him also following Mav’s retreat, though his eyes snap down to yours quickly as if sensing them on him.

“You’re hanging around San Diego?” he asks simply, making you wonder how much he’d heard about you since he and Mav had made up.

“That’s the plan. I start a new job next week,” you inform him, earning a frown of curiosity from him, and he cocks his head.

“Mav said something about you making it big with Lockheed–”

“–Changed my mind,” you cut him off quickly, feeling anxiety beat loudly against your chest, but it’s silenced almost immediately when Rooster swivels his eyes away from you, nodding as he does.

“Fair enough,” he replies after a moment, still not looking back at you, almost as if he could sense your nervousness. Clearing your throat and tousling your hair for your own confidence alone, you straighten and let a coolness enter your demeanour once more. Rooster looks back then, eyes studying you lightly.

“It’s still kinda new… so who knows how it’ll go…” you tell him, shrugging. He shrugs back, but nods once.

“Least you’re going for it. Most people would rather stay comfortable than take a chance on the unknown… Even if things don’t go how you plan, I doubt you’ll look back in ten years time and regret trying.”

You blink in surprise at Rooster’s words, and for the first time during this entire re-introduction, you get a real sense of the man he’d become in the years since you’d seen him last, and if anything, you find yourself drawn in even more by that than all his tender gazes and unsubtle flirting combined.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say softly, ducking your head briefly before meeting his eye again. “I needed that.”

You see him smile, before his eyes flicker to movement over your shoulder and he clears his throat, adjusting to point back at your car parked in plain view.

“You sure you won’t let me take her for a spin?” He says loudly, almost confusing you before you hear Mav’s trailer door shut behind you. Placing your hands on your hips you shake your head, playing along.

“Look, I only just convinced mom to give her to me, and I’m not risking her just cause some flyboy pilot bats his eyelashes at me!” you reply, earning an amused side glance from the flyboy in question.

“Well if your heart ever thaws some…” Rooster trails off just as Maverick joins you once more, appearing convinced by the faux-argument.

“Rooster, I wouldn’t set your heart on it,” Maverick tells him, handing you the keys to your Mom’s North Island chalet. You spin them showily, and can’t help yourself from sending the other man a wink.

“But hey, maybe if you ask nicely, one day I’ll take you for a ride,” you say innocently, watching as Rooster blinks down at you, eyes widening slightly as he processes your double entendre, just as Mav coughs and claps his hands together.

“Don’t let us hold you up any longer, Grace, I’m sure you’ve got lots to do,” Mav suggests, making you roll your eyes, but you take his dismissal easily, leaning in to give him a brief, tight hug. When you pull away, Rooster makes no move other than to shove his hands in his pockets and give you a seemingly friendly nod.

“Don’t hesitate to ask if you need any help settling in,” he says, sounding flippant enough, though his eyes tell you a different story.

You bid both men goodbye and saunter purposefully toward your baby, making a show of climbing in, fixing your scarf over your curls, and lastly, slipping your shades back over your eyes. You can see Rooster still in place, hands on his hips again as he watches you start the engine, only turning away from you when something from behind him causes him to jump. Your amused grin is the last thing he must see as he turns away from you, and you can’t help but wear it the entire way home.

#rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction

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emberfrostlovesloki · 10 months ago

Text

Now You're Everything [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@unheartbreakable) Center (@milla984) Right (@poseidonsarmoury)

Prompt: It’s been a long time coming and after an emotion-heavy year, Aaron finally shows the BAU-reader how much he wants them.

Pairing: Aaron x fem!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns.

Category: fluff/comfort/minor whump.

Word Count: 9.9K

Content Warnings: Light swearing and drinking, mention of kidnapping and torture [Hotch], Hospitals and IVs, Minor unwanted advances [reader]. If I missed any, please let me know.

A/N: Hi, loves! Happy New Year's Eve! This is for my love @silk-spun. It is the second fic I’ve written based on my December Prompt List (linked) Dialog prompt #6: “Let’s skip the office party and go out on the town instead!” I changed the wording a bit, but this is basically all the times Aaron and the reader don’t have the right words to confess, and the one time they don’t need them to get their message across. There is one short mention of Aaron being tortured on a case, and I plan on turning that into a full fic soon. So look forward to that (?). I hope you have a great evening and stay safe. If you like this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List wil all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_y/l/n_ = your last name

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color

_y/f/c/b_ = your favorite caffeinated beverage (i.e. coffee/tea/energy drinks)

_y/l/f/d_ = your least favorite designer

_y/f/d_ = your favorite drink

Aaron looked around the room which was shockingly full for it being 9:30 p.m. He scanned the groups of people clustered around tables and sitting in chairs talking. Some had plates of food, others glasses of alcohol or sparkling soda. The person whom the supervisory special agent was looking for wasn’t there. He wondered if she was using the lady's room. The last time he’d seen _y/n_ she was being cornered by Freddy from finance. Aaron hadn’t attempted to listen in on the conversation because it was mostly Fred talking to _y/n_. It seemed the pox-faced man wasn’t letting _y/n_ get a word in edge-wise. That sounded like a personal hell that he would avoid at all costs. He had to do enough wine-ing and small talk at the annual Winter Holiday party as it was. He’d talked to Strauss, the Director of the Pentagon, and all the other heads of teams that had made it to Quantico for the party. He’d heard about so many cases that they started to blend together, but for Aaron, nothing would top his team or the crimes they solved. Hotch listened to Bernard Shaw, head agent for the Tax Fraud department, as the white-haired man droned on about a new loophole for the Cayman Islands and how much of a pain it had been that year. Aaron looked over his team with a soft appreciation for how hard they all worked, how they had gelled to feel more like a family than just profilers doing a difficult, dangerous job. There was Derek, who could always be called on to help with anything. The built agent was talking to Spencer. The genius had been so young when he joined the team. Aaron had taken on a fatherly role with Spencer without even thinking about it. Before Jack had ever been born. Rossi had just taken Aaron’s place with Strauss, and they were talking about some half-shared hobby or new bureau policy. Both of those conversations looked the same. Hotch caught Dave’s eye and the older man gave a small shrug, indicating, “This is what the holiday party is for. Making nice one last time before we get a break.” Aaron gave a small nod of agreement before turning his attention back to Shaw. The man hadn’t noticed as Aaron’s attention had waned and then returned to him. Hotch cleared his throat and said, “I’m going to refresh my drink, but it was good to catch up, Bernard, and good luck in dealing with the fallout of S.B. 103b.” Bernard nodded, and the two men shook hands before Aaron walked back to the table with the alcohol on offer. As Hotch poured himself a glass of white. He guessed at how much the liquor alone for this party cost. His guess was around 2,000 dollars. The FBI didn’t ever recommend frivolous spending, but even they realized that sticking a hundred agents and department heads together required the good stuff.

As Aaron sipped on the cool chablis, he swirled the liquid in his glass slightly. The rare sound of mirth at this dull and quiet frankly depressing party was coming from his team. It was Emily, JJ, Garcia, and _y/n_.” As he looked at _y/n_ in her semi-formal _y/f/c_ dress that was just long enough to be appropriate, Hotch assumed it was some cocktail dress _y/n_ had pulled from the back of a closet behind all of _y/n_ business formal and work attire. The black tights made the outfit work in a fashion way that Aaron didn’t have the right words for. He had to tear his eyes away because if he kept looking at _y/l/n_ much longer, the butterflies in his stomach would soon unfurl their wings and move into his ribcage in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Aaron moved to Rossi, who was free now for support. Dave grounded him, which he needed right now. His feelings for _y/n_ had been coming to a head for months now and somehow, Aaron didn’t feel the bureau holiday party was the place for a confession. Even if _y/n_ was receptive to his advances, he worried. His role as her superior and the age gap had him wondering if they had enough in common to sustain a relationship. They’d grown up in different decades, and y/n_ seemed to have the youth and energy he lacked as he neared late middle age. The part of Aaron that longed for _y/n_ in unexplored ways knew that Hotch’s concerns were self-imposed. That _y/n_ had been sending him small signs of affection and care that didn’t even think he deserved. But Aaron’s fear was real and steeped in policy and power dynamics that would come with having a committed relationship with _y/n_. Hotch moved next to Rossi and asked his friend about his New Year's plan. If he was currently seeing anyone. The basic life and catching up questions that they rarely had time for during work. As Dave answered, Hotch’s eye kept flicking back to _y/n_, as she laughed at some comment of Penelope’s. Rossi noticed and stopped talking about himself. Instead, he said, “She’s not going to wait forever you know, Aaron. _y/n_’s a patient person, but I think she deserves to know how you feel about her.” This comment had Hotch flush and take a breath in. Aaron had tried very hard to keep any of his feelings for _y/n_ hidden beneath a cloak of professionalism and feigned disinterest in the team's personal life as a whole. After all, he was their boss foremost, but it was hard to tune out when the team spoke of their weekends. It was doubly so when it was _y/n_. He’d overhear her complaints about bad dates and rent, and how her dryer was broken in her unit. Hotch had wanted to offer to fix it himself but stopped himself before the words could slip from his mouth. He’d also heard her when she talked about the good things like a new cafe she had found, or getting tickets for a band she adored. If _y/n_ was talking and Aaron was around, he listened but tried to look very hard to not look like he was listening. He wondered if he had played into that a little too hard. Hotch looked at Rossi and asked, “Is it that obvious? And what if _y/n_ doesn’t feel the same way? Her feelings could just be due to proximity, or that I’m her boss or something.” Rossi scoffed and said, “You’re deflecting, Aaron. This isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey. A young woman is allowed to have feelings for a guy, who in my opinion is a pretty good catch.” Dave’s complement had Aaron scoff, but that didn’t stop Rossi from continuing. “Listen, Hotch. I knew you liked her and that she liked you ever since you were in the hospital after the case in Indianapolis. I think what happened in that hospital room told me that there was more than just a feeling of friendship between you and _y/n_. As for whether her feelings are the same way for you and you do for her, I can’t tell you. I’m no love expert. But you’re never going to know how she feels about you unless you ask. And I think you both deserve to know the answer, Hotch.”

With those words of advice, Dave gave Aaron a pat on the arm and excused himself for the night. The older profiler had done the rounds with the higher-ups and was excited to head home, nurse a whiskey, and watch an episode of The Suprano’s. Aaron on the other hand still had about five people to speak to before he could excuse himself. The added discussion about _y/n_ wasn’t going to make small talk any easier. So, with wine still in hand, he steeled himself for another hour of conversation. Hotch had almost made it through the last of his people. He needed to “catch up with.” The room had cleared significantly since his talk with Rossi. Derek, Spencer, and Em had all left, waving or saying a quick goodbye to him as they exited. Garcia was talking to a tech friend of hers from the third floor, and JJ was speaking in hushed tones to Will. But _y/n_ was nowhere to be found. Hotch watched as Arnold, the last person he should talk to approached him. Aaron didn’t think he could take any more small talk, and because Arnold was in Legal, he always asked Aaron loads of questions. Although Hotch didn’t mind flexing his JD now and again, he preferred to do it in a courtroom, not at parties, and not with Arnold Shortes nearly taking notes over their conversation. Aaron turned on his heel and walked quickly to the elevator before Arnold could catch him. Even after a few minutes _y/n_ still hadn’t come back into the second-floor conference room which had been cleared and rearranged for the party. He considered that _y/n_ might have dipped out with Emily, but he was sure she would have told him goodbye before she had left. She always told him goodbye unless he was in a meeting or seemed overly absorbed in his paperwork. _y/n_ introducing her comings and goings had become so routine that he used it as an informal clock now. _y/n_ would always enter the bullpen at 7:45 a.m. sharp unless there was something amiss. And then in the evenings at 5:10 p.m., she’d knock on his office door and wave before skipping down the stairs and to a life that Aaron assumed was filled with much more interesting things than his own. In fact, Hotch had become so accustomed to using _y/n_’s timeliness that he had almost missed a meeting with Strauss because of it.

Hotch had been sitting in his office looking over a case report, waiting to hear _y/n_’s chipper, “Hey guys,” down in the bullpen. He knew once he heard that he’d have just enough time to grab a coffee, wave to the team, and then make it to Strauss’s office. But it seemed to be taking longer than usual. Concerned, Aaron looked at his watch and was startled when he realized it was already 7:55 a.m. Aaron had to run to the elevator and just barely made it to the meeting on time. After the hour with Strauss, he had found JJ and asked, “Where’s _y/l/n_?” A tinge of concern laced his voice. The media liaison had replied, “She caught a bad cold last night. She just called Emily to let her know that she’s taking the day off with PTO.” Aaron nodded, absorbing the information. He was glad to know that _y/n_ wasn’t in any trouble, or stuck in traffic, but being sick didn’t sound great either. Aaron had spent the rest of that day fiddling around anxiously. Hotch knew it was because of _y/n_ but refused to admit it. Finally, when 5:10 came around, he pulled out his cell and called _y/n_. She’d picked up on the third ring and sounded terrible as she said, “Hey, Hotch. What is it?” Aaron let out a breath and said, “Sorry to disturb you, _y/n_. I just wanted to see how you were doing?” There was a muffled cough on the line, and Aaron cringed as _y/n_ hoarsely replied, “I’m still feeling pretty bad, but the fever is down at least. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a day or two.” Hotch nodded and replied a little too quickly, “Take all the time you need, _y/n_. When you feel better, come back.” There was an awkward pause because Aaron didn’t know what else to say, and _y/n_ hadn’t expected to hear such genuine concern coming from her normally very composed superior. At least not over a little cold. Eventually, _y/n_ who was feeling sleepy again said, “Thanks for checking on me, Hotch. I’ll be alright, just need some sleep.” Again, Aaron nodded. He replied, “Okay. Rest well, _y/n_. See you in a few days.” After that, he hung up and put his head in his hands in desperation. He knew he shouldn’t be having the feelings he was for _y/n_ It was inappropriate. His inner voice reminded him, “She’s sick goddamn it. She probably doesn’t want you around right now.” Aaron did justify his line of thinking slightly because he was just picturing making her some tea to smooth her throat and tucking the blankets around her more tightly. It’s not like he was having sex with her… though he’d had those thoughts before too. In his waking mind, he could stop those images with ease, but in his dreams when he made love to her, it was always overpowering. A time or two, he’d even waken mid-dream to find his body aroused and tense. On these occasions, he’d had to go to the bathroom and find release below a steaming shower. The guilt of doing this weighed on him heavily. One of the times he had done this was during a case, and he hadn’t been able to look at _y/n_ most of the day without flushing and internally reprimanding his body and mind like a teenager. But a majority of Aaron’s thoughts about _y/n_ centered around mundane things like waking up beside her, or cooking dinner together. Aaron knew he was boring, and led a boring life, but if it was possible, he’d like to lead it with _y/n_ beside him. Aaron sighed as the elevator reached his team’s floor. He wished he didn’t sound so melancholic, so lovesick. It wasn’t like him. But _y/n_ pulled the emotions from him like the moon pulled the tides. If nothing else, Aaron had learned something valuable tonight; as Rossi had said, _y/n_ wouldn’t wait for him forever, and they both deserved to know how the other felt about the other.

The bullpen was mostly dark with a few lamps on some desks still on, plus the lamps in Aaron’s office burned down on the rest of the space with their soft halogen glow. Hotch didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he wondered where _y/n_ had wandered off to, or if she had just left without telling him. The latter sounded unlikely. Hotch moved to her desk and noticed that _y/n_’s chair was pulled out with her bulky coat draped over the back, and her sneakers and socks sitting underneath the desk. This indicated to Aaron that _y/n_ was still around. Aaron leaned against the desk, much like Morgan did every day when _y/n_ got into the office. Hotch flushed at the idea of _y/n_ sitting in the empty chair. Being so close and causal like Derek or Garcia were with her. Hotch rarely found himself jealous of Morgan for many reasons, but in this case, he was. He couldn’t afford to be too casual with anyone on the team, especially not with _y/n_. If he was, he knew he’d fall head over heels for her. It was hard enough thinking and dreaming about her. He didn’t need more fuel for that fire. Thinking about this sparked a memory from earlier in the year, and suddenly, Aaron had a sense of where _y/n_ was. It had been after a long day in October. The time change had meant that it was dark outside before anyone left the office. The whole team was still around filling out some reports, except _y/n_ seemed to be missing. Hotch approached Emily and asked, “Where’s _y/n_?” Prenitess chuckled at his question and said, “Licking her wounds up on the roof. Freddy Hareld from Finance just made a big deal about “Just how keen _y/n_ looked. And how she must just be dying to get to know the city better now that she’s part of the BAU, and wouldn’t she let him show her around on Sunday.” Hotch’s eyes grew wide at the story. He was rarely privy to office gossip, even though he knew stuff like this happened around him all the time. However, his co-workers kept him out of the loop, which he didn’t mind until now. Aaron cleared his throat and asked, “Did she seem alright?” He wasn’t one to notice or judge men much, he knew he wasn’t perfect either, but Freddy didn’t seem like _y/n_’s type. Hotch was surprised the man had mustered up the courage to ask. Emily nodded and said, “She just looked annoyed. Apparently, Fred talked, loudly, for about five minutes before she had to shut him down and tell him that she wasn’t interested.” Even though Aaron trusted Prentiss, he wanted to make sure that _y/n_ was okay for himself. Office drama could be uncomfortable. Hotch had spent a good bit of time on the roof himself when he was new to the team. It seemed to be one of the only places in the building where you wouldn’t be disturbed, but now that Aaron had his own office, he didn’t need to find an escape from the team or his own thoughts anymore Much like the first time he had found _y/n_ on the roof seeking an escape, _y/n_ was leaning against the railing, looking out onto the canopy of trees that surrounded the Quantico office and the highway beyond them. Hotch cleared his throat, as he stepped closer to _y/n_. She turned around and felt a blush paint across her face when she saw it was him.

_y/n_ had just been thinking about him, and there he was. _y/n_ had been considering how they had both been dancing around the other's feelings all year. And two things _y/n_ knew for sure, she wasn’t great at dancing, and her feet were fucking tired. _y/n_ had hoped that there would be a way for her to tell him how she felt without it being awkward or jeopardizing her job. She hoped that she’d at least shown Aaron her care with her actions if not her words. Unfortunately, the few times that had seemed perfect had been cut off by Haley and Jack. The first time had happened in June. A terrorist group was planning on poisoning the largest high school in the region. It had all been a test run for a bigger operation that would take place in D.C. The team had caught on the terrorist’s trail first. But not before Hotch had been taken and tortured for information. The few seconds of audio that Aaron’s captors had shared were so sickening to _y/n_ that she crumpled in on herself and almost vomited. She couldn’t hide how much hearing Hotch in pain was hurting her. When the cell had been caught, the other half of the team moved to Aaron’s location. _y/n_ had shot and then subdued three men before she, Rossi, and Spencer found Hotch black and blue and tied to a chair. He was barely conscious with his mouth gagged. The wad of cloth in his mouth was soaked with sweat and blood that had dripped down the side of Aaron’s face from a large gash on his eyebrow. _y/n_ helped free his mouth while Spencer cut off the zip ties around his battered arms and legs. Rossi was on the phone with the paramedics who were already en route. Once Aaron’s limbs had been freed, he slumped heavily into _y/n_, who supported his weight. She and Spencer helped him to the ground, and he groaned in pain at being shifted. _y/n_ quickly took off her outer jacket and covered his waist. His kidnappers had stripped him of everything but his briefs, and _y/n_ was certain he didn’t want to be so exposed. The paramedics came shortly after and took Aaron to the nearest hospital._y/n_ was grateful that she didn’t have much time to see or think about all the cuts and burns littering Hotch’s prone form. Seeing him like this felt so wrong that it twisted her insides.

Later, when the doctor had methodically detailed Aaron’s injuries, _y/n_ burned with a fit of anger even _y/n_ didn’t know that she possessed. When he was cleared for it, the team had all gone and saw Aaron in his room. He was surrounded and attached to multiple medical devices keeping him medicated and stable. Even though everyone appreciated Aaron and what he had gone through, no one particularly wanted to stay with him long after wishing him a good night’s rest. No one except _y/n._. Aaron knew it was his fault. He hated hospitals. He would gripe and groan and generally be in a foul mood until he was released as quickly as possible, so he was surprised in his pain-induced state to see _y/n_ pull up a chair close to his bed and just plant herself there. Aaron shifted on the bed to look at her better. That was a bad idea as a sharp pain moved up his side. Hotch muttered, “Fuck” under his breath. He moved his left hand which was attached to an IV toward his stomach to apply some pressure where the pain was radiating from. _y/n_ watched as Aaron moved around. He was straining the line of his IV, and _y/n_ jumped up softly saying, “Hey, hey. Take it easy there Hotch. Just stay calm if you can.” Aaron grunted, but acquiesced as _y/n_ took his left arm and rested it back by his side. She looked at him, concern etched on her face as she asked, “Where does it hurt, Hotch?” Aaron swallowed and almost said everywhere. But his stomach was especially tender and he said, “My, my stomach, but you don’t have to do anything _y/n_. You don’t need to stay here. I’m a pain in the ass when I’m like this.” _y/n_ nodded in understanding as she gently applied a bit of pressure to where he had been trying to reach earlier. He closed his eyes as _y/n_ gently rubbed circles over the inflamed flesh of his torso. Any words about protocol or regulations left him as soon as _y/n_’s hands met his clothed skin. He let out a breath and _y/n_ asked, “Is this okay? I can get a nurse for you?” Aaron shook his head no. He was sick of being poked at. Having three IVs was already putting him on edge. The possibility of more medical equipment was too much to bear. And whatever _y/n_ was doing was soothing him. Hotch softly said, “No nurse. Please. This is good.” Even saying those words seemed to exhaust him. _y/n_ just nodded and kept gently running her hand over his stomach. She didn’t want to think about how this was probably breaking ten rules, or how Aaron’s body looked under the flimsy hospital gown. She just kept moving her hands and watched as Hotch seemed to still and then finally sleep. When his breathing had evened out, _y/n_ pulled the covers over him again and took her seat once more. She didn’t care if he was in a mood or snapped at her. _y/n_ just didn’t think he should be alone right now. So she was going to sit with him until either he told her to leave or someone in the hospital kicked her out. It was at that moment that all of her disparate feelings for him coalesced into one of love. Not a fling or a passing fancy, but the kind of love that lasts through illness and grief and every other part of life. _y/n_ sighed and thought, “What a time to have a revelation like this,” as she kept watch over her boss, unable to leave his side.

Aaron had shown interest in her too. _y/n_ felt a bit better that she wasn’t the only one falling in love. He was more subtle about it, or at least he was trying to be. But that hadn’t stopped her from noticing how he looked at her, how his gaze lingered just a second too long in meetings. He’d pull his eyes away quickly as if he’d been caught doing something improper. Then there was the time he’d called her when she was sick and how he’d seemed a little too excited to have her back after a short four days of illness. And he looked out for her on cases. Not that Aaron didn’t look out for everyone, but he seemed to take her comfort more seriously than he needed to. He held the door for her and let her sit in the passenger seat so they could throw ideas back and forth. At first _y/n_ had thought it was just because she was the newest member of the team. But the behavior from Hotch continued, and just one time on a case, he’d pulled her out of a line of fire and rolled on top of her even though he probably didn’t need to go that far. As Aaron let out a breath of excitement over the case and the woman below him, _y/n_ caught the tells of desire on his face. It didn’t help that they were in what could be an intimate position. His pupils were wide and his breath came in little gasps. _y/n_ didn’t need to see his groin to know that he was excited down there too. After a second, Hotch quickly got up and helped _y/n_ stand too. Aaron nervously straightened his shirt and tie and after quickly asking _y/n_ if she was okay, and her response of “yes,” he moved away from her to gather some semblance of composure. The fact that Aaron was flushed and couldn’t look at her for the rest of the day told _y/n_ all she needed to know about Hotch’s thoughts about her. Or at least the uncontrollable whims of his strong body. _y/n_ didn’t let herself get carried away. Aaron was still her boss, and she was his agent. And because of this neither had said anything or acted like they were falling in love with the other because it didn’t feel like it could happen. Not to them. But now as _y/n_ sat by his hospital bed, she wondered what it would be like with Aaron. To peek behind his well-kept facade and just be close to him. _y/n_ assumed this was the nearest she’d ever come to that, so she settled in for a long night and decided if this was all she was getting, then she would accept it. Fate had never been so kind to give her something as lovely as Aaron, Hotchner, and she accepted it.

It was a long night. Hotch woke almost every hour in pain or needing to adjust for his comfort. _y/n_ moved his pillows and blankets for him, helped him drink a glass of water, and called a nurse when he needed to relieve himself. The next morning she was tired, but when Aaron woke, he seemed much improved. He softly said, “_y/n_, thanks for last night. For being here. You made being here, comfortable for me.” _y/n_ took his hand softly and rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. Gently she said, “It was nothing, Aaron. I’m just glad you’re okay.” _y/n_ was so tired that she was about to speak transparently and say, “I’d do this all the time if you needed me to. I don’t mind staying up all night with you whether you’re sick or not.” That was the closest thing to a confession that _y/n_ could think of. But she had been interrupted when a nurse knocked on the door and said, “Mr. Hotchner, your son, and Ms. Brooks are here to see you. Should I let them in?” Hearing this, _y/n_ dropped his hand and her head a tiny bit. She stood and said, “I’ll give ya’ll some space, Hotch.” Aaron nodded yes to the nurse, and watched as _y/n_ left the room. He felt like he’d just missed something big, but didn’t know what. _y/n_ passed Haley and Jack in the hall. _y/n_ gave the pair a small smile and nod, and she made her way to the hospital lounge to get some much-needed coffee. The Hotchner-Brooks divorce was still very new, and _y/n_ wondered where things had fallen apart between the two of them. She also wondered if there was any chance at all for her and Aaro. It didn’t feel like it at the moment.

_y/n_ snapped back to the present when Aaron said her name more loudly. He was holding out his suit jacket for her and saying, “You look a little cold.” Hotch was right, she was cold. _y/n_ had wished she’d brought her coat up to the roof almost as soon as she had stepped outside. However, she was too lazy to want to go back in. She’d escaped Freddy’s boring conversation and looked at Aaron right before she moved to the roof for some fresh air. _y/n_ was pondering if she should just give up her dreams about Hotch. Neither of them seemed to be making any moves out of fear that they might say no to the other or that they might ruin the strong friendship they had now. _y/n_ was getting tired of it though. But then there was Aaron as always being a gentleman and looking out for her. _y/n_ nodded and Aaron slipped behind her, placing the jacket over her shoulders. His hands brushed over her exposed skin, and _y/n_ felt that familiar spark burn through her anytime she felt Aaron’s hands on her. Those times were few and far between. She looked over at Aaron and decided that tonight she was going to give him a line and see if he took it. If she didn’t seem interested, she’d let her infatuation go and move on. She could be happy not loving Aaron. At least she hoped she could. Hotch moved to her side next to the railing and he asked, “Was Fred trying to ask you out again?” _y/n_ flushed because it was so rare for him to ask her about her personal life. She remembered the first time it had happened she’d nearly dropped her _y/f/c/b_. That first time had been Freddy-related too. That time they both seemed embarrassed to be talking about it. Now _y/n_ was much more comfortable being open with Aaron. She looked at him and replied, “No. Not this time thankfully. I think the third time actually did it. No today he was just asking about the cases the team has been on recently, and then, inexplicably, he started talking about his pet lizard.” Hearing this, Aaron couldn’t help but cringe. _y/n_ chuckled and said, “You know he’s not a bad guy, just not the guy for me. But bless him, he needs to learn to read a room.” Aaron hummed and said, “Well I’m glad he’s ended his crusade.” _y/n_ laughed at his commentary and replied, “You know he’s right about one thing. I still don’t know this city at all. The cases keep me tired enough to not want to explore on my days off. What do you say we skip the party and you show me something worth seeing?” And here was _y/n_’s line. All Aaron had to do was give it a tug. Hotch looked at her with some surprise, like he had when he was half-dazed in the hospital bed. He cleared his throat and said, “Are you sure it’s me you want? Garcia, or even JJ could show you a better time. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind…” _y/n_ could sense that he was deflecting, and said, “No. I want you. You’ve lived here longer and you’ve gotta know the places that aren’t tourist traps. Plus, Garcia is flirting up a storm with that tech down there and JJ only has eyes for Will. I wouldn’t dare break up either of those conversations right now.” After a pause, _y/n_ added, “Come on Hotch. You looked miserable in there. You’re honestly telling me that you want to go back?”

Aaron let out a warm laugh and said, “Alright, I wasn’t particularly enjoying myself. Too much small talk makes me feel like a dog that’s been bred for show. And I never understood why they held this thing after Christmas and between New Year's. That time feels sacred in some unspeakable way.” _y/n_ was grinning and said, “Totally. I know the director said there was some sort of conflict, but that just read like bad code for, ‘Let me take my ski vacation with my family first.’ And don’t mention the playlist in there. Nobody was enjoying that, I swear to god.” Hotch had to stifle a harsh laugh to not sound unbecoming. That was another thing about _y/n_, they synced with each other’s humor. Sometimes he had to look away from her in meetings to avoid bursting out laughing. The fact was a joy and a pain in equal measure. Aaron looked over to her again, and he realized that she was still waiting for an answer. He took a breath to steel himself. Aaron left like it was now or never, and he didn’t want to let _y/n_ go. Not after all they’d been through this year. He did, however, need a moment to think about where exactly to take _y/n_. He hadn’t exactly been on the town himself since the divorce. Hotch slowly said, “I’d be happy to show you around, _y/n_, but would you give me a minute to think about where exactly to take you? I’m, um, particular about places.” _y/n_ nodded and relaxed into the railing. Aaron looked her over again. She looked ravishing in that dress, and it didn’t hurt that she had his jacket on too. He rested his hands on the cool metal and looked out onto the highway. Gently he asked, “What do you think about when you come up here? I used to spend a good deal of time up here too. When I was new to the BAU at least.” _y/n_ looked over him. Pondering the question. Trying to picture him as a green agent under Gideon. Trying to imagine him in his early thirties instead of his late forties. That all felt like a different time. She hadn’t been there then. _y/n_ moved her gaze to the highway and said, “Well most of my time up here is spent far less productively than yours was. I’m sure. In fact, three of the seven times on this roof have been an escape from Freddy. The other four times, I’m sure I was just annoyed, at myself or someone else. It’s a good place to cool off. Shake the cares of the day away.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. Most of his time up here had been spent sitting against the wall and questioning his life choices, but he didn’t verbalize that thought. He didn’t need to as _y/n_ continued, “But sometimes I like to close my eyes and pretend I can see D.C. from the rooftop. The capital or Washinton Mall. I know it’s silly, and I’ve explored that city even less than this one, but that’s why we’re here, aren’t we? To keep people safe. To keep the dream alive for everyone who doesn’t have to see the dark underbelly of this country. It gives me comfort.” Hearing this, Hotch stepped forward and placed a hand on _y/n_’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why. He replied, “I don’t think that’s silly at all, _y/n_.” Something _y/l/n_ had said had sparked an idea in Hotch. There was a place on the border between D.C. and Virginia that he’d liked a long time ago. Politicians from either side of the aisle would meet there to make deals and broker favors. As a younger man, he had thought it was cool. Aaron looked at _y/n_ and said, “How do you feel about jazz?” _y/n_ nodded yes and said, “I don’t mind it. Improvisation is good for the soul. Gets you out there. Is there dancing?” Aaron tried to remember the intimate club and eventually nodded yes, saying, “I think so. But I wouldn’t trust me with that. I’ve got two left feet.” _y/n_’s laughter cut through the cold night and she said, “It’s alright. Me too most of the time.” Aaron shifted his hand to her lower back as he asked, “This place is too far to walk. Did you drive here?” _y/n_ replied, “No. Em took me. I was planning on taking an Uber back when I was done with my private roof party.” Aaron noticed her eyes slowly blowing out and her breath coming in faster in her chest. Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Well, we’ll take my car if you're comfortable with it. I can drop you off at your place after?” _y/n_ agreed and said, “Sounds like a plan.”

The pair made a quick stop by Aaron’s office and _y/n_’s desk to grab their things before heading out. Neither made any formal goodbye at the party. Hotch felt oddly free as he stepped out of the field office with _y/n_ by his side. On the drive to the jazz club, he pointed out different areas of the town to _y/n_. He knew he sounded like a dad, but _y/n_ seemed interested in learning more about the area and asked follow-up questions as they cruised down the dark streets. There was no parking in front of the club, so Aaron found some down the road. The club was unassumingly nestled into the facade of a street full of high-end stores. Now it was _y/n_’s turn to point out interesting trends in the window and designers she despised. Aaron got a small tirade about _y/l/f/d_ when they passed that storefront. _y/n_ was sure Hotch had lost interest at that point, but when she looked at him, he seemed engrossed. He looked over at her and said, “Well, I’d have never known that unless you’d told me. Now I’ll have something smart to say when there’s more small talk to be made at parties.” _y/n_ smiled at Aaron. She knew she had her eccentricities, but he took them with such grace and she wondered what she’d done to earn even an hour of this man's time. _y/n_ spared him any other commentary. When they stepped into the small, dark space of the club, Aaron told the matre de that it was just two, and the man led the two toward the back of the space. The head waiter graciously motioned to a small couch near the live band playing soft jazz in the back corner of the room. Aaron let _y/n_ take a seat first, and he followed after her. Shortly after being seated a waiter came and took their orders. Aaron got an old-fashioned, and _y/n_ ordered _y/f/d_. As they waited for their drinks to arrive, _y/n_ asked Aaron, “So, how did you find this place?” Hotch did his best to summarize his first year in the BAU. How unsure he was about the shift in jobs. How Haley had been the one to get him out of the house and office. As Aaron recounted his story, _y/n_ didn’t pull away or, cringe at the mention of the former Mrs. Hotcher. _y/n_ realized as much as anyone how important Haley was to Aaron. He’d loved her for a long time before things had fallen apart. And she’d loved him too. _y/n_ was far less insecure about this fact now. She was ashamed about how she’d felt about Haley at the hospital that one time. Not only was Haley important, but _y/n_ realized that Jack was the zenith of Aaron’s life. And she respected that. Fatherhood seemed far from easy, and add being head of the BAU on top of that? Hell, Aaron made it look easy. So she listened to him open up in a way that he never had in front of her before, and _y/n_ got her small peak behind his work facade. She realized that he was just a man doing his best. Trying to juggle all of the plates at his feet, and somehow that was the most attractive thing possible about Aaron Hotchner that she hadn’t ever noticed before that instant.

Hotch looked at _y/n_ after his long-winded story and expected to see boredom there. Or disappointment at how often he’d brought up Haley or Jack. But he didn’t find it. Only a look of admiration that he couldn’t quite place. And suddenly Hotch wanted to say everything that he’d bottled up over the year and wanted to lean down and kiss _y/n_ on the lips like he had in his dreams. And _y/n_ watched as Aaron shifted in his demeanor. How his eyes were wide again and he seemed to be building to something new. Something yet said or explored between them. The sudden and insistent beeping of Hotch’s phone cut off that moment in an instant. Aaron pulled back from _y/n_ a bit and murmured, “Sorry,” as he accepted the call. After a second, Hotch’s mood changed again, as he replied to the other end of the line. “Is he alright? What’s the matter?” _y/n_ pulled back a bit more, realizing this was a private conversation and she was a bit too close to Aaron for it to be happening like one. His frown and worry lines increased, as he listened to the dialog she couldn’t hear. After a minute he replied, “Yes, I’ll head over right away. You said the doctor was on his way too?... Yeah, yeah. I’ll just be twenty minutes or so… Okay. Tell Jack I’m on my way… Yeah. Bye.” Aaron dropped his hand with this cell in it and looked at _y/n_ with sad eyes. She looked back and him and said, “Is it Jack?” Aaron nodded and replied, “Haley said he has a bad fever, and it’s getting worse. She called a doctor and she thinks I should come over. _y/n_, I’m sorry.” _y/n_ gave him a pat on the arm and said, “Go be with your son, Aaron. There are more important things than me in the world. At least in your world.” Hotch nodded with the same sad eyes. He realized how much of a sacrifice _y/n_ was making for him, how life in the BAU was a whole big load of sacrifice. Aaron stood, and just to show a fraction of how grateful he was for _y/n_’s presence in his life, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was chaste, and he pulled away before he could get ahead of himself.

Aaron was gone before _y/n_ could even fully register what had happened. The bell at the door told of Hotch’s departure, and _y/n_ could have screamed out of desire or despair at how the night had come to a quick conclusion. But she didn’t. _y/n_ knew how important Jack was to Hotch. Everything else but his son was at the periphery of Aaron’s life, and Jack was at the center. As _y/n_ settled back into the loveseat, now alone, she contemplated how yet again any plans or revelations of their feelings had been dashed. But _y/n wasn’t mad about it. _y/n_ had to remind herself that for the half hour, they had been together that night, Aaron had allowed her to see more of himself. And he was, as _y/n_ expected, as good a man as they came. _y/n_ thought, “How often does a girl really get to see a good man?” It was a pleasure, even if it was for just an evening.

The final few days of December passed in a wave of the hand. _y/n_ had asked Aaron if Jack was alright the morning after their night on the town, and he’d said that the fever had broken in the night and that his son was on the mend. Aaron had asked _y/n_ in the same text exchange if she’d gotten home okay after his sudden departure. She had told him that she’d called a Lyft soon after he’d left to get home. And then, before _y/n_ knew it, she was packing her bags for a long weekend at one of Derek’s properties on a lake outside the city limits. She was carpooling with Emily and Garcia. _y/n_ had heard that Morgan’s New Year’s Eve parties were times to remember and she was finally going to experience one for herself. _y/n_ was already excited to be spending time with her friends, but when Emily said, “You know Aaron’s coming too? He apparently called Morgan last minute and asked if there was still an empty bed, _y/n_’s jaw dropped. _y/n_ quickly composed herself and said, “Well the more the merrier.” Em rolled her eyes and said, “The more the merrier my ass, _y/n_. You know he’s just going there for you. When are you going to catch on that he’s in love with you?” Penelope agreed from the backstreet and said, “Honestly. _y/n_. He’s been making googly eyes at you all year. And what was that with him taking you out after the Holiday Party? Do you see Hotchy doing that with anyone else?” _y/n_ sighed exasperated with her friend's encouragement. She half-heartedly said, “Well, he could have been.” this had Garcia and Prentiss cackling and Penelope said, “This is the time, _y/n_. I swear. If it’s not, I’ll pull Hotch aside myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Despite _y/n_’s friends banter, _y/n_ felt reluctant. None of the other times seemed to work out, and she didn’t see how this was going to be any different.

As Morgan’s lake house came into view, _y/n_ tried to let everything go. Whatever happened would happen, and she planned on having fun no matter how the next day and a half went. The trio of women were the second to last to arrive. Spencer joined them a half-hour later. Derek quickly showed everyone to their rooms. It felt like an adult sleepover and an energy charged the air. For the first hour or so the team just relaxed and unpacked. Derek, Rossi, Spencer, and Aaron sat on the leather couches and talked about the year. Their highs and lows. They also debated which case was the most interesting from the year. As the men talked, Emily, _y/n_, JJ, and Garcia all tried on the dresses they had brought for the end of the night. As they were helping with the zippers and hemlines, _y/n_ said, “I’m sorry Will couldn’t come tonight, J.” JJ smiled and said, “Yeah. But I think it’s fine. We’ll be married soon enough and we’ll have the rest of our lives to be together. Tonight feels like the gang is back together in a nostalgic sort of way. You know what I mean?” The other nodded alone and Emily said, “I feel ‘ya JJ. What a year it’s been. But we’re all happy for you know. I think you got the last good guy on the market with Will.” JJ grinned and helped _y/n_ slip into her ‘dress.” The media liaison seemed to glow with a pre-marriage, I’ve-found-the-love-of-my-life aura even four months before her wedding day. And suddenly all the women were dressed, and they all looked at each other and complimented each other. Emily was in a sleek purple pants suit. JJ was in a fitted black dress. Garcia, as always, was wearing a bright orange tulle skirt with a pink top, plus white fingerless gloves. The tech noted, “And I’ve got about ten million little things to put in my hair too!” Lastly, _y/n_ was wearing something far slinkier than her friends. It essentially amounted to a lot of large, shimmery _y/f/v_ sequins held together with tiny metal rings. _y/n_ hadn’t worn it since before turning twenty and she couldn’t remember why she’d bought it. “Maybe for a rave?” She thought. Because the garment was so sheer, she was wearing sensible black underwear and a matching bra underneath, but _y/n_ flushed at the one time she’d gone clubbing without the undergarments beneath. That had been a fun evening.

The compliments made the rounds, and Garcia told _y/n_, “You look drop-dead good in that, _y/n_. The boys won’t know what hit them.” At the mention of “the boys,” _y/n_ looked at the ground and said, “You know I would have picked a different outfit if I’d known Hotch was coming.” The others snickered, and _y/n_ laughed too, saying, “I’m being serious. I’m not trying to look like a slut in front of him. The brief said ‘Fun New Year's attire and this is the funniest, New Years-ist dress I’ve got.” Emily moved forward and gave _y/n_’s shoulder a pat saying, “You’ll be fine, _y/n_. You look glorious. Plus you’re the youngest one here. That means you can get away with wearing something more risque. I’m just shocked you can wear something from that long ago. I’m lucky if I could pull off something from two years ago and it look good, I can’t even think about five or ten.” Prentiss shuddered at the thought, and that got a good laugh out of all of them.

A knock at the closed door, had them all look away from each other. It was Derek saying that he, Aaron, and Rossi were going to take a walk along the path that went around the lake nearby. And if any of them wanted to join them? _y/n_and Em jumped at the chance. The pair quickly changed back into their casual clothes and headed out with the guys. The walk was pleasant and they all just took in the fresh air and saw the trees surrounding the water. Aaron was walking a few steps behind _y/n_ and he contemplated his feelings about her once more. Even he was getting annoyed with himself. He blamed it on being indecisive in the worst possible area of his life, partnership. But he’d decided today was going to be the day. He was going to bite the bullet and ask _y/n_ how he felt about her. Even though he couldn’t picture the words leaving his mouth, he swore to himself that it was going to happen. The walk concluded, and then everyone got some drinks which Aaron happily and skillfully mixed. Then Derek and Rossi made dinner and everyone ate outside around the fire. And by that time it was already ten and the first fireworks were dotting the sky. Aaron and _y/n_ were sitting next to each other. Close enough that he could move his arm just an inch and he would be touching hers. Hotch’s eyes stayed on the sky as he asked, “Do you have any plans for the New Year?” It was too cliched to ask about resolutions, but he did wonder what someone like _y/n_ thought about the future. _y/n_ turned her gaze to him, and replied, “I don’t know. I want my apartment to feel more homey. It’s still giving college vibes if I’m being honest. I’d like to buy some better furniture, like the opposite of the stuff from IKEA. And then there’s helping JJ with the wedding, and then just going out more. Seeing the city like we did after the party.” _y/n_ felt like saying, “I’d like doing that with you,” and also, “Does this make me sound boring?” But _y/n_ couldn’t vocalize either of those thoughts as Gacia stepped out onto the patio and proclaimed, “It’s dress-up time, baby girl!” _y/n_ shook her head and chuckled. Aaron gave her a hand up and watched as she disappeared into the house. _y/n_’s list sounded just up his alley, and he wondered why he’d been putting off his feelings for so long. Why he couldn’t just man up and tell her he loved her? That he was mad about _y/n_. Aaron sighed and walked inside after _y/n_.

It was 11:15 when the girls were all dolled up with their outfits, heels, and makeup. Derek had the TV playing with the countdown to the ball drop on as ambient noise. The champagne was ready to be popped, and the new year was rung in with friends and laughter. Garcia and Derek were both oddly big about watching the ball drop. _y/n_ had interrogated Penelope about this on the way up to Morgan’s house. Garcia had just said, “It’s tradition, and you don’t mess with tradition.” Just as the group of women stepped into the light to be seen for the first time, the power went out. There was a moment of silence and then Derek said, “Really house. You do this to me now?’ That got everyone laughing, and Aaron asked, “Where’s the breaker Morgan? I’ll give it a look.” Derek told him and Hotch stood outside for a second. While Aaron was gone, Penelope and Morgan talked about what they would do about a countdown. Nobody wanted to just look at the clock. That, Morgan had said, “Wasn’t festive at all.” Aaron came back and said, “It’s not good news, the main fuse is fried.” That had Derek thinking and he announced, “Alright, change of plans. There’s a dive bar down the road. If we book it, we can make it there before midnight.” There was little complaint from the group as Morgan and Penelope hustled everyone into two cars and down the street. There was so much excitement that nobody got to see the women’s outfits until they were standing outside the bar. The space was a dive and it was packed with partiers. The walkway up wasn’t paved, so Aaron took _y/n_’s hand with his left, and even though he didn’t need to, he placed his right on her lower back. Again he felt that spark shoot through him. The cool sequins juxtaposed to _y/n_’s warm skin were doing things to him that he didn’t want to think about right now. Or maybe it was the dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Either of those was a good option. Inside, the team found a spot to stand and watch as the time ticked down from 11:55 to midnight. Derek joked and said, “Alright, who’s kissing who when it’s time?” Emily raised a hand and teasingly said, “I volunteer for you, Morgan.” The team laughed and then started counting down. Everyone except Hotch, who was standing a bit farther back. _y/n_ sighed, knowing he was never a big fan of crowds. She stepped close to him. Even as Aaron sought a moment of reprieve, both _y/n_ still had to stand almost body to body to avoid bumping into anyone. As “THREE, TWO, ONE” were unanimously chanted in the tight space, _y/n_ was going to try and pick up where their conversation had stopped earlier in the night. To see if Aaron had any plans going into the New Year. But she didn’t get the chance to as the call of “Happy New Year!” Hotch bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

Aaron had meant for it to be a little peck. Just something to ring in the new year with. But _y/n_ only stood in shock for a moment before she realized what was happening, and she’d waited so god damn long for this very moment that she quickly leaned into it, pressing her body to Aaron’s as her arms wrapped around him. Aaron reciprocated in kind and placed one of his hands on her hip and the other on the crown of _y/n_’s head. Holding them together like he might fall apart if he let her go. Aaron's lips were slightly chapped and his cologne, which _y/n_ knew well, crept over her like a sunray. As soon, as they’d started, they didn’t want to stop. Then it dawned on both of them, like they hadn’t been yearning for the other for over a year, that they didn’t have to stop. So they didn’t. Not until they had to pull away panting for air. And once they’d gotten breath back in them, they came together again. This time it was more cautious. More subdued as Aaron began to memorize the shape of _y/n_’s soft mouth pressed against his own, _y/n_ made a small contented sound that only he could hear and smiled as she placed her hands on his chest. _y/n_ his body in a way that indicated an intimacy that had always been there between them. The rest of the team watched them with Garcia saying, “About time. My god, I thought I was going to have to lock them in a closet together later tonight.” Rossi joked and said, “Well, there’s still time to do that later,” as he came back with a handful of champagne flutes. Dave handed one to each member of the team and then walked a pace over to _y/n_ and Aaron. Hotch was looking into _y/n_’s eyes but stopped when he noticed his friend. Rossi smiled and said, “Alright you kids. How about you take a moment and join us for a toast?” _y/n_ flushed, but nodded taking a glass from Rossi. Aaron chuckled and got a glass himself. He never let his hand lose contact with _y/n_’s side as all three walked back to the table. Rossi gave Aaron a strong pat on the shoulder as they moved to the group and winked at _y/n_, which only made her flush further. Hotch didn’t even care as the whole team's little “oohs and ahhs” sounded at their return. Aaron realized that scrutiny or affection didn’t feel so bad with _y/n_’s hand in his. He realized with full clarity that she’d been there all along, and he’d just not moved his hand to meet hers. He’d tell her he was sorry for that later. For stringing her on so long. He’d tell her he loved her more times than he could count too. But for now, as everyone lifted their glasses saying “Happy New Year!” The future never looked brighter.

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