#We all started telling him to go solve crimes

[teaboot]

Me and all my (many) siblings have all been diagnosed adhd/autistic

Tonight at family dinner one of my brothers swiftly and correctly answered an incredibly specific niche question about the Eastern European political climate in the 1930's, and without missing a beat one of my other brothers just nodded sagely and said "He's one of them useful autistics"

[tryingonametaphor]

Why Will Byers?

An analysis and theory on why Henry/Vecna targeted Will first in season 1 and his plans for Will in season 5

‼️Contains The First Shadow (TFS) spoilers so please proceed with caution.‼️

This is going to be a little long but I’ve tried to give as much context as I can without actually being able to show snippets from the stage play. This is my interpretation of everything that went down as a member of the audience and not as someone who has read up any theories about TFS before. To understand why Henry took Will first in 1983, we have to start with -

Henry and Joyce

From all the times I’ve watched TFS, the one thing that has stuck with me is the final conversation Henry has with Joyce. It’s just before his last confrontation with Patty Newby and before he joins Brenner for good. Joyce is the last person (who doesn’t know about Henry’s powers) that he canonically talks to.

Throughout the entire play Joyce, Hopper, and Bob are investigating the animals dying at the hands of Henry and come to the conclusion that Victor Creel has been the one doing the killing. They get so close to solving the case. In her last conversation with Henry, Joyce tries to comfort him by saying that Victor will pay for his crimes - which makes Henry laugh because she’s so close yet so far from the truth. He gets a little frustrated and says something along the lines of “You don’t get it. But someday you will.” (edit 28/9: the exact dialogue is [Henry: you’re too nice. that is how they’ll get you. you have to learn to do anything you can to protect the ones you love] [Joyce: I don’t understand.] [Henry: You will.]) The next time we see Henry make a reappearance in Joyce’s life is during -

The Vanishing of Will Byers

Will is taken into the Upside Down (UD) by Henry. It’s not even a question anymore. All of the context clues from 1x1 lead us to believe that Will’s kidnapping was not by a demogorgon. Will - a 12 year old - miraculously survives a week in the upside down with no food or water. Will is even around the demogorgon a few times in the Upside Down. (Joyce communicating with Will through the lights and then the demogorgon coming after her immediately).

Barb dies the night she is taken but Will stays alive and also somehow manages to talk to Joyce through the wall. Joyce is led exactly to where Will was held at the end of s1 and he makes it out alive. It’s almost as if Henry knew all along that Joyce was the most capable of never giving up on finding her son. Like Henry took Will Byers because he was Joyce’s son. And like he was giving her just enough to know that Will was alive. Even when Joyce and Hopper find him at the end in a state of near death, he’s not injured by a creature. He was being prepared for the next stage of Vecna’s plan -

The Possession of Will Byers

The origins of Henry’s powers happen as such - As a kid, he is transported into the UD (originally coined Dimension X by the government) for a few hours because he touched something he wasn’t meant to touch. During his time in there, he came in contact with the Mind Flayer (MF). According to TFS this is the point in his life when he started getting “corrupted”. Brenner’s dad - who was one of the first people to enter dimension X - had mutated blood after but no powers. Henry was the first person to come in contact with the MF and it’s highly likely he got his powers because of this (This would also track considering how most of the party has been in the UD now but show no signs of having powers). The MF controls Henry for the rest of TFS and Henry grows more power hungry the more he kills.

In S2, Henry presumably sends the MF after Will - who has now had a year to heal from the events of 1983. Will is the only other person in all of ST to have had direct contact with the MF and survived it. Henry didn’t hesitate to kill Billy in S3, but he always gives everyone just enough to keep Will safe. Will himself tells Owens in S2 that the MF wants to kill everyone except him. Will once again survives the entire ordeal and is given a “break” for the next 2 seasons. Except I don’t believe he’s been just given a break. I think Will is -

Henry’s Sleeper Agent.

Ready to awaken in s5. I undoubtedly think that Will is going to have powers. And I don’t think they’re going to be the same as Henry and El. El and the other lab kids get their powers directly from Henry. Will’s powers will be directly from the MF like Henry. I believe this has been Henry’s plan all along and it’s further affirmed by what he tells Will in the recent VR game. That Will will be the key to Henry being able to infiltrate his friends’ minds. Jamie Campbell-Bower also mentioned during the S4 press that to get in character, he set up a display with all of Henry’s victims and targets’ faces on his wall(?), and Will was in the center.

Henry is going to use his connection with Will sneakily and midway through S5 he’s going to awaken Will’s powers (maybe in ep4 - which is said to be titled ‘Sorcerer’ and has young Will in it). Henry is going to try and manipulate his way into making an ally out of Will, and it’s not going to work because -

Will is the Perfect Character Foil.

Will is everything Henry could have been if he had a better support system. He is the perfect character foil. Unlike Henry, Will has a mother who loves him unconditionally and more importantly, believes him. Unlike Henry, the person who Will loves the most (the Patty to Will’s Henry: Mike) is going to love him back and stay by his side all season. No one is going to force them to be apart the way Henry was told to stay away from Patty. Will is not going to be easily swayed even though Henry has spent years crafting him into the perfect soldier. Sure, Henry has seen him heartbroken and sad, but that comes nowhere near to the amount of love and support Will is going to get from his people next season. And they’re going to quite literally defeat Vecna with the power of love and friendship. After that, Will Byers is getting the happy ending that Henry could have gotten.

[adalindofcabinsix]

that kind of love never dies (I)

summary: the one where barbara thinks about an act of rebellion.

pairing: jake x mc

word count: 1.3K

warnings: tkolnd takes place after the events of episode 10; cover images found on pinterest; english is not my first language.

author’s note: even though she lives in the usa, my main character, barbara, is brazilian. i added terms and expressions that we use in our country, as well as cultural elements, to this fanfic. the words that appear in portuguese are highlighted and you can contact me if you have any questions.

masterlist

Barbara was sprawled out on the dorm carpet, reading a Lucy Maud Montgomery novel she found by chance in the university library, when her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Without wasting time, she closed the book and got up, waiting to hear from her roommate, Meera, but, when Barbara swiped her finger across the lock screen, she found some text messages from an unknown number.

i would like to invite you again to eat something at that chinese restaurant

if you want to meet me, just show up there tomorrow

i'll be waiting for you :)

Her head started to throb just at the possibility of it being who she was imagining, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Jake wouldn't put himself in danger like that.

After everything that happened in Grimrock, Duskwood's chief of police, Alan Bloomgate, personally went after her to conduct the interrogation, and, more than once, made it very clear that it was best for her to stay away from her new friends for a while. He didn't go into detail when he told her about what happened at the Ironsplinter Mine, but he confirmed that Richy was alive — despite having some serious injuries — and that Jake had fled from the FBI agents during the confusion caused by the explosion.

All the messages she sent and received during that time became evidence. Barbara had what it took to close Hannah Donfort's case literally in the palm of her hand, including the kidnapper's confession.

Consequently, she also had the means that could lead the people who were after Jake straight to him.

She was interrogated by the FBI countless times for months, until Alan decided to intervene and convinced her to hand over her cell phone to them in exchange for her old life. Since then, Barbara has not been part of the joint investigation. Or at least that's what they say — she's too smart to really believe that.

For a few seconds, she considered the chance that it was someone trying to play a trick on her. The video Lilly Donfort posted accusing her of kidnapping had gone viral across the Columbia University campus. Even her grandmother, who lived in the interior of Brazil, found out about her involvement with a hacker wanted by the North American government. However, no one else knew about the brief conversation they had about the chinese restaurant.

Except, of course, the FBI.

Without a doubt, it was a trap. Barbara felt her face turn red. It seemed that solving an old international murder case, giving up her privacy, being forced to abandon her group of friends and possibly cheating on the guy she was in love with was not enough. She also needed to act as bait when it was convenient.

Barbara huffed, irritated. Little did they know that Jake had no contact. Their partnership in crime had ended almost a year ago.

Still, there was no reason to decline the invitation. She could very well take advantage of the opportunity to tell some truths to those nosy agents, and as a bonus she would have an excuse to go to Germany without Alan being able to question her too openly.

Her lips lifted into a smile as the plan emerged in her mind.

After going through customs at Zurich Airport, picking up luggage and going to an exchange office to exchange some notes, only an hour and fifteen minutes by car separated Barbara from Duskwood. Luckily, there were several yellow taxis forming a line next to the sidewalk, because it would be a nightmare to have to deal with someone trying to compete for the same vehicle as her.

She walked out of the lounge, pulling her hot pink rolling suitcase, and turned on her smartphone to announce on the family's group chat that she had arrived safely. But before she could check her contact list to see if her parents were online, she collided with a young man's broad chest.

She jumped away from him, apologizing — or at least trying to — in german. He laughed softly, grabbing her arm to stop her from tripping over herself, and for a moment, Barbara forgot to even breathe. The young man seemed to be a few years older than her, he was tall, had dark hair and prominent round eyes that resembled the curve of a teardrop, he was wearing a white sweatshirt with a hood and black jeans.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you.” He spoke in english, with a slight accent.

“No problem, it was my fault.” Barbara quickly straightened up, realizing that she had somehow stared too long.

The young man analyzed her from head to toe with amusement before bending down and picking up the cell phone that had flown out of her hand during the impact.

“I believe this is yours.” He joked, handing the device to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded curtly and turned, making his way through the travelers entering and exiting the airport, as silent as a wraith.

She was inexplicably disappointed to see him leave, however she had more important things to deal with. Then, she handed the luggage to the driver to put in the trunk and got into the taxi, giving the address of the Gates Hotel, on the outskirts of Duskwood.

Barbara ran across the room, feeling the cold floor beneath her feet. She was considerably late, but as far as she remembered, she had never arrived on time to participate in the interrogations, so whoever was waiting for her at the restaurant wouldn't mind too much. She put on a black strapless dress, put on her highest heels and curled her wet hair with her fingers, leaving a small trail of water on the floor.

Through an opening in the peach curtains, she noticed that the rain had picked up outside, beating violently against the window pane. She cursed under her breath, hoping someone at the front desk could lend her an umbrella, and before Barbara could procrastinate her meeting with the FBI Special Agent any further, she took one last look at the floor mirror near the entrance hall, realizing that she was dressed for revenge.

“Someone would definitely approve of that.”

Smiling to herself, she went down a small flight of stairs to the ground floor, where the girl at the reception was reading a magazine with Nicholas Galitzine's photo on the cover.

“How can I help you?” She asked in english, without taking her eyes off the celebrity gossip.

“Hey, how you doin'? Could you lend me an umbrella, please?”

“Of course.” She said, reaching for the object under the counter and handing it to her. “A fee of two euros will be added to your room bill.” Barbara sighed, surprised, as she mentally converted the currency. “What?” The receptionist looked up, frowning. “Did you think it would be free?”

“No, obviously not.” Barbara lied, smiling politely.

“Return it by midnight or I will have to charge the full value of the item.” The girl announced, turning her attention to the magazine. Then she added: “Nice dress.”

“Okay, I'll pay when I check out.” She assured, walking towards the glass doors while opening her rented umbrella. “And thank you.”

“Have fun, Cinderella!”

Barbara regretted walking out the door as soon as she set foot on the sidewalk. Not just because of the rain, but because of the wind blowing your hair back. In any case, she had come too far to give up, and despite the storm, she could see the lights of the chinese restaurant through the blue haze a few meters ahead, on the other side of the street.

Before she could take another step, someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

“What?” She blinked in amazement at the handsome young man she had met at the airport.

“Come with me.” He said, pulling her away from the hotel entrance.

“You are crazy? I do not know you!” Barbara shouted, dropping the umbrella near her feet. The rain completely drenched them both in moments. “Me solta!”

“Barbara, please.” He asked, breathing short.

The sadness in his voice stopped her struggling.

“How do you…?” She gasped, eyes wide. “Jake?”

taglist: @daniiiworlds; @labemquarts; @deinily

[pathologicalreid]

the archer | S.R.

in which a trip to your hometown leads to an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angst

content warnings: normal cm violence/death. mentions of sexual assault and physical assault. mentions of miscarriage and dv. arson/fires. please take care of yourself while reading <3.

word count: 5.96k

a/n: if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, the US hotline is 800-799-7233. be well and be safe.

can you see right through me?

Emily had called you into her office fifteen minutes before the briefing began to let you know that the case was in your hometown. “There are some things that may come to light in a small town, and I wanted to let you know that you can stay behind if you need to,” she told you, having shut the blinds to her office to give you the most privacy she could.

Giving it a moment, you thought about it before you met her eyes, “if someone tries to say something, I’d rather be there to clear things up than let them say anything.” You wiped your clammy palms on your plants before standing up, “and besides, who better to work on victimology than someone who knows the town.”

You stepped out of the office, holding the door open for Emily before the two of you made your way to the roundtable room.

The two victims had been killed a week apart, they were both women who you had gone to school with. The first was in your graduating class, Victoria Reynolds, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The second was a year ahead of you, Melanie Baylor, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The team had been called in by the lead detective on the case, Charlie Platten, and he had likely made the call without telling the police chief.

It had already been three days since the second body was recovered, and Emily didn’t want to waste any more time. You left the roundtable room to grab your go-bag, smiling when you felt a familiar presence next to you. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked, leaning against your desk while you reached underneath it for your bag.

Stepping in front of him, you looked up at him, “I’m okay, Spence.” You plopped your go bag on top of your desk, “it’ll be okay,” you whisper.

“And if at any point it’s not,” he prompted, placing a hand on your waist.

You simpered up at him, “You’ll be the first person I go to, love.”

He reached over and grabbed your bag off of your desk, carrying it to where the rest of the team is waiting for the elevator. “I’ll admit, I am interested in seeing your hometown,” he told you, letting you step into the elevator before him.

“Yeah, Y/N, maybe you can show us some of your old haunts once we solve the case,” Luke chimed in from the back of the elevator.

Laughing breathily, you turned your head to face Luke, “Do I really strike you as the kind of person to have ‘old haunts’, Alvez?”

A few of your team members chuckle. You faced forward, wondering how long it would be before one of them saw through you. When working with profilers, it was always a risk.

'cause all of my enemies started out friends

Emily sent you and Luke to the latest crime scene while she and Spencer set up at the precinct. JJ and Matt met with the latest victim's family while Tara and Rossi met with the medical examiner. Your stomach felt unsettled as soon as the plane landed, you had a bad feeling about this case. Spencer tried to ask you what was going on with you, but you just brushed him off.

You would tell him. After this case was over and you went home, you would tell Spencer everything. He deserved that.

“Did you know her?” Luke asked, using a gloved hand to inspect a shard of glass he found on the concrete.

Blinking rapidly, you snapped out of your stupor, “Melanie? Yeah, she was a year ahead of me in school. I graduated with Victoria though.” You used the toe of your boot to clear some dirt off of what looked like some sort of plaque. “I wasn’t all that close with either of them, but in a town this small, you kind of know everyone,” you explained.

Standing back up and walking back over to Luke, you looked at the building, it’s an abandoned factory on the edge of town. “Is there any significance to this building?”

“It was a functioning factory in the eighties,” you explained, looking at the vines growing up the side of it. “This business was the entire economy of the town, when the factory went down, so did the town.”

Luke nodded, taking a step back and eyeing the entire decrepit building. “And the church? Where the first body was found.”

You pursed your lips, “Only church in town, I was baptized there, when it burned down people had nowhere else to go, so they stopped believing.”

“How did the fire start?” He asked, turning the knob on the factory door, and looking surprised when it opened.

You shrugged, “lightning strike, I thought. I wasn’t much of a believer, especially once my mom died.”

Alvez nodded in understanding, “Would you say that both of these locations are important to the town and its history?”

Nodding, you followed Luke back to the SUV, leaning back in the passenger seat as you mentally prepared yourself for the scene your arrival at the precinct was about to cause.

When you got there, you immediately spotted the police chief ripping the lead detective, Charlie, a new one outside the front door. He saw you and did a double take, “And what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Sir, we’re members of the BAU, our-“ Luke started explaining, obviously confused at the chief’s combative nature.

He held up a hand, “I wasn’t talking to you, agent.” Turning to face you, “You don’t show your face at home, leaving in the middle of the night ten years ago and now you’re what? A big bad FBI agent?”

You stiffened, pushing your shoulders back as you faced him. Stand tall, stay strong. “It wasn’t the middle of the night, and the FBI is only big and bad to the people who deserve it, Frank.”

The man in front of you scoffed, “I’m talking to your supervisor, you’re not working on this case.” He pushes past you, causing you to stumble back against the wall.

“What was that about? Who was that guy?” Luke asked, looking at you as you got your bearings back before walking into the precinct.

Bowing your head, you grumbled, “You just met my father.” At that moment, you were glad to be facing away from him, because you weren’t sure you could face any of it.

You’re still the newest member of the BAU, technically being a profiler but Emily pulled you in to help with public communications, since the old unit chief had been handling it along with Garcia, Emily did the same. When Spencer went to prison, she found she needed extra help, so you were snagged from your cozy office in sex crimes and sent to the BAU.

You fit in well with everyone, and you never really felt the need to prove yourself. Even taking the initiative to write letters to Spencer, because you didn’t want to be a stranger to him when he came back. So, when you met face-to-face last year, he thanked you. When you kissed him eight months ago, you both agreed to move slowly.

Seven months ago, he showed up at your door and told you he loved you.

Emily gave you an understanding look when she saw you walk into the police station, she, of course, knew everything about your situation.

“We don’t have enough for any sort of geographic profile yet,” Spencer said, standing in front of a whiteboard with a map over it, along with pictures of the two victims. He turned as soon as he saw you, smiling in a silent greeting. You winked in response, sitting down in the office chair next to him.

Luke stood in front of you, blocking your view of the whiteboard, “What do you mean that was your father? Why wouldn’t you say that your dad was the chief of police here?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the chair, “I may share DNA with the man, but I haven’t seen Frank Burris since I was twenty years old.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? Did she tell you?” Luke asked Spencer, who was still looking at the whiteboard, entirely unbothered.

“What did you find at the crime scene?” Emily asked, effectively ending Luke’s questioning. You had no idea if she had heard any of the previous conversation, but either way, you were grateful for the change in subject.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and faced her, “The dump sites are all places that are former symbols of the town, maybe the unsub wants to further desecrate these locations.” Emily nodded, prompting you to continue. “These kills are angry, the overkill and sexual assault definitely lean toward a male offender, I think the unsub is angry,” you said.

“Angry that his town is no longer what it once was,” Spencer suggested, taking his eyes off the whiteboard. “Are there any other locations that could fit that general description?”

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms over your chest, “Probably, I haven’t been here in ten years, it might help to talk to a local. Charlie could probably help.”

“Charlie can’t help with anything; the chief took him off the case. It belongs to me now,” a voice behind you said. Immediately, you straightened up in your chair, earning a strange look from Spencer. “Y/N, I’m looking forward to working with you,” the male voice said.

Swallowing thickly, you turned and faced him, “I wish I could say the same, Johnny.” You stood up, needing as much ground as you could get. “Do you know any places that would fit the description? Somewhere that used to be a symbol in the down, but is abandoned now?”

“The school burnt down about eight days ago, but you’d know that if you gave a damn about us,” he said indignantly, looking down at you.

You felt Spencer stand behind you, “do you have some kind of problem?”

Johnny eyed your boyfriend and you hoped he didn’t catch on to your relationship, “If I’m being totally honest, I’m not completely comfortable working with Y/N.”

“Our team was called in to help solve these murders and Agent Y/L/N is a part of that team,” Emily defended you. “If you have a problem, I suggest you suck it up until this case is solved.”

Angrily, Johnny stalked off. You turned around and grabbed a file off of the desk, glancing over at Emily and silently thanking her.

help me hold on to you

Later in your shared hotel room, Spencer looked at you curiously, “Was he an ex-boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes and laid back on the bed, it wasn’t the worst bed you’ve slept in since joining the BAU, but it certainly wasn’t going to be winning any awards any time soon. “Don’t be jealous, Spence, it’s unbecoming," you deflected.

Spencer climbed on top of the bed and kissed your forehead, “I’m not jealous, I’m concerned.”

That made your heart clench, you sat up in the bed and cupped his face with your hands, “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?” You studied his face, the small crease in his forehead that told you he was overthinking the situation made you sigh. Gently, you leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “If I think you need to be concerned, I’ll tell you,” you whispered, allowing him to gather you in his arms.

“Okay, angel,” he whispered back.

You sighed and laid back against the pillows, “I have a bad feeling about this case,” you told him softly. Spencer doesn’t believe in intuition the way you do, but he’d never discredit your feelings.

He reached over and swept your hair behind your ear, “Me too.”

Pulling away from him, you looked at him curiously, “Why?”

He shrugged, “Both of them look like you. You’re the same age as them.” The victims, he was saying the victims were too similar to you for his own comfort. You hadn’t really given it much thought. If you start comparing yourself to the victims, you’d freeze up. That was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” you comforted, curling up next to him.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey

The call came at five in the morning, only four hours after you had gone to sleep. Splitting up into two SUVs, half of you went to the precinct while the other half of you went to the crime scene.

“Katherine Meadows was dumped in front of the school,” Emily said, leading you, Tara, and Rossi into the precinct. You were still pulling your blazer on over your tank top, having been given approximately five minutes between waking up and getting out the door.

You stopped in your tracks; your mouth went dry. You knew of the other victims, but you were friends with Katherine. She helped you pay for your plane ticket out of here. You owed her your life, and now you’d never be able to repay her.

“What kind of school is it? Elementary? High school?” Rossi asked, flipping through a file that had been left on a desk.

Snapping out of your daze, you shook your head, “It’s K-12 all in the same building, that’s why it’s such a big deal that it’s gone.” You looked at the whiteboard, there weren’t any pictures of Katherine up yet, but you could imagine it. She looked more like you than the other victims, and you silently cursed Spencer for putting those thoughts in your head.

“Agent Y/L/N,” you heard Johnny call from behind you, he and your father were charging toward you at an alarming pace. “Are you armed?”

Your head snapped up, “yes,” you answered, putting your hand on your holstered weapon, watching as Johnny and Frank pulled their guns out.

“Please hand over your firearm to Detective Klein and put your hands up,” Frank commanded.

Taking a deep breath, you handed the weapon over to Johnny, facing him directly. It gave you tunnel vision, and you couldn’t even hear the protests of your team as you raised your hands level with your head.

Johnny grabbed your wrists, and you hissed as he cuffed you, the metal cutting into your skin when he made the handcuffs too tight. “Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murders of Victoria Reynolds, Melanie Baylor, and Katherine Meadows. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.” He shoved you in the direction of the interrogation room, “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

An officer opened the door, and he pushed you down into a metal chair, hooking your handcuffs to the table in front of you.He continued reading your rights, “If you decide to answer questions without an attorney present, you will still have the right to cease answering at any time until you are able to talk to an attorney.” Johnny said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Do you understand your rights?”

You glared up at him, “What the hell are you doing, Johnny?”

He slammed a palm on the table, “Do you understand your rights?”

Pursing your lips, you looked away and peered right at the glass window ahead of you, “Yes, I understand my rights.”

“With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” He asked, leaning far too close to you, you could smell the cigarette smoke on his uniform. That smell was on you for years after you left, you were convinced you’d never be able to fully wash it off. Maybe you hadn’t.

You seethed up at him, “fuck no.”

Johnny nodded assuredly, opening the door to the interrogation room, and slamming it shut.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to pull the handcuffs away from where it was pinching your skin, you winced when it tore your skin. You set your head down on the cold table and sigh, knowing you should’ve taken Emily’s offer to stay behind when you had the chance.

Another officer came in later and told you they wanted your jacket and shoes for evidence, you didn’t fight them, numbly watching as he unlocked the handcuffs and took your jacket before putting the cuffs back on, just as tight. You kicked off your shoes for the officer and sat back down. Before he left, another officer came in and dropped an evidence box on the table.

It was an FBI scare tactic to leave an empty evidence box on an interrogation room table, but your box wasn’t empty.

They wanted to humiliate you in front of your team, and it was working. 

all the king's horses, all the kings men, couldn't put me together again

The next people to open the door were Charlie and Tara, they sat down across from you. “I’m really sorry about all of this Y/N,” he muttered to you, pulling some files out of the evidence box.

You shrugged and shook your head, “Nothing Johnathan Klein does to me anymore really surprises me.” You looked at the files.

Charlie was hesitant to open the files, “there’s some rough stuff in here if you’re okay with going over some of it with us.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked at the file, “I don’t really have a ton of choice, do I?”

You hated both of them for pitying you, but more than anything you hated your father and Johnny for doing this to you and wasting time while there was a serial killer on the loose. He opened the file and placed pictures of the three victims in front of you.

For a couple of minutes, he asked general questions. Do you know them? How did you know them?

Then Tara finally asked a question, “Y/N, how old were you when your mother died?” She asked you, placing a photo of you and your mom in front of you. You were probably seven in the picture.

“Ten,” you answered, looking at the picture. You wondered if you could keep it once this was all over.

“When you were ten, you started a string of hospital visits that lasted until you were twenty years old. Broken ribs, concussions, fractures, and… a miscarriage,” Tara said, your eyes snapped up to look at her.

Your mouth went dry “You had Garcia unseal my files?” You couldn’t help the hurt in your voice.

The way Tara looked at you, you could tell she understood you in a whole new light now, “we had to. She felt horrible doing it.” That you didn’t doubt, the whole team had a mostly unspoken rule on inter-team profiling. You nodded understandingly.

“Y/N, do you have an alibi for the murders? We already cleared up that you weren’t working, but can anyone account for your whereabouts?” Charlie asked impatiently, he knew you didn’t do this, and it might not be his case anymore, but you could still tell he wanted it solved.

Looking directly at Tara, you answered the question, “No, I wasn’t with anyone.”

Your coworker set her jaw as Charlie got up and left.

“How did you get those injuries, Y/N?” Tara continued her line of questioning, setting a packet of medical records in front of you. You were still cuffed, so all you could do was touch the papers with your fingertips.

The paper read of chromosomes and a D&C, you couldn’t help the tears that flooded your eyes, “I- uh. I don’t want to look at that, please.”

Quickly, Tara pulled the papers away, “who hurt you?”

You bit your lip to stifle a cry, “Tara, please.” You knew what was going on, the only person who knew everything was retaliating against the precinct. They humiliated you, so she was going to humiliate them. She repeated the question and this time you answered, “My father.”

“Was your father also the father of your baby?” She asked, looking down at the papers. Honestly, she looked just about as uncomfortable as you were.

Solemnly, you shook your head, “That was Johnny. We were together from when I was fifteen until I was twenty. My dad-“ Your voice broke off, “Frank never touched me like that.”

“Can you tell me more about Frank?” She asked softly, the way she spoke to victims. The one thing you had tried to avoid.

Blearily, you looked up at your friend, “Can we take a break?”

Nodding, Tara stood up. When she opened the door, you heard shouting. People asking if your cuffs could be taken off. You just let your tears fall for a moment. Charlie came back and unlocked your cuffs, looking at the dried blood on them and the still bleeding wounds on your wrists, “I- I think we have a first aid kit somewhere.”

You brushed him off, waiting for him to leave and for Tara to come back. She did, draping a sweater over the table, and you tentatively grabbed it. Sighing when you recognized it as Spencer’s, “Has everyone seen the paperwork?”

She nodded slowly, “are you alright to talk to me about Frank now?”

You used your newly freed hands to wipe under your eyes before pulling the cardigan on. “It was my mom, she took everything he threw at her to protect me,” you whispered. “He hit me when I was ten, I had gotten a bad grade in social studies. So, my mom and I planned to leave, but he figured it out,” you said, furrowing your brows at the memory. “He strangled her, and she died. He told everyone she hung herself. The whole town believed him because he was the chief of police.”

Tara wrote something down, “he killed her in front of you?”

You nodded, “He needed someone else to take his aggression out on after that, so he beat me.” You told her, fiddling with the hem of Spencer’s sweater. “So, when I was fifteen and I met a boy, I thought I had found the answers to all of my problems, but I really had just discovered more.”

“The boy was Johnathan Klein?”

Affirming her question again, you continued your story, “he was a horny fifteen-year-old boy, and he had sex with me even when I begged him not to. He told me he had to because he loved me, and I believed him.”

Tara leaned over and looked you in the eyes, “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” You asked meekly, tilting your head to the side. “He proposed to me the day we graduated from high school. I had already accepted the fact that I was never getting out of the town, but what I didn’t know was by getting engaged to him I was very nearly signing my own death certificate.” You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache in your chest, “I found out I was pregnant when I was nineteen, and looking back at it now, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Tara didn’t speak, she just listened. You supposed that was the psychologist in her, letting you take the lead in your own story.

You furrowed your brows as you tried to bring memories that you had spent so long burying to the surface. “I knew I couldn’t make my baby go through the same thing I went through, so I tried to run, but I didn’t get far. He found me, he beat me, he brought me to the hospital, and he told me I killed our baby.” You could see the story was bothering Tara. When you told Emily, you told her in pieces over the span of a month. “The only people I was allowed to see after that were my dad, Johnny, and Katherine.” You wiped tears from your face, “the judge wouldn’t grant me a restraining order, my only option was to run. So, when Kath showed up with a plane ticket and an envelope of cash, I took the opportunity and left.”

“Y/N, do you think these murders could be somehow connected to your upbringing here?” Tara asked, flipping through another file.

You looked back at the glass that separates the observation room, having no idea who was on the other side listening. “I didn’t until Reid said the victims looked like me,” you confessed. It felt too convenient, victims looking like you, you being framed for their murders. Yet, you still made sure not to call Spencer by his first name, afraid of giving yourself away. “Do they have any evidence?”

“They found soil from the factory crime scene on your shoes, but your jacket is still being processed. Without an alibi, we can’t get them to release you,” Tara said.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in the chair, “Of course, they found soil from the factory crime scene on my shoes, I was at the scene yesterday.”

The door opened and Frank stepped inside, “Your alibi spoke up.” He sounded irritated, but not as irritated as he’s going to be once the BAU is through with him.

i see right through me

Spencer had settled you down on a desk in the corner of the precinct, disinfecting the cuts on your wrists made by Johnny’s handcuffs. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, watching as he cleaned the debris from your torn skin.

He didn’t respond, he just shook his head. You could tell he was thinking, as clearly as if you could see gears physically turning in his head.

“Spence, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, bending your neck to try to catch his eyes.

He shook his head again, “I’m not upset, not with you at least.”

You raised your eyebrows in suspicion, “Then stop getting so lost in thought. What’s bothering you?”

He clasped both of your hands in his own, setting them in your lap, “Does it feel like a coincidence to you that the same night Johnny told us about the school the woman who helped you escape an abusive relationship was found dead at that school?” Spencer dropped your hands, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out bandages before gingerly wrapping your wrists. At work, you tried to keep the public displays to a minimum, but you felt like these were extenuating circumstances, which was why you had secluded yourselves in the corner.

“I need to look at the crime scene photos again,” you said, trying to get off of the desk.

Spencer firmly placed both of his hands on your hips, effectively keeping you in place. “Once I’m done,” he whispered, securing the bandages on your wrists. “Are you alright?”

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sadly, “Everyone learned a lot about me today. Some of it I had never intended on telling them. I just feel… exposed? Raw?” You searched desperately for the right word to use to describe exactly how you feel.

Hanging your head low, your eyes traced patterns in the carpet when Spencer hooked a finger gently under your chin and lifted your head, so you were looking at him. His honey-colored eyes searched your face, and you felt like he was looking right through you. “You know nothing that happened today makes any of us see you differently, right? I don’t think of you as any less of a person because of what I learned today.”

You shook your head, “You don’t learn those things about your girlfriend and look at her the same.”

“You’re right. I don’t look at you the same, I’m even more in awe of you now than I was before. The fact that you’ve been through what you’ve been through and you’re this bright, shiny person sitting in front of me is astounding, but…” His voice trailed off.

Here it was, he couldn’t want who you were. He didn’t want the heavy history that comes with you. You shut your eyes.

He cupped your face with his hands, “it makes me worry that maybe I haven’t been there for you enough. Not in the same way you’re there for me.”

“Spence,” you whispered, swallowing back your emotions, and looking up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “I love you, and I have to make sure that you know that I’m always going to be there when you need me.”

Nodding rapidly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around him, “I know.” Your voice was little more than a rasp, “I know, I love you too.”

After assuring Emily and Tara that your friendship was intact, you turned to the team. “I think I play a bigger part in this case than I realize.”

“We were just coming to a similar conclusion, once we saw what Katherine Meadows looked like, it just confirmed our suspicions,” JJ said, looking at the whiteboard, which now had Kath’s picture on it, as well as yours. “The whole town seems to have it out for you, though. How do we narrow down the suspect pool?”

You stepped up to the whiteboard, “Because it’s not about the locations and their relation to the town, it’s about the locations and their relation to me.” You pointed to the factory, “When I was fifteen, this was the first place Johnny ever assaulted me.”

“You said he proposed to you at your high school graduation, right?” Tara said, “That’s the connection to the school.”

Nodding, you continued, “And we were going to get married at the church.”

Spencer wrote this all down on the whiteboard as you fit the pieces of this puzzle together. “Is there anywhere else that would fit in with these other locations?”

Flipping through a file, you set papers down on the desk in front of your team. “That’s our house, it was set on fire not long after I left,” you pointed out. “That’s where he’s going next.”

“But who will his victim be? If we can get to her before he can, then we can stop him before he gets to her,” Matt mentioned.

Slowly, you turned around and faced your team, “I don’t intend on letting anyone else get hurt. This is between me and Johnny.”

who could stay?

You sat yourself down at the dining room table. Nothing in the house had been moved, its charred remains were left defenseless against Mother Nature. You knew this table, there was blood ground into the wood grain. It was your blood.

You wished they had torn the rest of the structure down.

Spencer didn’t like the idea of you going alone, but you were armed, and you had an earpiece in. You weren’t alone, the team was nearby in case things went wrong.

“Incoming, blue pick-up pulling into the driveway,” Luke said through the radio. “Suspect’s getting out, it doesn’t look like anyone’s with him.”

Realistically, you knew nothing was going to happen to you, but there was some small voice in the back of your head that told you something was going to go awry.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the floral-patterned chair. Part of you was grateful that the team had enough faith in you to send you to get a confession on your own, but another part of you wished someone would’ve asked you if this is really what you want to do. Sure, you wanted Johnathan Klein to be put away for a long time, but you didn’t want to be in this house. When you left, you had hoped you’d never have to set foot in this godforsaken town ever again.

Sitting up straight, the front door opened. You’re not sure why he opens the door when there’s a hole in the wall leading right to you. “I thought you might come looking for me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I always knew you’d come back to me, baby,” Johnny spoke to you in a low voice, but you knew the team could hear.

“I didn’t come here for you, Johnny,” you whispered, keeping your voice steady. “I came for the girls who were murdered. I knew them, we both did,” you told him. That was the truth, you felt like you owed them because they died while you got to live.

He sat next to you, placing a hand on your knee. It was all you could do to not flinch away from him. “Then why did you bring that guy? If not to make me jealous, then why?”

“Johnny, if I go with you, will it stop?” You asked, turning to him, reaching out your hand, and placing it on his arm.

Humming, he reached out and brushed your hair behind your ear, luckily not the side where you had your earbud in. “I don’t know what you mean, babe. You’ll have to spell it out for me,” he said, pulling you to your feet abruptly. You didn’t see the knife when he first walked in, you didn’t even know he had it until it was to your throat.

But you weren’t twenty years old anymore. You had grown up. You had learned self-defense.

So, you caught him off guard when you hit him, causing the knife to clatter to the ground. “You bitch!” He growled, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You won’t kill me,” you said, planting your feet on the ground. “You had five years to kill me, Johnny.”

He stood up, “No, but I killed a part of you. Didn’t I? When I killed your baby?”

After all these years, he knew how to get under your skin. He got one hit off, across your cheek, the strike so hard that your earbud went flying across the room. “You killed the part of me that you created, that’s not who I am. I recreated myself, a version of myself without this godforsaken town.”

“But I got you here, back home. I killed all those girls for you to come back to me,” he said, running straight at you.

You hit him with your gun, you physically struck him with the butt of the gun. You could’ve shot him, it would’ve been clean, but you didn’t. That would’ve been easy for him. He dropped like a ragdoll and the rest of your team came rushing in. Someone was calling your name, but you couldn’t hear.

Matt ended up being the one who cuffed him, you slowly walked away from them. Backing yourself into a wall, you watched it all happen.

When you left your hometown, you never quite felt like it was over. He was always still going to be around. But this? This felt final.

It made your chest ache.

Gently, Spencer took your hand and led you outside. “It’s done?”

He nodded rapidly, “It’s over, angel. Emily and Luke are at the precinct taking Frank into custody. They’ll both go away for a long time.”

“Spence, I want to go home,” you whispered, looking down the road and seeing houses that you recognize from your childhood. This whole town was filled with your own ghosts. “Can we go home?”

Spencer didn't answer, he just pulled you into him and held you tightly. You let him inspect the wound on your cheek before you went back to the hotel and put everyone’s belongings in an SUV.

On the jet, the two of you sequestered yourselves in the back where it’s darker. He offered to let you lie down, so you rested your head in his lap. He used one hand to hold his book and the other to smooth your hair back. Your eyes were shut, but you were vaguely aware of the rest of the team as they took turns peeking back at the both of you.

you could stay

please remember to like, reblog, and comment

[darkmatilda]

ׂ╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 1: first day of investigation

part 2 here!

in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 4k

“And how's school?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“It could be worse,” said Jeremy after a moment, in an indifferent tone. You sighed, wondering if, as a teenager, you also answered everything, even more serious, open questions with vague remarks, driving the person asking how you were doing to frustration.

Answering that question, no, you didn’t do that. When you were a teenager, you didn’t have anyone who cared about you. Precisely for this reason that you practically tormented your brother with phone conversations, feeling immense guilt for leaving him with your parents. The same parents with whom you ultimately decided to cut off contact. You had never faced a more difficult decision — cutting them off or continuing a relationship that tragically affected your mental health? After each interaction with them, you felt weak, defenseless, insignificant, and above all, exhausted. It wasn’t even about your mother’s illness. They were just terrible people.

Your sixteen-year-old brother didn’t have that option. He had to deal with them until he turned eighteen and moved out. You regularly made sure he was okay. However, lately, you had the impression that his voice was becoming more and more devoid of emotion. Depressed. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Prentiss appeared right in front of you. She noticed you were on the phone, so to avoid interrupting you, she tried to convey something silently. With her thumb, she pointed toward the main deck of the jet. From the movements of her lips, you were able to read, “Hotch is calling everyone.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let this topic go,” you said again to your brother. You could imagine him rolling his green eyes. “I have to get back to work; I’ll call as soon as I have time. Don’t get into trouble and take care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You ended the call and noticed a smile on the brunette’s face. Together, you joined the rest of the team.

“I heard part of your conversation,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me you have a kid that you’re hiding from us?”

“Who’s hiding what from whom?” Morgan chimed in as he walked in, holding two huge cups of coffee. He handed one of them to Reid.

Prentiss nodded in your direction.

“Did you know that y/n has a kid?”

You nudged her.

“I don’t have any kids. I was just talking to my brother,” you explained briefly. You didn’t like discussing your family, even with friends. In fact, you were often accused of being too secretive.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Reid added, frowning. 

He, along with the rest of them, looked at you with mild surprise. You muttered something under your breath, shrugging. You felt a bit embarrassed that your family was the center of the discussion. You were saved from the awkwardness by your own boss.

“Can we start?”

JJ handed out the case files. As soon as you opened yours, you were met with an exceptionally graphic scene.

“ The bodies were discovered by someone from the forestry service, but according to the local police, anyone could have found them. It wasn’t hidden very carefully, as if someone didn’t care about it being discovered. A man and a woman, both decapitated. Before you ask, the heads were found in the same place as the rest of the bodies. Except for that, no serious injuries, just a few minor bruises and scratches. As if they were trying to defend themselves while they still could. “

No one spoke; the only sound was the turning of pages as the whole team focused intently on analyzing the photos. Your brows lowered in concentration, your entire face tense. Maybe you looked at things like this every day, but that didn’t mean it had become pleasant or that it didn’t disgust you. Sitting across from you, Reid was the first to speak.

“What do we know about the victims?”

At that same moment, as JJ spoke up again, you flipped the page and were met with two photos that looked like they’d been pulled from a social media account. Both people were alive, happy. The man was crouching next to a young boy who seemed to be pulling away, unwilling to be in the picture with his father. In the background, there was a garden, a tall white fence typical of American suburbs, and a slide. You barely stopped yourself from glancing at Hotch — he had a son around the same age, and this case might hit him particularly hard. The woman in the photo wore square glasses, with a cheerful, friendly gaze peeking out from beneath them. Round cheeks, a wide smile.

"Andrew Ward, 37 years old. He was one of the city councilors. He had a wife and one son, and he’d lived in this town his entire life. Then there's Jessica Larsen, the deputy mayor—she and her husband were both heavily involved in public life."

“A city councilor and the deputy mayor?” Prentiss repeated, thoughtfully resting her elbow on the arm of her seat. “Does anyone else feel like this could be some kind of score-settling? Revenge? Maybe from someone who was wronged by the city council over… I don’t know…”

"Higher bills," you said absentmindedly, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, immediately wincing at your own foolishness. You were still distracted by the conversation with Jeremy. You pinched your arm, trying to force yourself to focus on the case.

"Raising bills doesn’t typically drive people to murder," Reid corrected, pausing to glance at the files again. You never felt embarrassed when he pointed out your mistakes—he had a way of doing it so skillfully and politely. "Prentiss is on the right track; it could be revenge. Our UNSUB might hate authority due to some personal experience, maybe sees themselves as an anarchist, though it's hard to lean in that direction with so little information. Garcia, have you checked if the victims were connected in any way?"

The blonde woman on the laptop screen nodded.

"I’ve checked everything I could find about them, but unfortunately, I couldn’t uncover a single connection that might move the case forward."

Hotch raised a hand, stopping you from further speculation.

"That’s not all," he began, looking at each of you in turn. "Right after those two bodies were found, three more were discovered."

Morgan raised his eyebrows high.

"Five bodies? No wonder they called us in."

"And here’s where our biggest problem arises," your boss continued “Look at the photos. These three bodies were also decapitated but except for that, treated in a completely different way”

You turned the page again, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Other victims were killed with much more brutality, all covers in cuts and bruises. It was even hard to define their gender, but when you looked at the description you knew that this time, they were all women."Were two different people responsible for this?" Prentiss asked.

“Two murders cutting their victims' heads in such a small city?” spoke up Rossi, skeptically. 

"I don’t think it’s two different killers," you said hesitated, unable to look away from the photos. As you studied them, you absorbed every detail, trying to imagine the murderer inflicting these injuries. If anyone could have peered into your mind at that moment, they might have gotten serious PTSD. “Just…take a look at the wounds. There’s much more on these women and are visibly more brutal. But they look like they were inflicted by the same hand, the same person. The placement is often consistent," you noted. "How much time passed between the murders?"

“We haven’t gotten this information yet" said Hotch. "But based on my experience, I can say we’re looking at a matter of weeks."

You noticed that Reid was watching you closely. It seemed he was doing it unconsciously. When you sent him a questioning glance, he slightly blushed and immediately cleared his throat.

“I’m curious about what y/n said,” he admitted. It was clear to see the many calculations and analyses happening in his mind. This was evident in the increasing pace of his speech. “It really does look like the same person, but in different circumstances, perhaps influenced by different emotions. Maybe even with different motives. I realize the possibility of that is close to zero, but what if we’re dealing with a murderer with multiple personality disorder?”

A silence fell as everyone contemplated Reid's words. You made eye contact with him again — your tracks of thought began to overlap, your conclusions intertwining. Looking at his face, you felt, in a way, smarter and understood; it became easier to connect the fragments of ideas that had surfaced in your mind.

You shook your head.

 "No... I'm not sure. I understand what you're saying, but it seems to me that this isn't entirely true in our case. Your theory would suggest that two different personalities of our UNSUB committed these crimes, but in such cases, the crimes usually contrast more with each other. It's much harder to connect them, and here... I immediately noticed that this was the work of the same person."

Reid leaned in with interest over the table. Everyone seemed to look at you encouragingly, waiting for you to continue your theory. Yet you only took on a resigned, apologetic posture — nothing else came to mind. Any potential ideas felt too chaotic; some instincts accompanied you, but it was nothing you wanted to share out loud. You felt that they wouldn't help at all.

"We'll definitely know more after seeing the crime scene," Hotch stated, closing his files. With that, he ended the official discussion, giving you time to review the photos alone and think everything over one more time.

That’s exactly what you focused on for the rest of the meeting. You sat with one leg crossed over the other, a closed folder resting on your lap. You didn’t need to look at the photos anymore; you just needed to close your eyes and listen to your intuition. It definitely had something to say about this case. You just weren’t sure what…

Just before arriving at the scene, Hotch asked to speak with you privately. You couldn't hide it; you felt a bit anxious.

Maybe it was about your recent distraction. Of course, it was about your worry for your brother, but that shouldn’t have been an excuse; nothing should be distracting you. Or maybe he wanted to discuss something completely different, and you had just imagined this whole scenario in your mind. Knowing you and your tendency to overthink, both options seemed equally likely.

 "As I mentioned, y/n, I need to talk to you about something. It’s regarding your accommodation."

First, you breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t anything more serious. Then, your eyebrows raised in surprise. Accommodation?

"There have been some issues with the hotel we’re planning to stay at," Hotch continued. "We couldn’t secure separate rooms for each of you. You’ve been assigned to share a room with Reid. If that’s a problem for you, we can always look for another place, but that would mean you'd be away from the rest of the team..."

“No, it’s not a problem,” you assured him, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You were relieved that the conversation didn’t involve any serious issues, just a trivial problem with the room. Besides, why would it bother you to share a room with Spencer? It was only for a few nights. "I was afraid you wanted to talk to me about something else," you blurted out.

“About what?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, nothing,” you replied quickly and somewhat squeakily.

Hotch smiled slightly at your reaction, but his gaze seemed to analyze you closely.

 Oh you idiot, why couldn’t you just shut up? you thought to yourself as you walked away.

*

The weather decided to play a trick on you.

 As you were driving to the crime scene, the waterfall was sliding down the windshield, almost making it impossible to see anything. In any case, there wasn't much to look at. After passing the main part of the town, you were surrounded only by forest — trees shimmering in shades of orange.

The view didn’t impress you much. You definitely preferred warm, sunny weather and lounging in the sun, rather than freezing every day after stepping outside and dealing with frizzy hair from the humidity. You liked the town better. It felt small and cozy, as if it were taken straight out of Gilmore Girls.

Prentiss was behind the wheel, and you were sitting next to her in the passenger seat, while JJ was your navigator. The boys took a different car.

“So,” Emily began, turning left at the intersection with her eyes fixed on the road. “You care a lot about your brother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, sinking deeper into your seat. Why did she have to bring this up again? It wasn't that you didn't trust them; you just didn’t like talking about your family. It wasn't even about being ashamed — why dwell on unpleasant topics? Besides, as was well known, you were private. You had to be incredibly close to someone to open up, and even then, you didn’t lay all your cards on the table.

Together with JJ, they looked at you kindly and encouragingly. You acted like you were fascinated by what was behind the glass. Soon, you arrived at the crime scene. 

That means, before you reached your destination, you had to walk quite a distance into the forest. Since it was late October, the days had grown particularly short, and you could already see the first streaks of darkness between the enormous trees that seemed to watch you with their ancient gaze.

If you hadn't had the girls with you, you would have felt a thrill on your spine. 

The location where the bodies were found had been secured very thoroughly. Local police cars gathered there, and soon the rest of your team arrived. You glanced at your muddy shoes and made a mental note to start dressing more appropriately for the weather from tomorrow on.

The rain intensified. Emily pulled her hood tighter around her head. 

“Working in these conditions...'"

Her sentence was interrupted by the appearance of an incredibly tall man, somewhat resembling a bear. Long hair protruded from under his sheriff's hat, and he seemed to be about the same age as Hotch, with whom he immediately shook hands. 

“Agent Hotchner, we're from the FBI.'"

"Sheriff Russell” he introduced himself, pressing his hand to his forehead with concern. 'I've never seen anything like this, and I've seen a lot. I can't believe anyone from this town could do something like this; I know these people and...'"

“Can we see the bodies?" you asked. It was getting dark, and you wanted to get as good a look as possible. There was something intriguing about this case that had unsettled you since the moment you first opened the file.

Without waiting for an answer, you and Emily moved toward the secured area. Despite the circumstances, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"God, I hate this chatter," she sighed in annoyance. "I know these people; they’d never do something like this," she mimicked the sheriff’s deep voice. "Neighbors of serial killers always say that. Someone can be polite in conversation and keep five bodies in their basement — it’s not mutually exclusive."

You stifled a laugh. 

"Don’t forget the how could he have done it? He always said good morning in the hallway!"

“Or about kids. Sure, he was killing small animals since he was four and had a knife collection, but deep down, he was polite! I can't believe he shot up half the school…”

Hotch appeared right next to you, so you cut her off with a firm elbow jab. You accidentally hit her in the ribs, causing her to let out a groan. This only intensified your incredibly inappropriate amusement. Your boss was standing so close, so you covered your mouth under the guise of a cough. 

In the next thirty minutes, the laughter faded away.

You began by examining the bodies of the first victims, in chronological order. These were the three brutally murdered women. The whole scene seemed to be waiting for your arrival. Not a single detail had been altered, making it easier for you to connect emotionally with the situation. Most of the profilers you knew were meticulous about keeping their feelings detached from their work. It was the only way to endure this job for more than a year without committing suicide. You applied that strategy yourself, but not entirely.

When investigating a case, you tried to imagine yourself in both the shoes of the perpetrator and the victims. Often, you would close your eyes, attempting to visualize and feel it all in vivid detail. To step away from pure theory and let intuition take over.

It was likely the reason that, for the past year since you started this work, you hadn’t imagined a day without at least one tranquilizer and a sleeping pill.

After thoroughly examining the first crime scene, you drove to inspect the next one. This time, the victims were two people connected to the city council. The previous victims had been a teacher, a former resident of the orphanage, and a social worker. When you learned this, a heavy feeling settled at the back of your mind. You were certain there was a connection between these victims.

"Let’s consider what drives the unsub to remove the victim’s head" Rossi suggested.

Before you could even define the meaning of the question, Reid rushed to answer.

"Decapitation is one of the most symbolic acts of violence. The head represents thought, intellect, and control. By removing it, the killer may be expressing a need to destroy those aspects. It could also be a form of humiliation, a metaphorical stripping of their power and authority," he explained in a slightly robotic tone, as if reciting from a Wikipedia entry.

You smiled subtly at the thought. He noticed and gave you a questioning look, which you chose to ignore.

“That would fit for the two later victims," Morgan said, resting his hands thoughtfully on his hips. "They were on the city council — the unsub might have felt he was stripping them of authority and power. But how does that apply to the others? A social worker, a teacher, and an orphanage employee?"

You fixed your gaze on your dirty shoes, Derek’s question echoing in your mind.

 What was it all about?

*

You’d forgotten your sleeping pills.

Once more, you searched your toiletries bag, where you usually kept them. Not a trace.

You pressed your lips tightly together, angry with yourself. Your sleep problems weren’t that serious — were caused mainly by overthinking and constant worry. You didn’t have the motivation to take care of yourself in that regard. It was much easier to rely on the medication, and as long as it worked. Sometimes you forgot that you were even struggling with it at all.

“Is something wrong?” Reid asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Following Hotch’s words, you were sharing a room with him. “You seem upset.”

You shook your head dismissively.

“I just forgot something.”

Only then did you look at him. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. You realized it was the first time you’d seen him in such casual, everyday clothing. He usually wore shirts, blazers, and vests — somewhat grandpa-like, but you thought it suited him well.

You realized you had been staring at each other in silence for quite some time. To break the awkwardness, you cleared your throat and decided to return to one of the exhausting topics.

“There’s something strange about this case. You know, I’ve thought a lot about your theory regarding personality disorder, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Aside from the fact that it’s very, very rare, it’s just… my intuition doesn’t agree with it. I hope I don’t sound like a shaman. 

Spencer bursted out and sat on the edge of his bed. In your room, only the standing lamp illuminated the space, casting a dim orange light around. Despite that, you could see the thoughtful expression on his face.

“We once dealt with a case where the unsub was struggling with that very disorder. He was abused as a child and developed a separate personality, Amanda, who harmed men similar to his abuser,” he shared in a quiet, less confident tone than the one he used on the jet. He must have been tired after a long day at work, and like you, frustrated that you hadn’t found anything.

Above all, the circumstances were different. Your conversation had shifted to a more personal level, concerning two friends rather than coworkers. 

“Do you see any similarities between these two cases?” you asked, intrigued since you had never dealt with a similar case yourself.

“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “At one time, I read a lot about that disorder. There was another instance where we had an unsub who…” he trailed off, a visibly tense expression crossing his face.

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassured him. You didn’t know what was bothering him, but it was clear he regretted bringing it up at all. You had never been one to push for more; you often felt uncomfortable with certain topics, and you were incredibly grateful when someone recognized your withdrawal and changed the subject. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks” he whispered. But I think there’s something to your intuition. This whole case is exceptionally peculiar.”

““Well, you can call me a shaman now. By the way, are you planning to go to bed already?”

“And you?” he replied with a question of his own. “Actually, I’d prefer to read for a while, but I don’t want to disturb your sleep…”

Your broad smile clearly surprised him.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to spend some time with a book too”

In fact, it didn’t stem from your desires at all. You loved reading, but your brain was usually too tired for it in the evenings. However, you were aware that falling asleep would take you an unusually long time, and you preferred to make use of that time rather than stare at the ceiling.

You pulled out the only novel you had brought, Kafka on the Shore. You were about halfway through. Then you remembered you had meant to call your brother, but when you glanced at the clock, you realized that due to the time zone difference, it was already late at night for him. You sighed with a pang of guilt. You promised yourself you would do it tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said when you both agreed it was finally time to go to sleep.

“Goodnight, shaman” he responded. 

You smiled in your pillow. 

part 2?

[myntrose]

ೃ⁀➷partners in crime ︻デ═一

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ft: Alastor x gn! reader

summary: It's another night at the hotel. Everyone is lounging around the shared space, or sitting at the bar. With a boost of confidence (and a few drinks) Angel finally asks the burning question everyone had : How did you and Alastor meet?

cw: demi! Alastor, established relationship(married), Alastor and reader meet when they were alive, reader is an assassin , killing and mild gore (it's alastor yall), a lot of petnames, no use of y/n, no beta we die like men

a/n: it's the way alastor got me smiling and kicking my feet. he got me to break my 1 year hiatus LMAO. also, I am aware that he's ace. I myself am somewhere along the demi spectrum, so this fic is purely for comfort n coping. if you don't like it, pls ignore :,D

wc: 1.5 k (1,469 words)

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The hotel common was filled with low gentle music and idle chatter. Vaggie and Charlie were on the couch, talking about everything and nothing. Nifty was running around chasing some poor roach. Even Cherri was here, with Sir Pentious attempting to flirt with her once again.

Husk was behind the bar, in ordinary fashion. Although he was mostly listening and doing his job, he would occasionally chide into the conversation the other two residents at the hotel were having. Angel was in the middle of telling you about how much of a headache Val was, while you gave him you condolences. It seemed like the only person missing was the radio demon himself, who was probably in his tower, making a new broadcast.

"Speakin of which..." Angel, who noticed Alastor's lack of presence, noted "I got a question for ya toots. How is it that tall, red and creepy managed to bag you as a partner? You're sweet and all, I get that. But how did you even meet-"

The loud slam of drinks caused the peace within the hotel to halt . Husk shoots a stern glare towards Angel, almost to warn him, be cautious about asking question's about Alastor and his darling, you never know if he's listening.

"It's alright, Husk" You send him a sincere smile. While he would never trust your husband, he can't help but believe your words.

"Well, Angel, let's start with this. If you've ever wondered why I'm down here in the first place, it's because of the occupation I had when I was alive. That's actually how I met Alastor."

Oh, maybe you were a thief and were trying to steal something from Alastor. Or maybe a detective that was on the case to solve his murders. Or maybe-

"I was hired to assassinate one of his targets."

oh.

You couldn't help but laugh at Angels' reaction. Sure, you were kind to those in the hotel, and definitely not as threatening as most overlords. He, and most people you met in Hell, just assumed you committed some mundane crime and got the unfortunate eternal punishment .

Taking a small sip of your drink, you start to recollect the unforgettable night that would define your current relationship.

It was supposed to be like any other job that you were given. Your employer would hand you a file, you would find the target, and get paid in return. Maybe it wasn't the most ethical way to make money, but hey, you knew how to kill so you made it work.

You had followed your target into the bar, while waiting away in the corner. Though your eyes were focused on them the entire night, you couldn't help but feel another pair of eyes on you.

It was probably some random patron in the bar, you guessed. It wasn't for another hour when you noticed that your target had left the vicinity.

The streets were dark, with the occasional street light every block or so. It was perfect place to finish your job. All you needed was for your target to turn into some alleyway, and as quietly as you followed him, you'd quietly go for the kill-

Quietly. Hold on, why was it so quite?

Looking up the street, you noticed that what was once where your target stood was now empty. There was no way he outran you, given that you would have heard his footsteps. To the right of you were the woods, maybe he took a detour?

No, everything felt wrong. Every single thought in your brain was screaming to run, to grab your gun that was hidden beneath your coat, to get out of here-

"Careful my dear, we wouldn't want you getting hurt now, would we?"

A cold blade found its way to your neck. Two very disturbing facts became known to you. First, was the fact that the blade was already stained red. And second, you were about to be the second kill of the night.

A million thoughts ran through your mind. Was this how you were going to die? How fast could you grab your gun? Would your employer be pissed off that you died in the job? With your eyes shut closed, you waited for the knife to make contact.

"Now now, there's no need to be so scared my dear! My, you look like a deer in headlights!"

...what?

Opening your eyes, you're met with the mysterious man who just had his weapon on you seconds ago. He seemed vaguely familiar, probably having seen him at the bar you frequent.

"It seems that I've caused you quite a scare. Do know that wasn't my intention. I just wanted to see for myself this new assassin I've heard so much about! You've caused quite the gossip, my dear. Makes good conservation."

You continued to stand in silence, with the initial shock of almost dying wearing off now. As mad as you were that you got caught, you were equally confused on just who this man was. With some more listening to his voice, the answer popped into your mind.

"You- you're that new radio host! Alastor, was it?"

Alastor's smile grew at the acknowledgment. "Indeed I am! Glad to know you've heard about me."'

Had anyone walked into the conversation you two were having, they would have assumed it was one between new acquaintances. In which one has a knife in their hand, while the other has a gun.

"You see, my dear, I've heard quite a bit about your line if work. While I am more than capable of... dealing with others, I propose that we work out some sort of deal. One where you can finally stop working for that employer of yours, and actually make a profit off your talents."

Alastor put out a hand, waiting, watching to see how you'd respond. It's been a long night for you, and you had a feeling that this wouldn't be the last time you saw. Plus, if working with him meant you'd finally have to stop answering to your boss, then why the hell not. You take his hand, before agreeing to this proposition.

"...and since then, we've been business partners. Our relationship kind of just happened after a few moths."

It was nice to look back to when you first met your now-husband. Looking around the bar, you noticed that you weren't just talking to Angel. At some point, unbeknownst to you, everyone at the hotel had come over to listen to your story time.

"Well toots, I figured you had to be some sort of crazy to date smiles, but I guess it takes one to know one." Angels says while taking a shot, still reeling with that fact that someone as kind as you was a killer. Head nods and murmurs of agreement spread within the group.

Before you could say anything, a pool of dark clouds appeared to your side. From the shadows, the very man you were taking about stood before you.

"Hey, Al."

He faces you with his signature grin, before turning to the rest of the residents.

"It seems that I've became the topic of conversion while I was gone! It's quite interesting to see how interested you all are in with me and my dear's meeting."

The hint of annoyance in his voice was entertaining, to say the least. You place a hand on his shoulder, barely hovering above it.

"Aww, come of Al! They just wanted to hear how we first met! Besides, it's a fun story to tell."

"If "fun" means almost killing ya for the first time, I'd hate to know what you guys did when you started dating-" "Shut up Angel!"

You answer a few questions that were asked before everyone eventually returned back to their previous endeavors. Husk and Angel eventually sit around with the others in the common room, leaving just you and Alastor at the bar.

"It's kinda funny, now that I look back at it."

Alastor doesn't say anything, promoting you to continue.

"That night, I almost turned down that job. I was painfully tired, and all I wanted to do was go home. It's crazy to think that we wouldn't have met had I not pushed myself to take the job."

Anyone who knew Alastor would know that him asking for a partnership was simply outlandish. Hell, Alastor himself questioned why he was seeking you out in the first place.

No, underneath he knew. He knew from the first time he saw you. It was a different time from when you both officially met. When he saw you, someone so seemingly innocent, skillfully take down a man twice your size, he knew that he had to meet you.

"Well, mon chéri, it's good that you did."

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) Journey to the West In "Two Secretive Love Bonds of Two Gods"

It All Started At Sakutopia Royal court, Princess Saphira who was Sitting on the Throne Giving a Cold Look at her Now "Ex-Husband" Name Prince Daniel Jamerson Rooster Who Stood before the Court of the kingdom For a Crime That He Committed and then Saphira said Coldly,

Saphira: "Prince Daniel Rooster, You are Charge of treason, Murder, Adultery, and Domestic Violence against the Crown of Sakutopia. What Do you have to Say For yourself?"

Daniel stood in Chains along with Barbra Minx who is also In chains as well, Daniel begged Saphira Mercy but She's Having none of it and she said in anger tone,

Saph: "Do you have any Idea That our 5 years Of Marriage is Nothing but a Sham, Disgrace, and Unpassionately? You committed a Murder of My Unborn Daughter, Serena For your Stupid Selfish Desires of Having a son. Not Only that You Committed Domestic abuse Infront of My Subjects! and Committed a treason By Committing the Adultery!"

Daniel: "Please Saph, I'm So Sorry.. I didn't mean to let this happen, I've beg Of you and Have mercy on me and Barbra I-"

Saphira Cut in,

Saphira: "Silence! I will not hear your excuses. As Punishment You and Barbra Minx are Hear by Be Shamed by the good people in sakutopia and For your pregnant mistress..The unborn shall be terminated.."

Daniel: "NO! NO! Not my child..please I beg of you, don't take my Unborn child away from me!"

Saph: "YOU TOOK MINE DANIEL! It's eye for an eye Scenario for you. NO Child Is going To be Born with such Horrendous Parents and Barbra minx is Hearby being sterile as well..and after Shame and all.. You two are BANISHED From the Kingdom of Sakutopia and you two Shall not set foot in this palace again or it's Sentenced to Death for the Both of you!"

Daniel Knee down in defeat as the guards took Barbra Minx to Terminate her pregnancy and after that they were taken to Outside of the Palace as they stripped them naked and Force them to walk with shame. Daniels Father Couldn't even look at him because he was ashamed That his own Son had Mistreated the princess of Sakutopia and Tarnished The good name of his familes Neither is Barbra's father who was So ashamed of His daughter for messing around with a married man.. The Fathers of Daniel and Barbra Bows to Saphira and apologize for their Horrid behavior towards Saphira.. After the walk Of shame, She Ordered the Guards to Close the gates of Sakutopia Kingdom letting Daniel and Barbra know that they are No Longer Welcomed to her Kingdom again.. That night, Her Father (Emperor Mordue) was Livid and ranting about daniels Betrayal and he asked,

Emperor Mordue: "What are we going to do? She has No Suitors at all, She rejected them and Not only that That Rooster boy Cause treason!! What in the name of Smiling devil are going to do to Solve this Suitors Delima?!"

Then His Royal Advisor Knocking on the door and opens it and said,

Royal Advisor: "I Say We should Send Saphira to the Oracle of the west. She will tell the Princess Who is a worthy Husband for her and She lives in Thunder Monastery."

Mordue: "The Oracle of the west, It's pretty far from here! Besides They're Crawling with demons in the Mortal World, Who will be by her side to Bless and protect her?"

Royal Advisor: "Thats where the good news part, There is a Monk who just Came into the palace and His name is "Tang Sanzang", He was Known as the "Golden Cicada"."

Mordue: "THE "Golden Cicada" here?! Well bring Him here at the throne room, I'll have Words with him..and request to take my daughter to the west to seek the oracle as well."

Royal Advisor: "Oh Your Majesty, The Monk was going to the west too to get Buddha's Scriptures as well"

Then Emperor Mordue Nodded as he ordered The Advisor to bring the monk to him. When Master Sazang came to the throne room, The emperor comes in and welcomed him as master Sazang thanked him for letting him stay.. Then The emperor Offered him To Accompany His Daughter on the Journey to the west To seek the Oracle, Of course Master Sazang accepted the Offer and Saphira was overheard the conservation. Then The Next Day as Saphira Is Wearing the Fox mask with her mags full of clothes and food she needs and got on to her Mighty Great White Kirin Name Yuki and she Is Introduce to the monk as she bows and rise, Then the Journey to the west has begun.. During the long Journey, Saphira Notice the big mountain about the shape of the hand even Master tang Told her that it's a Buddhas hand as she was amazed by it until the Dangerous tiger came out from the shadows to come after her..Saphira gasp and rides her kirin to distract the tiger and Told Master tang to get to the Safety, after he gets to safety, Saphira found the cave and began to go in..as the tiger try to get in to eat her..until she hears the Mischief Voice calling to her, She turns and saw the Monkey king and he said to her…

[l0sercat]

Ok stay w me on this being spider noirs vision of black cat and your his suspect so he trys to corner you at a bar dance thingy and it’s just the reader teasing him

Ooooo I like how you think 😏 Also I don't know much about Black Cat 😅 I don't know if this is more fem or neutral so I'll tag both but please correct me!

Spider Noir x Black Cat! Reader

Spider Noir was following you the whole night. You were going everywhere it's a wonder how you can just blend in. You went into a bar so he thought it would be perfect to finally corner and catch you.

He made his way into the bar and ignored the stares he got. All he was here for was you, you were the main suspect in a crime he was solving. He needed to question you but you are really hard to catch.

He makes his way through the dancing drunks and saw you at the bar. He sits in the stool next to you and orders whiskey. You glance at him and look away and then looked again to process the fact that Spiderman is next to you. He lifted his mask to where his lips only showed and took a sip.

He glanced at your surprised face morph into a amused one. Your lips curled into a smirk and you placed your chin in your hand. Spider Noir pulls down his mask after finishing his drink and pays. He then fully turned to face you and opened his mouth to speak but you interrupted him.

"So what's a handsome man like you following around a woman like me?" You asked. He stared at you and let out an exasperated sigh. "Where were you the night of December 7 of this year?" He asked. You let out a dramatic gasp "Your not supposed to be in a woman's business y'know? It's quite rude have you never been taught manners?" You said grinning

His eye twitched in annoyance and he persisted on asking questions. But you keep on avoiding them and just flirt with him. "So for our next date how about you take me to a nice restaurant instead of this cheap place I feel like a prostitute" you lean in closer and drop your voice to a whisper "If you really want to know then come with me to my place" You winked and leaned back.

He sighed for the umpteenth time and stood up. "Well if your going to be no help-" he started. Your eyes widened slightly and cut him off and stood up as well. You leaned into his ear and whispered "If you really want to know meet me on the roof" you then exited the building.

He soon followed suit and went on the roof. He saw you there and let out a cough causing you to look at him with a smile. "How romantic of you to take me to a rooftop, what are you gonna do? Have your way with me?" You say and make your way towards him. "Look I came here for information about the murder that happened if you don't have any then we're done here" he backs up and stands straight.

"Aw come on can't we have a little fun first..." You pout and he rolls his eyes "No because I don't have time for it" "Guys are always impatient with foreplay..." You mumble "Fine if you take me on a nice dinner date or maybe even a rooftop date then I'll tell you everything you need to know" you smirk at him. He ponders for a moment and then shakes his head. "I'll take you on one date and then after it your going to tell me everything I need to know" he said glaring "Yes sir" you said and winked at him before leaping off the roof and disappearing into the night. Leaving him to question his sanity and patience.

[hotchs-big-hands]

What did you call me?

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|4.9k words

Aaron Hotchner x plus size fem!reader

NSFW Minors dni please

Warning(s): some angst, yearning, details about graphic crime scenes, strip clubs/sex clubs.

When Dom/sub couples begin to show up murdered mid-coital, the BAU team is brought in to solve the case. But as more couples are found and the unsub remains undetected, it becomes an undercover mission. The posing Dom/sub couple in question? Your intimidating, attractive boss and you.

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Hey everyone, welcome to my first fanfic! I used to write and post stuff back in 2018ish but it was a different fandom. I've not written and posted anything tho since then so I'm a bit nervous! But idk I just got back into cm recently and I saw Hotch and my brain was like oh yeah 👁️👁️ (I used to be a Spencer girlie) and I've mostly written stuff for myself but I decided imma start doing stuff on here too! I hope you enjoy and lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future writings 🥰 side note, I'm a fat gal so I will probably centre most of my stuff around plus size readers cuz there's not enough of it for plus size Hotch girlies 😔 but technically anyone can read and enjoy it! This was getting extremely long so I'm splitting it into three parts so here's the first one! Anyway, enjoy 💅

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The feeling of something blunt lightly bounced against your forehead, making you blink a few times and rub the area with your hand.

"Hey... Who did that?" You grumbled, eyes darting from one face of your coworkers to the next. Three of them all pointed towards the culprit and as your eyes drifted back to him you were met with a cheeky grin on the charming, dark-skinned man's face.

"You were spaced out, sugar." Derek Morgan said. "Got a lot on your mind?"

"Got a lot of him on her mind, more like." A voice cut in smugly, flustering you in an instant, your heart beginning to race. Your eyes flicked to Prentiss, the pristine raven haired woman was smirking at you, her eyes glinting. You squeaked and shifted in your office chair nervously.

"No, Em! Just... couldn't sleep last night."

The weak explanation didn't help, it only widened the smirk on Prentiss' face as she leaned forward.

"Oh? Do tell us more."

"There's nothing to say!" You abruptly turned to the casefile that lay open on your slightly messy desk and tried to ignore the movement at the corner of your eye; Emily was shuffling her chair over to you, no doubt still with that annoying smirk on her face.

"Oh it sure sounds like there is though."

Before you had the chance to defend yourself an all too familiar voice demanded everyone's attention and subsequently caused a shiver to trickle down your spine. Your hands gripped onto your chair.

"My team; in the conference room now. We have a case." Your unit chief spoke. All heads turned to the direction of a slightly elevated walkway where a sharply dressed man stood for a mere moment, locking eyes with yours, before he began walking briskly towards the mentioned conference room.

Fuck. Hotch was wearing your favourite suit and tie today and a few stray wisps of his short, dark hair stubbornly lay over his forehead, no matter how often he must have tried to push them up off his face. Everyday was harder than the previous working with that man. The moment you'd attended your interview months ago, sitting in front of the brooding man, you knew you were fucked. Yes, you had been eager to join the famed BAU unit and were grateful for the opportunity that arose but you'd be lying if another reason you eagerly answered all the questions prompted to you in that interview wasn't because you were instantly attracted to Aaron Hotchner. However, that was almost a year ago now and you were struggling with your growing attraction to the man the more you were around him. Your coworkers and friends certainly were no help, given they'd soon caught onto your crush.

A hand waved in front of your face and you blinked.

"Time to go, lovergirl." Prentiss teased and you sighed, quickly joining the others as they made their way to the case briefing. You needed to focus.

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Landing in Chicago a few hours later, the team were thrust into a gnarly investigation involving couples being murdered in their hotel rooms mid-coital. The crime scene photos were hard to look at, to say the least. Setting up a base of operations in the police department didn't take too long and currently you were in the midst of interviewing family members of the deceased along with Hotch at his insistence. It wasn't often that you took part in these interviews, even less often did Hotch ever team you up with him. Quite frankly, it made you feel a little nervous, but there was no way you'd question his decision. And certainly, you did not miss the subtle smug look Emily gave you as you trailed after the man you thought about way too much.

Sitting beside him in the SUV, just the two of you alone made your head feel a little bit floaty as you tried your best to remain as stoic as possible, reminding yourself of the details of the case so far and of the little bits of information from the families you'd spoken to. Even with the effort there was no preventing the permeating scent of his cologne and a hint of his own natural musk from scrambling your brain. He smelled good, too good, and the way his hands gripped the steering wheel from the quick glances you dared peek developed a heat to coil within the depths of your lower abdomen.

"Are you alright?" His voice brought you out of your thoughts. You felt flushed.

"H-huh?" You felt dumbstruck, all because of him. He exhaled through his nose sharply, clearly dissatisfied with your response.

"You're distracted."

Oh. Of course he could pick up on it. You shifted in your seat, subtly rubbing your plump thighs together.

"I'm okay, I guess I've not had enough to drink today though. I'll get some water when we head back to the station." Not a lie, technically. You'd forgotten your bottle of water you normally had ready to fill up to take on cases. Hotch hummed, the sound deep and making you clench between your thighs.

"I did notice you didn't have your water like you usually do. I should have said something." He said. Wait, he noticed? You didn't think he picked up on things about you, he didn't often appear to pay attention to you besides on a strictly professional level. But as you turned your head to him in surprise his brows were furrowed in frustration, as though annoyed with himself for not saying anything.

"Oh no, it's fine. I've been a bit of a scatterbrain as of late." You admitted sheepishly, a little smile on your lips. Hotch glanced at you, eyes flicking down to your lips, then back to your eyes, making your breath hitch.

"Anything I can do to help?"

You bit your lip, your mind flooded with a whole array of thoughts that you knew you shouldn't be having about your boss. He didn't know he was the reason you were so distracted, desperate to feel his lips on yours, on your body and his hands on your skin, his fingers inside you. Fuck. You needed to get it together, for goodness' sake. You quickly glanced back towards the road.

"Ah, no. I'm okay, sir. I'll sort myself out." You murmured, missing the way his knuckles whitened under the pressure of his grip on the wheel.

"Don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."

You tried not to think of what you wanted him to do to you, instead humming in response.

"Thank you, sir."

You needed to get out of this damn car as soon as possible.

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Immediately upon returning to the station you rushed off to find a vending machine so you could grab a bottle of water. As soon as you had your hands on the cold, plastic bottle you were gulping down the cool liquid, not realising just how flushed you felt.

"Whoa, slow down there, (L/n)!" You heard JJ's voice from behind you and you turned, pulling the bottle from your mouth wide-eyed. The blonde woman looked slightly alarmed. "Are you okay?"

You nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. I just forgot to bring water so I kinda got a bit dehydrated I think." You explain quickly. JJ frowned a little.

"You'd better be careful next time. And don't drink too quickly, you could accidentally choke."

You smiled sheepishly under her scolding and screwed the lid back on.

"Sorry, I'll drink slower."

JJ led you back to the office where you found the familiar sight of Spencer pouring over a map of the area. Pieces of string had been wrapped around pins indicating the last locations victims were seen and the scenes of their murders, no clear pattern in sight as there sometimes was. On one of the tables lay several empty paper coffee cups, a few rings of spilled coffee staining the surface top. He was speaking quietly to another member of the team, David Rossi, and Hotch; of whom stood beside the young Doctor with his arms folded across his chest, inevitably tightening the suit over his physique. You forced yourself to focus on the map.

Not long after your arrival you heard two sets of footsteps trudge into the room.

"No employees or frequent customers that are of note. We have nothing." Derek huffed as he made his way over to one of the chairs and slumped down into it. Emily joined you and JJ, her face appeared neutral but you could tell there was a hint of annoyance behind it. You heaved a deep sigh and felt eyes on you which made you instinctively seek out who it was, only to be startled when your eyes met deep brown ones, almost black in the artificial lighting. Hotch didn't look away, instead holding your gaze until you quickly turned away, feeling embarrassed.

"There has to be something that connects them all." Rossi said. Your eyes drifted across the map, narrowing a little. There had to be a mutual place that all these couples had been to in the final week leading up to their deaths. Somewhere that couples who enjoy sexual relations more than the average couple would go. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and quickly scrolled through your contacts until you found the one you were looking for. As you pressed dial you put the call on loudspeaker it merely rang once before there was an answer.

"Hello, you've reached the hotline for the simply fantabulous Penelope Garcia; how may I assist you?" A bubbly voice filtered through. All eyes were on the phone as you placed it on the table in front of you.

"Hiya, babe, I have a request for you. We're trying to find a link between the couples but so far nothing has cropped up. But I have a theory," you spoke, feeling a little awkward at what you were about to say. "Uhm, do you think you could try search for any strip clubs or even straight up sex clubs in the area? Easily accessible or possibly a more hidden club?"

You could feel his eyes on you again but you tried hard to stare at the phone. Garcia gasped from the other end of the line, but the sound of nails on a keyboard reassured you she was already on the case. Beside you, you felt Emily poke you and you lightly shoved her with your wide hip.

"Oh wow, I did not think I would be looking at this sort of thing today. But lucky you, I have a whole list of places! I-" there was clicking, followed by another gasp. "Oh my! That is certainly a homepage! You have no idea about the things I'm seeing right now, well, I mean I'll be sending these to you anyway but gosh! I'm going to do a thorough clean of my history once this case-"

"-Garcia, focus." Hotch said firmly and you heard a quick apology from the other end of the line. He moved to lean over the table, propping himself up with his hands as he took charge of the phone call. "We need security footage from these locations. Whatever you can give us, we'll take it."

More clacking of nails, you tried not to stare at your boss as he leered over your phone, forcing yourself to look away from his straining suit, the dangling tie, his large hands. Horrifically, you instead met eyes with the oldest of the group, Rossi, who had clearly caught you ogling Hotch from the glint in his experienced eyes and the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Shit. You could only hope no one else had witnessed your blatancy. Thankfully, Garcia's voice came through again.

"I'm sending over whatever footage I can find as well as the addresses to the establishments now."

You reached across the table, hyper aware of how close you were to Hotch as you took hold of your phone. He studied you carefully when you hurried backwards, swallowing thickly. You cleared your throat.

"Thanks, babe, you're a star." You said.

"Well of course, I'm your star." Garcia responded cheerily and the line went dead. Hotch straightened up and pulled his suit back into place, turning to address everyone.

"We need to review the footage and find out which location all the victims visited at some point within the last few weeks, then we can make a plan of action." He was stern as he spoke, hands in his pockets and his shoulders squared. There was a mutual noise of agreement from everyone and you all split into smaller groups around the monitors in the room. Hotch disappeared off to find the chief of police and you couldn't help but let your eyes follow him as he rushed out of the room, eyes transfixed on the tight fabric of his dress pants.

"Girl, you aren't even hiding it." You heard Derek say and you huffed, walking over to Spencer and sitting down next to him. He offered you an awkward smile and shuffled his chair to the side so you could get closer to the computer he was working on.

"Shut up, Derek." You muttered and he chuckled.

"I'm just saying, you should probably talk to him."

Your eyes widened in horror.

"Excuse me?"

Spencer cleared his throat.

"I agree, It's a bit obvious that he's interested in you too." He said softly and you huffed, shuffling your chair closer to the table and leaning towards the computer screen.

"Stop saying ridiculous things like that, both of you. We have work to do anyway."

Derek stepped back with his hands raised in surrender before retreating back to the computer he was situated at whilst Spencer simply watched you carefully, frowning a little.

It was dangerous for you to even dare think of such things. There were so many reasons why you couldn't let your mind go there. If not for the ethical reason due to his and your job statuses, then maybe because he was much older than you with a son. But also you'd seen photos of his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend and you certainly didn't look like his type. Not slender, not sleek like they were. You didn't think he was a shallow man but you'd also dealt with disappointment after disappointment with how others had treated you based on your appearance. You had to keep yourself safe, so your attraction for your boss would remain nothing more than a secret from him. You sighed softly as the young man beside you clicked on the first video footage from one of the private sex clubs. There was no more time to waste.

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The following few hours were downright miserable, viewing video, after video of footage from various clubs until you felt as though your eyes and your brain would melt out of your head. Finally, however, Emily made a noise of alarm, mouth full of cheap coffee, and alerted everyone to her computer. Swallowing the burning, bitter liquid, she retracted the footage a little and replayed it.

"Look, It's the Smiths! The first couple to be murdered. They came in to this very exclusive private sex club at the end of last month." She said hurriedly. In the slightly fuzzy camera quality indeed the couple waltzed into the lobby of the facility and approached the reception desk.

"Fast forward the feed." You heard Hotch say, causing goosebumps to bristle across your skin. You knew he had returned at some point but didn't expect him to stand right beside you. Someone made a call to Garcia and she confirmed with her database that it was indeed the couple. Further analysis of the footage from days afterwards showed that every single of the other couples had also been to this sex club too shortly before they were murdered. And yet they had no indication still of who was the murderer.

The day was drawing in at this point but as a final task before anyone would return to the hotel, Hotch sent out Morgan and Prentiss to the club to ask some questions, something that you couldn't help but chuckle at. The raven haired woman narrowed her eyes slightly at you.

"Laugh all you want but I'd be careful if I were you." She warned but you simply smirked.

"Don't have too much fun now, you two." You said cheerily, Morgan raised a brow at you and then the two were off begrudgingly. You felt JJ sidle up beside you.

"You know she will get you back." She murmured and you shrugged.

"She doesn't scare me."

"She scares me a little." Spencer said aloud, causing the two of you to turn your heads in his direction. He flushed, ducking his head slightly. "I- uh, well you know how she is."

"I wouldn't think you were intimidated by her, Spence, I mean you're the one who won the prank war with Morgan." JJ said, chuckling. A small smile tugged at his mouth.

"I wouldn't cross Emily, though."

You hummed and pushed up out of your chair.

"Well anyway, either of you want a hot drink?" You offered. JJ smiled.

"Oh no, thank you." As Spencer opened his mouth to respond she lifted a finger up at him. "Ah- you definitely don't need anymore coffee at this time of day."

A quiet giggle passed your lips and you turned to head to the kitchenette of the station.

"I'm not getting involved."

Walking out of the office you crossed the police department, avoiding any officers who still remained within the building, and came to a pause in the entryway of the kitchen, dipping away from the doorway out of sight. The two oldest members of the team were in a deep conversation, Hotch with his back to the door and Rossi facing the direction you were in. They spoke quietly, you knew you shouldn't listen in and yet you couldn't help it.

"Stop being absurd. What makes you think I'd even consider doing that?" Hotch hissed, his voice barely audible from where you were.

"Come on, Aaron, you can't keep this going forever. You know that." Rossi countered. There were more words said but were too quiet for you to decipher. That was until Hotch spoke a little louder again, sounding more frustrated.

"I am not currently wishing to be involved with anyone like that, Dave. I just can't."

In an instant you felt your heart in your throat, your eyes stinging.

Oh.

You felt stupid. Of course he wasn't interested in dating anyone. Even despite closely guarding your feelings for Hotch to be nothing further than a personal crush that he would never find out about it still hurt knowing you never had a chance to begin with.

Walking a few steps away from the kitchen, you made a point of entering the kitchen area, feigning surprise as your eyes landed on the two men in the room. Clearly, your entrance startled them, particularly him, who looked a little guilty before the slight expression glossed over with stern stoicism. Hotch glanced away, turning to Rossi.

"I'll see you at the hotel." He muttered and then he was brushing past you, his hand grazing your arm slightly and his scent consuming your senses. And then he was gone, all that remained was the slight coolness of his absence. You swallowed thickly but tried to mask your emotions from the seasoned agent still remaining.

"Coffee? There's some left still, maybe enough for one last cup." Rossi said softly. You smiled slightly as you approached him but shook your head.

"Ah no, thank you. I'm going to have tea. It's way too late for coffee, don't you think?"

The man hummed, watching you carefully. You suspected he had seen you earlier, that you'd heard the conversation but you didn't feel like talking about it.

"I hope you know that if you ever need someone to lend an ear that I'm always willing to listen."

Your hands faltered slightly during sorting out putting a tea bag in a clean mug. Your eyes flicked to the side at Rossi briefly.

"I know that."

"I know you heard what you think you heard but-"

"-Let's not- We aren't talking about this." You cut him off shakily, stopping yourself before you poured the hot water into the mug. "There's nothing to say about it."

You turned away from the kitchen counter to lean against it, rubbing your tired eyes with your palms. Rossi sighed quietly.

"You didn't catch the whole conversation." He tried after a moment. You scoffed.

"It wasn't for me to hear. I only did so by accident. I'm not going to read into it because the only people who were meant to hear what was discussed was you and-" Your throat felt tighter still, an unseen coil constricting you, just as the man you longed for constricted your heart and soul. You didn't say his name, couldn't. Mercifully, the man before you understood.

"I know."

You nodded. The mug of tea wasn't appealing anymore; the quiet promise of solitude in a hotel room called to you more than all else.

"I.... I think I need to call it a night. I don't feel well."

Rossi placed a hand on your upper arm and squeezed lightly.

"I'll inform the others and grab your stuff then I'll drive you to the hotel we're staying in," he fished out the keys to one of the SUVs and handed them to you, the metal clinking together. "Go, wait in the car for me." He said. The corners of your mouth tilted upwards in appreciation and you hurried out, eager to have even a moment to yourself.

The moment you pushed the doors of the building open and stepped outside you exhaled, grimacing slightly at the still, warm air of the night. You'd hoped it would have cooled down more, now that the sun had long since settled behind the horizon, but you felt stifled, the heat doing nothing to soothe the tightness in your throat and chest. Breathing shakily, you unlocked the car and climbed into the passenger seat, laying your head back against the head rest.

There was no reason for you to feel so upset about this. It wasn't as though you intended on ever approaching your boss about your ever growing feelings for him, you wouldn't dare do that. And yet you felt almost physically sick from heartbreak and the worst part was he didn't even know the pain you were in. Hell, you didn't even know where he was right now after he rushed out of the kitchen.

You knew the moment Rossi obviously had retrieved your belongings judging the way your phone had begun to vibrate from text notifications, no doubt from your coworkers. You'd answer them when you made it to the hotel, you decided. A few minutes later you spotted the older man exit the station and approach the car you were in, your bag and coat in hand. The sight made you smile even the tiniest bit, something that he noticed. You felt the car jolt a little as he opened the trunk so he could put your belongings down and jolt again when he slammed it lightly. A second later he was climbing in on the driver's side where you held out the car keys to him.

"Thanks." He took the keys and inserted them into the ignition, the engine roaring to life and you slipped your seatbelt on. Rossi glanced at you. "Let's get you to the hotel. Best thing about this is if there aren't enough rooms for one each you can have first pick on if you want the single or not." He said as you pulled out the station parking lot. You scoffed.

"Oh you know I'm absolutely taking the single this time." You retorted. In any other scenario you would have risked sharing a room, risk being paired with him. Now the thought made you want to cry. Your little smile faded and you turned your head to the window, resting on the cool glass. Sensing you were finished talking, Rossi didn't say anything else for the remainder of the drive.

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A little groan escaped your lips when you collapsed backwards on the single bed in your hotel room, exhaustion overrunning your very being from the long day. For a moment you simply lay there silently, staring at the dulled white ceiling whilst your mind raced. You knew this wasn't ideal, you couldn't let yourself be distracted from the case.

Huffing, you remembered that you needed to respond to messages to let the others know you would be alright by the morning. After pulling your phone out of your pocket, the screen lit up and your eyes flicked across the notifications on the lock screen. Lots of messages from your worried coworkers. You unlocked the phone and set about answering them one-by-one. JJ and Emily offered to stop by your hotel room to check in on you, not knowing you'd been feeling unwell up until this point, but you reassured them you would be okay.

Just as you finished your nightly routine and pulled the covers back, there was a knock on your door. Your brows furrowed slightly. Who would be knocking at this time? Sighing, you approached the door and leaned close to the peephole, expecting to see one of the ladies or maybe even Rossi.

Standing tensely with his shoulders squared was Aaron Hotchner. A quiet gasp escaped you and you jolted backwards from the door. What the fuck was he doing here?! With shaky hands, you pulled the door open and slightly covered yourself with it, hyper aware of your clothing situation. Hotch perked up and stared down at you.

"Rossi informed me that you weren't feeling well and had to retire early." He murmured gently, his face stern. You swallowed and silently invited him into your room by stepping back, pulling the door with you. He cautiously walked into your hotel room and you closed the door behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself in a feeble attempt to cover your body up. Why, oh why did you have to wear shorts that barely covered your ass and an old tee that wasn't as baggy anymore from being washed one too many times?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking in Hotch's direction.

"He's right. But I'm sure I'll feel better by tomorrow though."

You offered a little smile, eyes flicking to his face and realised he was staring. Except he wasn't staring at your face, no, his eyes were focused lower down at your chest. Christ. You quickly looked away again before he realised you'd caught him out and he hummed, the sound making you clench.

"What's wrong?"

Oh no. You couldn't answer that. Your eyes met his and you opened your mouth, hesitating with no response to give.

"I.... Just felt sick, that's all. I'll be okay though."

You never were good at hiding how you were really feeling, the deepening frown on the man's face before you merely evident of this.

"Are you certain? You can tell me anything, you know that." He said softly as he stepped closer to you. You nodded and tried smiling again at him.

"I know, sir. I promise I'm alright though." You tightened your arms around yourself until your flesh dipped under the pressure of your fingertips. Hotch's eyes trailed over you from head to toe, clearly unsatisfied with your reluctance to tell him the truth, but didn't push the matter further. You inhaled as he stepped closer still, his scent once more overwhelming you. His fingers flexed at his side as though he was conflicted and you wished he would reach out and touch you. Eventually, he sighed quietly and retreated a step.

"Alright. But I will be keeping an eye on you now."

Not good. You nodded though, then yawned and your cheeks flushed with warmth. Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at Hotch's mouth.

"You should get some rest." He said. You chuckled.

"Yeah, you as well though. I know what you're like."

He raised a brow at you.

"Really now?"

Your eyes widened and you stuttered.

"W-well I'm just saying, you do leave the office last, you're up earlier than everyone else too-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to dig your hole any deeper. You dared a quick glance his way and he was still slightly smirking.

"Get some rest, your boss is going to be up early again tomorrow to call everyone in."

A little chuckle escaped you and you followed Hotch to the door, grabbing the door as he opened it and hiding behind it again as you watched him make his way out into the corridor. He turned back to you and gazed down at you again.

"Good night, (L/n)." He murmured. Your eyes met and you gripped onto the door.

"Good night, sir."

He shifted, as though debating something in his head, then he turned and stalked down the corridor. You didn't close your door until he disappeared from sight. When you returned to your bed you collapsed down onto it whilst your mind raced. That night your dreams were filled with forbidden touches and kisses from the man you loved.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

And that's part one for now pls lemme know what you think and if anyone wants to be tagged in future works! Thank you for reading 💖💖

[shijiujun]

WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH 莲花楼 MYSTERIOUS LOTUS CASEBOOK

Guess I’m back for another rec, you know I’m there when I get minimum two bromance dudes and historical and OOMPH if you liked The Blood of Youth this might be up your lane!! Slightly similar main character premise but super good, the trope never gets old!!

TL;DR

- Stupid disciple + his (unknowing) shifu - Enemy bros “where is my shixiong’s remains?!” + “defeat me and find out” vibes who have to work together and form their deep friendship and get past misunderstanding and mystery blah blah love it - All-powerful legendary swordsman losing all his powers and becoming a legendary physician - Everything is about dead shixiong we don’t even know how the man looks like - Investigations and jianghu shenanigans, cases!!!  - Uwu puppy dog and good in martial arts disciple and his sickly, ex-legendary and still cool shifu who doesn’t know he’s a shifu LMAO - Yes uwu bromance, especially cuz shifu is DYING and he is WEAK and he gonna spit out blood and faint everywhere as they find cure for him 

-----------

AIRING DEETS

Total episodes: 40

Premiered on: July 23

VIP ends: August 18

Can be watched from iQiyi

Airing schedule: 6 episodes on the first day, 2 episodes everyday after for 6 days, then 8 episodes a week except for the last week, that has 6 episodes with finale

SUMMARY

Ten years ago, Li Xiangyi who was master of Sigu Sect, challenged Di Feisheng, master of the Jinyuan Alliance, to a fight on the seas, where they both end up critically hurt as Li Xiangyi tries to find out where his shixiong’s (Shan Gu Dao) corpse and bones went - his sect was attacked on the same day, and when he returns to the sect, critically injured, he sees some of his deputies blaming him for the attack, and instead of going in, he disappears after that.

Ten years later, Li Xiangyi is now Li Lianhua (Lotus Li LMAO) and he’s an eccentric but skilled doctor who has his eyes on earning money. By chance, he meets Fang Duobing (Fang Many Illness LMAO), a young, aspiring detective who’s super skilled in martial arts, but he’s been unable to enrol in Bai Chuan Yuan (the past Sigu Sect), a sort-of sect that plays an enforcer role in the pugilistic world and helps to solve cases, arrest wrongdoers, and the like. Fang Duobing’s dream is to get in, but as he’s the only son of two powerful people who’ve been refusing to let him be part of Bai Chuan Yuan, he’s failed the test 3 times despite being the most-skilled one there. On his third try, however, he tells the four masters of Bai Chuan Yuan that his shifu is Li Xiangyi, a Li Xiangyi who used to be a part of Bai Chuan Yuan and is still greatly missed by the four masters. They agree to it, but only if FDB solve three cases with arrests.

His first case leads him to meet LXY who’s now known as Li Lianhua, and their meeting doesn’t go off to a great start; FDB is idealistic and a rich, wealthy young master at heart who’s never suffered much hardship, and LLH drugs him after and scolds him for being too trusting of people and being too obvious, going around with two servants. LLH leaves him with parting words, only to meet him again later at the scene of the crime.

They solve cases together from there; LLH is still looking for his shixiong’s body ten years later, and decides to solve cases with FDB as a guise to get closer to the truth, making use of FDB slightly. Later, Di Feisheng recognises him, and the three of them are forced to become allies/friends to uncover a greater conspiracy. The clock is ticking for them as well, as Li Xiangyi was poisoned and injured ten years ago, and was given only ten more years to live. The story begins in the year that he’s meant to die.

*Fang Duobing met Li Xiangyi when he was young and still sickly, and Li Xiangyi encouraged him, and Fang Duobing held onto his every word and suffered a lot to become healthy again and as skilled as he is today, all because Li Xiangyi said those words to him that year ;-;

WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH

(1) Fight scenes are GREAT 

- Water water water

- All female sect?!

(2) Bromance, subtle for now, but greater later I assume - ZENG SHUNXI’S FACE HE SO PUPPY BLURBLUR AND SMILING?! AND CHENG YI SMIRKING?! Like Fang Duobing is just wagging his tail and running after a person he doesn’t know is truly his shifu as he claims LOL

(3) Shifu Li Xiangyi not knowing he was shifu to Fang Duobing

(4) Li Xiangyi being the reason for Fang Duobing to EXIST but Li Xiangyi ain’t around anymore (not) and he sad and Li Xiangyi can’t tell him who he is UWUUUU

(5) Familiar faces hehe if you are a SNGX/The Blood of Youth and SHL fan 

(6) CASES ARE INTERESTING!!!

[pascalispretty]

the feeling is mutual

Sonny Carisi x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.9k

Tags: pining, idiots in love, cowgirl sex, Sonny's praise kink, only one bed trope

Summary: You've had a crush on your colleague for years. You go to a work conference with him, and fate fucks with you by making sure you get a room with just the one bed.

A/N: Soooooooo I started working on this back in October 2022, at the request of the lovely @misscharlielulu. Life intervened, and I kinda got the writing yips, but when I saw that @storiesofsvu's bingo had an 'Only One Bed' square I was determined to finish it. Unbeta'd like whoa, so please be gentle! (ao3).

You should have been suspicious of Benson’s offer to send you to the conference from the beginning. It had been presented to you nicely enough - a long weekend in Boston, paid for by the department so you could attend the Conference on Crimes Against Women. It hadn’t taken much persuading to get you to agree to go, especially when you found out Carisi was also going. 

That was before the drive from hell. The two of you had left as soon as you finished work for the day, only to almost immediately hit nasty traffic. What should have been a four-hour journey had taken almost seven thanks to an accident just past the Connecticut state line. After swapping driver duties with Sonny somewhere outside of Hartford, you’d found your eyelids starting to get heavy, but had resolved to stay awake. It wasn’t fair to Carisi for you to sleep while he drove. 

You have no idea how long you’ve been dozing when a gentle nudge to your arm wakes you. 

“Hey, I think we’re finally here,” Sonny says as you rub your eyes. So much for not sleeping. You’re relieved to see that he’s pulling into the parking garage below the hotel, but it's short-lived.

“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You roll your neck, wincing at the crick that’s developed from resting your head on the window. 

“It’s fine, I figured you could use it. The Spellman case has us all working late.” He’s right; the case was drawing plenty of media attention, and you’d all been racking up plenty of OT trying to solve it. The two of you had spent part of the drive debating it, and whether there was a way to get the stupid, invasive podcast taken down. 

You both grab your bags and make your way to the elevator. Pressing the button for the lobby, you try and fail to suppress a yawn. 

“Sorry,” you apologise again. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good night’s sleep.” 

“The feeling is mutual, don’t worry. I can’t even remember the last time I woke up and actually felt rested,” Carisi says lightly, giving you a soft, understanding smile. You try not to think too deeply about the way it makes your stomach twist - or, for that matter, how good he looks in his new camel coat.  

“Tell me about it,” you groan. The elevator spills the two of you out into a deserted lobby, and you do a double-take when you look out of the enormous windows at the front of the building. 

“Oh, yeah. It started snowing about an hour ago,” Sonny says, cutting himself off with a yawn.  Outside, the snow is coming down thick and fast, already sticking to the ground. You can just about see the glow of a few headlights, but beyond that, the world has turned to a soft dove grey. 

There’s a harried-looking woman behind the concierge desk; the Conference attracts cops from all over the country, you wouldn’t be surprised if the hotel was booked out by the various agencies and precincts. 

“Hi, we have two rooms booked for us. Should be under the name Benson?” Sonny asks the concierge, searching on his phone for the confirmation email Liv had forwarded to you both. The concierge types something on the computer sitting on her desk and frowns. 

“I got one room under that name. Any other name you might have used?” 

“No, Liv definitely said she booked them under her name,” you tell her, glancing at Sonny as he turns his phone to show the woman behind the desk. 

“Our Lieutenant definitely booked us two rooms, look,” Sonny tries, and the two of you exchange a frown. The concierge scans the email, then her own screen again. 

“I don’t know what to tell you. The system only has one booking under Benson. It’s the only room left in the hotel; we’re booked solid because of this conference.” You and Sonny exchange another look. 

“I mean - I don’t mind sharing if you don’t?” You tug your lower lip between your teeth, trying to think of another solution that doesn’t involve sharing a bedroom with the colleague you have a very inappropriate crush on. Sonny taps his fingers on the desk and looks again at the concierge as though he’s hoping she’ll be able to conjure another room out of nowhere. 

“I wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” He sounds so earnest, and you want to pinch his cheeks and tell him he could never, but instead you shrug. 

“It’s fine, you won’t. Unless you snore, or sleepwalk or something,” you tease, and he grins. 

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he says, turning back to the concierge. Is it your imagination, or is he blushing slightly? “Can we get the keys, please?” The woman looks relieved that the two of you have resolved the situation between yourselves, and seemingly can’t press the keycards into your hands fast enough. 

“You’re in 2342; take the elevator to the fourth floor and turn right.” The two of you thank her and pick your bags up again. 

“Should we say something to the Lieutenant?” You offer as the two of you make your way upstairs. “She might be getting charged for both rooms or something.” 

“Yeah, probably. Maybe the hotel thought she meant two beds, not two rooms?” Sonny runs a hand through his hair; the product’s grip on his greying locks has relaxed, leaving it looking soft and touchable. 

“Maybe,” you say distractedly, stopping in front of door 2342. “I think this is us.” You try the keycard and are relieved when the light on the lock turns green. 

“I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get some sleep.” Carisi takes your bag as you push open the door, and you smile quickly at him over your shoulder. 

“Oh no, the feeling is definitely mutual. I feel like I could sleep for a week-” You abruptly cut yourself off when you turn the light on and get a glimpse of the room. It’s a perfectly nice room–if anything slightly nicer than what you had been expecting on the department’s dime. It’s decently sized, with large windows and a flatscreen on the wall. There’s even a comfy-looking overstuffed armchair by one of the windows. 

The only problem is that there’s only one bed. 

Your cheeks burn as you realise your mistake. You had assumed that the hotel had accidentally put you in one room with two beds, instead of two rooms with one bed each. 

“Oh shit, Carisi, I’m sorry-” You start, walking deeper into the room so he has space to enter behind you and see what the problem is. The door clicks closed behind him, and you swallow thickly. 

“Oh. Uh-” he rakes his hand through his hair again. “You take the room. I’ll find somewhere else.” He offers, but you’re already shaking your head. 

“Where? The concierge said they were full, and there’s no way you can get a decent room on this short notice.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth again, trying to walk the fine line between sounding considerate and desperate. As much as the thought of sharing a bed with Carisi makes you panic, you don’t want to kick him out into the cold. 

“No, it’s fine. I can sleep in the car if I can’t find anywhere; I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.” It’s so characteristically sweet that you roll your eyes. Crossing over to the window, you pull the drapes aside just enough to see the snow still falling thick and fast outside. 

“You are not sleeping in your car in a blizzard, Carisi. It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the armchair.” You grab a pillow from the bed before he can argue and throw it towards the chair. “Crank the thermostat up and lend me a blanket from the bed, and I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not letting you sleep in a chair,” he says, though he does move over to the thermostat to change it. “I’ll take the chair.”

“You’re like seven feet tall, there’s no way you’re sleeping in the chair.” 

“I’m six foot even, and a night sleeping there won’t kill me. In the morning, I’ll look for a room in a different hotel or something.” You open your mouth to argue with him again, but he cuts you off. “You’re not changing my mind. I have three sisters, I know how to be stubborn.” 

“Fine. Better than you trying to drive around in this storm, as tired as you are.” You throw your hands up in exaggerated defeat, before starting to tug one of the sheets off the bed. Carisi moves to the other side of the bed to help you, stripping the top sheet off and tossing it onto the armchair. 

“You wanna use the bathroom first?” Your bags are still sitting by the door, and you pick up your overnight bag and set it on the bed. For a brief moment you panic as you start to unzip it; what pyjamas did you pack in your hurry this morning? You can’t remember if they’re relatively normal looking, or the grotty but oh-so-cosy ones you usually reserve for being ill or on your period. 

“Nah, you go ahead.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him shaking the sheet out to drape it over the armchair. Your hands finally close on your pyjamas, and you take them and your toiletry bag into the bathroom. The bathroom is, just like the room, nicer than you had expected it to be. The little soaps and shampoos are brands you actually recognise, and you’re delighted to see that your room has a shower and a tub. Maybe tomorrow you can have a nice, long soak and pretend this mortifying night never happened. 

It doesn’t take you long to throw your hair up in a messy bun and wash the remains of your makeup off your face. You strip quickly out of your work clothes, hesitating a moment before deciding to keep your bra on. Slipping on the grey tank top you’d brought as a pyjama top, you’re a little relieved that the pyjamas you’d grabbed at random from the drawer were plain and not embarrassingly old or cutesy. 

Your relief is short-lived. When you go to shake out the folded-up black leggings, you realise with dawning horror that they’re not your leggings at all. In your hurry to pack this morning, you’d grabbed a pair of pyjama shorts, black jersey with a little lacy trim. Your face burns flaming hot again as you stare at them. You have no other choice - your only other bottoms are work clothes, and a pair of jeans - but they show off more of your leg than you’re really comfortable with your colleague seeing. 

Cursing yourself for leaving packing until this morning you reluctantly slide the shorts on, trying to tug them down to cover a little more of your thighs. Clutching your clothes to your chest, you take a deep breath before stepping out of the bathroom. 

Carisi has been busy while you’ve been gone. He’s made a makeshift bed for himself on the armchair, and moved the bags away from the door. Your purse is sitting beside your weekend bag, and his own bag is open on the desk. He’s currently searching through it, and you can't help staring a little. His coat, jacket and tie are gone and he’s rolled his shirt sleeves up, exposing his forearms. You swallow thickly and drag your eyes away with difficulty. You need to grow up. 

The bathroom door closes behind you, catching Sonny’s attention. He looks up from whatever he’s searching for in his bag and does a double-take when he sees you. 

“Why are you wearing shorts during a blizzard?” He teases, unable to help the laugh that escapes him. “Did you leave packing til the last minute again?” Your cheeks are probably hot enough to counter whatever cold you might feel from the weather, and you glare at him. 

“Shut up. They were folded, I thought they were leggings.” You dump the clothes in your arms into your open bag and dig around for your phone charger. Sonny chuckles again and shakes his head. 

“You sure you’re gonna be warm enough? You can borrow my hoodie if you want.” You’re sorely tempted to take him up on the offer. The burgundy hoodie he’s holding out to you looks cosy, and it undoubtedly smells amazing, but you can’t. You need to get over this, whatever this is. 

“I’ll be okay.” With your phone charger in hand, you move your bags onto the floor by the bed and set about plugging your phone in to charge overnight. Sonny quietly excuses himself to the bathroom, and you take advantage of having the room to yourself to clamber into bed without showing any more of your legs. You almost groan once you settle down under the blankets; this bed is comfortable. It’s almost enough to make you glad that Sonny insisted on sleeping on the armchair instead of you. Almost. Once you’re suitably snuggled in, you unlock your phone and type out a quick message to Benson explaining the room situation. 

It doesn’t take Carisi long to return from the bathroom, and you let out an inelegant snort when you see him. 

“Why are you wearing shorts during a blizzard?” You parrot teasingly, raising an eyebrow at him. Sonny’s wearing a Fordham tee and a pair of cotton boxer shorts. He has the good grace to flush, and he shrugs. 

“It’s what I usually sleep in. I run warm.” 

“You can turn the thermostat down if it’s gonna be too warm?” You offer. “I feel like a dick taking the bed and making you too hot.” He flashes you that soft smile again. 

“You’re still just in shorts. Sure you don’t want my hoodie?” Carisi sets his folded clothes on the desk by his bag and waits for your answer. 

“No, I’ll be fine. Turn the thermostat down a few degrees.” The room isn’t even that cold at the moment, and you’re sure you won’t feel it if the temperature drops a little while you sleep. Sonny obliges, fiddling with the thermostat again before settling down onto his armchair bed. 

“Is it okay with you if I set an alarm for half nine?” The conference kicks off at eleven; an hour and a half should be plenty of time to shower and find some breakfast before you have to go downstairs. 

“Yeah sure,” Carisi says, his reply trailing off into a yawn. “G’night.” You flip the switch by the bed, plunging the room into darkness. 

“Night, Carisi.” 

You really try to fall asleep. The bed is so comfortable, and you’re so tired. You had fallen asleep in the car, sitting up with the radio blaring. You’re not sure why it evades you now. The minutes tick by, and you can hear Sonny moving around in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. Perhaps it's guilt keeping you awake, you reason. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you break the silence. 

“Carisi?” You half-whisper, not wanting to wake him if he’s asleep. 

“Yeah?” He sounds tired, and the guilt overrides any embarrassment you might feel. 

“Will you just come and sleep here?” The question hangs in the air, and there’s a long pause while you wait for Sonny’s answer. “I don’t have cooties, Carisi, you can sleep next to me.” 

“No, I know, but-” He pauses, and you hear him shift again. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” 

“Positive.” It’s so stupid of you. You’ve had a crush on Carisi since you first laid eyes on him; inviting him to sleep beside you is an unnecessary form of self-torture. But you know you’ll feel even worse tomorrow having to look at the deep shadows under his eyes from a sleepless and uncomfortable night in the chair. 

You hear him sigh softly. A moment later, the mattress dips as he settles into the bed. Sonny’s keeping his distance, but you’re still painfully aware of his body in bed beside you. It’s unbearably intimate, and if it wouldn’t make you look like a lunatic after telling him how fine you were with him getting in, you’d take a pillow and go and sleep in the tub. 

Annoyed with yourself, you roll over onto your side, facing away from him. As idiotic as you might be, at least you won’t have to deal with the guilt of depriving him of a good night’s sleep. Beside you, his breathing is evening out. Maybe at least one of you will sleep well. 

******

You wake up feeling confused. You have no idea how you managed to fall asleep, or how long you’ve slept for. You’re also very preoccupied with the fact that you and Carisi appear to be spooning. 

Sonny’s arm is slung over your waist and his body is curled around yours from behind, holding you close. His nose is pressed against the hinge of your jaw, his breath warm on your neck.  Your bare legs are tangled together, and you’re so overwhelmed by the feel of so much of his skin against yours that it takes you a moment to realise what woke you. 

Carisi is hard. 

The line of his erection is pressing against the curve of your ass, and you nearly choke on your own tongue at the feeling. You take a deep breath and try to make sense of what’s happening. The two of you must have rolled together at some point in the night, and Sonny’s reaction must just be morning wood. 

Not that being in Sonny’s arms is unpleasant. He’s warm and solid against you, and he smells good; something clean and masculine and him. Closing your eyes again, you try to figure out what to do. Before you can settle on an idea, Sonny’s arm briefly tightens around your waist, only to suddenly slide off. 

“Oh fuck-” Carisi practically throws himself backwards, away from you. Sitting up in bed, you turn to look at him as he tries to extricate himself from the sheets and scramble out of bed. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry.” You follow him, managing to grab his hand before he can move away from the side of the bed. 

“Carisi, it’s okay. It’s okay, you were asleep-” You start, kneeling on the bed in front of him and holding his hand tightly within your own. He’s shaking his head before you even get the first few words out, those beautiful blue eyes of his wide and distraught. 

“It’s not okay,” he says, refusing to look down at you. “I was practically molesting you in your sleep-”

“Stop, you weren’t molesting me,” you try to argue, but Carisi ignores you. 

“I’ll call the Lieutenant on my way back to Manhattan, let her know. God, this isn’t how I wanted you to find out. But you never have to see me again, I promise,” he rambles, trying to free his hand from your grasp. You don’t let go, giving it a squeeze instead. 

“Calm down, take a breath. How you wanted me to find out what?” You adjust your position on your knees, barely able to breathe yourself. Sonny’s palm is hot and damp against yours, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. 

“Find out that I liked you.” Carisi manages eventually, still steadfastly refusing to look down at you. Your heart is hammering against your ribcage, and your blood roars so loudly in your ears that you’re not sure you heard him right. You know he likes you, you’ve been friends for years. But he’s saying it in a way that conveys so much more than that, and you suck in a breath. 

“You like me?” 

“I- yeah. And now I’ve ruined it, and made you uncomfortable-” he starts again, and you roll your eyes. You bring your free hand up to his cheek, and the gentle touch is what finally makes him meet your eyes. 

“Dominick. You haven’t made me uncomfortable. Really, you haven’t.” That finally silences him, your use of his real name catching his attention, though it doesn’t stop his eyes from searching for any hint to the contrary in your face. You take a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. “And…and you haven’t ruined anything either.” 

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean up to kiss him. 

It’s not much more than a peck, a soft brush of your lips against his own ones. You pull back just a little, your noses almost brushing. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “You have no idea how much I enjoyed waking up in your arms.” There’s a silence so deep that you’d swear you should be able to hear the snow falling outside. Those lovely eyes of his bore into yours, sending your heart hammering even harder. After a long pause, his free hand comes up to cup your jaw with deliberate slowness, giving you time to move away. 

Sonny’s thumb sweeps gently over your cheek as he lowers his head and kisses you. His lips are soft and full against yours, testing at first and deepening the kiss when you slide your free arm around him to pull him closer. A quiet sound of contentment escapes your throat as Sonny dips his tongue into your mouth, finally letting go of your hand so he can grasp your waist. 

You can’t seem to get close enough to him, even with your chests pressed flush against one another. The kiss turns from careful to desperate as years of pent-up attraction are finally given an outlet.

It’s impossible to tell who moves first to lie down on the bed, whether you pull him down or he pushes, but you end up lying parallel to the headboard with Sonny on top of you. Your mind can barely reconcile that your longtime crush reciprocates your feelings, much less the warm weight of his body pressed against you. 

Wanting to feel more of him, you slip one of your hands beneath the hem of his t-shirt and run your fingertips over his back. He shivers at the delicate touch, a sensitivity you mentally file away for later. Your legs fall open, and you choke back a whine when you feel the hard line of his cock press against you once more. 

It’s so much. You want to feel him everywhere, to keep exploring him with your hands and mouth. 

“Can I?” You ask, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and pulling gently. He follows your lead, letting you pull the shirt over his head and discard it onto the floor. He was telling the truth earlier; he does run warm, his bare skin hot to the touch as your hands roam his back and sides. 

One of Sonny’s hands drops down to hitch your leg over his hip, his large hand squeezing your thigh. 

“I love your legs,” he murmurs. The kisses have left you breathless, but you still whine when he stops. Your hands sink into his soft hair as he shifts to press kisses down the column of your throat. You don’t mean to pull his hair when he kisses a particularly sensitive spot, but when he groans against the delicate skin you take it as your cue to do it again. 

“Want you, Dominick,” you sigh against his forehead, rocking your hips to grind against him. You feel his breath catch in his throat, his own hips stutter against yours. There are too many layers of clothes between the two of you, and you do your best to wriggle out of your t-shirt without displacing Carisi. 

Like the gentleman that he is, he helps you out. His hands cover yours to take over, pulling the soft cotton over your head. Your hands sink back into his hair almost immediately.

“Why’d you wear a bra to sleep in?” He asks, a soft smile playing on his lips. It’s so infuriatingly handsome that you want to drag him back down for more kisses, but you know that won’t get you out of your clothes any faster.

“Didn’t want to risk you seeing my nipples through my shirt,” you explain breathily as he ducks down to kiss over the tops of your breasts while his hands work at the clasp. 

“Think I’m about to see a lot more than that, doll,” he mumbles against your skin. It makes you giggle, in spite of yourself. The two of you shed your clothes as quickly as you can while still staying as close as possible, too focused on removing the remaining barriers between you to care too much about the undignified scramble to strip. 

“I wanna ride you,” you manage between kisses, and Sonny nearly falls off the bed in his eagerness to oblige you. He settles with his back against the headboard, watching you with hazy eyes as you grab a condom out of your purse. 

“C’mere,” he says softly, holding his hands out to help you get comfortable in his lap. He hisses when you roll the condom down over his cock, the hand he’s resting on your hip squeezing reflexively. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” you tell him, slowly pumping your hand down, then back up. He does look gorgeous out of his clothes, all lean and long-limbed. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this.” 

Sonny’s other arm loops around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. 

“I’ve been thinking about this since we met,” he admits, his voice breathless with arousal. You rest your free hand on his shoulder as you line him up with your entrance and slowly start to sink down. It pulls a loud moan out of both of you, the sound echoing around the room, so much louder than the whispers and gasps that had come before. 

“Oh God, so have I, Sonny-” you manage, screwing your eyes closed. It’s been a while, and the lack of foreplay probably wasn’t wise given the fact that Carisi was bigger than you’d imagined. Not that you’d made a habit of imagining this, in trying to deal with your crush. Instead of sliding down smoothly the rest of the way onto him, you roll your hips, taking a little more of his length on each pass. 

Sonny’s a mess under you. His hands clutch tight at your hips, and when you manage to open your eyes again, you see he has his head flung back against the headboard.

“You feel so good, Doll. Christ, you’re so fucking wet and we haven’t even done anything-” he cuts himself off with a shuddering groan as he finally bottoms out inside you. The tip of him is pressing up against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl, and it sends a swell of bliss coursing through you. 

“You have such a perfect dick,” you tell him, enjoying the flush that intensifies on his face as he registers what you said. You lift yourself up just a little, an inch at best, and sink slowly back down, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. 

You’re not sure if it’s the best adjective, but you need to tell him just how good he feels. 

In fact, the two of you can’t seem to shut up. Even when you start riding him in earnest, the headboard bumping against the wall with every stroke, neither of you can stop talking. It’s like every time you’ve wanted to tell him how hot he is over the last three years is spilling out, along with endless praise for how good he feels. He gives it right back, telling you how perfect and sexy and hot you are in between telling you how much he wants to eat you out. 

“I’d be so good at it, please doll, I just wanna show you how bad I want it,” he babbles, his hair damp with sweat at the temples. 

You’re panting with every breath. Sonny leans forward to nuzzle into your neck, kissing and licking and sucking at the delicate skin there. Your nails dig into his shoulders when he drags his teeth over a particularly sensitive spot, and the groan he makes vibrates through your skin and straight down to your core. 

“God, Dominick, yes,” you nearly sob. “So good with your mouth already, want you to kiss me everywhere…” You can’t finish the thought, but it wrenches another groan out of Sonny. You haven’t thought about a next time, whether this is a one-off or if cooler heads will prevail back in New York. 

Later, the two of you can talk for real. You’ll wake up feeling better rested than you have in years, naked in Sonny’s arms, and talk about what happened, you promise yourself. 

Right now, there’s just the two of you discovering how much you enjoy each other, how badly you’ve both wanted each other. The two of you just fit together, like it’s the easiest, most natural thing in the world. And all the pleasure you feel is magnified a thousandfold by the fact that your crush wasn’t unrequited at all, that Sonny wants you just as much as you want him. 

You sink your hand back into his soft hair and ride him faster, utterly drunk on the noises he’s making. Dominick’s mouth wanders, kissing lines up your neck and licking messily at your nipples and nipping gently at your earlobe. In between, he murmurs about how 

A real conversation can wait; right now, you want to see what it’ll take for you to leave him speechless. 

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @irishavengersassemble

[judesmoonbeauty]

Miss Fairytale Keeper, Come Have Fun With Us: Nica Schwartz EPILOGUE

Translations will not include screenshots or CGs as mentioned here. Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

Nica: She truly is a cute robin.

I heard a muttered voice and turned around, but he just smiled and waved.

Kate: Did you say something?

Nica: Nothing at all. Anyway, if you don’t go home, then will you keep doing naughty things with me?

Kate: I won’t!

When I turned away from him, Nica began to walk ahead, chuckling.

(I’m so tired today…..)

(It’s all because of Nica’s teasing me)

As I watched his nonchalant back, I felt a little irritated, but I didn’t feel any regret about taking his hand.

[Transitions to the Palace.]

One day, a few days after the mission —

(I’m glad the issue was exposed because there was evidence of illegal gambling.)

It was thought that the evidence had been lost in the fire, but a ledger left at the scene revealed illegal gambling, and was delivered to Her Majesty the Queen.

(This is just the tip of the iceberg.)

I recalled Nica’s words and came to a halt.

(Still, I think we need to solve the problems in front of us one at a time.)

With a changed mindset, I started walking,

(Maybe I should talk to Nica about it?)

I turned on my heel to search the entire palace to lay out the facts.

Nica: I found a cute robin looking for me.

At that moment, Nica appeared before me and I jumped in surprise.

Kate: How did you know I was looking for you?

Nica: Heh, so you really were looking for me.

(I’ve been taken along for a ride…..)

Nica: Is there something you wanted to say to me?

Nica: How about some tea?

When I accepted the invitation with a nod, he escorted me to the drawing room, where I sat down on the sofa.

Nica: So, you wanted to have a chat about the casino the other day?

Kate: How’s that….

Nica: I’m a staff officer, right?

Nica: Information gathering is a skill.

He takes a sip of his tea and begins cutting the deck of playing cards he has in hand.

Nica: The core of the aristocrats were arrested, but the children of the upper class were released on bail.

Nica: Well, they’re nothing more than debauched sons and daughters.

Kate: …..People who’ve lost everything because of gambling.

Nica: At best they’ll go to a rescue institution, otherwise won’t they die in ditch somewhere? [1]

Nica: I don’t care what happens to the gambling addicts.

I frowned at his skillful shuffling.

Kate: They certainly brought it upon themselves.

Kate: But I don't believe that all of the people who attacked me had ill intentions that were beyond the point of no return.

Whatever the reason, it was a crime to cause an explosion and attack so many people.

Kate: I don’t approve of methods that do not allow room for rehabilitation.

Nica’s eyes widened and he blinks repeatedly.

Then, there’s a loud laugh.

Nica: I’m jealous that a kind young lady is worried about them.

Nica: Would you like to gamble to find out how they feel?

Kate: Huh?

Nica: You might understand if you experience the thrill of not knowing if you’ll win or lose,

Nica: The exhilaration of winning and the despair of losing.

When I gazed at him who was dealing the cards alternately,

Nica: What will you bet? Money? Your body?

Kate: I won’t bet that!

Nica: The bigger the stakes, the more intense it is.

When he picks up the cards dealt,

Nica: If I win, show me around the city.

Nica: Of course, without telling Crown.

Nica discards a pair of matching cards, and I realize this is a game of Old Maid.

Nica: You might not be trusted as a fairytale keeper anymore.

Kate: What’s in it for me?

Nica: If you win, I’ll tell you all about us.

Kate: What?

He flashed a card,

Nica: What’s our aim, what we’re going to do, I’ll answer all your questions.

Nica: What will you do?

He smiled meaningfully and crossed his legs.

(Maybe I can learn about “their lies” that Harrison was talking about.)

Kate: I’ll do it.

Nica: Now you’re talking.

Taking a deep breath I faced it.

Nica: Ladies first.

As he said that, I reached and pulled out a card, but

(Ah,)

I drew the joker, and resisted the urge to make a facial expression.

Then Nica smiled widely.

(Maybe he knows what I drew…..?)

Nica: Why are you staring at me like that. Have you fallen in love with me?

This battle may have been decided who’d lose from the start.

Ftn [1] 野垂れ死に 'Notarejini' - Literally, to die in a field or die a dog’s death.

[Master List] Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags list!

[gregorovitch-adler]

Confessions

John gazed at Sherlock from across the table as they had dinner together at home.

Mariana had left for Spain this morning, because Christmas was just around the corner.

Sherlock and John had set up the Christmas tree together -- with all the decorations and everything -- and were just waiting for the Christmas Day to come.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and the table was surprisingly clean today.

John had been wanting to say something to Sherlock for a long time now. Talk about his feelings for him, specifically.

Ever since the two of them started their crime-solving journey, by solving the case of 'The Illustrious Client' together, Sherlock and John became quite close.

Over the course of time, John had fallen in love.

Who wouldn't? And no, this question was not just rhetoric. It was rather a challenge from John to everyone out there.

Anyone who got the opportunity to live with a guy like Sherlock -- lively, enthusiastic about almost anything the world had to offer, brilliant, kind, charming, and beautiful -- would not have it in them to resist him. Of this, John was absolutely certain.

John tried to bring himself back to the present moment and picked at his food on the plate with his spoon.

"It's not going to eat itself, Watson."

John looked up at Sherlock from his plate, and he was taken aback by the intensity with which Sherlock was looking at him, too, now.

Could it be that he too...?

John shook his head and sighed before finally starting to eat. "Yeah, of course." John sat straight and let out a fake laugh. "You're right."

"You're not here. Not mentally, at least," Sherlock declared. He leaned over the table and dropped his deep voice to a whisper. "Where are you?" he asked in a mock-scandalous tone.

That was it, John thought. He could not contain himself anymore. It was the season of confessions, after all. Or something like that. "Sherlock, I've been meaning to tell you something. This has been on my mind for a while now."

Sherlock's face became guarded. He looked down at his plate. "Really? Because I also want to tell you something."

John put down his spoon and held his breath. "Oh? Go on, then. You first."

Sherlock looked up at John through his long lashes with his big, brown eyes filled with an emotion John couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I wanted to tell you that... that when you sometimes sleep in after a long case, I come upstairs, over to your room, and I stand in the doorway to watch you sleep for a few moments."

John's heartbeat picked up speed, and he flushed up at Sherlock's words. "Why - why's that?" There it was -- his classic stutter, every time a situation like this came up.

Sherlock's eyes then hinted at some mischief. John did not miss Sherlock's subtle smirk either. "Because you snore so much. I think we really need to take you to a sleep clinic sometime." Sherlock bit his bottom lip, probably to resisting an urge to burst out laughing.

John rolled his eyes. "Alright, whatever. I'm going upstairs." He placed his hands on the table and made to get up and leave.

Sherlock dropped his silverware on his plate and grabbed John by both of his wrists, making him stay where he was seated. "Okay, okay. That's clearly not what you want to talk about right now. Tell me what it is."

"Promise me you won't laugh it off, even if you don't like what I'm about to say to you." John turned his wrists to hold Sherlock's hands in his own. He tried to appear dead serious.

Sherlock's face changed from looking amused to quite earnest. "I promise." He squeezed John's hands in reassurance.

"We've become quite close since we started solving crimes together, haven't we? So much has changed since then."

Sherlock gave him a silent nod.

"From me finding you really annoying in the beginning because of your late night violin playing sessions, among loads of other things, to..."

"To?" Sherlock demanded. His voice became hoarse.

John gazed into Sherlock's eyes some more, trying to gather enough courage to spit it out already. He inhaled deeply.

"To me now having come to a point where I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. To a point where I feel so scared when I don't see you around at home in the mornings for whatever reason." John swallowed. "Sherlock, I would feel so lost if you were to leave me at some point in the future, as though I were stranded in a desert. Completely alone."

Sherlock was staring at John with his lips parted. His face was still unreadable. "Why's that?"

"Can't you deduce it?" John said with his brow furrowed. "You do have enough data at this point!"

Sherlock shook his head. "I want to hear you say it. I need you to spell it out. You know I'm not the best person when it comes to reading between the lines." His voice was shaking.

John nodded in understanding. "I love you."

There, he said it. It was all out now.

John squared his shoulders, feeling oddly confident in that moment. Whatever the consequences, he felt ready to face them all.

"I - me too." Sherlock visibly swallowed. "Everything you said just now -- I feel the same way."

Sherlock looked like he wanted to say more, so much more, but he was not in the state to be more eloquent than that just yet.

John didn't need him to.

John smiled and leaned in towards Sherlock over the table.

Sherlock met him halfway and tilted his face to kiss John on the mouth. His lips went from hesitant to intense to desperate in a matter of seconds.

John mirrored all those feelings and much more. He grabbed Sherlock's face and began to pour all the passion and love he had been feeling for this man into the kiss.

They broke off the kiss after a while, feeling out of breath.

Sherlock and John locked eyes with each other and exchanged a knowing smile.

They continued to have dinner with their fingers intertwined.

Both of them were aware of the unspoken promise waiting for them—the rest of the night, perhaps even the rest of their lives.

**

Prompt: Confessions by @fluff-cember

Tags: @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @jamielovesjam @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @calaisreno @gaylilsherlock , etc.

[brotherwtf]

your trophy wife x criminal fic, which was MINDBLOWINGLY AMAZING, made me think of this old tumblr post that was basically like a romcom idea au for a chief police officer x mob boss who are married but have to pretend to ‘accidentally’ miss shooting each other everytime they see each other or soemthing

thank you so much anon! I'm glad you liked that fic!!

omg that would be such a funny concept for clegan, just two absolute fools in love with each other

They met when John was just a lackey and Gale was a beat cop, nothing really important of either or their schemes lmao

They start goofing around, fucking and going on dates as they each rise up the ranks of their respective businesses

It hadn't been a problem, until Gale got promoted to police chief and John finally became the boss of his crime syndicate

It was now Gale's problem to solve the issue of organized crime in the city, and he knows that John is a pretty big part of it

John will tell Gale when they're doing a job or smth illegal so that Gale can only arrest the lackeys without getting John in trouble

Gale will tell John when there's a pursuit so that he can get as many men out of there as possible

Hilarity ensues: "Gale you SHOT at me!" "I was doing my JOB dumbass!" but eventually just go back to their bed together and sleep together

Gale will always give John a signal or smth when they're pursuing him to like run down a different alleyway to escape the police, Gale is just all 'oh drats we didn't get him oh well better luck next time' and returns home to John and his cocky smile

John spoils Gale so much with his money from being a mob boss, Gale has to pretend that the lavish gifts he receives are from rich family members and not the number one crime syndicate in the city

Gale is a romantic, likes to take John on dates and wine and dine him, spoils him in a different way that John does

ANGST TIME (wouldn't be a post by me if there wasn't angst): Gale gets kidnapped or John gets arrested, either are very likely scenarios and the other literally rips through walls to try and rescue the other. They won't stop until their love is safe 🥹🥹

Plenty of hurt comfort, John gets hurt or smth and Gale nurses him back to health and forces him to take a goddamn break for once, always worries over him and dotes on him

John always makes sure that Gale has protection, police chiefs get threatened a lot, no one is going to hurt his love, not when Johns alive

this was super cute!! they're so stupid for each other it's honestly mad, thank you again for the ask!

[sarabethsilver]

The real moral of Face-Off (the hockey game episode) is that Lorelai Gilmore has zero boundaries and used this benign situation as an opportunity to manipulate her daughter's love life. My unsolicited dissertation follows:

What the episode SHOULD be about: two teenagers have different expectations for their relationship, leading to a minor misunderstanding that could be easily solved with one conversation.

What we got instead: Lorelai playing all sides of this totally normal teen conflict until it blew up into a catastrophe that would come to define Jess and Rory's entire relationship.

The episode starts with Rory waiting around for Jess to call, because apparently "call you later" meant he was supposed to call by 9:00pm that night. Lorelai initially teases Rory about it - a quip about the Bay of Pigs, implying that BOTH Jess and Rory are bad at planning ahead. Fair! The next morning, Lorelai asks why Rory didn't just call Jess herself - great question! Rory makes a weird excuse, then shifts to comparing Jess to Dean. After telling Rory not to compare them, Lorelai goes on to compare them by calling Dean the perfect first boyfriend who spoiled Rory by calling so much. It's a fascinating distortion of the events, which was that Dean called so much that Rory felt completely suffocated. She actually hated that, remember?!

Then Lorelai starts setting imaginary rules. Jess is supposed to (1) immediately sense that Rory is upset, (2) automatically know WHY Rory is upset, and (3) apologize the SECOND she walks into the diner. Jess doesn't do that, because he's not clairvoyant and he's literally in the middle of working a shift, so Rory is apparently justified in storming out of there without a word. Lorelai then sneaks in a side convo with Jess (another thing Rory hates, by the way!). Mocking Jess for not calling and getting annoyed when he doesn't stick around to hear her lengthy diatribe about how much he sucks.

Rory sits around waiting for Jess to call, which is even stranger because they had no plans that day. And she also knows how to use a phone, so theoretically she could call herself. But Lorelai sets MORE imaginary rules. Rory is home at 6:00pm on a Saturday - something that seems totally normal for a homebody like her - but Lorelai catastrophizes it. It's SHOCKING that Rory is home, she should go out immediately! How dare Jess leave her unescorted on a Saturday evening! This, of course, gives Lorelai the opportunity to give Jess her second sarcastic lecture of the day. Because calling at 5:30pm that day would have been fine, but showing up at the house two hours later is an unforgivable crime (who is making these rules?!).

Jess then waits for Rory at the hockey game, completely unbothered by the fact she went out without him (because he actually allows her independence) and not remotely blaming her for the angry silent treatment she gave him earlier. Instead, he's trying to make amends with concert tickets - which seems like a pretty nice gesture! It's interesting that the episode distorts that into something bad. Rory keeps it a secret like they've done something wrong, and the episode ends with her all sad. While Jess is presumably thinking he's fixed the problem. Because that's a reasonable conclusion.

So in the span of 24 hours, Lorelai took this tiny misunderstanding and blamed Rory, used Dean as the standard for 'perfect' behavior, set a bunch of imaginary rules for Jess to 'break,' then switched to blaming Jess for the entire thing. It's a masterclass in manipulation. Emily Gilmore couldn't have done it any better!

I look forward to @saltygilmores take on this later! Maybe we can scream into the void together.

[call-mi-jinx]

Spencer Reid X Reader - It was clearly just a simple mistake

summary: you and spencer have known each other almost all your lives. now, you both work for the fbi. when he's working on a particularly hard case, you spill coffee on some of the evidence and other papers. he immediately blows up at you unknowingly but as soon as he turns around and sees you, he says it was a simple mistake.

warnings: age gap, best friend's brother, making out, mutual pining (spencer started to have feelings for reader when she was 19)

Main Masterlist Spencer Reid Masterlist

spencer reid x fem!reader

Spencer Reid was my best friend's brother. I've had feelings for him since I was 11 and her was 14. I told my best friend and she fully agreed that we would be a good couple. But that was just our 11 year old minds dying to be sisters in some way.

But there was one thing in the way, well two. The age gap, and the kids at our school. Me and my best friend were the 'popular' types of girls. And Spencer was the 'nerd' that steered away from parties and big groups of people. Which meant the only times I ever saw him was when I was over at Amanda's house. Which was actually quite often. But he was always stuck in his room doing homework and reading books.

Now, I'm 22 and Spencer is 25. I'd say we both aged very well. We both work at the BAU but I'm just an assistant who gets everyone coffee and their lunch and answers the emails they can't be bothered reading while Spencer is a profiler who works on cases like kidnapping and serial killers. I see him a lot more often and we occasionally talk when we both happen to be in the breakroom.

At the moment, the whole BAU was working on a case that was particularly hard to solve. I heard Morgan chatting with Elle and this guy seemed like they knew exactly what they were doing. Left no clues, varied in the way they killed, thoroughly cleaned the crime scene, etc.

I could tell that it was infuriating for everyone, especially Spencer. He was sat at his desk, brows furrowed with a mix of anger and confusion, forehead resting on hi right hand, eyes dead focused on the paper he's holding. I quickly made him a new cup of coffee to hopefully cheer him up.

As I take it over to him, I trip and accidentally spill the coffee on the case files. Shit. Shit shit shit. Shit. For fuck sake. He's going to be so fucking pissed. I didn't mean to! It's not my fault someone else left their fucking bin in the way. I was too focused on not spilling the coffee anywhere that much that I spilt it. Ironic.

"For fuck's sake!" Spencer quickly stood up, some of the coffee spilling on him. He tried to move the papers quickly while muttering how could I have be so clumsy and stupid.

He then turned around and looked shocked to see that it was me who spilt the coffee on the case files. His whole angry demeanor changed into a calm and collected one. He had a small smile on his face as he brushed himself off.

"I apologize Y/N for how I spoke. It was clearly just a simple mistake." He sat back down at his desk and the few people that saw what happened had very confused looks on their faces, including me.

I just walked back to my little office to deal with any emails that the others sent over to me to look at. Baffled by the interaction me and Spencer just had.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

It was 1am. Everyone had left the office, except for me. I was too busy answering all the emails Morgan sent me, he clearly doesn't answer any of his emails.

That was until I heard a loud crash in the main area where everyone's desks were which caused me to practically jump out of my skin. My first thought was an intruder. But how could it be? This is a literal FBI building so how could anyone possibly break in? This clearly wasn't what I was thinking at the time because I went to grab the gun that Gideon had let me have - with a license obviously.

I quietly opened the door and pointed my gun and phone torch to scan the area in front of my office. I couldn't see anything. I then stepped out the door and scanned the area around me, making sure to check through other doors on my way to the main area.

Sweat began to run down my forehead as I thought the worst, this could be the night I die. My worry quickly went away when I saw that it was only Spencer, still at his desk.

"Spencer? What are you still doing here?" I make my way over to him and pull out a chair and drag it over so that I can sit next to him.

"Still trying to figure out the case, you?" I sigh as I leaned back in my chair.

"Answering emails that Morgan can't quite be bothered to even look at. One of them was about his gym membership! What does he expect me to do with that?" Spencer laughs as share my frustration.

"I think they treat you too much like a normal civilian. Which you are far from because you helped me get one step closer to closing the case." Spencer had a proud look on his face as he told me. My eyes widened in shock. How could I have possibly helped in the slightest?

"How? The only thing I've done is bring you all coffee and lunch, and answered your fucking emails." I add the last part with exasperation, it was not part of my job description.

"That's what helped me. You accidentally spilt the coffee you brought me on a piece of evidence and it revealed a big clue, it was the first 2 digits of the zip code of where the killer lives." How can someone be so dumb? Maybe they want to be caught?

"Really? How did the coffee help with that?" I look at the evidence and the first two digits are there but not fully visible. Me and Spencer look at each other - as this would actually really help the case - with pure joy in our eyes.

"Y/N..." His demeanor suddenly changed. He looked down and I followed his eyeline, my hand was on his thigh. How the fuck did my hand get there?

"Shit, sorry. Didn't know my hand was there..." I immediately pull my hand away and look to the ground.

"I-It's alright Y/N... stuff like that happens." I look up to Spencer and he looks at me with a certain glint in his eyes, one that I haven't seen before and one that I can't quite place.

"Spencer?... I-" I was quickly interrupted when Spencer placed his lips on mine. I almost immediately began kissing him back. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pulled him closer to me. He placed his hand on my upper thigh and my grip on his shoulders increased.

When we both pulled away, we couldn't help but smile. I giggled as Spencer just had a boyish grin on his face.

"I love you too Y/N. I have for quite a while now actually."