#and on. friday? she was looking for something to watch so i suggested criminal minds

[ghastbutlikegay]

i love smugly grinning at my mom binging criminal minds on my way by like im not grabbing a snack specifically so i can go back upstairs to binge criminal minds

[louloulemons-posts]

The Criminal And The Princess II

Grumpy!College!Eddie X Sunshine!Skater!Reader

Summary : Edens dad is pushing her to breaking point, but when Steve Harrington suggests going to a gig, they stumble upon who she never thought she’d see.

Word Count : 2k

Warnings : not much eddie (i’m sorry), shitty parents, once again talk of eating, girlhood, nancy is sad, swearing, billy hargrove.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Again!”

“Dad I have to go I have class,” I sighed, skating towards him. “Regionals are coming up how are you expecting to win if you’re still so sloppy?” he snapped at me.

“Maybe I don’t want to win! Maybe I don’t even wanna go to fucking regionals!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

“Your mother-“ I didn’t give him the chance to finish, “I’m not mom!”

With a deep breath, i spoke calmly, “I know you miss her, god dad I do too, but me skating, won’t bring her back.” The man who I love so dearly didn’t say a word, his dark eyes stern. “Just go Eden.”

“Dad-“

“And don’t worry about dinner on Friday.”

“Dad come on-“

“You need to lose the weight anyways.” I sucked in a breath, but said nothing more as I watched the greying man walk up the stairs and slamming the door to his office.

Rubbing my hand to my face I sat down on the cold plastic bench, taking off my skates and replacing them with my trainers. Throwing my oversized hoodie on, I headed out of the rink and to my car.

“E!” a voice called out.

“Harrington,” I replied, as the brunette jogged over the parking lot to me. “Hey- woah you look like shit!”

“Yeah 4:30 starts will do that to a girl,” I shrugged, throwing my bag in the back.

“Sorry that was rude of me,” he said, but I brushed him off with a smile. “What can I do for you Stevie boy?”

“So my friend has gig after the match on Friday, I was wondering if you wanted to come? Obviously I’ve invited the rest of the gang.”

“Did you really just say gang?”

“Yeah, I regret it, shut up. Do you wanna come?”

“I have training the next-“ my brows furrowed, dad’s words echoing in my head, “You know what, yeah it sounds fun.

“Great, I’m gonna text Robin all the details so, I’ll see you around.”

“See you.”

Well that was something to look forward too.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Sat in class the professor droned on and on, Vickie was almost asleep besides me. I felt my phone buzz in pocket, taking it out I saw a message from Robin.

Robs : soooo a little dingus said you’re coming to a certain gig this friday? 👀

E : figured it was time i had some fun

E : lets be honest its a rare occasion

Robs : im actually so excited for this!!!!!

E : yeah me too, and you’re gonna be extra excited when i tell you who else is coming 😚

Putting my phone down on my notebook I nudged Vickie. “Hm,” she said rubbing her eyes, then brushed an auburn curl from her face.

“Sorry did I fall asleep?” I huffed a laugh,

“A little, but that’s not why I’m waking you. Are you free Friday?”

“I think so yeah, what’s up?”

“Wanna come to a gig?”

“Who’s gig?”

“Not sure yet, but me and a few friends are going, Nancy, Steve, oh and you know Robin right?”

“R-robin?” she stuttered.

“Yeah! I could text you the details, it’d be nice to hang out when we’re not studying.”

She nodded, cheeks flushed slightly, “Yeah cool, just text me.” I returned the nod, picking my phone back up.

Robs : who???

Robs : ????

Robs : did you die???

E : lmao no very much alive

Robs : who’s coming???

E : Vickie

Robs : …

E : love youuuuuu 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Robs : EDEN I SWEAR TOENDJSKSJSKSJJDJD

With a laugh I put my phone away and attempted to focus on this mind numbing lecture.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Friday rolled around really quickly, people were so ready for the weekend already. Who knew summer break would be missed already.

“I’m still not over the fact your dad said that to you?” Nancy said, whilst taming her curls.

“It’s fine, it’s not like it’s out of the ordinary.”

“Are you sure I can’t kick him in the throat?”

“I really don’t wanna have to bail you out of jail Robs.”

She hummed, “Yeah that’s true, would not look good for my future.”

“Dads are so shit!” Nancy exclaimed out of nowhere. “Nance-“ I began.

“No! I Robins dad walked out, your dad bullies you and my dad acts like I don’t fucking exist. Why do these men have kids and then treat them like trash?”

The girl was flinging her arms around like crazy, huffing angrily. “Nance, but the hairbrush down you’ll hurt yourself,” Robin said. The girl placed it to the floor, kneeling down behind her, I met her gaze in the mirror.

“What happened?” I asked. She looked at me with glassy eyes. “Mom called, yesterday she was going out to that meal, you know the one for her friends birthday?”

Me and Robin both gave her affirming nods, “Well Mike was working a shift at the record store and dad was picking Holly up from school,” she let out a shaky breath.

“It’s okay,” I said, hugging her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder. “He forgot her, was sat at home watching a game. She was there for hours, when Mike came home he found him passed out on the couch.”

“Is Holly okay?” Robin asked, sliding off Nancys bed and down next to us. The brunette nodded, “Yeah, a teacher stayed with her and Mike went to get her. Mom got so mad and then you know what he said?”

I rubbed her shoulder, and Robin squeezed her hand. “He said, ‘Oh Nancy was supposed to get her,’” she choked on a sob, “He didn’t even know I was gone!”

“Oh Nance,” I said, pulling her back to hug me, Robin went to her front, wrapping her arms around us both. “Dads are the worst,” Robs said. “They really are!” I agreed.

“I swear Jonathan, Will and El are the only ones who got a decent one!” Robin laughed. “H-Hoppers a good man,” Nancy sniffled.

“You know what we’re gonna do tonight?” I asked pulling away from the hug, going to face Nancy, I wiped the tears from her face.

“What?” she asked.

“We’re gonna go to that game and cheer on our guy Harrington! And then, we’re gonna go to that gig and drink and dance and celebrate the badass women who raised us!”

“That sounds like the best plan,” Robin smiled, “You up for it Nance?”

“Yeah! Let’s go celebrate our moms.”

“And also get Robin a girlfriend!”

Me and Nancy laughed as Robin fell back, groaning into her hands. “What about you? You got your eye on anyone?” Nancy asked, cleaning up her tear stained face.

“Nah.”

“Oh come on E!”

“Seriously there’s nobody,” I laughed. “Plus I’m happy enough being wingwoman, I mean you and Johnny are getting to 2 years now?”

“Yeah,” the girl couldn’t hide her smile, “Speaking of, he’ll be here soon so, get ready!” She shooed us out of her room with a laugh.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Come on Harrington!” I cheered, jumping up and down. The game was almost over and our guys were down 6 points. Jonathans friend Argyle let out a loud whoop as the puck hit the back of the net.

“Let’s go dingus!” Robin shouted. I looked up from the ice briefly, my eyes meeting my fathers. His face looked like its normal stern self, but he looked sad?

I know I shouldn’t have yelled at him, specially not about mom, but god he shouldn’t have said the things he did either.

Suddenly I felt arms wrapped around me and the siren went, signalling the game was over. “We won!” Robin screamed. I looked at the score board, we were up by 2 points.

With a smile, I put my arms around the girl, giving her a squeeze. Leaning over the side of the seats, Steve walked past, “Go on Harrington!” we all cheered for him, making him smile bashfully.

“I’ll meet you guys after,” he said walking away. “No cheers for me Eden?” a vile voice came. “In your dreams Hargrove.”

“Oh they’re more than cheers in the dreams gorgeous.”

“Gross, “Robin said from behind me.

“You okay Benny?” Jonathan asked. Benny was a nickname he’d decided on when we were in kindergarten, apparently Eden was a weird name, but I thought Johnathan was too old so,” All good Johnny.”

The rink soon cleared out and we decided to wait by our cars for Steve. “Eden,” a deep voice called from behind. Dad was stood at the end of the hallway, Robin held my hand, Nancy appearing on the other side.

“It’s okay, I’ll catch up,” I said, walking towards the man. “What’s up?” I asked.

“I … I just wanted to apolo-“ he was cut off when the team of hollering boys ran by, Steve being one of them.

“Coach Bennett,” the boy smiled, swinging his arm over my shoulder. “Steve, good match,” the man offered him a smile, I hadn’t had one of those in a long time.

“Sorry I interrupted,” Steve spoke.

“It’s okay, what did you want to say dad?”

“Take a break this weekend, no training, but I expect you to do a morning and evening practice on Monday. Yrene is back from maternity leave so she’ll be training you.”

I sighed, but spoke through gritted teeth, “Great, thanks dad.” I turned to Steve, “Let’s go,” almost dragging the boy down the hall.

“We could get lunch on Sunday?” My dad called after me.

“What?”

“Lunch. I know dinner isn’t an option tonight, go have fun. Let me know if you’re free Sunday.” I gave him a nod, before I did drag Steve down the hall.

“That was weird,” he said when we got out into the fresh hair, you could feel that autumn was rolling around fast. “I know, who knew that Ethan Bennett wasn’t always an ass,” I said.

“Everything okay?” Nancy asked as we headed to the car. “Yeah all good, now let’s go!”

“What’s the name of the band your friends in again?” Jonathan asked.

“Corroded Coffin, and I gave you the address right?” Jonathan nodded, consuming, “The hideout right?”

“Yeah that’s the one, E does that friend of yours need a ride?”

I felt Robin go stiff beside me, “Vickie? Nah she’s being dropped off by her brother.”

“Cool, let’s go then!”

“I swear I’m gonna kill you,” Robin muttered. “What was that?” She gave me a sickly sweet smile, linking our arms, “Nothing!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The bar known as The Hideout was packed, I recognised some faces from college, everyone was here to have a good time. Onto your second drink, I smiled as I saw a familiar redhead.

“Vickie!” I called out.

“Hey,” she smiled, making her way through a crowd of people. “Come and meet the guys.” Taking her hand I led her over to my friends.

“Everyone!” I shouted to get their attention, “This is Vickie, we’re in history together.”

She raised a hand, offering a smile to them. “Vickie this is Steve, Nancy, Jonathan,” he cringed when I said his name,” Argyle and you know Robin.”

“Yeah, hi,” she smiled.

“Hey um … can I get you a drink?”

“Uh yeah sure, cool.” Oh my god they were so cute. When the pair walked away me and Nancy squealed.

“Alright folks we have our next act of the evening for you, give it up for Indianas own, Corroded Coffin!” A man shouted into the mic.

The five of us walked into the crowd getting to the front, standing by the stage, I was excited to see Steve’s buddy.

Out walked 3 boys, one sitting behind the drum set and the others picking up guitars. Taking a sip of my drink, I regretted it right away, almost choking when I saw the final member walk out on stage.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed.

“Good evening Indiana!” he shouted. He looked so different, so alive, his curls falling down his back, freely allowed to do so. His dark eyes shining with mischief and joy.

“We’re Corroded Coffin and we’re here to rock your world for the next hour or so! Are! You! Ready!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

They meet again 👀

This part was mainly me healing the parental issues in stranger things with friendship lmao.

taglist : @gnrquinn @flawiette @taylorswiftsloverfr @mygirlchaos @marvelcasey05 @ali-r3n @browneyes8288

let me know if you want to be added 🫶🏻

[the-bau-quinjet]

Plum Cobbler

Steve x Barnes!reader, Bucky x platonic!reader

Summary: What happens when Steve confronts the woman who's been sitting outside the compound every Saturday for a month?

Warnings: mentions parental death, some cursing

Word Count: 6315

a/n: This really took on a mind of its own. I was going to make it a series, but I feel like this is the whole story.

Masterlist

Nervous didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling. Sitting in your car, just outside of the entrance gate to the Avenger's compound was never somewhere you thought you'd be. Not until two months ago, when you found your grandmas old scrapbooks.

Of course, you don't know how to get inside. Honestly, you should have seen this coming. Why would just anyone be able to walk up to their door?

"Who are you?" The sudden question startled you, causing you to jump and hit your head on the roof of your car. You turned to look at the source of the voice, shrinking under her watchful gaze.

The one and only Natasha Romanoff was standing outside your car, glaring at you as if she was ready to drop everything to take you out.

"Oh, um. My name is Y/N L/N. I just wanted to talk to Bucky..." Her glare only grew stronger as you revealed why you were there.

"Barnes doesn't talk to strangers." Before you could explain why, she was gone. You watched her walk into the compound until she wasn't in your view anymore.

"Well, that went horribly." You mumbled to yourself. Now what? Should you just sit there until someone else comes out? Will anyone come out?

-

"So who is she?" Clint asked as soon as Nat got back inside.

"Why is she here?" Sam added on.

"Said her name is Y/N L/N, and she wants to talk to Bucky." Nat rolled her eyes.

"Friday, run a background check on F/N L/N." Tony asked of the AI. "What? You can never be too careful, and people shouldn't know how to get here." He explained given the questioning looks from the rest of the group.

"Y/N L/N, 27, daughter of the deceased Kathleen and Grant L/N. She owns a bookstore in Brooklyn, passed down through her family. No criminal record." Friday responded quickly.

"Sounds normal enough, probably a fan?" Tony suggested, looking around the room.

"A persistent one. She's been here for hours." Steve looked out the window, still seeing your car just outside the gate. "How did she find the entrance?"

Everyone shared similar looks, unsure how a seemingly normal civilian found the gate.

"Excellent question, Capsicle. Friday, got any ideas?" Tony, as usual, turned to the AI for answers.

"Based on GPS data from her car, she drove around upstate New York for eight hours every Saturday for the last 6 weeks until she came across the side road leading to the compound."

"Either she's really good at looking normal, or she's just normal." Nat added on, still slightly suspicious.

"Well, she just left. I guess we're not getting any answers today." Steve said from his position still looking out the window.

-

You came back every Saturday for a month. You didn't know if anything would come of it, but you'd be damned if you didn't try. After your parent's deaths, you thought you had no family left. Finding out you were related to Bucky gave you a lifeline. Something to cling to when you felt alone.

So far, nobody else had come to talk to you. You didn't even know if Bucky knew you were there for him.

The fifth Saturday, you pulled your car up to the gate at 9 am, sticking to your makeshift schedule of waiting outside for the entire day. They had to at least be curious as to why you kept coming back.

Unfortunately for you, the weather upstate today was not the same as the weather in Brooklyn.

Around 10:30, it started to rain. Just a sprinkling, nothing you couldn't handle.

You listened to music, read, ate the lunch you packed, played games on your phone, anything to pass the time. You weren't going to force your way inside, but you were definitely going to show that you were interested.

Typically, you would leave at 5:30. It gave you enough time to drive home and heat up dinner, plus you had to check in on your cat.

Today, however, was a different story. Around 5:15, it started pouring. Sheets of water were coming down around you, completely cutting off any visibility through the windshield.

You figured you'd just wait out the rain, but when it didn't let up by 6, you were getting nervous.

-

"She's still here." Steve walked into the kitchen, announcing his news to the room.

"I'm not surprised. It's not exactly peak driving conditions out there." Sam easily responded, glancing out the window.

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why?" Steve asked again, pushing the same conversation as always.

Nearly everyone in the room rolled their eyes, sick of repeating the same things.

"Look, we figured if we ignored her, she'd eventually stop. Clearly, that might not be working. If you're so curious, feel free to go ask her." Tony gave in, eager to move on from the discussion of you.

Steve contemplated his choices for all of 2 seconds before grabbing an umbrella and walking down the driveway.

-

You had your head leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed, listening to the rain. Of course you would get stuck here. Why didn't you ever check the weather?

You shrieked when a knock sounded on your passenger side window, not having expected anyone, especially in the rain.

Mr. America himself pointed to the door, gesturing for you to unlock it. You sat up quickly, rushing to hit the unlock button.

He quickly opened the door, shutting his umbrella and lowering himself into the small car.

You were utterly speechless. After your brief encounter with Natasha, you didn't really expect anyone to come talk to you.

Sure, you came back every week, but it was more so to fill the lonely hours you would have normally spent with your parents at the bookstore.

You had other employees to run the shop on Saturdays, allowing you to come here instead.

"Why are you here?" He sounded more curious than anything. Clearly he didn't perceive you as a threat, which was good because you had zero fighting experience.

"To talk to Bucky." Your voice was quiet, unsure how much you should share.

"I know that. Why?" He had fully turned in his seat to look at you, his large frame filling nearly the entire car.

"Well, I found something a few months ago that I thought he should know." You stuttered through your response, mildly intimidated by the man in front of you.

"And that something is?" He questioned further, genuinely curious as to what you want to tell his best friend.

You hesitated, eyes flitting around the car, looking at anything but him. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair before speaking again.

"Look, if you ever want to actually talk to him, you should tell me. Buck's been through hell, he won't just talk to anyone. Especially if he has no reason to."

During your conversation, the rain finally let up. You decided to take that as a sign.

"Can I show you something?" You finally looked him in the eye, nearly forgetting why you were even here at the sight of his bright blue eyes.

"Is it the reason you've been out here every Saturday for over a month?" He joked with you, helping to calm your nerves.

You nodded in response, unsure if you could even speak while still looking into his eyes.

"Then please."

You tore your eyes from his face, throwing the car into reverse and backing out of the spot you've claimed as your own. You turned around, heading back to your apartment in Brooklyn.

"Wha- where are we going?" He's clearly surprised by your actions, but he doesn't seem worried.

"I'm going to show you what I found, and hopefully you'll let me talk to Bucky." You paused for a minute, thinking. "Although, really I guess it should be his choice. Maybe you can just give him a message for me, and if he doesn't want to talk I'll leave you all alone."

The idea of never getting to know Bucky, you're only remaining family, hurts, but it's got to be his decision.

Steve just nods in response, still slightly wary of your reasons for wanting to talk to Bucky.

When you're a few minutes away from your apartment, you decide to give him some context.

"You probably already know a lot about me, but let me explain a few things." He silently nods, encouraging you to continue.

"My parents died three and a half months ago." You immediately felt like crying, but did your best to hold it in. Of course, Steve didn't miss the break in your voice. "It was a car accident. The weather was bad. They lost control of the car. They were both pronounced dead on the scene." You parked the car, turning slightly to look at him.

"They were the only family I've ever had, and the were both just gone." You turned and opened the car door, taking a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes. You gestured for him to follow you, locking the car and heading inside your apartment building.

"We were really close. I spent every Saturday at the bookstore with them." You wiped the tears again as the elevator doors closed.

You didn't chance looking at Steve, knowing you would break down at the look of pity.

"I had to go through the stuff at their house. You know, decide what to bring here, what to put in storage, what to get rid of. I found some old scrapbooks, I think from my great grandma."

You lead him into your apartment, locking the door and immediately heading to the kitchen to feed your cat. After you set down the food, you moved to the couch. You had the scrapbooks on the coffee table, having taken every opportunity to look through them.

"I never knew her. My parents didn't talk about her either, I'm not sure if they knew who she was. Her name was Rebecca." You waited a beat, to see if he would understand. When he remained quiet, you handed him one of the books, open to a page with a picture of Steve, Bucky, and Rebecca. "Rebecca Barnes."

You waited again, letting the information sink in for him. After a few minutes he smiled.

"I remember this day." He looked at you, a wide smile on his face. "It was a few days before Bucky was enrolled. We had a picnic." He continued to reminisce, looking through the other pictures in the scrapbook.

"Maybe it's selfish, maybe he won't want to know me, but when I found out I had more family, I wanted to find him." Again, tears pooled in your eyes. "I, I just don't want to be alone."

Steve's smile faltered as he realized what you've been going through, and how you've been doing it alone.

"Hey, I'm sure he'll want to talk to you." He reached out to place a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you.

"Really?" Your eyes were still watery, but a small smile grew on your face.

"I think so. Bucky was really close with his sister when we were young." This time, Steve's eyes grew watery, memories of his youth playing through his mind.

You couldn't take the sight of him being sad, so you pulled him into a hug. He came willingly, letting you bury your face in his chest. He lowered his head so it was overtop of yours, relishing in the comfort of your hug.

You pulled away a few minutes later, not wanting to overstep, but the feeling of his arms around your waist didn't let you go far.

"Thank you for coming out to my car." You laughed, trying to lighten the mood. His face was so close to yours, you could make out the individual shades of blue in his eyes.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me." He whispered back, not wanting to break the moment.

You're not sure how long you would've stayed like that, but a loud crack of thunder jolted you apart.

"What the-" You mumbled, walking over to the window to look outside. Steve followed close behind you, also curious about the weather.

It was now pouring, lightning and thunder cracking overhead.

"I guess the storm followed us to Brooklyn." He joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I guess so." You looked at the clock, taking in the late hour.

Steve must've followed your line of sight, because he spoke up. "It's getting late, I should probably go."

You immediately shook your head, your fear of travelling in bad weather shining through. "I can't let you leave when it's like this. It's not safe. You, um, you can stay here tonight. You can sleep in my room. I'll sleep on the couch." You grew more confident as you kept talking.

"I couldn't impose like that." Steve shook his head, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Steve, it's not safe to travel when it's raining like that. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." Your voice grew tighter, trying not to flashback to the day your parents died.

Steve seemed to realize why you were so worried about the weather, ultimately deciding to agree to stay so you wouldn't worry about him.

"Okay, okay. I'll stay here, but you sleep in your bed. I'll be fine on the couch." He refused your offer, not wanting to force you to spend a night on the couch.

"First of all, thank you. Second of all, you are sleeping in the bed. You're like two feet taller than me." You exaggerated your height difference, but you were trying to make a point. "You won't even be able to lay down on the couch. I take naps here all the time, it's super comfortable." You argued back, unwilling to allow Captain America himself sleep on your tiny ass couch.

"You know, I should've expected you to be this stubborn. You spent five weeks waiting outside the compound with no contact. Plus you're related to Bucky" He laughed to himself, slightly shaking his head. "Fine, I'll sleep in the bed."

You smiled victoriously, jumping up from the couch. "Yay! Do you need anything? I have spare toothbrushes under the sink, and I can probably find you some clothes to sleep in. There's some snacks in the kitchen if you get hungry. Oh! And Carrot might try to lay in the bed with you, but I'll try to keep her out here." You rambled, trying to make sure he was comfortable.

"Carrot?" He smiled at your rambling, finding it adorable.

"Yes! Carrot is my cat. She's a cuddler, so consider yourself warned." You paused, eyes growing wide. "You're not allergic to cats are you? I think there's probably cat fur all over my room."

He laughed again. "No, I don't think the super soldier serum left any room for allergies." He quipped.

You smacked a hand to your forehead. "Duh! Anyway, do you need anything?" You asked again, trying to calm your beating heart.

"Some clothes would be great, thank you." The way he smiled at you did nothing to soothe your nerves.

"Okay." You breathed out, finally taking a deep breath. "I'll go grab some, the bathroom is right here if you need it." You pointed it out on your way to your room. "I'm just gonna get changed real quick, and then I'll be back with your clothes."

He nodded again, watching as you turned and walked into what must be your room.

You quickly changed into a t-shirt and sleep shorts. It took a few minutes of searching through boxes, but eventually you found an old pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt for Steve to sleep in.

You made your way out of the bedroom, handing him the clothes.

"Here ya go. Like I said, there are extra toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom, and don't hesitate to grab anything you need from the kitchen."

He eyed the clothes in his hands, wondering where they came from, but not wanting to ask.

Luckily for him, you could tell what he was wondering. "They were my dad's." A sad smile graced your face. "I- I sleep in them sometimes when I really wish I could talk to him."

"Thank you." Steve turned to go to bed, but changed his mind last minute. He set the clothes down on the couch, pulling you into another hug. "You know, I can tell your related to Buck. He always looks out for people too."

You blushed at the compliment, grateful he couldn't see your face. "Thank you, that really means a lot." You stayed like that until Steve pulled back to talk to you again.

"I can take you back to the compound tomorrow, if you want. Maybe introduce you to Bucky."

"Really?! You don't want to talk to him first? Or double check anything I told you?" You were shocked at how willing he was to introduce you to Bucky.

"I trust you. Plus, I think you should be the one to tell him." Steve didn't say it out loud, but he also thought you and Bucky would be good for each other.

Bucky had Steve to connect his past and present, but another person for him to rely on wouldn't hurt. And you clearly were looking for a family connection.

"I would love to. Thank you!" You hugged him again, although quicker this time. You jumped back, excited to collect everything you wanted to show him. "I have to find all the scrapbooks to show him!"

When you turned to start collecting things, Steve put a hand on your shoulder, essentially preventing you from moving.

"Why don't we get everything together in the morning? It's getting late and you should get some sleep." He understood how emotionally and physically draining it could be to relive a loss like yours.

"You're right. I should sleep." You tried to slow your mind down, but the prospect of meeting Bucky tomorrow filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves. You gathered your extra blankets and pillows, setting up a bed for yourself on the couch while he went into the bathroom.

You were snuggled in bed, ready to sleep when he came back out.

"Goodnight, Steve."

His heart contracted at how adorable you looked buried in blankets on the couch, but he did his best to ignore it. He'd only just met you after all.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

-

The next morning Steve woke up at 5, per usual. He didn't want to wake you up though, so, despite his natural tendencies to run 10 miles every Sunday morning, he stayed in bed.

That is, until he heard you shuffling around the apartment.

He poked his head out of the room first, trying to verify that you were indeed awake. When he saw you in the kitchen, he fully emerged intent on helping you with whatever you were doing.

"Good morning, you're an early riser?" His question was completely ignored. Granted you couldn't see him yet, but he didn't know why you would be ignoring him.

He made his way closer to you, tapping you on the shoulder to try and get you to interact with him.

You, in a mixture of surprise and fear, turned and threw an egg at him.

He looked at you in shock, while you stared in horror at what you had just done.

You took headphones out of your ears, explaining why you hadn't heard his question.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" You reached toward him with a dish towel, trying to wipe the egg off his (your dad's) shirt. "You just surprised me! I can get you another shirt!"

"It's fine, don't worry-" You ran out of the room anyway, grabbing another shirt of your dad's from the box in your room.

He couldn't help but laugh, oddly relieved that you weren't ignoring him.

When you reentered the kitchen, a shirtless Steve Rogers was washing your dad's shirt in the sink. You froze, taking in the sight of the man before you.

When he turned back around, your eyes took on a mind of their own, soaking in his toned chest and arms. You cleared your throat, shaking yourself out of your stupor to hand him the other shirt.

"Thanks." He smirked, but still blushed slightly before he put it on, ringing out the other shirt before handing it to you. "I didn't want the egg to stick to it since it was your dads, so i rinsed it off..." he trailed off, unsure if it was the right thing to say.

"That's really sweet, thank you. Especially because it was my fault there was even egg on it in the first place." You laughed, trying not to blush with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, really. I shouldn't have snuck up on you." He laughed as well, clearing any lingering tension. He took a look around the kitchen, taking in just how much stuff you had out.

"What are you making?" He smiled when you blushed again.

"Oh, I was making plum cobbler... I just, I read online that Bucky likes plums, so I thought I would bring him a cobbler." You blushed again, embarrassed by the admission.

"He does." Steve smiled, completely enamoured with your personality. "Did you want some help?"

"Actually, the cobblers are in the oven already. I was going to make breakfast next, though, so you can help with that." You smiled, noting how easy it was to spend time with him.

"Cobblers? I know Bucky's a super soldier, but one would have been plenty." He joked with you, moving to help scramble some eggs.

"Well, yeah. One is for him, but then I thought the other Avengers might be there and I didn't want to not have enough so I made three."

"You're too cute." The words slipped out before he could even think about what he was saying.

You blushed again, a frequent occurrence it seems when you're with Steve.

You uttered a quick thanks, trying to change the subject. "Do you always get up this early?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah, typically I don't need much sleep. I usually run in the mornings, try to clear my head."

The two of you fell into easy conversation, moving around each other effortlessly to make eggs, sausage, toast, and smoothies for breakfast.

When you finished eating, you collected the scrapbooks Bucky might want to see. You added his mom's wedding ring, the one your mom wore as well, to the box.

"What's that?" Steve pointed to the box, unsure if his assumption was correct.

You pulled out two scrapbooks, pointing to the near identical pictures of Bucky's mom and your mom after having been proposed to.

"My mom always told me her engagement ring was a family heirloom. I think it was his mom's ring too. I thought he might like to have it. As something to remember her by, ya know?"

You got teary eyed again. Thinking about how much he must miss his family combined with how much you miss your own parents was too much to handle.

You finished gathering everything, putting it all in a box to make for easier transportation. You took the cobblers out of the oven, packing them as well.

With a deep breath, you followed Steve back out to your car, ready to talk to Bucky.

-

"Where the hell is Steve?" Bucky nearly stormed into the kitchen.

"Whoa, calm down tinman. What's up?" Sam replied casually, pouring cereal into a bowl.

"Where is Steve? I was supposed to run with him this morning, but he wasn't in his room when I went to find him. I don't even like running this early. I literally only do it because it's what he prefers."

Sam laughed, enjoying anything that annoys Bucky. "Dude, chill. He probably just forgot you were going with him."

Tony walked into the kitchen as well, trying to tune out the whines coming from Bucky, but failing.

"That's what I though, but he's always back by now." Bucky huffed, annoyed with Sam for laughing.

"Who?" Tony asked, now slightly intrigued.

"Steve. I haven't seen him since yesterday." Bucky replied as he angrily ate an apple.

"Really?" Tony sounded mildly concerned, immediately alerting Sam and confusing Bucky.

"You don't think?" Sam asked, ignoring Bucky for the time being.

"I don't know!" Tony looked bewildered. "Friday, where is Capsicle?"

"Captain Rogers left yesterday evening with Y/N L/N." The AI easily replied.

"Who?" Bucky questioned the room, never having learned your name.

"You know the woman who's been sitting outside every Saturday?" Bucky nodded to Sam, unsure why he was bringing it up. "Well, Steve went to ask her why she was here last night."

"Nat told me she was just some fan, wanted to see you all." Bucky furrowed his brow, thinking over the new information on Steve's wearabouts.

"Well, yeah that's what we thought. Look, she said she wanted to talk to you specifically." Sam explained, ignoring the pointed glare from Tony.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky rose from his chair, annoyed at everyone now. "Now she's got Steve?"

"Relax, Steve can handle himself. She cleared her background check. We really don't have any reason to believe he's in danger." Tony's words were more to convince himself than anyone else. He's the one who said Cap should go check it out if he was so curious.

"Steve's too trusting. What if it was a trap?" Bucky questioned, glaring daggers at the other two men.

Before they could respond, Friday chimed in with more information.

"Captain Rogers just entered the elevator from the parking garage."

"See, he's fine." Tony glared back at Bucky, secretly relieved that Steve was fine.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before leaving, heading for the elevators to yell at Steve for ditching him this morning.

When the elevator doors opened, however, Steve was not alone.

"Hey, punk, why'd you ditch me- Oh. Who are you?" Bucky eyed you suspiciously, looking between you and Steve.

Before Bucky interrupted, Steve was trying to reassure you that everything would work out. He had a hand on your back, rubbing up and down to soothe your nerves.

His other arm was occupied by the box of scrapbooks, or else he probably would have hugged you again.

You were holding a large sheet pan, three pie dishes sitting on top.

Steve was blushing, a surefire sign Bucky had seen something he wasn't supposed to.

"Oh, um. Hi. My name is Y/N L/N." You froze, not thinking you would have to see him so soon. You could see the family resemblance between him, your great grandma, and your mom.

"The car girl." He nodded, trying to piece together the events of last night.

"Yep, that's me." You laughed nervously, unsure of what he already knew.

"Buck, do me a favor? Let us out of the elevator." Steve eyed him, mildly annoyed with the ambush.

Bucky moved to the side, allowing you and Steve to exit the elevator. You followed Steve down the hall to the kitchen, where you put the cobblers on the counter.

Sam and Tony were still there, eating various foods.

"Well, hello there." Tony greeted when he spotted you, intrigued by the development. He looked at Steve for an explanation.

"Y/N made plum cobbler." Steve said instead, moving his hand back to the small of your back.

Bucky's eyes lit up at the mention of plums, enough to momentarily distract him from Steve's actions.

"Oh, right!" You took a cobbler out of the dish, moving toward Bucky. "This one's for you, because I read that you liked plums." You handed him the dish, quickly moving back to the others. "I also made a peach and an apple for everyone else." You smiled at Tony and Sam, unknowingly leaning slightly into Steve.

"Why does he get a special cobbler?" Sam whined, eagerly reaching for the other dishes.

Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Well, except Sam's who were on the peach cobbler.

"Oh, um, well, I was hoping I could talk to you." You looked at Bucky nervously, unsure of how he would respond.

"Anyone who bakes me a plum cobbler can talk to me, Doll." Natasha chose that exact moment to enter the room.

"Who made plum cobbler?" She looked around the room, eyes narrowing in your direction. "How did you get in here?"

"I brought her." Steve smiled at you before walking over to Natasha. He whispered in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear, but nobody else. "She's not a threat to your relationship, trust me."

Nat nodded her head, trusting Steve, although not for the reasons he thought. She could clearly see the blonde's affinity for you.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Bucky asked between bites of cobbler.

"It's really a private conversation." Steve answered for you, seeing how unsure of yourself you were.

"Then why do you know, punk?" Bucky countered.

"Well, I had to tell someone so I could finally talk to you. Steve's the one who asked." You smiled at Steve again, trying to convey how grateful you were with just a look.

Steve smiled back at you, while everyone in else just shared a knowing look.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat. "Buck, can you just come with us?"

Bucky nodded, moving to follow Steve while still eating the cobbler. You followed the two of them as well, growing more nervous with each step.

Steve lead you to his room, placing the box of scrapbooks on the bed.

"Do you want me to stay?" Steve looked to you for an answer.

You took a deep breath, in all honestly you would love for him to stay, but you think you should probably just talk to Bucky first.

"No, that's okay. Come back in like, 30 minutes?" You scrunched up your face, unsure if 30 minutes was long enough, but knowing you would need the deadline if you were ever going to explain it all to Bucky.

Steve nodded, squeezing your shoulder as he passed you to leave the room.

"Um," you turned to Bucky, trying to think of where to start. "I don't know what you already know about me, but-"

"Nothing really. Except that you make a delicious plum cobbler." He smiled, helping to ease your nerves. Food really was the way to this man's heart.

"Oh, I guess I'll start where I started when I told Steve." You smiled at the mention of his name, unaware of your own actions. But Bucky noticed.

"My parents died a few months ago." Bucky's eyes went wide, trying to think of what this could have to do with him. "Um, it was a car accident. They both died on the scene." You took a deep breath, trying to push through the sad parts.

"I had to clean out their house, and I found some scrapbooks that lead me to you." You shifted closer to the bed, looking through the scrapbooks you brought.

You pulled out the one with the first picture you showed Steve, opening it and gesturing for Bucky to take it.

He set the cobbler on Steve's nightstand, cautiously reaching for the book. He looked at the picture for a long time before saying anything. And when he did talk, it was a whispered "Becca..."

He ran his fingers over the picture slowly, just staring. A few minutes later, he eagerly flipped the page. He spent a good 10 minutes just looking through all the books you handed him.

"Where did you get these?" He questioned, although not accusingly.

"I found them in my parents house. They were with a bunch of my grandma's stuff that she had from her mom." You wanted to ease him into it.

"So your great grandma..." He trailed off, disbelief clear across his face.

"Was Rebecca Barnes." You finished the sentence for him, nerves clear in your voice.

You weren't sure what to say next, so you waited for him to make the next move.

"So you're my... great-grand niece?" You nodded at his question, still unsure if he was happy with the news. "God, that makes me feel old."

You nearly cackled, surprised by the joke. He smiled when you laughed, glad to have cleared some of the tension.

"Why did you want to find me?" He questioned, the mood turning more serious again.

"Well, I was really close to my parents. They were the only family I had. When I found out you are family too, I just... I knew I needed to at least tell you." You shrugged at the end, unsure if you really answered his question.

"You wanted to tell me so badly that you sat outside the compound every Saturday for five weeks even after being ignored?" He was in shock that anyone would spend that much time and effort just to talk to him. You started panicking immediately.

"I'm so sorry if you didn't want to know! It was selfish of me to force this on you. I can go, if you want. You don't have to talk to me." You started questioning everything. You moved to put the books back in the box when he stopped you.

"Oh, um. I'm sorry, you can keep those. If you want!" Tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks when you remembered the ring. You froze with your hand in the box, not knowing if you'd want to part with it knowing you'd never see Bucky again.

"Y/N..." Something in the way he said your name made you look at him. "I- I'm glad you told me. Really glad. I, uh, I never thought I would have family, well besides Steve. You know what I mean." He ran a hand through his hair, and you noticed the tears in his eyes.

"I don't want you to go. It's just hard for me..." he paused, trying to figure out his emotions. "It's hard to believe that someone would care about me that much."

"Bucky, I don't know you." He frowned at your statement. "But, I would love to get to know you." You smiled at him, trying to be reassuring.

"I'm not so sure you would." His face was hard, staring at the ground.

"Bucky, you aren't a bad person. I mean, sure you've done bad things, but it wasn't your choice. You were forced to do those things. You can't let yourself be defined by them. You're here aren't you?"

"Here?" He questioned.

"Working with the Avengers, I mean. You go on missions to help save people. That's your choice. That's who you are. I would be honored to get to know that person."

You smiled, waiting for him to say something.

"Are you sure?" He still looked unsure.

"God, maybe I get my stubbornness from you." You both laughed at that. "I am 100% sure."

"Wow." He shook his head, still in shock.

A knock sounded on the door before Steve came back in. "Is now a good time?" He asked, still standing in the doorway.

You nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." You pulled him into a hug, needing the emotional support.

"Of course. I'm happy I could help." He rubbed your back, reciprocating the hug. "Did you give him the ring yet?" He asked when you took a step back.

You shook your head, reaching into the box for the last item. "I, um, I thought you might want this." You handed him the box, nerves peaking through again.

He opened it, a soft smile on his face when he recognized it. "My mom's engagement ring."

You smiled, happy that he recognized it. "It was my mom's as well."

The two of you stared a the ring for awhile, reminiscing on time spent with your parents.

Eventually, Bucky picked the cobbler back up, not wanting to let it go to waste.

Steve couldn't help but roll his eyes at his friend. "Wow, jerk. You're just gonna go back to eating."

"Yes, punk. My great-grand niece made me a plum cobbler, and I tend to fully enjoy it."

"Great-grand niece. Ha, that makes you sound so old."

It was fun for you to see the two interacting like this, especially after the emotional hurdles you just ran.

"It's fine, Stevie. Let him enjoy the cobbler." Your face went red, not having meant to use the nickname.

"Yeah Stevie, let me enjoy the cobbler." Bucky couldn't help but poke fun, knowing there was an unspoken attraction between the two of you.

Somehow your face got even redder. Steve just rolled his eyes.

"Fine, eat your cobbler. Only because I had some of the apple one and it was delicious. It would be a shame to waste any."

You smiled at the compliment, embarrassment subsiding a bit. Steve sat down on the bed between you and Bucky, eager to ask his friend about some of the pictures. Steve put his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder as he spoke to Bucky.

You felt your eyes growing heavy, exhausted since your nerves kept you up most of the night. You rested your head on Steve's shoulder, soaking in his warmth as you cuddled closer.

Steve just rubbed your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the interaction, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh my god. My best friend likes my great-grand niece. And she likes him." He said it so matter of fact, the two of you didn't bother denying it. You just smiled, and cuddled closer together.

[mercy-burning]

Petite Etoile

Pairing: Spencer Reid x femReader Summary: BAU!Reader used to be a stripper, and when people where she used to work are being murdered, the team is called in to investigate. Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, penetrative sex, Reader also does a stripping performance) Warnings: Sex, language, mentions of murder/violence and all the things you’d normally find in an episode of Criminal Minds. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is going up way later than I said it would, so I’m sorry if you were looking forward to this, I just haven’t been motivated lately. But  I really have to get out of my writing slump, and I’m hoping I can do that soon. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading 🥰 Also, I know that Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift doesn’t exist at the time of early season 2, which is when I imagine this taking place, but for the sake of the story let’s pretend it does, because that’s the song I had in mind when I wrote the performance scene 😉😂

***

When Y/N walked into work Thursday morning, everything was as normal as it could be. She chatted with Elle on her way up the elevator, handed JJ her coffee as she made her way to Hotch's office, and ruffled Reid's hair when she passed him, smiling at the way he blushed at her affectionate gesture.

But when the team was called into the round-table room, and she watched as JJ presented their next case, Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

Over the past week, three strippers from the town she'd lived in for years before moving to Virginia had been found stabbed in various parts of the block surrounding Starsight. She knew the place well. Not only did she used to work there as a stripper after she graduated, but her best friend, Irene, owned the establishment, and she'd practically become the sister Y/N never had. She helped her through college and pushed her to go into the Bureau. If people, Irene's people, were dying, why hadn't she called or said anything?

Thankfully Y/N didn't recognize any of the dancers who'd been killed, because if she had, she'd feel a lot worse. But even still, she wanted to find who was behind it, and she would. The BAU always did. And with her background knowledge of the scene and the town, Y/N figured she might be able to lend an extra helping hand.

But first she had to tell the team about her past.

It wasn't a secret that she used to be a stripper. In fact, it wasn't really something she was able to hide. With someone as curious as Penelope Garcia in her life, Y/N wouldn't have been able to hide it even if she wanted to. Thankfully though, besides the occasional teasing comment from Morgan, and sometimes Elle, the team didn't treat her any differently. She wasn't Y/N The Former Stripper, she was just Y/N. She was good at her job, and everyone respected and liked her just the way she was.

While debriefing on the jet, she was about to bring it up when Morgan did it first, seemingly sly like he'd discovered some big secret. "Hey, Y/N, didn't you used to live near this place?"

She nodded, clearing her throat. "Uh, yeah, that's actually what I was going to bring up. Starsight is where I used to work before I moved here. I know the owner of the place, she's one of my best friends."

She could tell Morgan wanted to tease her some more about her previous work, but before he could get a word in Gideon spoke from behind her. "Irene Whitcomb?"

"Yeah."

"Good, when we land I want you, Morgan, and Reid to go talk to her. See if you can find anything out."

Y/N nodded, and in front of her, she noticed Reid was a little flushed. It didn't surprise her considering when everyone found out her previous job, he almost choked on his coffee, and Morgan laughed hysterically while he had a coughing fit. It was obvious to Y/N from the beginning that Spencer had had a little crush on her, and it didn't bother her at all. Every once in a while she'd pat his knee before she got up from her seat next to him or wink at him as they saw each other briefly in passing, just to see how he'd react, and by now it was a staple of their relationship. It never did go any further than that though, Y/N afraid she might make him too uncomfortable.

But even still, she couldn't help but give him a flirty smile as he blinked rapidly in front of her, still seeming to process what was going to happen when they landed. When he excused himself to go to the bathroom, she gave him one more wink and a small bite of her lip as he passed.

Morgan laughed softly beside her. "You're gonna ruin the poor kid if you keep that up, girlie."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she responded, even though the smile on her face suggested otherwise.

***

A strip club being almost at full capacity in the middle of the day was more common than one might think. It had surprised Y/N when she first started working at Starsight, and even now she still didn't really understand why. Regardless it was almost 3pm, and if things had stayed the same over the years, which by the looks of things seemed to be the case, Irene should have been behind the bar.

It must have been a sight to behold, Y/N mused as she and her colleagues navigated through the club in search of its owner, and it sounded like the beginning to a bad joke— a former stripper turned FBI agent, a guy who looks like he just walked straight out of a procedural cop show, and an adorably and obviously nervous skinny kid with glasses and trembling hands walk into a strip club at 3pm... The thought made Y/N laugh to herself, right before Irene spotted her.

"Y/N!"

It was obvious that she wanted to jump over the bar and give her old friend a hug, but given the circumstances, Irene settled for dropping a shot glass, spilling the drink on the counter, and clapping her hands quickly a few times in succession. A wide smile and kind eyes greeted the three agents as they approached.

"Irene, hi," Y/N greeted with a large smile of her own. "I wish I could have came to visit under better circumstances."

"Right, me too..." The blonde woman's smile faded for a second, just long enough that the recognizable signs of grief came and go quickly before replacing themselves with bittersweet niceties. "Anyway, you wanna introduce me to your friends?"

"Yeah, Irene, these are my colleagues, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid."

Irene reached out to shake their hands, eyeing up Morgan with only the slightest bit of shame, and laughing softly at Reid's polite avoidance of the gesture as he settled on a wave and a shy smile.

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the past week," Morgan said.

"Yeah, anything. Just give me a minute to clean this up and we can sit down."

***

"So, you used to work here?"

Y/N laughed, kicking Derek under the table. "Yep. Looks exactly the same as when I left, too. Only difference is that I'm not here to bring everyone in on Friday nights."

As Derek laughed, Spencer tensed up beside Y/N, and he started to play with his hands under the table they all sat at.

"She's not joking," Irene said as she approached the table with a smile. She took the seat next to Morgan and gave him a wink. "Petite Etoile over here was the main attraction."

Y/N groaned a little. "Oh, c'mon Irene, don't use my nickname here, that's not who I am anymore."

"Don't tell me you've lost your shine, Little Star." From the tone in her voice to the look on her face, it was clear to Y/N that Irene was just as devious as she'd been since the day they first met. "You know it would just break this town's heart."

"I highly doubt that... Besides, this little star shines just as brightly as it used to, thank you very much."

At that statement, Y/N felt Reid's knee hit the table with a loud thud. As Morgan questioned whether he was okay, she wondered what was running through his head. It didn't last long though, because shortly afterwards Morgan started asking questions about the case.

"Was it particularly crowded on the nights the dancers were killed?"

Irene hugged her arms to her stomach, her eyes drooping a little at the mention. "It gets pretty crowded every night to tell you the truth. But Friday nights are busiest. The nights Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn disappeared were just like any other night here."

"I know how hard it is to keep track of everyone, but is there anyone you might have noticed that seemed a little too lurk-y?" Even as she asked the question, Y/N felt like she already knew the answer.

And Irene really did seem to try to recall something, anything that could help, but she was visibly frustrated, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Y/N, I'm so sorry. After Carrie... the first time... we heightened security and everything, but it just wasn't enough, I... I don't know what to do."

Y/N reached across the table to grab her friend's hand. "It's okay, 'Rene. We're gonna figure this out, alright? I promise you."

Through tears, the blonde smiled and squeezed Y/N's hand. "I know you will, Little Star."

"Would it be possible for us to look at your surveillance tapes?" Reid asked quietly.

Irene looked up at him and nodded, still squeezing Y/N's hand. "Anything you need."

***

"So... Little Star, huh?"

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile as she, Morgan, and Reid got into the car. When she got in the passenger seat, she waited for Morgan to be in the car before responding. "Oh, don't start. I swear to God, Derek, if you start calling me that I might just have to kick your ass."

"Well, you gotta at least tell me how you got the name?" he laughed, putting on his seatbelt while Reid climbed in the back.

"Well, how do you think? The place is called Starsight after all... So, Petite Etoile just made sense."

It was obvious that she was lying to get him to drop it, so Morgan kept pushing. "Okay, sure, but that's not the whole truth. Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn didn't have star names."

"Ugh, okay, fine, if I tell you will you shut up about it?"

"Promise."

Y/N caught a glimpse of Reid in the back through the rearview mirror. As expected, he was fidgety and just a little red.

She sighed and waited until Morgan pulled out of the parking lot to talk. "Okay. Once every month Starsight does a 'Midnight Sky' theme night. They light the place up in deep blue lights and everyone wears... space-themed outfits. Every dancer does their own special routine with songs and outfits that they pick on their own. My first time working a theme night, everyone seemed to really like what I did; I ended up doing an encore later in the night before we closed. Another dancer who worked with us at the time, Jenny, was learning French, so after my performance she called me Petite Etoile, and it just stuck."

"Okay, but why did you get the nickname and no one else?" Morgan asked with a smug smile. He knew she was still holding something back.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, Y/N, I really want to know."

She sighed. "Let's... just say my outfit was... well, it barely covered me, and what it did manage to cover was covered by fabric in the shape of stars."

While Morgan laughed, Y/N looked in the mirror to see Reid with his head low, even more red than he was before. He was biting his bottom lip and fiddling the the seatbelt strap, and when his eyes briefly met hers in the mirror he was quick to avoid eye contact once again. If Y/N didn't find it completely adorable she would have felt more badly about it. But just to make sure, she called out to him.

"Reid, you okay back there?"

He looked up to meet her eyes again through the mirror, but only briefly before trying to ook anywhere else. "O-oh, yeah, I'm... I'm good."

Morgan laughed. "Yeah, I bet you are."

Y/N punched him in the arm and met Reid's eyes once more. "Sorry."

"Oh, you don't have anything to be sorry about, it's... it's okay, really, I-I'm not... it's..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Y/N said calmly, giving him a reassuring smile. "We're all good here, right?"

"Right," Morgan and Reid said one after the other.

"Good. Now let's catch this creep."

***

Unfortunately no one had gotten much of anywhere in the next few hours. The security footage showed a man following each of the girls out of Starsight but there wasn't anything distinctive about him. Somehow he'd avoided all the cameras face to face, so he knew where they all were. And as for how he chose which dancers to target they weren't sure.

Until Irene walked into the station, that is.

"Y/N, I completely forgot something! I can't believe I missed it."

She stood before the team in the office that the station had given them for the time being, everyone else sitting down. Y/N stood up and nodded. "What is it?"

"Carrie, Lola, and Evelyn were all Spotlight Performers."

"What does that mean?" Elle asked from behind them.

Y/N turned to the group, her arms crossed. "Every other night Starsight spotlights a different dancer for a large performance at the end of the night, sort of like a grand finale before the club closes."

"So you're saying each of the girls was the Spotlight Performer on the nights they went missing?" Hotch asked, more like a clarification than a question.

"Yeah, Carrie on Saturday, Lola on Monday, and Evelyn on Wednesday," Irene said frantically.

Y/N reached out to grab her hand. "Well, it's Thursday. So, if he sticks to pattern, he's going after tomorrow's Spotlight Performer. Who do you have lined up?"

"Well, no one yet. After the murders the girls have been hesitant to schedule, and I don't blame them... So what should I do?"

Before Y/N could answer, Hotch did. "Y/L/N, you haven't gone undercover before, but I think it would be a good idea. You used to work at Starsight, you could lure him out."

She turned around sharply. "Oh, I... I don't know, Hotch, I haven't danced in so long, I'm not sure I—"

"He's right," Gideon interrupted. "It's the best chance we have at catching him."

Between Hotch and Gideon's opinions on the matter, Y/N knew she didn't have a say anymore.

"You still know your routine, Petite Etoile?" Irene asked, only slightly amused.

"Petite Etoile?" Elle wondered aloud.

Y/N heard Morgan laugh and she sighed.

***

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you were nervous," Irene said as she straightened another piece of Y/N's hair.

She played with the hem of the sheer robe she was wearing. "Well, I'm about to go undercover for the first time, stripping for the first time in years in front of all my colleagues so I can lure out a serial killer, so I guess you could say I'm a little nervous."

"Well... When you put it like that..."

Y/N looked up at her friend. "I'm sorry, Irene. Really, I'm okay, and we will get him, I promise."

"No, I know you will. I'm not worried. So... Who do they have watching you tonight?"

"Gideon and Hotch are outside, but Elle, Morgan, and Reid are in here with me. There are some extra officers all around the block, too, just in case."

"Hmm," Irene mused, and Y/N could tell she wanted to say something.

"What?"

"I don't know, it just surprises me they'd send Reid in here of all people. He seems almost more nervous than you."

Y/N laughed. "Well, when it comes to girls he gets a little nervous, but... he's good at his job."

"I'll take your word for it. But I also wouldn't be surprised if he short circuits when he sees you up there."

The thought made her smile a little, though she wondered how badly Morgan would tease him about the whole situation. Things between them all would no doubt be a little awkward for a while, but in no time they'd go back to normal like it never happened. At least that's what she told herself, because she wasn't sure what she'd do if her friendship with Reid was permanently damaged and awkward because of her past. The thought worried her just a little, but before she could get too psyched out, a knock at the door brought her back to reality.

"Y/N, it's Elle."

"Come on in!"

Y/N got up from the chair and turned around to meet Elle in the doorway. Her eyes wandered for a moment before nodding with a smirk. "Damn. Petite Etoile indeed."

Despite the nerves, Y/N smiled. "You here to give me an earpiece?"

Elle nodded and closed the door behind her. As she turned on the device and handed it to Y/N, she spoke. "You nervous?"

"A little, but it's just because I haven't done this in a while. Not to mention I'm doing it in front of everyone, and I'm luring out the unsub."

"No pressure, right?"

Y/N laughed, adjusting the earpiece and taking a deep breath. "It'll be fine. How long until I go on?"

"Five minutes. I'll be near the front with Reid. Morgan is in the back with a few officers, and everyone else is outside. We all have communication with you, so if we see him we'll let you know what to look out for."

"Got it."

"Y/L/N, can you hear me?" It was Hotch's voice through the earpiece.

"Yeah, loud and clear."

"Good. We're all in position. Whenever you're ready."

***

Elle met him near the front of the stage. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Spencer didn't have a problem with strip clubs in the least, but it was bad enough that he'd thought about Y/N on multiple occasions in his dreams, now he was going to have to see her stripping just like he'd imagined many times over. The whole situation spelled out disaster, and if she didn't already know he had a crush on her, she most certainly would when the night was over.

As Elle approached him, he took a deep breath and stretched out his hands to calm his nerves. "She okay?"

Elle nodded. "Ready to go. I'm gonna stand on the other side of the stage, keep a look out for anyone who seems like he could be our guy."

"Right."

Before she left, Elle patted him on the shoulder and smiled knowingly. "Oh, and Reid... Try not to get distracted."

Yeah. He was fucked.

When the music that was playing stopped and the lights started to shift, Spencer took another deep breath. Irene's familiar voice came through the speakers.

"Thank you for coming to Starsight. Tonight's Spotlight Performer is a special one. Returning to the stage for the first time in years, shining brighter and better than ever before, give it up for our very own little star, Petite Etoile!"

A deep, seductive song that Spencer didn't recognize replaced Irene's voice as the lights shifted again, and the crowd around him applauded. It was just as crowded as it had been when he, Morgan, and Y/N met Irene the day before, but with a serial killer no doubt present and Y/N about to come on stage, everything felt heavier.

A dark silhouette broke through fog on the stage, and even though Spencer knew it was Y/N, it didn't feel real. He'd only ever seen her at work, in work clothes, and sometimes in casual clothes when they all went out for drinks on occasion.

So when she finally came into view, her hair tumbling down her back and shoulders rather than in a ponytail, and wearing almost nothing at all, he wasn't even sure it was her for a split second. But the way she looked, her magnetic presence and the way she carried herself across the stage was so remarkably her it was hard to miss. Everything about her confidence was elevated in that moment, and his own confidence—in his job and ability to function as a human being—was completely shattered when she caught his eye. It was just a split second, but that was all it took.

She must have noticed, because she gave him a small smile and a wink before turning her attention to the rest of the crowd as the music built. Spencer cleared his throat softly before glancing around, trying his best to scan everyone for anything suspicious. When he was sure there was nothing around him to be concerned about, he reluctantly let his eyes wander back to the stage.

By now Y/N had rid herself of the sheer robe that was on her, leaving her in a deep blue one-piece... contraption was the only word he could come up with. It was all connected by thin straps of fabric that weaved around every curve of her body, crisscrossing and leaving little to the imagination. Just like she'd described back in the car yesterday, small patches of fabric shaped like stars covered the front of her breasts and...

The second he looked down, she squatted, spreading her legs open and rolling her hips, exposing almost the entire front three rows of people to her barely-clothed pussy.

Spencer felt his cheeks grow warm as he quickly averted his gaze and pretended to survey the crowd again. To his credit, he did really search for anyone who could be the unsub, but the whole time he heard the song and the cheering crowd, and in turn Y/N occupied almost every corner of his brain.

When he finally had the courage to look at the stage again, she was making her way to a chair in the middle. Every step was on beat to the music and purposeful. She danced around the chair for a bit before another big beat drop in the song happened, and she squatted in front of it quickly, rolling her hips as she slowly got up.

Her eyes found his once more as she mouthed along to the words of the song, almost like she was singing directly to him. He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but she held his gaze for much longer than he'd been able to handle, and she knew exactly what she was doing. Which was made evident when she bit her bottom lip and ran her hands down her body, stopping at her knees before she sat in the chair and spread her legs, her hands finally dragging along the insides of her thigh.

Her eyes remained on him the entire time.

Butterflies immediately erupted in his stomach at her intensity, stronger than they'd ever been before. He'd always felt it when she affectionately ruffled his hair or patted his knee in passing, but now? She wasn't even touching him and he was about to crumble to the ground.

Thankfully something in his ear saved him from that. "I've got a visual." It was Morgan. "He's in the back, black long sleeve and jeans. Buzzcut. Y/N, look up at me and blink three times when you see him."

Reid looked up and and noticed her doing it. To anyone else it wouldn't have seemed out of pace, but he could tell she was a little rattled. In any case, she broke contact with Morgan and continued on with her performance as if nothing happened.

Though it meant there was most definitely a serial killer in the room and he would follow Y/N out of the club later, Spencer was glad for the past minute, because he wasn't sure how much more of the performance he could take. Suddenly there was a job to focus on again, and he was thankful for that.

***

"You're sure you're okay?"

Y/N laughed as she approached her motel room, phone in hand. "Yeah, Irene, I'm okay. Promise. He got a hold on me but my team was there to stop him before he did anything. No nicks or bruises or anything."

"Okay... You were great out there by the way. If you weren't such a kick-ass FBI agent now, I'd ask you to come back."

Laughing, she turned her head and noticed Reid at the end of the hall, walking to his room. He caught her eye and gave a shy smile before disappearing behind the door and closing himself off from her. She contemplated a moment before starting her journey to his room. "Well, I'm glad we could help. Maybe if I find myself in town again, I'll stop by."

"Yeah, you better. Though I'd prefer if a serial killer wasn't involved."

"You and me both. I'll come see you before we leave tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, Petite Etoile."

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Y/N nodded though her friend wouldn't be able to see. "Night."

She hung up and put the phone in her bag, taking a deep breath before knocking on Reid's door.

The answer was almost immediate. He stood before her, and it looked like he'd just gotten undressed, wearing grey pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt. "Oh, Y/N, h-hi," he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. "What's up?"

"Do you... mind if I come in? I know it might sound a little weird but I don't really want to be alone right now..." It was true. Though she was okay after catching the unsub, the idea of being alone after everything that happened was sure to leave a small ache that wouldn't let her sleep, and having company would make a good cure.

"Oh, no, that isn't weird at all. Uh, sure, come on in." He stepped aside and opened the door wider to let her through. She smiled gratefully as she passed him, careful to notice the faint color that adorned his cheeks.

When he closed the door behind them, she set her bag down on the floor and turned to meet him, playing with the sleeve of the FBI jacket she was wearing. Before leaving Starsight, she'd changed into underwear, leggings, and a thin tee shirt. She debated taking the jacket off, but knowing how much of her body her colleague and friend had no doubt seen that night, she figured for his sake she'd leave it on. At least for now.

"I know it's late and we should probably get to bed, but... Truthfully I don't know how well I'll be able to sleep."

Spencer seemed concerned. "You're... you're okay? He didn't hurt you badly, did he?"

"Oh! No, he didn't, I'm just... rattled, that's all. I'll be okay, really. It's just that I haven't... performed in a long time, and all of that added on to being serial killer bait was just... eventful. That's all."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you were great."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at her lips. "Oh?"

"Oh, I mean at handling the unsub. Not that you weren't great at the other thing, of course! I just... I just meant that... I didn't mean... Um..."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm... I'm not mad or anything, I'm... flattered."

The redness on Spencer's face became more vivid under the dim glow of the room. "I- Really?"

Y/N smiled and took a step closer. "Mhmm. Y'know... Truthfully it was really hard for me not to look at you the whole time. Out of everyone in that whole room, I wanted to see only you."

His gaze wandered up and down her body briefly before meeting her eyes. "You did?"

"Mhmm," she said again. Her hand reached out to graze his bare arm, and he shivered under her light touch. "You can stop me if this is too weird, but... I really like you, Spence... Like, a lot. And, I think it's pretty obvious that you like me, too. Am I wrong?"

He swallowed. "Um... No. You're not wrong."

She was only inches away from him now, her hands gently caressing his shoulders and chest. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. "Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you right now?"

"Um... T-truthfully I think I might want... to kiss you more..."

Y/N laughed and balled his shirt in one hand, the other snaking up to the back of his head and running through his hair. "Okay, then... You gonna prove it, or what?"

He bit his lip softly before leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss that made her dizzy. Her hands tightened their grip on him, and the second her lips parted, he wasted no time gently swiping his tongue across her bottom lip, his confidence growing with every second. She groaned into him, pulling her body flush against his and forcing him to wrap his arms around her waist to keep steady.

They pulled away for air eventually, and by the gleam in his eyes when she looked at him, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"No one is rooming with you, right?"

"N-no. It's just me."

"Good." She whispered it seductively as she removed her hands from him and slowly unzipped her jacket, keeping eye contact with Spencer the whole time. Except, of course, when his eyes glanced down to see the progress the zipper was making. Once she slid it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, he took her in, his tongue dancing behind his lips.

She let him have a few more seconds before taking a step forward and kissing him again, both of her hands cradling his face and bringing her thumbs to gently rub his cheeks. He melted into her completely, wrapping his arms around her again in no time. While their kisses were slow and passionate for a minute, eventually they grew hungrier, and Y/N hadn't even realized they'd been moving until they were toppling onto the bed, Spencer falling back and her landing on top of him.

They broke apart only for a moment to adjust themselves, but went right back to each other once Y/N straddled his legs and he leaned back on his hands to keep himself upright.

Her hands played in his hair as she kissed him, each brush of her tongue against his sending him into a downward spiral. He'd only ever dreamed of this, and even then, this was better than any dream. Y/N herself was better than any dream.

She ground her hips against him, causing him to groan into her mouth, and he pushed himself forward to be closer, needing to be completely wrapped up in her for as long as he could. When she pulled her mouth from his and settled her hands on his shoulders to keep him from moving, he whined a little, the sound completely taking the both of them aback.

She smiled and cocked her head to the side. "I've thought about this for so long... You have no idea how many times I've wanted to kiss you since we met."

"Really?"

With a nod, Y/N toyed with the collar of his shirt, tugging it and slowly grinding her hips against him again. "Have you ever thought about it?"

It was a question they both obviously knew the answer to, but she wanted to have some fun. She loved seeing how shy he got, it made her want him even more.

"Yes... I... I think about you a lot," he breathed, blinking at her as she slid her hands down his chest and found the bottom of his shirt. She smiled and raised it up, her touch sending shivers all over his body.

"What have you thought about? Any specifics?" she asked once his shirt was all the way off. Her fingers found their way to his neck again as she pulled herself closer.

"Oh, I... Um... I-I've thought about... kissing you on the jet in front of everyone."

Y/N smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose, then traced her finger down over his lips and hooked it under his chin to tilt his head up, exposing his neck. "I've thought about that, too... You know what else?"

Spencer blinked at her, urging her to continue.

She leaned forward and kissed the underside of his jaw, then his neck, leaving small kisses in between every soft word. "I've thought about how good your hands would feel on me." Her hand grabbed one of his and brought it to rest on her side, slipping under her shirt. "Have you ever thought about touching me?"

"Yes," he breathed as she moved her mouth back up his jaw and to the corner of his mouth.

She brought her lips just inches from his, and he could feel them just barely as she spoke. "Do it. Please."

And then she let go of him, bringing both her hands to his face as she kissed him again. Her legs wrapped around him tighter as he used both of his hands to grip her sides. As soon as they knew they were stable enough not to fall backwards, Spencer slid his hands slowly up her torso and barely ghosted over her breasts. She could tell he was a little hesitant, so she pushed further into him, practically trapping his hands in between their chests. Her kisses grew deeper and more desperate as he palmed her breasts, letting a moan or two slip out to encourage him further.

Thankfully it worked, because with every passing second he got more confident with his touches. When Y/N moved her hips against his again, he sighed into her mouth and brought one of his hands out from under her shirt and to her head, running his fingers through her hair.

At this point he was noticeably hard beneath her, and she was desperate to feel more of him. So Y/N peeled herself away from Spencer and snuck her hand down to play with the waistband of his pants. "You wouldn't happen to have a condom on you, would you?"

"Oh, uh, a-actually Morgan gave me one as a joke last week. It's, uh, in my wallet. In my bag."

Y/N laughed. "Sounds like him. Why don't you go grab it."

He nodded as she got up off of him. While he walked over to his bag, Y/N quickly removed her shirt and leggings, leaving her only in a pair of thin black panties that were almost too small. Before he turned around, she sat back on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide, leaning back on her elbows as she waited.

If she didn't know any better she would have thought that when he turned around, his eyes were going to fall out of his head. He took small steps towards the bed, and she made the 'come here' motion with her finger. "Take your pants off for me?"

He all but scrambled to get them off, and Y/N smiled affectionately at him as she watched, hoping to calm his nerves by letting him know that he had nothing to be nervous about.

But just to be sure, she told him as much anyway. "You've got nothing to worry about, Spence. Trust me, I... I want this."

Once his pants were off, he met her at the edge of the bed, standing in between her legs. "I do too, I just... It's just that I've only ever... done this before once, and... I'm not very experienced, and I don't want to disappoint you."

Y/N sat up and grabbed his hips, leaning forward to press small, soft kisses to his stomach as she looked up at him. "You could never disappoint me. Promise."

Once she was sure he was a little more relaxed, she moved her kisses lower, until they reached the waistband of his underwear. She hooked her fingers under it and slid them down slowly, keeping eye contact with him until they dropped to the floor. Only then did she look down at his dick, and it was even better than she imagined.

Giving a satisfied hum, she pressed a soft kiss to the tip and fluttered her eyes up to meet his, the look on his face completely awe-struck. She took the tip of his dick in between her lips and sucked gently, swirling her tongue around it as she watched his mouth fall open, a sigh escaping. She could tell he was holding back a little, so she traced her finger along the length of him and kept sucking lightly at the tip, hoping to get some noise out of him.

Y/N took him in her mouth completely, bobbing her head up and down just a few times to get him wet before removing her lips with a pop. When she gripped him firmly with one hand and steadily began to stroke him, he finally gave her what she hoped for.

"Y/N," he groaned, just above a whisper. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when she stopped.

"You wanna put it on or should I?" she asked.

"Spencer turned the small packet over in his hand before nodding. "I can do it."

Y/N scooted farther onto the bed and slid off her panties as he got to work, and thankfully he wasn't as nervous anymore. He moved to take off his glasses, but she stopped him. "Keep them on?"

The devious grin on her face made him blush, and he nodded, crawling over the top of her and pressing tentative kisses to her stomach, only he travelled downward instead of up to her mouth.

"You don't have t—"

"I want to," he reassured, kissing her inner thighs. "Truth be told, Y/N, I've thought about doing this, too. Is that okay?"

"Yes," she responded clearly, extremely turned on by the needy tone in his voice.

Almost immediately after she answered, his tongue darted out to taste her, swiping gently over her clit and sending her into a state of speechlessness. She leaned up on her elbows to watch as Spencer took his time, exploring and savoring every inch of her. She knew now why he'd wanted to take his glasses off, but if anything the sight of them riding up his face as he ate her out made the whole thing even hotter.

"Fuck, Spence, that... that feels so fucking good," she breathed, trying to keep her eyes open to look at him but ultimately failing.

Her words emboldened him, and he slipped a finger slowly inside her, his tongue paying special attention to her clit. He worked them together in a slow, sensual rhythm that eventually drove her to the edge. And she told him so.

"You're gonna make me cum," she breathed, willing herself to open her eyes. She found him staring up at her as best as he could in his position, the hungry sparkle in his eye pushing her further. What finally pushed her over the edge was when he sucked gently on her clit and groaned against her as she called out his name. Everything blinded her for a moment as she rocked her hips against his face, needing to hang on to every last second of her orgasm.

When she finally came down, Spencer pulled away and adjusted his glasses, to which Y/N bit her lip and moaned once more. "You're sure you've only ever done this once?"

He laughed a little, sucking his fingers clean with a shrug before answering. "Yeah, but I'm a quick-study."

Y/N smiled and reached one of her arms out to him. "Come here, quick-study."

The two of them smiled as their lips found one another, her hands flying to his hair once again. His hands gripped her waist, and his dick pressed up against her lower stomach, making her groan against him.

Without another word, Y/N hooked her legs around his waist and shifted their weight, rolling them over so she was straddling him now. Spencer reached up to move her hair to one side of her face, and then soon after she sat up, placing her hands on his chest.

"I'll tell you something else I've thought about," she said lowly, scratching down his chest just lightly enough to give him goosebumps. She then used one of her hands to grip his dick and lifted her hips up, running the head of him through her wetness as she looked down at him. "I've thought about how good you would look while I ride you. More than once, actually."

She sank down onto him, just a little, and his face sure enough twitched in pleasure, making Y/N smile to herself. "What about you? You ever imagine me riding this pretty cock?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes, I— Oh my god..."

She sat down completely, rocking her hips forward a little and pressing her hands harder into his chest. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

She set a slow pace, making sure to pay extra attention to Spencer's face as she worked him. Just like she'd done before, he seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes open, but his hands gripped her hips so tightly she was sure they'd leave bruises. The thought of that spurred her on, and she picked up the pace, bouncing steadily on his cock.

"Ohhh, fuck," she groaned, her hands leaving his torso to grab her breasts. He opened his eyes and watched her, letting out a soft moan of his own. His hands slid up her sides and under hers, replacing them with his own firm grip. She leaned forward a little so he wouldn't have to reach up that far, placing both of her hands on either side of his waist.

"Tell me," she managed to say as she continued riding him. "You ever think about fucking me at work? In the round-table room or over my desk? I know I have..."

He continued to pinch and pull at her nipples while barely being able to keep his eyes open. "Y-yes... Fuck, Y/N, I think about you all the time..."

"Feeling's mutual. Sit up for me?"

Spencer opened his eyes and she helped him sit up. They adjusted for a second before she wrapped her arms around his neck and started moving again, rocking her hips into his and giving him a better angle to hit inside her deeper.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," she breathed against his lips before she kissed him, missing the feel of his lips on hers. Their bodies clung together perfectly, every movement feeling better than the last, until they were both obviously close to coming undone.

Sure enough, the moment she squeezed her legs together and clenched herself around him, he groaned into her mouth and bucked his hips forward. "Y/N... I..."

She pressed her forehead to his and tugged at his hair, quickening her pace just a little and feeling herself geting close as well. Any moment now and she would feel it.

"Me, too," she breathed, brushing her nose against his. Within a matter of seconds, they were both unraveling, sighing out each others' names and holding on to each other for dear life as they rode out their highs.

Eventually Y/N slowed her hips to a stop, and she slumped against him, pressing one final kiss to his lips before she got off his lap and pulled him down to lay beside her, immediately snuggling into his side and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"So, was that better than you imagined?" she murmured against his neck, pressing kisses along collarbone.

Spencer laughed and pulled her even closer. "Even better. No dream could ever do you justice."

She smiled, feeling herself growing sleepy. "You sap... But, for the record, I could say the same thing about you."

"Really?" He seemed genuinely curious.

Y/N looked up at him and smiled, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. "Really. I wasn't kidding, Spence, I think about you... probably more often than I should. You're distracting."

"I'm distracting?" he mused. "You're... you. Seriously, it's a surprise I haven't completely made a fool of myself around you since we met. Especially after we all found out about your other job."

"Right... That doesn't... weird you out, does it?"

"That you used to be a stripper?"

She nodded, truthfully a little worried. She wasn't sure why, but it had always been a problem in her previous relationships, and she'd gotten used to that.

"No, of course that doesn't weird me out. I mean, I was definitely more intimidated around you, and I figured you were completely out of my league... Truthfully, I think you still might be."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Doctor. You're perfect, and really, if anyone was out of anyone's league here, it would be me. I'd be lucky to have you in any capacity, you know that, right?"

He blushed, bringing his forehead to rest against hers again. "Well... In any case, I really do like you, and... If it's not too weird, maybe you'd want to go out sometime?"

Warmth bloomed in her chest as she reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Of course. I would love to."

***

"Make it stop," Y/N whined, covering her ears with the pillow.

Spencer stirred beside her, barely awake himself. The knocking at the door wasn't stopping, and in a huff of annoyance, Y/N decided she'd had enough.

"We're getting up!"

She only realized what she did after the door opened and Elle walked in, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Oh my God, you were in here last night! I came by your room and tried calling..."

Y/N and Spencer both froze, completely awake and now well aware of the fact that someone else knew about their... sleeping arrangement.

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, I was here. Sorry if I worried you," Y/N stammered, trying to keep her cool. "I-I promised Irene I'd stop by this morning for breakfast before we left, so I should probably do that. Do, um... Do you mind?"

Elle laughed, giving the two of her friends a once-over before nodding. "Sure thing, Little Star. Oh, and uh... Good for you, Reid, proud of you."

"Elle," Y/N groaned, clutching the covers tighter around her bare torso.

"Right. Don't be too late."

After she left, Y/N leaned over to Spencer and rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry. I probably should have—"

He stopped her by pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, his hand brushed the hair from her face and he smiled. "It's fine. I don't care who knows. I mean, as long as you don't, Petite Etoile..."

He said it with a grin reminiscent of the one Elle had just adorned, and it made Y/N laugh. She kissed him again and ruffled his hair. "I'm gonna get you for that."

"What? It suits you."

"You are not calling me by my stripper name. It's bad enough Elle and Morgan are probably gonna call me that for the rest of my life, I don't need it from you, too." She smiled as she said it, hoping that he knew she was only joking.

Either way, Spencer looked at her adoringly and took her hand in his. "Well, then... how about I just call you mine?"

"I like the sound of that."

[marvelsdc22]

Meeting The Kids

Intro: Hello, lovelies!! I hope you guys are enjoying all the pride content!! Here’s the next one for ya!! Enjoy!!

Note: Y/N and J.J. have been dating for a while, J.J. suggests she meets her kids, how will the night go?

Word Count: 1293

For pride month, could you do a JJ x reader fic where the reader is meeting the kids for the first time and she’s super nervous they won’t like her but they end up loving her and falling asleep  on the couch together or something?

You and J.J. had been dating for a few months, she was still getting used to dating again after her and Will had divorced almost two years prior, the two of you had met at a bar after she had finished a particularly long case, you were the bartender for the night and just happened to be serving her and the others, you enjoyed their slight rowdiness, especially Dereks and Spencers antics, they were all quite the entertainment, by the end of the night, you had slipped J.J. her receipt and had tried your luck with writing your number on it, you having received a message from her the following morning.

Currently, you had her over for a movie and dinner, you were in the kitchen, making up some concoction with some of the alcohol you had, taking your bartending as more of a passion than a job “Babe?” J.J. called, peeking into the kitchen, her sweater having fallen down one shoulder and her sweatpants hanging loosely on her hips with her hair down and to you, she was the definition of gorgeous even in the most casual outfits “Yes?” You asked, filling two glasses with the drink you had just made before you checked on the chicken that was in the oven, you in an old t-shirt and some shorts.

“I was thinking-” “That’s dangerous” you teased with a snort, earning a small, playful shove from her as she approached you “I was thinking you should meet the boys” she said, jumping when you dropped the metal cups in your hands onto the floor, them luckily being empty minus the bit of alcohol still stuck in them as they hit the floor with a loud clang “What?” You stuttered out, looking at her and knowing this was a big thing since you had not met her children, knowing she had wanted to make sure you were going to stick around which you understood, but you had proven to her that you weren’t going anywhere, at least not anytime soon.

You bent down and picked up the cups, looking at her once you stood once more “I want you to meet Henry and Michael” she said, looking at you and reaching over to gently grab your forearm “Are-Are you sure?” You asked, looking at her and wanting to make absolutely sure that she wanted you to meet them since their thoughts on you would mean a lot and you really wanted them to like you.

J.J. smiled and leaned over, giving you a gentle kiss “I’m sure… Might as well let the kids meet the person who drags me away every friday night” she said, smiling at you as she rested her head on your shoulder and you nodded, giving her a nervous smile “Well, I can’t wait to meet them then” you said, kissing her head and the two of you standing there in content silence until the stove beeped, indicating that the chicken was done “Can you take those to the table and I’ll put these in the sink then grab the chicken” you said, gesturing to the drinks sitting on the counter and smiling when she kissed your cheek “Of course, you didn’t have to do all this, you know” she said, referring to the drinks and the nice dinner as she pulled away from you and grabbed the glasses “Oh, but I wanted to” you said simply, setting the cups in the sink before grabbing some oven mitts and pulling the chicken out, making sure to take the temperature before setting it on top of the stove.

A few days later, you pulled on something that looked nice, but not too nice since even though you were meeting your girlfriends kids for the first time, you didn’t want to go all out, heading into the kitchen, you grabbed the bouquet of flowers and the bag that held two toys, one for each boy, wanting to show them that you meant no harm to them, plus J.J. had told you what all the boys liked to do, so you knew your gifts were stuff they’d enjoy either way, taking one last look at yourself before you grabbed your jacket, wallet, and keys before you headed out of your apartment, locking it behind you.

When you got to the house, you took a deep breath before knocking, you had been there before when the boys weren’t there, but it didn’t make you any less nervous “Well, don’t you look lovely” J.J. said, smiling at you as she opened the door, moving out of the way so you could come in and you handed her the flowers after you took your shoes off “You didn’t have to” she said, smiling at you and you smiled back “I wanted to” you said, leaning over and pecking her lips before you followed her into the kitchen “The boys are in the backyard, come on” she said, leading you outside and onto the patio.

You looked and smiled as you watched two blond boys run around the backyard “Boys!” J.J. called, watching as they turned to look at her before heading for the patio when she waved them over “Boys, this is Y/N… My girlfriend, Y/N, this is Michael and Henry” she introduced and you smiled at them before kneeling down to their height “Hey, I got something for you guys” you said, opening the bag and handing them both the toys, watching as they grinned and excitedly showed J.J. “What do you both say?” She asked, looking at them and both boys turned to you before they launched at you “Thank you!” They both said excitedly, you smiling and returning the hug “You’re welcome” you said, the anxiety starting to go down as you watched them rush off to play with their toys.

Later that night, you had played with the boys in the backyard with J.J. after dinner before you all got comfy in the living room and watched a movie, by the end of the movie, you were resting your head on the back of the couch, sitting with one leg on the couch and both of the boys on your lap, them both passed out while you were borderline as your eyes drifted closed until you felt a hand rub on your arm, your eyes fluttering open as you looked at J.J. who was smiling warmly at you “Hey” you whispered, stretching your arms some “Seems they like you” she commented, you looking down at your lap and smiling “I like them too” you said, looking at her and smiling at her “We should get them to bed” she said, standing up and gently picking Michael up, leaving you to carry Henry to his room.

Once they were both tucked in, you were getting your shoes on when J.J. walked into the living room “Where do you think you’re going?” She asked, looking at you as she leaned against the wall by the stairs “Oh, I thought-” “Come on, lets get to bed” she said, holding her hand out and you didn’t need to be told twice as you kicked your shoes off again and rushed over to her, grasping her face in your hands before crushing your lips to hers, her not resisting as she melted into the kiss “Lets take this to my room, hm?” She suggested, pulling back slightly and you smiled before picking her up, her wrapping her arms and legs around you, carrying her into her room and making sure the door was shut and locked before setting her on the bed, planning to show her just how much you cared for her.

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[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Playing with fire

Summary: August Walker was the new chief of the fire station in town. He could have every girl in town. Except you. Because you didn’t want to be just another number in his long list of conquests. But just once wouldn’t matter... right?

Pairing: FiremanAU!August Walker x Nameless OFC

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut (dirty talk; unprotected sex; oral)

A/N: I did it! I finished my entry for @evnscvll​​ 3K challenge. The next time I pick Firefighter AU and Beyonce’s Ego somebody please slap me. Anyways. Hope you enjoy

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

It's on, baby, let's get lost

You don't need to call into work 'cause you're the boss

For real, want you to show me how you feel

“It’s almost 11,” Beth called from the front of the store.

“And?” You called back, distracted by the task of refilling some of the pints at the display counter.

“It’s friday,” she clarified, impatient.

“Oh…” You hummed, picking up your mug of coffee as you head outside.

It was a hot summer day. The little ice cream parlor you opened last year would probably be filled to the brink most of the day. So you allowed yourself these 30 minutes every Friday to relax and dream. Dream about the firefighters across the street that were doing their weekly workout routine outside, whenever the weather allowed it.

“He’s back,” Beth whispered as you sat down next to her.

“Who?”

“Oh you know fully well who I’m talking about.” She rolled her eyes, hiding her grin behind her glass. You turned your attention to the other side of the street, your eyes going straight to him, even if he had his back to you.

August Walker was the chief of the fire station and was well known for his strict methods and his endless charm. To you, he was the guy who did everything to get into your pants, despite your frequent rebuttal.  You were better than that and refused to to be just another number on his very extensive list of conquests.

It was almost as if he knew you were talking and thinking about him, because he turned around, catching you looking at him. August winked, making you sigh and look away. It was your turn to hide your smirk behind your mug.

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you just let him rail you?” Beth asked.

“Please keep in mind you’re still talking to your boss,” You replied, even though you knew it was pointless.

Yes, Beth was your employee, but before that she was also your best friend and immune to your mood. She had been down on her luck when you decided to open your own store so it made perfect sense to hire her. She was so excited when you told her you wanted to sell self made ice cream that it was impossible not to hire her on the spot.

“Well, boss,” she started with a teasing smirk,  “I want an answer to my question.”

“Look at him,” you pointed out, turning your gaze back to watch him.

“I am looking at him.”

“He could have anyone. He knows exactly what he is doing to the ovaries of everyone who has some around him. He walks like his dick needs his own postcode. Yes, he is hot. But the way he just… Carries himself, like the world is at his feet? I’m better than that.”

You could hear August shouting across the street at his firefighters making pushups. A part of you hoped that he would join them, so you had some nice images you could fall asleep to tonight.

“Oh shit.” Beth cursed next to you. August had pulled off his shirt, and joined the work out.

“And you’re saying no to that?” Beth asked. You bit your lip as you watched him, crossing your legs and feeling your core pulsating.

“I am.” You gulped.

A knock minutes after you closed the store made you sigh.

“We’re closed.” You shouted from the back, returning your attention to the task at hand just when you heard another knock.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, dropping the dish cloth on the sink and moving to the front of the store. Beth had left an hour ago, but you still wanted to make sure everything was spotless before you head out. You froze at the door when you saw him standing outside.

August Walker in the flesh.

From the moment he set residence in your little town, rumours about him started flying. Some said he was a criminal still being searched by the CIA, which you thought was ridiculous, but you knew he was released from prison before coming here

He never told you why he had been imprisoned, you weren’t that close, but you two talked a lot. When it was just the two of you, sometimes he would let you have a glimpse of the man behind the facade he built around him.

Yes, he was the cocky, overconfident leader of the firestation, who knew exactly what he had to do to get what he wanted. Yet, when you didn’t give him what he wanted, you seemed to become a challenge for him and those August couldn’t resist.

“What do you want, August?” You asked, cleaning your hands on the apron you were wearing.

“You have some ice cream left for your favourite fireman?” He asked grinning.

“I don’t know. Did you bring Carl?” You shot  back, with a smirk.

“Ouch.” His hand flew to his chest over his heart. You rolled your eyes before you opened the door. He leaned down, kissing your cheek as he walked past you and waited for you to close the door. You watched him as he walked in, wearing only sweatpants and a Tshirt, leaving little to the imagination. He knew how handsome he was, and he made sure to let the outside world know.

“Don’t you have some work to do? Some fires to extinguish?” You asked.

“I did have to actually save a cat from a tree today.” He said.

“You did not.” You laughed.

“Yes I did.” He leaned over the counter as you came back with a cup full of vanilla ice cream.

“I only have vanila left.” You said looking at him.

“Oh sometimes I really like some vanila.” He smirked.

“I might be tiny, but I am going to throw you out if you keep that up.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’d really like to see you try.” He looked at you, and the air seemed to be thicker. You looked into his eyes, your focus on his lips for only a tiny second before you busied yourself, portioning some ice cream for him.

You didn’t want to be another number on August long list of women he slept with. Yet you could feel him looking at you, undressing you with his eyes.

“There you go.” You whispered, pushing the bowl of ice towards him.

“No sprinkles?” He hummed. Looking up you gulped. He somehow got closer to you, his face only inches from yours. His tongue dared out, wetting his lips and you sighed.

“Why won’t you let me kiss you? Just once?” He breathed. You gulped, mesmerized by his oceanblue eyes, when you shook your head, and took a step back.

“Because you are going to break my heart.” You sighed. “You can keep the bowl, close the door behind you, yes?” You asked, not waiting for his answer as you turned around to walk back into the kitchen. You heard him sigh, the door closing behind him.

Bumping your head repeatedly against the wall you sighed.

When you got back to front you saw him walk away. Shaking your head you frowned when you saw that he must have forgotten something on the counter. It was a map of the city. Some buildings were circled red. Shrugging you took the map, intending to give it back to him the next time you saw him.

I consider myself lucky, that's a big deal

Why?

Well, you got the key to my heart

But you ain't gonna need it

I'd rather you open up my body

You felt watched the minute you stepped into the bar. It took almost an hour before you found out why. At the other end of the room sat August. He nodded at you once you caught his eyes, making your sigh internally.

“What’s going on with you?” Beth asked. She had nearly demanded for you to go out together. If you wouldn’t let August fuck you, she needed to find someone else. Her words not yours. Arguing with Beth was a losing game, so you put a dress and some heels on and just went with her.

“He’s here.” You said as you looked at her.

“Who?”

“Mr. “My Ego is as big as my dick””

“Oh and how would you know that?” Beth grinned, waving once to where August was sitting before she looked at you again.

“Because there’s no way he’s not big.” You took a sip from your Gin Tonic.

“So you have given it some thought?”

“My conscience has some very detailed ideas of just how.. gifted he is.” You mumbled.

“You had a sex dream with August?” She said a little too loud, causing some heads to turn towards you.

“Maybe a little louder. I think he didn’t hear it.” You groaned.

“Just… let him fuck you. Sex does work without feelings, you know?” She said encouragingly. Looking at her for a moment, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or you just fed up with fighting against what was there between August and you. Emptying your glass you jumped from your seat.

“How do I look?” You fidget with your dress.

“Perfect.” She winked. “I’ll open up tomorrow. I don’t wanna see you until the afternoon.”

Usually I'm humble

Right now, I don't choose

You can leave with me

Or you could have the blues

“Are you following me, Mr. Walker.” You asked, making sure to sway your hips on your way over to him. He looked good with his buttoned up black shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his elbow.

“I would say yes, but that would make me a creep, wouldn’t it?” He asked, making you chuckle. “No. I was actually supposed to meet up with an old friend, but apparently I was stood up.”

“Oh and we can’t have that, can’t we?” You bit your lip.

“What are you suggesting?” He asked, bringing his bottle of beer to his lips, his eyes not leaving yours.

You leaned down, your hand on his shoulder, your lips against his ear. “Follow me and find out.” You whispered, kissing his cheek before you turned around, not even trying to hide your grin. You weren’t even out the door, when you felt hands on your hips.

“Your place or mine?” He whispered against your ear.

“Which one is closer?” You shuddered, his hand wandering down your body.

“Mine it is.” He growled against your ear, one of his hands on your stomach, pushing you against his chest. You could feel the hard outline of his cock pressed against you, making you moan quietly. You didn’t question that he seemed to know where you lived.

“I can’t wait to have you screaming my name.” He mumbled, nibbling on your ear. You melted against him, your panties becoming uncomfortable damp, as your mind took over, thinking on just how he would feel inside of you.

He talk like this 'cause he can back it up

He got a big ego

Such a huge ego

Turning in his arms your answer died on your lips as his crashed down on yours. It felt like something clicked. Holding onto him, as he deepened the kiss you didn’t care that you were standing on the sidewalk, making out like teenagers.

“Fuck.” He whispered against your lips.You opened your eyes, not even noticing having them shut in the first place. A whistle behind you made you look away from him, biting your lip.

“Your place. Now” You whispered.

“Fuck, August.” You cried out, your hands clutching the soft sheets of his bed.  As soon as the door to his apartment shut behind him he had dragged you to his bed, stripping you off your clothes, before he buried his face between your thighs. He had you coming on his tongue in minutes, not giving you a chance to catch your breath when he pushed two of his fingers into your core, making you moan his name.

You were on the brink of an orgasm again, when he stopped, pulling his fingers out.

Panting you looked up at him.

“You gonna cum on my cock the next time.” He growled. Slowly pushing yourself up, you kneeled on his bed. He was still fully dressed. You helped him with the buttons of his shirt, your lips kissing up his chest with every bit of skin underneath, until you pushed it off his broad chest. There were scars on his chest. You would ask about them some other time.

His hands worked on the fly of his pants, before he pushed it down, revealing what must have been the biggest cock you had ever seen. That he was going commando wasn’t a big surprise to you. Biting your lip you reached for it, your hand barely closing around it, pumping it slowly.

“Fuck.” He hissed, throwing his head back.

“That’s gonna be one tight fit.” You joked, wondering how he would fit.

“Oh sweetheart. I’m gonna be gentle.” He breathed, kissing you quickly. “At least the first time.”

“So there will be a next time?” You asked, crocking your eyebrow. You rubbed your thumb over his tip, spreading the precum, before you brought your thumb to your lips, tasting the salty essence.

“I’m never gonna let you leave these walls.”

Pushing you down so you were laying on your back his body covered yours as he kissed you deeply. Your hands wandered up his back, disappearing in his hair. You gasped, as you felt his cock at your inner thigh.

“Fuck me, August.” You groaned against his lips. Desperate for him to fill you. He reached for this bedside table, opening the first drawer. He brought the foil package up to his lips, ripping it open. You felt yourself shivering beneath him as he rolled the condom over his cock. The tip teasing your entrance.

“I have waited for this…” He whispered, slowly pushing in.

“Jesus….” You moaned, feeling him go deeper. “Oh he can’t help you now, Sweetheart.” August grinned, biting his lip. He was still pushing in, and it felt so good.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned, stopping when he fully nestled inside your core.

“Move.” You whimpered.

“Sure?” He pressed.

“Yes. Fuck me.” You sighed, one of your hands on his ass, urging him to move. He bottomed out, thrusting back in, making you cry out.

“Yes…” You groaned. He began to move faster, pushing himself up, so he was kneeling between your legs, watching you.

“Better than I imagined.” He groaned. Bringing one of his hands down he began to rub your clit.

“Harder. Please, fuck me harder.” You gasped, your whole skin on fire as he brought you closer to the edge. You reached a hand over your head, grabbing the headboard as he pumped into you harder.

“So fucking perfect.” He growled. His other hand pinched your nipple, making you jump and cry at the same time.

“You gonna cum for me? Cum all over my hard cock?” He asked. He rubbed quick circles over your clit, not waiting for your answer, as you felt yourself cuming again, your legs shaking, warmth floating through your body.

“Yes. Just like that. Fuck.” He fucked you through your orgasm, making it last until he pulled out, pulling out the condom and shot his cum all over your stomach.

“Fuck…” He groaned, pumping his cock. You waited until he opened his eyes, before you swooped one finger, in his cum, making a show out of licking it from your finger.

“Jesus…” He groaned. You grinned.

“Oh he can’t help you now, sweetheart.” You teased, your laugh turning into a moan when he leaned down and kissed you senseless.

Against all odds, and everything you thought of him, it wasn’t just a one time thing. August and you were inseparable, much to the distraught of everyone around you. Beth caught the two of you fucking in the bathroom of your ice cream parlor once, and teased you endlessly about it.

There was still so much you had to learn about him. He never talked about his past. He once said he was ashamed of it, yet somehow you felt like there was something dark about him, the more time you spent with him. You couldn’t point out what, so you never said something. He would talk to you when he was ready.

You on the other hand were an open book to him. Not that there was much to know in the first place. And you caught yourself staying over his place more and more. Missing his presence in your house. Somehow he wasn’t a big fan of your place.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” You began, hoping on the kitchen counter next to where he was preparing some dinner. He looked at you.

“Why are there pictures of building all around your apartment?” You asked. You’ve been asking yourself this question for a while now. Two of the buildings you saw on pictures in his office had been burned down in the last weeks. There seemed to be a fire raiser on the loose since the beginning of the years.

“We’re updating the fire security on a couple of buildings in the city…” He answered.

“Do you think they will catch the guy?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” He sighed, before you felt his hand on your thigh, sneaking under your bathrobe.

“And what are you up to, Mr. Walker?” You grinned, the many questions you still had forgotten.

“I think I want a taste of dessert first.” He whispered, before he parted your legs and got on his knees.

It was about 6 months of you two dating when he asked you to move in with him. You had laughed, but stopped immediately when you saw the serious look on his face.

“Oh you were serious.” You said.

“Of course I am.”

“But August…” You sighed, walking over to where he was sitting at a table in your little cafe. You put your hand on his shoulder, sitting down on his lap. You thought he smelled like fuel, but you didn’t question it.

“My house is much bigger than your place. And we both only have been dating for a half year. Let’s give it a bit more time.” You said, kissing him softly. He sighed against your lips, his arms pulling your closer.

“Okay.” He whispered back.

Yet when he came back from a job a couple days later, a frown on his face, something felt off.

“What happened?”

“It’s your house.” He sighed, walking over to you.

“What about my house?” You asked, now frowning yourself.

“Someone burned it down. We tried everything but we were too late. It burned down completely.” He said. All colors left your face.

“What?” You croaked.

“I really tried. We really tried. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.” He sighed. You could feel the tears running down your face, sobbing when his arms put you against his body. He still smelled of smoke.

“But… All my stuff… Oh god… Where am I gonna live?” You asked against his shirt.

“Stuff you can replace. And… I already asked you if you wanted to move in.”

“But...” You sniffed.

“We can talk it out later. Now you need a place to stay..” He said, kissing your hair.

“You’re serious?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course. Move in with me while you figure this out.” He said softly.

What other choice did you have really?

“Okay.” You nodded.

Later that night when you were sound asleep in August arms you didn’t see his smile. His whispered words of love as he looked down at you. You didn’t know that it was him who burned down your house. Or all the houses in the city. And you never would. Because August Walker finally got what he wanted. You.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Poison: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"What is food to one is to others bitter poison." - Lucretius

Cases involving children are never your strong suit. The last one with Billie Copeland was just so hard, you’re not sure if you can be involved in another one--that is until you learned what this case is really all about. Yes, there is a child involved, but the bigger picture has a much larger scale than children.

You have to remind yourself that you need to focus on the case and not on Spencer. It shouldn’t even be a hard thing to do, but something happened between you two when you took him to the bookstore right next to your apartment. After checking out a couple of books, and after Spencer had read virtually all of them, you decided it was kind of late and that you needed to get home. The store was closing very soon anyway, so Spencer opted to walk you home.

When you got to your door, he decided to give you a kiss on your cheek, but you moved your head at the last minute. He accidentally got the corner of your mouth, and that messed up his whole thing. Based on his reaction to your mouths almost touching, you know he can’t be that interested in you. If he were, then he would have just kissed you right there and then. Instead, he stuttered a goodbye and left.

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. Does he like you? If so, then why won’t he just kiss you? If he doesn’t, then why does he agree to go on these dates with you. Whenever you two go out, you clearly state that this is a date, and he doesn’t say anything that dismisses that idea. Sometimes, you just wish you knew what was going on inside that big brain of his so you can dejumble it and tell him what the fuck is going on. You’d do it now, but you have a case that needs your full attention.

Apparently, a man and his son were driving down the road one night when the father pulled to the side of the road and got out. He walked into the woods, the son followed after him, and the father beat him almost to death. The son is in the hospital undergoing critical care while the father is in the psych ward. You’re not sure how it happened or why, but you know that it did. Hotch and Gideon got hold of the interrogation video sent over by the New Jersey Police Department.

Detective Hanover is the person who is going to be in charge and is also the person who you will be working with the entire time you’re in Jersey.

“State trooper took this before the paramedics showed up,” the detective says and shows Jack Fisher, the father of Eric Fisher, a picture of his unconscious body. “He's unconscious and has four broken bones. He's gonna be in the hospital for a month.”

“I didn't hurt my son,” Jack sighs.

“Do you remember removing the tire iron from the trunk?”

What, he used a tire iron? You gasp softly and put your hand to your mouth as you continue to watch.

“No! No!”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“I picked Eric up from school on Friday, for the weekend. Who would do this?” he cries softly.

Hotch ends the video there and addresses the entire briefing room.

“This happened two days ago in Beechwood, New Jersey. Mr. Fisher had ingested LSD one afternoon and didn't come down until eighteen hours later.”

“The hospital reported six other patients who ingested LSD in the last twenty-four hours. The hospital called the CDC, then the CDC called us,” JJ finishes.

“So, a bunch of people got spiked. What makes it a BAU case?” Derek wonders.

“They each received ten to twenty times the normal dose.”

“That’s enough to kill a small child,” Spencer informs.

“Or cause a grown man to try and kill him with a tire iron apparently,” you sigh.

“Of the seven victims, there was one death and one coma. This is from the hospital's security footage the same night Fisher lost it,” JJ explains and uses the remote to put a different video on the screen.

It’s of the hospital that is in complete chaos. People are shouting, pushing, yelling, and apparently, having seizures. One man is on a stretcher, and he’s clearly on something. The doctors around him try to push past the madness of people to get him to a room while the nurses have their hands full of scared and angry patients. This wasn’t a spike or an overdose…

“These people didn’t get spiked. They were poisoned,” you reveal.

“Of the seven victims, Gail Norman was the only death. She was seventy-eight. She ran out into the middle of the road, and she was hit by a car. She was DOA,” JJ reveals on the plane ride over to New Jersey.

You’re sitting next to Spencer in one of the seats that are super cramped so that they can fit four of them in on either side of a small table. You’re sitting by the window, so essentially, Spencer is blocking you in. He’s not a big person, but because you have romantic feelings for him, it feels like a fucking trap.

“The other potentially fatal case is nine-year-old Brittany Canon. She fell out of a treehouse and fractured her skull. She's in a coma, but the doctors don't know if she's going to come out of it,” Hotch says.

“How do you wanna handle the press?” Gideon asks the liaison.

“We still don't know how these people even got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics. It'll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet.”

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Derek wonders.

“None of them remembers anything about the day it happened,” you say and gesture, but your hand brushes up against Spencer’s leg.

You blush and mutter an apology, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He looks at you and blushes as well, but he is better at hiding it than you are.

“These people were so messed up; it's made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victim's steps.”

“So, we need to go on precedent. We know there are four types of poisoners who target multiple victims,” Gideon starts.

“There's the true believer--the political terrorist/religious cult. There's the extortionist--the product tamperer that holds the business hostage in exchange for money. The prankster--it’s usually a younger offender who doesn't mean any harm, and it's basically just a big practical joke to them. Then we have the avenger--someone with a personal vendetta who chooses poison as their weapon,” you explain the different types of offenders.

“We need to find out as quickly as possible which type he is. Because with the exception of the prankster, all these types commonly test their poison on a small scale before appearing at a larger attack.”

“Then, let's hope this one was just a prank,” Derek scoffs.

"I suggest we split up the victims and see if there's a pattern to the victimology,” Gideon suggests.

“Most of them are still in the hospital. I'll call local PD to meet us there,” Hotch confirms.

“I'll check the lab reports. Maybe there's a clue to the unsub's motive in the specific nature of the poison he used,” Spencer calls dibs.

“I can't imagine anybody could want this to happen.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll head to the hospital with you. The kid may not be able to tell the doctor anything, but I certainly can. I’ll be able to see what really happened if his mother allows it.”

“Good,” Gideon nods once. “We need all the answers we can get.”

The hospital is buzzing with panic, fear, sadness, and grief. Many people are dying in this hospital, and to someone like you, you’re not sure you can be here for much longer. Hotch, Gideon, and the rest of the team don’t really understand how this all affects you. Normal people like the ones on your team see this hospital for what it is. They see people grieving and people crying, but they allow themselves to be separated from their emotions. They can walk into a loud crowd and tune out all the conversations and emotions without even thinking about it.

Not you. You’re completely different.

You walk into a crowd, and you’re overwhelmed by not only the physical sensation of people all around you, but your mind is also crowded. Your mind goes into overdrive as it inspects each person to make sure they are not a threat. To make sure that they are who they say they are. A normal person can see a kid walking down the street and not know they are kidnapped while you are able to determine that.

You walk into this hospital, and every single emotion of every single nurse, doctor, patient, and family member immediately go to your shoulders. Someone can be dying on the very top floor, and you’d feel how sad their family members are as they watch their beloved ones slip away. There could be someone in the next room receiving bad news, and it’ll be like you’re receiving the same news. It’s not fun living with your abilities, and you’ve caught yourself wishing it would all just end. However, you think about everyone you’ve saved, and it somehow all makes it okay.

“Detective Hanover, Beechwood PD,” the detective that was on the surveillance tape introduces himself to you, Gideon, and Hotch.

“Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Gideon and Agent Y/L/N.”

“Thanks for coming down on such short notice. The doctor said he may have permanent brain damage. I've never seen anything like this,” he sighs and looks at Eric, the little boy who was beaten by his own father.

“Well, let's hope we can help him.”

“Have you had a chance to review the victim's files?”

“We're especially interested in talking to the boy's father,” Gideon says.

“We'd like to get a sense of why he turned violent while the lab analyzes the specific nature of the LSD he was dosed with. we'd like to get our own sense: was it the drug itself or was there something else going on? Hopefully, that can give us a little bit of a window into the motive of the offender,” Hotch explains.

“He's in the psych ward.”

“Well, we'll keep it short,” Gideon replies.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet up with you two. I’m going to talk to the mother,” you offer, and Hotch just nods.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@averyhotchner @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @fan-girl-97 @paulaern @inkstainedwritergirl @estrela-rogers @abitchforjay @kwbaby24 @redsalv20 @joonie-centric @spencerreid-mgg @sixpencespencee @boygenius-reid @reidemandweep @prophecyflame @happynekochan1​

[ragingbookdragon]

An Unexpected Friendship, But A Friendship Nonetheless

A Jason Todd and Harley Quinn One-Shot (Non-Reader Insert)

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: So I wrote this for @aurailia or @nitebirdie because she drew that wonderful Jason picture for me which you can find right here! I hope you like this, Jess! Love you! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Jason expected a lot of things.

1. Getting yelled at by Bruce for shooting serial murderers and rapists? Check.

2. Getting yelled at by Damian for calling him short? Check.

3. Getting yelled at by Tim for spray painting a billboard of him with penises? Check.

4. Getting yelled at by Dick for picking on his younger brothers? Check.

So really, it was getting yelled at by his family that he expected the most, but all things considered about his life, his expectations weren’t pretty high. He knew he was going to get hurt on patrol, knew was going to spend the rest of his life dealing with the chronic pain and learning how to manage it.

But the one thing Jason never expected, was to end up being friends with Harley Quinn.

And honest to God, the whole friendship only started because the psychiatrist they both went to accidentally scheduled them at the same time. A screw up. A monumental screw up. But it did lead to a revolutionary session where Jason and Harley spent most of their time badgering each other about their habits while the woman merely watched on and scribbled furiously at her notepad.

When they both left, they were in such a heated argument about which way would be better to deal with the Joker. Jason suggested a bullet in the head and Harley suggested cutting off his arms and legs. An excellent suggestion, he had to admit, but nothing would satisfy him more than killing the pasty bastard, and she knew that too.

Surprisingly, when Harley got to her bus stop, she grabbed the front collar of his shirt to keep him in place while she typed her number in his phone. Of course, Jason wasn’t sure what to be more concerned about: the fact that she’d lifted his phone without him knowing, or that she was putting her number in it and telling him to call her when he needed someone to talk to.

He’d responded that he didn’t need another shrink in his head.

She’d given him a pitied look and said it wasn’t for that, but for a friend.

And Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but three weeks after, he was dialing her number at two A.M. just to hear someone’s voice over the deafening silence in his apartment.

They talked for hours about anything and everything. Cars, weapons, games, favorite childhood memories, everything they could think of. And by the time they’d finally talked until their tongues were numb, the sun had started peeking above the buildings in the distance.

He apologized for keeping her all night.

Harley laughed and asked to hang out on patrol come Friday night then hung up.

Jason hadn’t even told her who he was, but low and behold she was doing cartwheels on the roof of the building he was looking out on that night. And it should’ve annoyed him but hell, he’d grown up with Dick—gymnastics was something he was used to being around.

Halfway through their stakeout, she was perched on the side of the ledge, staring at the side of his head, and it shouldn’t’ve unnerved him like it did, but there was something about her bright blue eyes drilling into his brain that made his skin crawl—and not in the good way.

Will you stop boring holes in me, Quinn? He’d grunted. Pay attention.

Why? She’d retorted. Aren’t you tired of doing this? Don’t you wanna go do something fun?

Stopping drug dealers is good for Gotham.

I’m not talking about good for Gotham, Jason. I’m talking about for you.

Harley hauled him up and tugged him along, him barely resisting because good God she was relentless and headstrong when she put her mind to something. So, he let her. And she dragged him to the Bat-Burger down the block and shoved a roll of money towards the cashier, ordering one of everything on the menu.

And Jason found it really odd when he was balancing two trays in his hands while Harley carried the milkshakes over to the booth in the corner where they huddled in and started eating.

She held up a packet in between her fingers. Want some Jokerized seasoning?

He blinked at her and gently took it, sprinkling the red, white, and green flakes over his fries. And he wasn’t offended when she reached over and took one, popping it in her mouth.

It’s terrible to say it, but God I love this shit. She laughed and Jason’s jaw dropped.

I know! He agreed with a grin. I can’t help it! It’s so good!

Her eyes had narrowed at that. You should smile more, Jason. You look normal when you do.

Normal? He repeated.

You look happy. And that’s what you should strive for. She finalized and took the Robin Nuggets from his tray, grinning when he let out a noise of complaint.

When they could finally move after consuming so much food, she tugged him along to the department store that had closed hours before and while Jason wasn’t one to ever care about breaking and entering, he did have a problem with property that wasn’t a center for criminal activity.

Don’t be a baby. She griped and slipped in though one of the vents and Jason merely stared at the opening before he heard her yell to him. Get a move on! We have stuff to do!

Begrudgingly, he squeezed himself into the way too small vent and shimmied after her.

And Harley Quinn must’ve been planning this for a while because when his feet finally hit the floor, he watched as she started disabling security cameras and alarms in the entire building before spinning around and grinning at him.

Mall’s ours. Let’s get it. And she was off.

Bruce was not going to be happy about this but watching her swing that electrified bat at the glass windows, watching them shatter into millions of shards stirred up something devious in him and Harley was cackling when he broke a window with an armored elbow and yanked out the mannequin, tugging the black leather jacket off before shrugging it on.

He posed with his shoulders squared and strong and she clapped her hands. Looks good! Wanna go hit one of the jewelry stores and find some silver earrings to go with it?

Jason nodded and somehow Harley ended up piggybacking on him, giggling profusely when he started belting out Queen at the top of his lungs; she even joined when they got to the operatics.

And somehow, he let her convince him to go and help her raid the major makeup store in the mall. Harley managed to fill three backpacks full of lipsticks, foundations, eye-shadows, and a whole lotta other shit that Jason had no idea what they were for.

How much money do you think all that is? He inquired and she shrugged.

Probably a grand? Maybe two if I’m being honest. This place is a money-sucking-makeup-hog and I’ll be damned if I’m paying a hundred bucks for one set of lipstick and eyeliner.

She turned to him. Anywhere you wanna go? There’s a map out there if you wanna go look.

Jason nodded and walked out of the store while she was busy filling whatever belt pocket wasn’t empty.

After a few minutes, he heard, Found anywhere?

He pointed silently at one of the stores on the brightened map and she squinted, looking it over.

You wanna go there?

Wouldn’t’ve suggested it if I didn’t.

She shrugged and piggybacked him again. Lead the way, Jason.

He hated that the elevators had been out, and while he hadn’t broken a sweat carrying Harley up three flights of immovable stairs, his knees and his back were killing him when they finally got to the store.

He started wandering inside but stopped when she tossed him a duffel bag.

Fill it up with everything you want.

Jason tried to smile but could only manage a grimace as he stepped in and started going up and down the aisles. He wasn’t too picky with his choosing. Books that looked like they’d help manage his pain he shoved in the duffel bag. An electric pulsing gel pad went in too followed by a vibrating roller he could stretch his muscles on.

He was flipping through a book geared towards mindful chronic pain management when he felt her slide next to him.

Finding everything alright?

Mostly…this one is all about conditioning the mind to work with the pain.

Sounds useful. Meditation and mindfulness have been known to work. It’s really all about placebo-ing your mind into it. She looked at him. Jason, do you ever think about going to a physical therapist?

He scoffed. I already go see a shrink. Why would I go see another doctor?

Because your mind is one thing, and your body is another. Her hand was cool when she placed it on his arm. Jason, if you’re in pain, there are people who can help you.

He really wanted to be snarky but all he could do was glare at her. And what about you? Do you go see a doctor for all the things he did to you too?

Harley gazed at him for a long time before answering him firmly. I will if you do. Or… she started, then trailed off and picked up a few books on physical therapy. You can come to the apartment that Ivy and I live in and we can do it together.

And Jason blinked in shock because he’d never met a person who would agree to do something for themselves if he did something for himself, an agreement for dual help.

You’d really do that for me? For you too?

Harley smiled, big and pearly white, red lipstick a bit smeared in the corner from their meal earlier.

We’re both screwed up cause of what he did, Jason. But here’s where we’re different from everyone else.She linked her arm with his, leaned close and murmured. We’re not going to stew in it while healing is in our futures.

You know we’ll never be one hundred percent fixed, right?

It’s not about fixing, Jason. It’s about healing. Healing doesn’t mean you’re fixed. Memories, pain, it’ll always be there and no amount of management for pain or therapy is going to fix that.

She stared up at him. But it will remind you that you’re still you. Even if there’s a few broken pieces here and there. And no one can take that from you. Not even him.

Jason’s lungs were too tight to form words and his eyes stung horribly but he managed to swallow the lump enough to choke out his reply. You’re alright, Harley.

Smiling, she pressed her cheek into his bicep. Call me Harleen, Jason.

Not Harley?

No, not Harley. I only let the ones I care about call me Harleen.

Does this mean we’re friends then?

Oh, this absolutely means we’re friends now. Best friends, in fact. She tugged at his arm. And I think there’s a Wayne Enterprises outlet somewhere in here and I think we should leave Brucie boy a message.

Jason laughed and wiped his eyes, hurrying after her. Can we spray paint dicks everywhere?

Only if I can spray paint boobs.

You’ve got yourself a deal, Harleen.

Jason expected a lot in his life. To be yelled at by his family for being a pain-in-the-ass son and brother, to be injured on the job, to see a therapist every Tuesday and Thursday, to call his family every night to tell them he loved them.

But the one thing he never expected, was to find one of the greatest friends he’d ever had in a woman he had once been on opposite sides with.

He also didn’t expect Batman to come through the window of the outlet in the middle of their spray painting but that’s another story for another time.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Post-Moments

a ‘momentary’ follow-up ... of sorts ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins Chapter 8: End of the Road (post-Redux/Redux 2) Chapter 9: Post-Moments

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

First thing back was her sense of smell. It took nearly a week but suddenly, as she walked, unannounced but never unwelcome into his apartment, she stopped, the look of surprise on her face made him immediately laugh, then tilt his head, “you shouldn’t be that surprised to see me here. It’s my apartment.”

Ignoring his statement, she quick-stepped his way, burying her face first in his shirt, then, pulling him to her level, into his neck, sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of some erstwhile criminal with a bag of treats. So taken aback by the invasion, he simply stood there, letting her take several deep inhales before finally reaching for her shoulders, “you keep breathing like that and you’ll pass out.”

Twisting her head, she gave him a quick kiss, then dropped back flat-footed, forcing him to once again look down at her while she looked up, “I haven’t been able to smell you since day 12 of ‘IT’ so I’m making up for lost time.”

She’d told him, finally, after he’d repeatedly offered her tempting foods to try to coax some weight back on her bony frame, that she hadn’t been able to smell anything, and therefore, taste anything, for awhile but she’d never stated the exact day until now and standing there, already changed into jeans and a t-shirt, an epiphany of sorts smacked him hard upside the head, “what? Day 12?” Ignorant idiocy settling in, “Shit. You sat through a steak, my famous garlic mushrooms, six tubs of ice cream, and all those M&Ms I kept feeding you and you couldn’t taste a thing? The amount of money I could have saved during those months I tempted you with anything I could find while, really, it all tasted like sawdust.” Feigning irritation but failing miserably as he scooted closer, kissing her forehead, “what a crock of shit.”

“I got …” being generous for his sake, “hints of flavor.”

“Fuck, woman, we’re having a steak and ice cream orgy tonight. I’m going shopping.”

She stopped his movements with hands on arms, “hey, let me go taste something and see if that came back as well before you waste all your money on cow foods.”

Following her to his kitchen, “both things really do involve cows. That’s rather unnerving, actually.”

With a grin, she found a cookie, then, tasting it, she shook her head, “I’d save the cow for another day.”

Mulder, wondering if his earlier suggestion of Mexican for dinner was still appropriate, he decided ‘no’, then, “well, how about we taking a smelling tour of DC and eat toast for dinner?”

He got a well-deserved backhand to his chest, “we are eating at Papadapoulous’ House of Salsa tonight because you’ve been talking about that place ad nauseum all week. Get your coat.” When he didn’t move, she nodded, giving him a smile, “we can do the smelling tour after, okay?”

“Deal.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Taste came back ten days later. Just as Mulder came out of her bathroom, about to announce that no one should go in there for 35 to 45 minutes, Scully took a sip of his ice tea and spit it right back out, soaking her shirt and the floor in front of her. Mulder forgot his comment and flew over to her, socks sliding on the polished wood floor, “what happened?”

Feeling like a complete and utter moron, she first retrieved a towel to mop both herself and the floor, then looked at her partner, “I stole some of your ice tea and I could taste it and it scared me, if you can believe it. I wasn’t expecting anything and suddenly there was something and my first reaction,” beginning to laugh at the whole situation, “I spit it out. I didn’t even think to swallow it.”

Mulder shook his head, “are you sure we’re still talking about ice tea and not dirty things?”

He could almost hear her brain suddenly shift gears, brakes squeaking, mind two steps behind, “what?”

It was his turn to laugh, pulling her into a hug, soaking wet shirt and all, “I’ll give you two minutes to think about it, then I’ll explain if necessary.”

It took almost four seconds before, “I’ve never been a spitter, Mulder.”

That worked entirely too well for him and dismissing all but his hairy-moled, make-up caked fourth-grade teacher from his mind, he held her another minute then moved back, calmed down again, “you should go change your shirt.”

“No wet t-shirt comments?” Her sassy retort told him both that she knew what her swallowing comment had done to him and what the wet t-shirt mention would. She was evil. She knew it. He knew it. He loved it.

“Just go change. Tonight, we shop for steak.”

Loving him to pieces, she reached for his elbow, playing with the sharp bent end, “so, I know we just had Mexican a few days back but now that I can taste things, I desperately want salsa and a Margarita.”

“Large?”

“The biggest one they fucking sell, pardon my French.”

Their kiss was much longer this time, Scully’s fingers firmly twirled in his shirt by the time they were done, Mulder’s hands curled around her ass, “then can I make you mushrooms this weekend?”

“Pounds of them. Extra garlic and butter,” suddenly swallowing, “yeah, we need to go eat.”

“Lead the way.”

&&&&&&&&&&

His arrival at her house that Friday night with grocery bags was, oddly, the first time her body reacted to him. They’d been making out, to use the juvenile-y appropriate term, but nothing more, Scully still recovering, Mulder still nervous about 12000 things between and surrounding them both.

But seeing him standing there, in her door, goofy smile and slipping bottle of wine in hand, she felt something. It was a fast twinge but it was familiar but surprising and her widening eyes told him something but he wasn’t sure what and he didn’t ask.

Had he asked, he may have gotten an answer that would have necessitated bringing fourth-grade teacher back … but instead, he walked in, setting bags on counter before turning, “hungry?”

For the first time in months, she appreciated the underlying double-meaning he hadn’t intended, “yes. Very much so. How long do the mushrooms take to cook?”

“At least a few hours.” Pulling things from bags, “but I bought appetizers and,” holding up several National Enquirers, “reading material. Let’s see if we can find a case somewhere in the tropics. I could use a ‘vacation’.”

Only Mulder.

Mushrooms cleaned and slow-cooking, they nibbled their way through eight different kinds of cheeses, each one a symphony to Scully’s previously deadened tongue. She may have let slip a ‘hhhmmm’ that could have possibly been interpreted as a moan by one Fox Mulder but he didn’t comment and she kept doing it.

He was glad he wore the looser jeans tonight.

They chuckled and argued in tandem while thumbing through the papers Mulder brought: telling stories, tossing theories, debunking nonsense. Finishing the first bottle of wine slowly, Mulder offered a second but Scully shook her head, “save it for dinner.”

Agreeing, he moved to stir the crockpot, then returned, towel over his shoulder, licking his fingers from the buttery sample he’d eaten in the kitchen, “They’re getting there.”

Second twinge, this one longer, had her lower abdomen contracting in a tickling giggle kind of way. The shiver up her spine caused her to visibly vibrate for a moment but Mulder, luckily or unluckily, not noticing, sat back down, returning to the ‘Owl that carried off a family of four in their camper van’ story on page 26.

What the hell.

Then again, he was licking his fingers.

The third zing when she returned to this thought was not as strong as the second but made her smile nonetheless, which Mulder actually did notice, “what?”

She pinked-up instantly, having forgotten the heat of a blush across her skin, and hands to cheeks suddenly, “just … a little too much wine.”

He moved his hand to her pulled up knee, squeezing it, “we don’t have to open the second one. It’ll keep.”

“No. No. I, uh, I, … I’m fine. I … I’m fine.”

Gibbering idiot more like it but whatever.

&&&&&&&&&&

If sex were food, Scully decided, it would be that steak. Mulder went for broke, filet and strip, buttery smooth, medium rare, warm, pink, juicy, perfect blend of garlic and butter, rosemary and pepper. Between the taste; the sight of Mulder across the table; the smell of wine and smoke; the look of him, messy-haired and smiling, relaxed three feet from her; the feel of impending summer breezes through the window, she tipped into sensory overload, eyes shutting as she tried to bring herself back to some kind of alignment.

Then, eyes still closed, she heard his voice, “hey, you. Ya’llright?”

The tinging vibration hit her full-force, arm hair standing on end, neck flushing, nipples tightening, a thousand images of him and her, himandher, flashing through her mind, driving the feeling shooting from stomach to clit to soul in speed of light, circuitous fashion, “yeah. Yeah. Just enjoying.”

Her voice was all over the damn map with those four words and Mulder, knowing her better than he knew himself, tilted his head, finally understanding exactly what was happening, “I can see that.”

Quaking quieting somewhat, she shifted in her chair, hoping to relieve some of the pressure she was feeling, pressing down on the cushion like she was seventeen and at the movie theater with her boyfriend, begging silently for him to touch her and simultaneously thinking about touching herself when she got home. Not able to look him in the eye, however, she cut another piece of her steak, praying she wouldn’t choke.

Shifting himself as well, watching her hips search for a good spot against the chair, he kept any comment to himself. He hadn’t pushed anything these last weeks, knowing she was recovering, finding herself again, situating ‘us’ and ‘we’ into a previously accepted solitary status quo of ‘I’ and ‘me’.

But, fuck, he had been tempted and tonight, seeing her like this, pushed his resolve to the breaking point. If she made one more sound in her throat, he truly believed he’d explode under the table, a quiet yet uncontrollable manifestation of four years and infinite wishes. “More wine?”

“Yes, please.”

She fought herself the rest of the meal, making stilted, dinner time conversation that they both saw through, both breathed through, both suffered through.

Dish cleanup and pajama changing quieted her down, her mind focused on other things for a little while but once they’d sat down on the couch, lights off, movie in, ice cream waiting in the freezer for later, she became acutely aware of his proximity to her. He’d offered her half the afghan, shifted the coffee table a little closer for her feet to rest on if she wanted, kissed the top of her head just as the opening credits began. She, in turn, had to keep reminding herself how to breathe evenly.

Sensory overload was kicking in again, the smell of him, his radiating heat, his voice as he contributed oft-placed comments on police procedurals happening on the TV. Her hand found its way to his thigh, fingers playing with the inside seam of his cut-off sweats. His own landed on her flannel pants, roughly same distance between allowable knee and forbidden juncture.

Her voice surprised her, “Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your stance on third base?”

Slowly, he found the remote and paused before swinging his gaze in her direction, “Yankees or something else?”

Her inhale shuddered, “not the Yankees.”

His hand immediately slid from allowable to not-so-forbidden now, caught between viced thighs, “this third base?”

Confession tumbled from her lips, “I haven’t done anything or felt anything, really, in months and suddenly you walked in today with grocery bags and that stupid grin of yours and you smell fantastic and something kicked in and,” wiggling out of necessity to attempt to … whatever …, “I don’t recall the last time I was this …”

Mulder finished her sentence with a grin, “horny?”

“Yes!”

Somehow, he lifted her bodily onto his lap, his chest to her back, hand sliding effortlessly down the front of her pajamas, finding the sweet spot before she had time to so much as offer the feeble word of ‘bed’.

Then she didn’t care.

At all.

Focusing mainly on his fingers, warm, quick, unexperienced but willing to learn. Instead of following, she led, whispering once to move a little to the left, whispering again to go harder, arching her back as she came in under a minute, body shuddering, twitching, before settling back down.

Over her shoulder, his husky voice sounded in her ear, “can I be next?”

It took all of nine seconds to stand up, drop her clothes to the floor, order him to lift up, pull his pants off, then climb on, already wet, already slick, already taking him inside with a slip and a slide.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Her giggles made him smile, her rosy cheeks made him happy, her warm skin within lips reach made him dizzy but above all else, her panting breath against his neck made him ecstatic, knowing she was alive and well and would be for the foreseeable future. When she finally calmed down, knees digging into the couch springs, skin glued to skin, she pulled herself back, sweat running down Mulder’s chest where they had been pressed together moments earlier, “I had planned for that to be a little … less …” waving her hands around in wordless definition, “that.”

“Was perfect to me.”

Kissing him lightly, then resting forehead to his, “one day, this will all be organized and we’ll make it to the bedroom.”

Hands back on her bare ass, “highly doubt that but it’s nice to have a plan.”

Sitting back, she reached out to him, lightly running her fingers along his hairline, feather-touch making his eyes shut, “I think we should do that again later.”

About to ask why not now, he had an epiphany of sorts and looking at her, square and jokingly judging, “you want ice cream, don’t you?”

This time, her nose scrunched up when she smiled, nodding with enthusiasm, “kind of. But I promise, you’ll always beat out ice cream after today … mostly.”

Pulling her down for a kiss, he then squeezed her thighs to nudge her off him, “come on, woman. Let’s go clean up so we can have dessert.”

“I love you, Mulder.”

“You just love my Rocky Road.”

“That, too.”

[chikaiomoi]

take the fire from within, you won’t break me

characters: LOV, hawks (eventual dabi x hawks x female reader)

title: ‘take the fire from within, you won’t break me’ (lyrics from ‘tourniquet’ by breaking benjamin) | part one

words: 5k

warnings: dark themes, drug mention, guns, knives, gangs, shigaraki being... shigaraki, cops, suggestive themes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

synopsis:

it’s the end of the university semester and you’ve returned home for a break, excited to see your loving parents and your adorable younger sister, himiko. however, something is off with your sister. you follow her, only to be dragged into the world of underground criminals and gangs.

[quirkless au/modern au]

Fresh blossom and cinnamon — the scent of home. It greets you as you walk inside, returning to your family home after weeks away at university. Of course, it’s not the only thing that greets you.

“Welcome home, onee-san!” The voice of your younger sister chimes. Himiko bounds down the stairs, skipping every other step as if falling down was simply impossible. She jumps on you, throwing her arms around your tired form to embrace before you have a chance to drop your heavy belongings. She mewls with excitement, kicking her legs in the air as she hangs from your shoulders before finally letting go. 

She looks the same as she had the last time you were home - blonde hair in messy buns on either side of her head. Still in her high school uniform, she must only have returned home recently.

You grin at her and pat her head whilst dropping your bag on the floor, shoulder thanking you for relief from the weight. “Missed me, huh?” you tease as you remove your shoes and slide on the slippers eagerly awaiting your return. 

“Duh,” Himiko scoffs and practically drags you into the living room. She plops down onto the small couch, but so kindly left room for her big sister. “Who else am I meant to annoy when you’re away? Can’t you come home more often?” she whined.

Her golden eyes peer up at you with such a desperation that you’re almost tempted to say yes, but you know it’s pointless; you’ll only disappoint her in the future. Life as a medical student is hard and you’re busy studying so much of the time, as well as working part-time to support yourself. The least you can do is spend as much time as possible with her whilst visiting home.

“I wish,” you sigh and lean back, stretching out your legs, stiff from the train journey. “Why don’t we go to the convenience store, buy some snacks, then come back and have a movie night?” It’s a good suggestion, usually. Although you have different tastes in movies, the two of you always have fun. 

But Himiko sighs. “Can’t tonight — gonna hang out with some friends.”

Friends? Friends?

Himiko has never been good at making friends. As much as you love her, she’s too forward and overwhelming. If she has friends, you can only imagine they’re of a similar calibre to her.

You might have pouted and begged her to stay if the thought of your sister finally having friends didn’t fill your chest with joy. You grin and poke her arm. “Friends, huh? What are their names? Are they from school? What are they like?”

The blonde rolls her eyes at the sudden barrage of questions. “They’re cool, that’s all you need to know.” Those are the only answers you’re getting for now — you’ll press for more later. 

It’s then that your parents come down the stairs and greet you with bright smiles. Only, they’re dressed in fine clothes and your mother has makeup on, which she only ever wears when going somewhere fancy. You pout. “Are you going out too?” 

Your father holds up his palms. “In our defence, you weren’t supposed to come home until tomorrow.” 

Your mother squeezes your cheek as if you were still six years old. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, plenty to choose from.” 

Wonderful. Your first night back and you’re spending it alone. At least you don’t have to cook for yourself. 

Your parents leave before Himiko does, but once they’re gone, she hurries up to her bedroom to change. After sliding your feet out of your slippers, you curl up on the couch and grab your phone to flick through social media. Friends post pictures of their cakes from cafés, or snaps from their evening at karaoke, or even pictures of the evening sky. You could have joined along if you hadn’t come home a day early. 

After half an hour, Himiko skips down the stairs, dressed in casual clothes, hair still as it was before. Dropping her backpack onto the floor by your feet, she goes into the kitchen. “Do you want a drink? I have stuff for tapiru,” she calls. “I’ll make you one before I go — a way to say sorry for abandoning you tonight.” She giggles and your lips curl up into a smile.

“Yes, please!” 

Your legs spin over the edge of the sofa, ready to jump up and join her in the kitchen, but her backpack is slightly open and the ceiling light reflects off something that catches your attention. Glancing up, you make sure she can’t see before you peer into her bag. 

You gasp, hand shooting to your mouth. 

A gun. A silver handgun. It’s not a toy. No, by the weight of it, it’s real. When you push it aside, you see a sheathed knife too. 

Why the fuck did she have these?! 

It had to be these new friends of hers. Yes, Himiko had always been a little crazy and had a bizarre obsession with slasher movies. In this regard, the knife didn’t startle you that much. But the gun? No, no… Himiko hadn’t liked guns, would never use one if given the chance. Not personal enough, she would say.

Your first instinct — out of fear and concern and anger — is to yell at her and ask her why she had dangerous weapons. But a tiny voice in the back of your mind stops you. 

If Himiko finally has friends, your concerns won’t be enough to stop her. Friends are all she has ever wanted; even the pleas of the sister she loved dearly won’t be enough to pull her from that friendship. 

You must be pale when she returns with bubble tea, because she giggles as she hands the cup to you. “You’re not afraid to be alone tonight, are you?”

Forcing a smile to your lips, you shake your head and take the tea. “No, just tired. Thanks, Himicchi.”

The nickname makes a wide grin spread onto her face, revealing the two pointed teeth that always make her stand out from the crowd. Your mother has a similar shape of canines, but you inherited the blunter ones of your father. 

Once you taste the tea and she knows you like it, she scoops up her bag. “See you later, onee-chan!”

Your stomach turns with uncomfort, twisting and clenching. Your little sister… with a gun. 

When she leaves, you watch her from the window, and it takes all of your strength not to follow her.

Fuck that, you don’t have the strength to sit idle. You slip on your shoes, pocket your phone, and follow your sister.

When you were younger, you were always better at hide-and-seek than she was, which might be why you’re able to follow her through the streets without her noticing. If she has noticed, she hasn't said anything or tried to throw you off her trail. 

The building she approaches is concerning – it’s old, abandoned, and derelict – but it’s not that which concerns you the most. It’s the group of men, all your age or older, hanging outside, greeting her as she approaches. Two are smoking, and from the shape of the piece in their fingers, you can’t tell if it’s tobacco or weed. One is sitting on top of a car, counting notes before handing a lump to Himiko. He pats the top of her head before returning to counting bills. 

From the dark doorway, two other men approach. One is tall, easily the oldest of the group, wearing a waistcoat and a tie like a dodgy businessman. The other you can’t make out that well. His raggy blue hair covers most of his features. At their gesture, the others and Himiko go inside.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. 

You ought to run in and shout at them. What do they think they’re doing hanging around a sixteen year old? And what were they paying her for?! You ought to rush in, grab your sister’s hand and drag her out of there.

But doing so might only push her away from you. It could do more harm than good.

So, instead, you go home and wait for the night to be over.

*

Eyes narrow as you glare at the run-down building, which only looks worse in daylight. It’s a Friday and Himiko is at school, giving you the chance to finally approach the scumbags. They’re in there – you watched them saunter in ten minutes ago. 

You’re too concerned with your sister’s safety to think about your own, to consider that they likely have weapons with them, and you storm into the building, burning with fury. Your hands shake and your heart pounds at one million miles an hour, but you don’t care. They need to know just how scummy they are, how disgraceful it is that they’ve roped a teenage girl into whatever gross activities they get up to. You follow the sound of voices and slam open the door. Six heads snap in your direction.

“What the fu–” a blond man starts, but you cut him off.

“How fucking dare you,” you growl, fists clenched at your sides to hide the trembles. “Do you know how old she is?! She’s sixteen, for fuck’s sake! What are grown men doing hanging around a sixteen year old? She’s still in school! Are you fucking perverts or something?! And what are you paying her for, what sort of…”

You trail off when your eyes register the barrel of a gun pointing at your head. 

The blue-haired man, who looks your age up close, holds the handgun, pressing the barrel against your forehead. A sickly grin spreads across his face, chapped lips revealing teeth. “You must be Himiko’s older sister.” He laughs and the sound shakes your bones – it’s dark, it’s unnatural, it’s predatory. Then, the grin drops and his crimson eyes bore into you. 

“Let me lay this out for you,” he says. “None of us have even looked at your sister that way. We’re not that kind of criminal.” His words earn chuckles from the others behind him. “Pretty bold of you to storm in here like a trembling doe. If you know your sister has been hanging out with us, then surely you know how dangerous we are?” As if for emphasis, he releases the safety on the gun.

You swallow the lump blocking your dried-up throat. Your stomach turns, threatening to bring up breakfast. 

“We’re not very nice people,” he continues. “Not very nice people with scary guns are very dangerous. If you say or do the wrong thing, you could end up with a bullet right between those pretty eyes of yours. I should kill you for trespassing, really, but I’m not that cruel.” Another sick laugh escapes him as he lowers the gun. “I can be nice when I want to be. So, I’m going to make you a deal.”

He holsters the gun and grabs you by the shoulders, fingers digging into your flesh. “There’s a job you can do for me. I’m sure you’ll say yes. After all, you don’t want to die, do you? And you certainly won’t want little Himiko doing it.” With a wave of his hand, he gestures another man over. 

One of the smokers steps forward, holding up a tightly sealed package. You’ve seen enough crime shows and documentaries to know what it is – drugs. The dark-haired man smirks at the way your eyes widen, throat bobbing as you try to form words, but your voice fails you. 

“I’ll forgive you if you deliver these,” blue-hair speaks again. You assume he’s the leader, even though he looks the youngest (aside from Himiko). “Take Dabi with you. I don’t want you running off to the police crying and begging for help. We’d know if you did, you see, and we’d make sure you were very, very sorry.”

Sucking in a slow, shaky breath between your lips, you nod. You couldn’t refuse. Refusing means a bullet in the head. Refusing means your sister will have to deliver the drugs instead. Although your body trembles and begs you to run away from it all, you allow Dabi to grab your elbow and drag you out of the building. He opens the door to a black Ford Mustang, decorated with blue flame decals by the wheels. It’s tacky and cringy and under normal circumstances, you would pull a face and comment on it. But not now. 

Now, your life is in danger.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Dabi’s gravelly voice sounds as you both get into the car. “Don’t want you flying through the window if we crash.”

“Are you that bad of a driver?” The comment leaves your mouth before you have time to consider his reaction. The moment you hear the words yourself, however, you flinch and look away.

He doesn’t snap at you, though. He chuckles and ignites the engine. 

“So… Thought you could burst into our hideout and actually frighten us?” he laughs, glancing at you from aside with those piercing blue eyes. “Where do you get that confidence from? I’d love to know.”

Your face heats up, cheeks turning red, and you roll your eyes. “I wasn’t thinking,” you murmur. “I was just mad. All I knew was that my little sister was hanging out with adult men. Do you know how suspicious that is?”

Dabi scoffs. “I get your point, but as the boss said, we’re not like that. I like women, not girls.” The corner of his lips curl upwards. “I like smart women. Independent women. Women who go out there and do what they want to do.” He pauses, then continues. “I like women who secretly enjoy reading manga. I like women who sing in the shower like no one is listening. I like women who come home to their families a day early.”

You narrow your eyes. “Himiko has mentioned me, hasn’t she?”

“Maybe,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes again. “Dick.”

“Thinking about that, huh?”

His words only turn your flush redder. “I’m not interested in men like you.” Even if he is pleasing on the eye, he’s a criminal, certainly not someone you want to take home to your family. He’s the sort of guy you’d fuck one night if confident from alcohol in your system, no the sort of guy you’d go on a date with. 

The rest of the journey is mostly silent, save from the music playing almost inaudibly through the speakers. You don’t recognise any of the songs, and when you ask him who the artist is, he names someone you have never even heard of. Not that you have any intention of listening to it when you return home. 

Eventually, the car stops by an empty alleyway, relatively dark considering how bright the sun is. “Here we go,” he said, unclipping his seatbelt. He passes the package to you and smiles. “Don’t be long. I’ll be here if something goes…” his voice trails off when he peers out of the window and down into the alley.

You shrug it off, grab the package, unbuckle your seatbelt, and open the car door.

Dabi grabs your wrist. “No, no, stay here. I know that guy.”

A brow on your forehead raises. “So? Let me go, I need to do this jo--”

“No, you’re not. I went to high school with him, he’s not the kind of guy to want drugs.” 

You sigh. “Maybe he’s changed since high school. Himiko never used to be the kind of girl to join a gang, but here she is. I never used to be the kind of girl who would sing in front of others, but now I go to karaoke with my friends every weekend. People change, Dabi. Now let me get out to do this job.”

He looks at you, head tilting ever so slightly. “You go to karaoke every weekend?”

With a scowl, you shake off his grip and get out of the car. In a hushed voice, he tries to summon you back, but you ignore him and approach the man waiting.

He looks no longer than you, messy blond hair pushed back, headphones around his neck. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, which he drops and stomps out with his boot. “I wasn’t told I’d be getting eye candy too,” he chuckles, plastering a grin on his face. His hand thrusts out. “I’m Hawks.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Is that your real name?” You don’t shake his hand.

“Of course not. You think I’m going to use my real name for this?” 

You hum and hold out your hand. “Money first, please.” You’ve never dealt drugs before, but you’ve seen enough crime shows to know that the dealer never hands items over without feeling the payment in their hands.

Hawks laughs at you but he doesn’t argue. He pulls out a wad of notes from his pocket and drops it into your open palm. 

A fake smile finds its home on your lips and you hold the package out. 

“Oi, get back here!” Dabi shouts from the car.

Hawks’s expression drops. He tosses the package behind him and grabs your wrist, spinning you around. He pins you to the wall just as you hear tyres screeching. Dabi’s car is no longer in sight when Hawks speaks again.

“You’re under arrest for the intent to supply,” he says, and reads out the rights to you, but his voice fades into nothing.

You hear nothing. You only feel the cold, metal cuffs clamped around your wrist. Your body doesn’t react as a police car pulls up and Hawks pushes you into the back of it. 

Nothing. You feel nothing.

Numb. 

Numb. 

Empty.

Until the police station comes into view and your body fills with fear. “N-no, you’ve got this all wrong, I’m not-”

“I caught you in the act, sweetheart. Unless you’re going to tell me that wasn’t cocaine in that package?” 

You fall silent again, only speaking to answer questions when they register you at the front desk. You don’t even speak when they pat you down. Then, Hawks takes you through to an interview room, tells you to sit, then takes off the cuffs. 

He sits opposite you and leans back, crossing his arms. “Detective Takami Keigo. Want to tell me what you were doing dealing drugs?”

Your throat dries up and you force yourself to swallow before you even try to speak. “I-I…”

“The front desk couldn’t pull up a criminal history because you have none. How did you get roped into this?” he asks. 

“I was trying to protect my sister,” you mutter. So much for helping her… Now she was going to find out what you tried to do. It’s so easy to picture the face she’ll make when you return home; the way she’ll cross her arms, the downward turn of her lips, the crease between her eyebrows when she frowns. 

“Protect her from what?” Keigo asks.

With a sigh, you rub your eyes. He’s a detective. If you’re honest, surely, he will understand and you won’t be in trouble? “Yesterday I found out that my little sister is hanging around men much older than her. So, today, I found them and I… Well, I told them what I thought of them. What else was I supposed to think they were doing? She even had a gun in her bag, she’s never had one before. But then the leader - I can’t remember his name - pointed a gun to my head and said if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d kill me. He said if I did this, then it would mean my sister didn’t have to.”

He studies you as you speak. When you finish, he leans forward. “The gang leader, what did he look like?”

Your face contorts into an expression of pure disgust. “Like he needs to invest in moisturiser. And needs to take a bath. His hair is blue and it hangs over his face so you can’t really see what he looks like, but when he gets close, he has the sickliest of smiles.”

Keigo hums. “Shigaraki Tomura. We’ve had our eye on him for a while. We know he’s up to something more than simple drug-dealing, but we don’t know what, yet. If we arrest him now, he’ll not be away for long enough. He’s tricky, though. Always goes under the radar just when we think we have something.” 

“Detective Takami, please…” you say as you lean forward, hands flat on the wooden table between the two of you. “I just want to protect my sister and get out of there alive. I didn’t want to do anything illegal. I’m a university student, I want a good life.”

His lips grow into a faint smile. “Then I’ll make you a deal. You and your sister will be granted immunity… if you feed information on Shigaraki Tomura to me.”

Your chest squeezes tight. “H-how do I do that?”

“You’ll have to go back.”

“N-no, please, I can’t-”

“If anything gets too dangerous, then I’ll get you out of there,” Keigo promises. He grabs your hand across the table and squeezes it, his palm warm over your skin. “But if you help with my investigation, then I promise both you and your sister won’t face criminal charges for anything you’re involved in.”

You take the deal. Of course you do, you’d be a fool not to. This morning you promised to yourself that you’d protect Himiko. Then, you had only intended to shout at those guys, but now… Now you’re helping with a criminal investigation. 

Fuck.

A police officer drives you home, but you ask that he drops you off several streets away from home. You don’t want your family to see you get out of a police car, so you walk the rest of the way. Your parents aren’t home yet, but Himiko is.

She’s waiting for you, arms crossed as she stands in the doorway, eyes narrowed, that crease between her brows. “Dabi told me what happened,” she says, her voice colder than you’ve ever heard it before.

“Himiko-”

“How could you be such an idiot?! You should have listened to him, you wouldn’t have been arrested if you had!”

You’re too tired to argue. Too tired to shout at her for joining a dangerous gang. Too tired to explain your reasons. You can’t, anyway, it would jeopardise your deal with Detective Takami. Instead, you apologise and go to bed. Himiko doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night.

Your plan is to wait a couple of days before returning to the hideout. Given how afraid you were, if you go back straight away, it might just look suspicious. It gives you time to psych yourself up for going undercover, anyway. 

You wander out to the convenience store down the road, craving something sweet and overwhelmingly carbohydrate. You’re browsing the selection of sweet breads when an arm drapes itself around your shoulder. 

You gasp and squirm away, only to come face-to-face with Dabi when he pulls you back to him. “Thought you’d be in a prison cell.”

Cheeks flushing bright red, your gaze darts around quickly to check no one heard him. “They let me go seeing as I have no other offences. I claimed I had no idea what it really was. Don’t think they believed that, but I don’t think I’m the type of person they’re after.” 

His azure eyes pierce through yours, searching deep into your core. If he stares at you for too long, you might just crack under the pressure and blurt out the truth. Thankfully, he looks away and grabs two melonpan and gestures for you to follow him. Once they’re paid for, he guides you out to his car. “Get in.”

You do as you're told because, quite frankly, you’re too afraid to say no. He drives off and bites the corner of the plastic off the wrapper, then bites into the melonpan. The taste makes him groan, and you wonder if, beneath that tough criminal exterior, he’s a normal guy who likes the taste of good food. 

“So,” he starts mid-bite, because obviously he lacks manners. “What exactly happened?”

“Like I said, they let me go.”

Dabi scoffs. “Bullshit. Tell me the truth.”

You huff. “I am telling the truth!”

He just laughs and shakes his head. Of course he doesn’t believe you.

Shigaraki doesn’t believe you when you tell him, either.

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” he asks, glaring at you beneath thick blue hair. “They wouldn’t just let you go. Tell me what happened.”

“As I said-”

His hand drops to his gun.

“O-okay, okay, that’s not what happened…”

Shigaraki chuckles and moves his hand away from the gun. “Good girl.” He studies you. “They asked you to relay information to them, didn’t they?”

You start to wonder how he worked it out so quickly, but in all honesty, you’re not surprised. He’s probably more organised than your class notes. 

He walks closer to you - so close that you can smell the overly-sweet aroma of his breath from the energy drink he downed when you walked in. “You’re going to feed the police incorrect information, do you understand? Because if you don’t…” His face contorts into a tormenting smirk. “I’ll break your kneecaps. Then, I’ll break your elbows. Once I’ve done that, I’ll put a bullet in that pretty head.” A bony hand caresses your cheek, brushing hair away from your face. “But not before I do the same to little Himiko.”

Your heart stops. 

No.. No, not to Himiko.

Your sister’s smile pops into your mind and you can hear her laugh. Not your little sister. 

“A-alright…” you mutter and clench your fists to hide your trembling. “I’ll do it.” 

Shigaraki pats your cheek. “Good girl.” He moves away and waves his hand. “Take her home, Dabi.”

The journey home is so silent you think you’re going to suffocate on it. Yet, at the same time, there’s nothing you can bring yourself to say. Dabi doesn’t even play that shit music he had on yesterday. 

When he pulls up outside your house, you both remain there, quiet, until he leans a little closer and his arm drapes over the back of the passenger seat. “I know this is frightening for you. Shigaraki can be overwhelming and intimidating and fucking sick and scary.” A heavy breath escapes from his nostrils and he reaches into your pocket, swiping your phone. You try to grab it back, but he holds it away and types something in. “There’s my number. I’m here if you need anything, alright?”

You look up at him with a frown as he hands back your phone. “Why?” you mutter. “We’re strangers, we don’t know each other.”

His eyes search your face as he chuckles, and you take the chance to do the same. Scars line his sharp jaw, although it’s not obvious we’re they’re from. His hair is dyed - you can tell by the hint of white at his roots. Well, it’s either that or he’s going grey early. His face is young, perhaps only older than you by a year or two. He’s handsome. Incredibly so. When you think of criminals, you think of rough-looking folk, but he is nothing of the sort. The bright blue eyes are incredibly charming, as is the smile on his lips. 

The smile he forms because he notices you’re staring at him.

You look away, your cheeks turning pink. With a huff, you hold out your hand. “Phone.” When he gives you it, you type in your details, then shove it back into his hand. His fingers graze over yours, warm but calloused. The contact makes you suck in a breath, and you mentally scold yourself for reacting in such a way, 

Dabi leans closer and his voice lowers in tone. “If you need anything, just text me, or call me. Anything.” He leans even closer and you think he’s-

Knock, knock, knock.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your throat as you snap towards the window. 

Himiko glares as Dabi rolls down the window. “Oi, stop flirting with my sister.”

“H-he wasn’t-” you quickly say, but he just laughs.

“Aw, Toga… I’m just having fun.”

Himiko rolls her eyes and yanks the car door open, practically dragging you from it. “Goodbye, Dabi!” she says as she slams the car door shut. She doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re both inside the house and she huffs, poking your warm cheek. “Don’t blush at his words. He’s a player.”

Maybe he is, but all you can think about for the rest of the day is the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leaned closer. All you can imagine is what might have happened if your sister hadn’t interrupted. 

Lying in bed that night, you stare at his contact details. Maybe you should text him… Just to say thank you for driving you home, right? Your finger hovers over the screen.

Ping.

Remember, I said you can contact me for ANY reason. I don’t care what. 

You roll your eyes and type back.

I know what you mean, you pervert.

You stare at the three dots that bounce on the screen whilst he types back. For some reason, you’re eager to see how he’ll respond to such name calling. Naturally, he lives up to it.

I look forward to receiving one of your late night texts, then, when you just can’t sleep because of the throbbing heat between your legs.

You pull a face at his vulgarity and set your phone down to close your eyes. But then… That throbbing heat between your legs disrupts your attempt to sleep.

You won’t text him. You won’t. 

So, you don’t, and you fall asleep completely unsatisfied. 

[allthingskakashi]

Hi! Coul a request a scenario that involves Sukea please? Like the reader has a crush on Kakashi and he finds out because her friends tease her in front of sukea and then Kakashi asks her on a date idk if I’m making a point, or can just do anything you wish that involves him pleasee? Thank you ♥️

Okay first of all, that's a really innovative idea!! I loved it. Secondly, I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this but ahh well here it is now and i really hope you like it ❤️

• Serendipity •

[Kakashi x Reader] || 3k words

a/n : ugh tbh I've been running a little low on creativity lately which is why i hadn't posted anything for like a week but i also didn't wanna go without writing anything so well... I tried. 😩

You sit in the small dumpling restaurant with your friends Kurenai and Anko. Beyond you, the falling dusk envelopes your village in mystical hues of blue and red. It’s Friday, which means the weekend has rolled in after a long and tiresome week. The thought of being off duty for the next two days lifts your spirits, and you look forward to spending the time relaxing at home in your own company.

The evening is busy, streets bustling, vibrant with the hustle of villagers; some heading for a night out with friends, some returning home to spend time with family, some getting ready to go out on a date, everyone looking like they have somewhere to be, something to do.

You sigh, shoving a dumpling in your mouth.

“Why the long face?”, Anko asks between chomps.

“It’s nothing” you shrug, your tone failing to fool anyone.

There’s a soft creak as the gate to the shop opens behind you, a small gust of air whooshing in from outside. The merry chatter in the room comes to a sudden halt, to be replaced by sounds of hushed murmurs and whispers. You glance at the group of women sitting in the table ahead of you, staring at something with mouths open wide in awe. Ahead of you, Anko’s eyebrows are furrowed, a curious smile touching the corner of her lip.

You turn behind, wanting to catch a glimpse of whatever it is that has managed to elicit such a response from the entire room.

Your eyes fall upon a handsome young man, who has just now walked into the restaurant and taken a seat behind you. You feel your heart skip a beat. He’s easily one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. A mop of thick brown hair adorns his head, a tint of purple on his eyelids and stripes of the same colour running across both cheeks. His face is sharp with an angled jawline and he has on a long trench coat with a scarf around his neck. He’s also holding a camera, you notice.

Probably an outsider.

A waitress walks over to him, standing by him and twirling a curl of hair, visibly enchanted by his charms.

Someone thumps the front of your table, startling you. “Jeez y/n, get a grip!” Anko’s voice brings your attention back to your friends as you finally tear your eyes away from the mysterious man in the table behind you.

“What? I wasn’t checking him out” you sputter, unnerved.

“We didn’t say you were”, Kurenai chimes in.

You feel your face getting hot as red tinges your cheeks and you look away, avoiding your friends’ eyes.

“Hey, why don’t you go talk to him? Maybe ask him out?” Kurenai says, her eyes lighting up.

You open your mouth to say something, but Anko cuts in.

“Because she’d rather sit around pining for Kakashi and doodling his name on her diary. How long has it been now? 7 years?”

Kurenai giggles, but puts a comforting arm around your shoulder.

“Alright now, go easy on her”, she says kindly. “But she’s got a point y/n. You and Kakashi have known each other for a long time. You’ve kept your feelings to yourself for years now, I really think it’s time you go out and do something about it. Who knows, maybe he feels the same way about you. Why don’t you give it a shot?”

You let out another sigh and look at your lap. “I just don’t think it’s the right time yet.”

But that was a lie. You’d had feelings for Kakashi ever since you were a teenager. You had always been friends, but you wanted more. You loved being in his company and you had a lot of mutual respect and admiration for each other. But you could never bring yourself to just say the words to Kakashi. There were times when you almost blurted it out, and times when you felt like maybe he felt the same way about you too… but they may have been delusions, for all you knew. You didn’t know anything for certain. And that’s what stopped you from gathering up the courage to say it to him. You told yourself and your friends who knew that you would someday, when the time is right, but it was all a big fat lie. You were scared, and that was the truth, as much as you hated to admit it.

You watch Anko roll her eyes as Kurenai exhales, tilting her head.

“Y/n…It’ll never be the right time. Just do it. You’ve taken down S-rank criminals, you can handle this. Trust me, even the copy ninja can’t resist THAT” Kurenai cheers, grazing her eyes up and down over you with a suggestive smile, her voice encouraging. You chuckle, waving your hand dismissively in embarrassment.

“Look”, Anko interjects in her matter-of-fact voice. “Kakashi’s a wuss. If you wanna get it on with him, you gotta make the move. He’s even worse than you so pussy up and ask him. If I have to hear another of your lovelorn sighs one more time, I’ll go tell him myself.” She says, shoving her last dumpling in her mouth and gulping down a glass of water.

You’d been friends with Anko long enough to know not to put it past her. Besides, they were right. It HAD been very long. Perhaps you really did need to pussy up.

Ughhhhh. Why couldn’t this be easier?

“Anyway, I’m gonna go hit the bar. Any of you suckers wanna join me?” Anko asks, getting up from her chair.

“I can’t. I invited my team over for dinner tonight so I’ll get going.”, Kurenai says, collecting her purse and getting ready to leave as well.

“It’s okay, you guys go. I’ve got some things to do” you say, waving them off.

You watch your friends go out the exit and disappear along the curve of the street. Truth is, you kind of want to be alone, maybe take a walk around the village, gather your thoughts. This conversation with your friends today stirred something in you and you need time to think. You’d let things go on as they were for very long now, but it was time you took matters in your own hands.

Putting the bill down on the table, you head towards the door. Your eyes fall where the man was sitting but the seat is empty now, and you catch him ahead of you, just a few steps away, also heading towards the door. You stand close behind him, clutching your purse to your rib as he opens the door. His elbow juts out, knocking the bag out of your hand as it falls to the ground.

For a quick second you think it’s a thief and you’re almost about to strike a blow but the man crouches down quickly with an “I’m so sorry”, picking your purse up and holding it out to you.

Up close this way, you can see his eyes. There’s something familiar about them but you can’t put your finger on what it is. “Thanks” you mutter, taking the purse from him, your mind still trying to comprehend why this man you’ve never seen before feels so familiar.

“Are you a tourist? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before”, you ask, concealing the suspicion in your tone.

Your village is a small one and almost every face is familiar. Having a visitor in the village is quite unheard of and your instincts tell you that something feels off.

He clears his throat before answering. “Hi, I’m Sukea. I’m a reporter from the Land of Fire. I’m here to conduct research for an article” the man replies, almost in an automated tone but with a smile that immediately softens his features. He’s got a mole under his bottom lip, you notice.

Gosh, that’s a pretty face.

Before you have the chance to say anything else or ask more questions, he mumbles that he’s getting late for something and turns away, hurrying down the street.

You stand there, watching him go.

Weird.

But you’ve got other things to think about now, decisions to make, so you shake the thoughts of this mystery man off your head, although you can’t help mulling over why he felt so eerily familiar.

You walk down your usual route in the quieter part of the village. Walks always somehow help you clear your mind.  The air has cooled down now and there’s a slight chill in the air. A sweet smell of flowers wafts through. You lose track of time walking around the entire village, over the cliff, through the forests, by the stream which shimmers under the moonlight.

It’s almost ten by the time you reach home and the walk makes your calves ache. Probably wasn’t such a good idea to go on such a long walk after injuring yourself on your last mission.

You freshen up and throw yourself down on your bed, glad for the two days of rest that awaits you.

Pulling the blanket over your head, you turn to your side and close your eyes. Kakashi’s face appears almost instantly, the images playing a montage in your head.

His smile that makes buds bloom into flowers… his laughter so pure like a young boy’s…his silver hair which sparkles in the sun, making you want to run your fingers through it… the warmth of his voice when he talks to you-- and suddenly something goes off in your brain. Like a flame igniting. Or rather, a long burning flame finally receiving emancipation. There’s a jolt through your veins and you think—Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow.

And before you have time to process the sudden thought, languor takes over your body, lulling you to sleep.

You’re up early the next morning, the jolt from last night still coursing through your veins. You’re feeling pretty confident, more than you ever have. Today’s the day you tell him.

But first, you have to head over to the Missions Desk to submit your report. You bash yourself for putting it off till now.

The day outside is beautiful, white cotton clouds floating aimlessly across the azure sky. A pleasant breeze tickles your skin in soft whispers.

You reach the main office and submit your file. The room is empty, except for the people working behind the desks. The man in front of you takes your file, checking the date of your mission and you’re sure you can see a look of judgement flash across his eyes.

You almost feel a little guilty.

“You know, all the other jounins have submitted their reports already” he mutters, not looking up from your file.

“Well actually…”

There’s a voice behind you, and you turn around at the sheepish tone of the familiar voice. Your heart instantly paces up. Kakashi. There’s a file in his hand too. You can’t help the smile that escapes.

You look at him as he comes forward, handing his file over. The man shoots him a similar glance and shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. You can tell that this must not be the first time. Kakashi smiles sweetly at him, before turning away and looking at you.

“Y/n! Didn’t think I’d run into you here…”

Your blood pounds in your ears as you recall the resolve you made to yourself last night. You’d promised yourself you’d tell him today but right now, in this way? You weren’t ready for this. You hadn’t prepared what you were gonna say, or how you’d say it. A hundred thoughts run through your head.

Hell with my resolve. This really isn’t the right time. I can’t do this.

But on the other hand…

Your brain goes at odds with your heart as you realise you haven’t answered Kakashi yet.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice concerned.

You straighten up, composing yourself.

“Oh hey yeah, I’m fine! I’m great. What’re you upto?”

“Just got a few things I need to do”, he shrugs, walking beside you as the two of you come out of the office into the main corridor of the Hokage Mansion.

“Right. Got any missions this weekend?” you ask, stalling to give yourself time to think clearly.

“Nope. You?”

“No. You?”

“You already asked me”, he chuckles. “So uh. Where are you headed?”

Ugh. This is a disaster.

“Just the market. I… I need to buy fish for dinner”

You feel your palms getting clammy as the air starts to feels too tight. You look at Kakashi out of the corner of your eye and you notice.

He looks nervous too. He’s fidgeting with his hands and there’s something strange about him.

“Well…uh” he stutters, rubbing his neck with his hand before looking at you. “maybe you don’t.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide and face scrunched up in confusion. You’re outside the tower now, standing on the street.

“I…don’t?”

He scratches the back of his head.

“Uh…I mean…I’ve got fish.”, he stammers. There’s a very visible tint of red on his cheeks.

You’re utterly wrapped in confusion by now, and you wonder why he’s acting so strange. Unsure of where he’s getting with that, you say, “Um…That’s nice. Where do you buy fish from? I’ve heard the market by the Temple is good for seafood. I haven’t had the chance to try it out myself though.”

Mother Earth please swallow me whole.

Kakashi lets out a nervous laugh, still fidgeting around with his hands and looking everywhere but directly at you.

“Y/n what I’m saying is…maybe you don’t need to buy fish for dinner because” he looks at you from under his shaggy bangs,which fall over his eyes in the absence of his headband. The tint of his cheeks deepens. “well, because I was thinking maybe you could come over…and I could…cook dinner for the both of us...? Or um go out, whatever you’d like” he says, immediately looking away.

You’d never thought it was possible for the calm and cocky Kakashi Hatake to look this nervous. It’s quite a sight. You might have laughed at it if you weren’t just as nervous yourself.

“Like on a date?” you ask, shock evident in your tone. Your heart is battering in your chest.

This is a very, very surprising turn of events.

“Well…yes”, he breathes, barely meeting your eyes now.

You can hear your heart in your ears. And suddenly, it feels like spring has bloomed inside your heart. Not just your heart but everywhere around you. Like you’ve been transported to a meadow and there’s only flowers and rainbows and butterflies all around.

A breeze passes through, sending a few petals from nearby trees floating along the street. Strands of your hair blow into your eyes.

You sweep them away, looking up at him to see him looking at you, his eyes hopeful, waiting.

You meet his gaze with your burning eyes and smile, tucking another loose strand behind your ear.

“I’d love that” you say before looking down, your tone barely containing the ecstasy you feel within. You feel the chirp of a thousand birds singing inside your heart.

His eyes light up, mouth forming into a grin as you see the muscles on his face relaxing visibly.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkle from the smile and he says, “Well then…I’ll see you for dinner.”

He starts walking away, before turning back and calling out “Oh and yes, I do buy my fish from the market by the temple.”

And with that, he turns away grinning, disappearing with a whoosh, leaving you to stand there, still in shock and gaping after him; wondering which stars had aligned, what forces in the universe had conjoined and what twist of fate had occurred, turning your life around, making you the happiest woman in the world, in the span of just one day.

                                 *     *     *

Aaand a lil bonus addition :-

It’d been around two months that you and the silver haired jounin of the Leaf had been together. Almost everyone in the village knew by now and it had been two months of pure unadulterated bliss. You fit so well together, it felt as if you’d never been apart.

Today was just another lazy afternoon, with you and Kakashi in bed, entangled in each other’s arms, neither one of you wanting to leave your little heaven on earth.

You intertwine your fingers with Kakashi’s, backing into him so you’re pressed against the warmth of his body.

“Hey, Kakashi?” you whisper.

“Hm?” he replies, sleep mangling his voice.

“I’ve always wondered. Why did you ask me out that day? You told me you’d liked me for a long time too. So… why not before? Why that day?”

He chuckles softly into your hair, pulling you closer with his arm.

“Well” he says, almost in a whisper. “I thought it was time I stopped being a wuss.”

“Huh?”

“It had been a really long time and… I thought it was time to, how do I put this, pussy up.” he says into your neck, his voice calm, but with just a tinge of amusement.

WAIT A MINUTE-

You jerk up on the bed, freeing yourself of his grip and turning to face him.

A subtle smile plays across his lips but his face is tranquil, giving nothing away.

Panic rises in you and you shake his arm vigorously. “KAKASHI! HOW-HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?”

He doesn’t stir, eyes closed tight, pretending to be sleeping.

“KAKASHI TELL ME RIGHT NOW” you continue shaking him, but it’s in vain, the man doesn’t stir.

You sigh, replaying the day from two months ago in your head, ravaging your brain for any possible hint. And just like that, it dawns upon you.

“Oh my god—That was you.” You blurt, everything suddenly clicking into place in your head. You feel like a fool for not realising sooner.

He remains unmoving, eyes closed shut. But you don’t miss the slight wrinkle of his mask as his lips upturn into a grin beneath it.

“That was you, wasn’t it??? It was! You sneaky little bastard!” you shriek, jabbing at his arm with a few pokes, but it does nothing.

“Kakashi!”

“Ssshh, I’m sleeping” he whispers in fake slumber, a smile grazing his mouth as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you back into the bed with him.

“Did you really just shush m- “ you begin in protest, but your sentence remains unfinished as he presses his mouth onto yours, catching your lips in a kiss and shutting you up before you can say more.

[doctorthreephds]

Synapses: Part 4

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 6.4k

TW: Death, sickness, blood, violence, typical Criminal Minds stuff, specifically from the episode “Amplification”

Summary: You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with Spencer as your relationship grows. But, the calm is just before the storm and your job puts you in more danger than you signed up for. 

Masterlist

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​ @green-intervention​ @eevee0722​

Spencer made it easy to fall in love. You had little knowledge of romantic relationships besides a couple of elementary and middle school “relationships” that were barely romantic, just a couple of kids attempting to find their way in the world. Your experience with relationships, in general, had been difficult. Your father was estranged growing up and your mother was loving but constantly busy with work and her duties as a diplomat. She made time for you, though, and in the end, you wish you had made more time for her. 

Death is a fickle thing, it is the only thing that makes life worth living, and yet even as a forensic scientist, you wanted to figure out how to evade it. When your mother died, your relationship with death was complicated because you felt cheated. That she deserved so many more years of life and that you should have done more to help. You know that in your heart, you feel a deep passion for Spencer, that you want to get to know him and to cherish him as he should be cherished, but death still loomed overhead and it terrified you. So you hold Spencer at an arm’s length. While he had no problem hugging you and holding your hand occasionally, you made sure he remains cordial and platonic with you. Such a task was difficult, though.

Your feet ache as you walk over to the elevator, sniffling in an attempt to calm your runny nose. Spring had officially set in and so had your allergies; it seemed as if all the pollen in the world was coming for your sinuses. Pulling out a tissue to blow your nose, you barely register Spencer standing next to you. 

“I’m going to see Ponyo in theaters tonight, it’s a limited run and they’re playing it in Japanese. You could come with me, I could even simultaneously translate it to you,” he states and you jump slightly in surprise, not having expected him to be there.

“Sounds like fun, but I desperately need Claritin and I wouldn’t want you to miss the screening,” your voice is nasal as you speak, the pressure in your head making it pound with every step you take once you exit the elevator.

“It’s no problem, we can both head home and I’ll just pick you up with my car,” he suggests, and you look over suspiciously.

“You hate driving.”

“But I’d drive for you,” you sigh as the two of you make it out of the building and start toward the metro. “I’d just really like to see it with you, I think you’d enjoy it.”

You huff as the breeze picks up slightly, hitting you with another face full of pollen. Looking over at Spencer, his eyes were bright and full of mischief. He holds onto the strap of his bag as the two of you walk down the stairs and you try your best to read his face. Only pure content and joy, oh how this man has ruined you.

“Fine. Only if you pay for dinner,” you mumble, blowing your nose into another tissue as the train approaches. 

“Of course, it’s my turn anyway,” he states, a satisfied look on his face. The two of you often paid for each other when it came to food, remaining constantly indebted to each other. But this way, you always knew he would come back. Because he owed you.

Getting home was a relief, it truly serves as a place to escape and decompress. After being stuffy all day and having to work through several reports as you reviewed the evidence and possible threats, it had truly been a test of your patience. After taking Claritin and changing into something a little more suited to the weather, Spencer arrives right on time. The rest of the night goes off with a hitch and more often than not do you find yourself looking over at Spencer as his eyes take in every single little detail of the movie. True to his word, the two of you order cheap nachos and pizza from the movie theater and munch on it during the movie. He speaks translations to you in a low whisper, adding intonation and inflection to distinguish between the characters. Spencer never ceases to amaze you and while you love Ponyo, there’s just something so alluring about watching Spencer talk about things that interest him. At the end of the movie, he continues to process and talk about every little detail left to his whim. 

“While Ponyo is essentially a movie about a child’s innocence and familial love, there is an underlying theme that comments on the pollution of our oceans, as seen in the character of Fujimoto who is afraid of humans and constantly criticizes them,” Spencer says as the two of you walk into the foyer. 

“The ramen looked amazing, though. It makes me hungry for some real food,” you state as the smell of popcorn makes you crave even more food.

“Food in film, specifically films directed by Hayao Miyazaki, are a tool to show togetherness and family as well as human nature. The details of the food tell their own story in many of the other movies. We’ll have to check them out if they even come to the theater,” he continues and you smile, shaking your head.

“Or we can just watch them at my apartment. I’ll buy the whole box set and we’ll just have a whole binge,” you tell him as the two of you make it out onto the street, walking back to his car.

“That’s also good too,” he says as you bark out a laugh. “It’s a date.”

While such trivial words shouldn’t insight fear inside of you, it doesn’t stop you from spending the rest of the night thinking about it after Spencer drops you back home. It remains in your mind the next day when you go to work and find your way to the BAU during lunch, only to find that they were called away on a case. So, the rest of the week is spent thinking about the words “it’s a date.” Obviously, he meant a physical date, like the one on a calendar. But what if he wasn’t? He hadn’t been over to your apartment before and you had never gone to his. It was like a platonic line the two of you hadn’t crossed so that your relationship would stay strictly on the down-low. What did it mean that he wanted to come over to your apartment, then? On a so-called “date?” There wasn’t even an actual day you planned to have your movie marathon on, so technically it couldn’t even be considered a date. Just a plan. 

That Friday, you were getting ready to go home and crash on the couch after ordering take out when Penelope texts you.

From Penelope (5:46 PM):

I’m gonna need some reinforcements up here, the team is just getting back.

To Penelope (5:46 PM):

Hard case?

From Penelope (5:47 PM):

Like you can’t even imagine.

Sighing, you get up out of your chair and head to the elevator, going a couple of floors up to the BAU. When you get out, Penelope stands there with a face of anticipation as she sees you walk out. 

“Oh good, they’re almost here. Spencer’s not doing too hot,” she says and you frown, turning to face the elevator.

As if they were summoned, the second elevator opens up to reveal the team in several different states of fatigue and disappointment. Spencer stands in the back, hunched over slightly as he frowns and follows the rest of them out once the doors are fully open. You smile at your dad and pat him on the shoulder as he leans down.

“The gelato place downtown is still open,” he whispers and kisses your cheek before walking into the offices. You walk in front of Spencer and gently bump into him to break him from his stupor. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” you ask and look up at him, seeing the furrow in his brow and the dark circles under his eyes that look even darker. 

“Nothing, I have to work on my reports,” he mumbles and walks past into the offices.

“Why don’t we go get food and you can come back, just to help clear your mind,” you insist, following him as he collapses into his office chair, rubbing his temples to relieve a bit of the stress built up over the past couple days.

“I have too much to work on,” he brushes you off and turns to stare at all the papers stacked up on his desk.

“You can work on them this weekend,” you state and push the spinny chair so that he faces you. “I know something is wrong, we’ve known each other for several months and I can tell when something is bothering you. Now, I’m not going to ask, but I do know that you can complete reports faster than everyone here and that you can take them home. So, I declare today backwards day. Let’s go grab some ice cream.”

You smile your biggest smile in hopes of breaking him out of his spiral and the reference to Ponyo definitely helps. He smiles slightly, although it doesn’t reach his eyes, and shoves a couple of folders into his satchel before standing.

“Lead the way,” you smile at him and loop your arm around his in hopes of helping to keep him grounded. The two of you walk out of the BAU in silence, but you can feel a change in Spencer already. Hunting the worst types of people every single day as a job constantly gets to you, especially when it comes to this team who constantly look at the mind of unidentified subjects to catch them. With your father, he deals with it through good old compartmentalization and expensive alcohol. For Spencer, you would guess it’s not as easy. His mind was endlessly thinking and analyzing so any mistake made would be remembered and replayed. The best you can do is let him know that there’s a world around him other than everything going on in his head. 

After getting on the metro, you engage in simple conversation, telling him about what you’ve had the luxury of working on and the most recent book you had been reading: The Awakening by Kate Chopin. When you see the stop for downtown, you pull him off the train and begin to walk toward your favorite family-owned gelato establishment. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, looking around at the nightlife of D.C.

“It’s a surprise,” you wink and pull him toward a small shop full of freezers filled with gelato. His eyes light up at the sight of the gaudy decorations that are over the top depictions of Florence and Rome. 

“Gelato?”

“It’s backwards day!” you remark and order a medium stracciatella. 

“I’ll get a medium mint chip,” he asks and you reach out hand over your card before Spencer can get to the cashier. 

When the both of you have your gelato in hand, you both slowly meander down the street as you devour into your delicious treat.

“Did you know that the word stracciatella comes from the Italian word ‘stracciare’ and is also the name of the famed soup that is popular in the Lazio region of central Italy? The same technique is applied to the ice cream but instead of chocolate and ice cream, it’s broth and an egg-based mixture. It’s a western variation of the Chinese egg drop soup,” he gets out before spooning some of the gelato into his mouth. You can only smile at him as you admire how beautiful he looks in the dim lighting, rambling on and effectively getting him away from the horrors of the world, even if for a moment. He continues to talk about soup and how often eastern traditions are westernized and taken over, but all you can do is stare at him and think about how head over heels you are for him. 

Perhaps it is love. But your heart is stored in a box away from harm. Its defenses were weakening, though. Every word spoken by Spencer was like a small chisel working away at the precious marble box, artistic and masterful. You love him, yet in your mind, keeping it from him meant keeping him safe. Or, keeping yourself safe.

Quiet weeks are always appreciated at the FBI. Quiet weeks for you meant simple research and few reports, just enough to keep yourself busy. Quiet weeks for the BAU were just simple consultations and writing up all their fieldwork into manageable reports. But, before a tsunami, the ocean always rears its ugly face. 

You knew something was wrong when your director called you before dawn. A shrill noise jerked you from your sleep and you pull your phone to your ear even before checking the caller.

“Agent Montgomery,” you reply groggily, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you check your digital clock.

“There’s a suspected attack, we’re sending an agent to pick you up. The FBI is under strict media blackout rules so do not inform anyone,” Director Chase states. “There’s Cipro for you on arrival.”

Your heart beats out of your chest at the mention of anthrax. You had just started college when the Amerithrax attacks happened, it had been one of the reasons you wanted to become a toxicologist. Never in your life did you ever expect to face an actual anthrax attack head-on. 

Getting ready is a blur, you pull on suitable clothes and meet the other agent when they arrive. During the drive, you are given a very quick debrief. Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms with black lesions and lung failure after they had all been at the same park after 2 p.m. The strain of anthrax used was weaponized and reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs, odorless and invisible. At the moment, there are eleven dead with the number quickly rising. All remaining patients were moved to a special wing in Walter Reed Hospital with Dr. Linda Kimura from the CDC and her team overseeing the treatment of all victims. You memorize this information and how you would apply your skills, finding any evidence and analyzing it. The thought of working with the BAU is both exciting and terrifying. Your father would be at risk, and so would Spencer. The only peace of mind is the fact that you would be working with them so any harm that comes to them would go through you first. 

Once at the Bureau, you swallow the Cipro dry and take the elevator up to the BAU where several military scientists have gathered and move around the busy offices. Your director approaches you as you enter and glance around at all the chaos.

“Dr. Kimura’s already in the conference room with Agent Jareau and Agent Hotchner. You’ll be accompanying them to any possible active sites to try and gather a sample as well as oversee the response,” he states and you nod, climbing up the stairs and trying not to throw up the pills you just swallowed. Seeing JJ and Hotch helps to ground you a little but your heart still beats quickly.

“Dr. Kimura, it’s nice to meet you,” you smile weakly and shake her hand.

“You too, I just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances,” she replies and you nod, turning to look at the file full of evidence. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, less than twenty-four hours and already fourteen people were dead. 

The rest of the team shuffles in and you meet Spencer’s gaze, seeing the worry build up in his eyes like tiny storms. You were sure that your face shared the same fear. As they are debriefed, you find yourself looking through at the lesions and pictures shared, trying not to grimace at the sight. College had its fair share of gross photos, but those people were either dead or safe. Time was not your friend.

“Reid, go with Dr. Kimura and Dr. Montgomery to the hospital, interview the victims,” you tune in at your name and look up at Hotch as he delivers assignments. “There’s Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

“We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something,” Dr. Kimura huffs out as she raises the tray for everyone to take.

“This is really happening?” Emily asks. That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Can such a weapon be real?

“We knew this could happen. We’ve done our homework. We’ve prepared for this. This is it,” Hotch speaks the words as if they are a mantra as if the FBI knows everything. And while he’s right, the FBI does not know everything about this strain of anthrax. The unknown kills people, you just hope you can get to it before it kills more civilians. 

“Jin dan,” your father says. “May you live one hundred years.”

Your jaw clenches as you watch both your father and Spencer takes the pills. Your father is on the older side, you know that and he’s lived through a lot, but something like this would take him out in a matter of hours. And Spencer, he’s young and healthy, but this spore had killed fourteen people. What was another victim? 

As you follow Dr. Kimura and Spencer out of the conference room, your mind is full of statistics and chemical concoctions that could help you. It moves quickly and swiftly, distracting you from the escalation of the current situation.

“Why didn’t you take the Cipro?” Spencer asks as you stand in the office. 

“I took it when I arrived, I was here before you,” you respond monotonously, sighing as you turn and give him a reluctant smile. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. Never really been ‘in the field’ before.”

“You’ll be great,” he offers you a look of encouragement and squeezes your hand as you follow Dr. Kimura to the cars, waiting for Spencer as he grabs files from JJ. 

The car ride is spent talking about treatments and other specific details. You focus on trying to break down the creation of the spores as well as possible antidotes to combat it. Because there are no know samples just yet, you work through from the other angle. How does one weaponize a regular bacteria? Well, increasing its ability to quickly become activated and multiply would do the trick. To fight against it, our white blood cells would need to work just as quickly to get rid of the foreign bacteria that attacks our immune system, therefore an antidote would be able to target this bacteria and destroy it at the same rate. Just as a vaccine would. Arriving at the hospital is a bit jarring, you walk with Dr. Kimura and Spencer up to the wing where you break off and look at blood and toxin reports to fully understand what parts of the body are being attacks as well as what kind of chemicals makes up this specific toxin. 

“What’s causing her aphasia?” Spencer asks as they make their way back over to you. This piques your interest as you take notes on a separate piece of paper, jotting down everything you can think of to help understand.

“The poison is infecting the parietal lobe, impairing her speech. Some of the other patients displayed the same symptoms shortly before they died,” she states solemnly, and you sigh as you speak out.

“The only thing that can help them is if we find the antidote because unless we do a molecular analysis of the specific strain, we’re unable to understand how this works,” you grumble, the want to lash out angrily growing. “This can’t be his first attack, especially if he was a scientist. You run small trials before getting to human subjects.”

You continue to work with Spencer, sifting through ideas as Dr. Kimura makes calls and inquires about possible previous victims. It made sense in your little science brain, that one would not test on a bigger group before ensuring it was deadly with a smaller group--like vaccine or drug trials. As Dr. Kimura brings over a list of other patients, Spencer goes into another area to call the team as you cross-reference your notes with her. 

“So far, all we know is that this is anthrax. Do you think I can use blood and tissue samples in your lab for analysis? Maybe I can refine the strain and get an antidote or perhaps see how quickly it multiplies,” you ask and she nods.

“Of course,” she calls over another nurse and asks for blood and tissue samples from an already deceased victim and asks for it to be delivered to your lab.

As Spencer steps out of the closet, you look over at him and try to memorize every part of him. The revolver that sticks out of his hip, the badge, the long unruly hair, his violet shirt, just everything that makes him Spencer. Your heart was racing with nerves and all you wanted to do was take him out of harm’s way. 

“How are you feeling?” he inquires as you shake your head. 

“I feel useless. I’m no medical doctor nor am I any closer to finding the antidote,” you mumble and look up at the ceiling to try and stave off the tears. 

“You’re doing great. It’s a waiting game until we get more answers about the profile, you’re doing the best you can,” he reaches out and wraps an arm around you as you hug him, sighing as you deeply inhale his cologne. 

“Yet my best can’t stop all these people from dying,” you look over at the young girl that Spencer was talking to, watching as every breath in her lungs feels like the last. 

“You’re one person. And I know that when it gets down to it, you’ll be brilliant,” the two of you pull away slightly and you look up at him, your noses almost touching. You could kiss him right now if your lives weren’t being threatened, but the voice of Dr. Kimura breaks the two of you apart. 

“How’s she doing?” Spencer asks as the three of you walk over to the window, Dr. Kimura pulling up her charts.

“She’s a fighter. She’s held on this long because she’s young and strong. But she’s started to bleed into her lungs,” Dr. Kimura states and you stare through the glass, wanting to will this young girl to live. 

“One of four left,” you mumble and look over at Spencer. 

“We’re running into another problem. When next of kin have questions, what do we tell them about cause of death?” you look back through the glass as you ponder another unanswerable question. 

Once the samples are ready, you and Spencer go down to the hospital lab where you try to isolate the spore in each of the samples and look at them underneath the microscope as well as streak them on Petri dishes. Spencer helps with tools and supplies so you aren’t running around, but the most that the microscope tells you is that it is anthrax and the dishes won’t be ready for analysis any time soon because they need to incubate. Once done, you clean and sterilize everything before sitting down on one of the chairs and looking up at the fluorescent lights of the hospital.

“This is useless,” you mutter and shake your head.

“No, it’s not. They’re delivering the profile right now and then we’ll be able to find a suspect,” Spencer tells you as you look over at him, a small smile on your face. 

“Are you always this optimistic, Dr. Statistics?” you ask as he chuckles.

“No, because I’m usually running and forming statistics, but you distract me enough from the looming threat of death,” your eyes widen as he speaks as you let out a short laugh before his phone begins to ring. The conversation is short, but you gather that you finally have a suspect worthy of bringing in.

“That was Morgan, we’re going to a suspect’s house. His name is Dr. Lawrence Nichols and he tried to lobby for money to fund his anthrax preparedness plan but failed because it wasn’t feasible,” he says as the two of you grab your things and make your way down to the bottom floor, Derek meeting you as the three of you take off toward his house. He fills you in on Dr. Nichols’ past, his adamancy about wanting all families to have protection against anthrax as well as his inevitable job termination. Your hands shake with nerves as you think about having to be around people, specifically people that could potentially pose a threat to your life. This wasn’t what you did, nor was it who you were. You were far out of your comfort zone, but at least you could be helpful instead of sitting around in a lab. 

The three of you wait outside the small suburban house, waiting as the hazmat team goes through and ensures that there are no traces of anthrax that could threaten your life. 

“This guy just had people over for a charity event last month,” Derek states and you look over at the house, it was painted a robin blue. You would never suspect a serial killer to live in such a normal house. 

“We should probably take a look around anyway,” Spencer suggests as the three of you head toward the garage and behind the house. 

You stayed quiet and observed from a scientific view, looking over at the rose bushes and reaching over to touch the delicate flower. Though even the most beautiful flowers have thorns and you wince as a sharp point pricks your finger. Following Spencer, you stick the finger in your mouth to get rid of the blood. 

As you maneuver around the many plants, Derek’s phone rings and he puts Penelope on speaker as Spencer listens in. You, on the other hand, continue to look around for any evidence pointing toward him being the suspect. Perhaps a lab of some sorts. As you enter the smaller building behind the house, you instantly see the makings of a lab with the fumes hood and the surplus of beakers and Petri dishes. Stepping into the lab, your heart jumps in your chest when you see a shattered test tube on the floor with white powder. 

Behind you, Spencer calls out your name and you rush over the door to close it, the chill of the air conditioning blasting behind you.

“Spencer, get back! Get back right now,” you fumble with the lock, shutting yourself into the lab with the vial. 

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” he asks and pushes against the door.

“No, please, Spencer. Get away from the door,” you beg, tears forming in your eyes.

“What’s wrong? Open the door,” he persists as he stares at you through the glass. Was it enough? Was he infected? You couldn’t know for sure. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you mutter, a tear dripping down your cheek as you step back from the door. 

“Kid, what’s going on?” you hear Derek call out from behind Spencer as he backs up from the door.

“Call Hotch. Call an ambulance. Call everyone,” he tells Derek as the fear fills your veins. Your hands are so cold, why are they so cold? Spencer’s sweet voice isn’t enough to talk you down from the anxiety building up. This was the tsunami and you were caught in the tidal wave.

Spencer stands away from the door as you wrap your arms around yourself, staring silently out at him. Your phone rings as he calls you and you put it on speaker. 

“Tell me what’s going on, everyone’s on their way. You need to describe everything to me,” you can see Spencer’s mind going a million miles an hour and you could see the blame he put on himself. This wasn’t him, this was all you. At least you were right about anthrax getting through you before it did him.

“There’s a body here, I think it’s Nichols, and he’s dead. There’s also a tube that’s shattered. It’s full of white powder, I’m pretty sure it’s anthrax--Spencer,” you pause, staring straight at him. “I don’t want to die, please I’m so scared.”

You hear all the sirens as they approach and you shake your head, more tears falling down your cheeks.

“Sh, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he says and you can see that all he wants to do is wrap his arms around you. “This is where you can help, remember? It’s your turn to be the hero.”

You look up to him, the tears blurring his figure as you wipe them from your cheeks, nodding. 

“You’re right,” you mumble and take a deep breath before beginning to go through the lab. “You’re right.”

First, the body. 

Reaching down, you feel the skin of Dr. Nichols and see the blue-ish tint to his skin as well as the way his blood has pooled. He appears to be dead at least for a day or two, Livor mortis has already set in.

“Spence, he’s been dead for maybe one to two days. Blunt force trauma to his head,” you say just as Hotch and another man join Spencer and Derek. 

“Doctor, we need to get you to the hospital,” Hotch speaks and you shake your head.

“No, I can help. I’m the only one who can work the case here. I’m already exposed, there’s nothing they can do but give me morphine. I can do this,” you state and turn to the lab, looking around for any important information.

“Just get out of there, you need to go to the hospital,” Spencer insists as you continue to search his desk.

“She’s already infected. Now if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure,” the general says and you grab the papers off his desk, reading through his notes. 

“If I’m in here, I can find the cure, or I can make it. If I figure out how he made this strain then I can make the antidote with his notes,” you reply, hearing Spencer sigh with exasperation. “I can also try to see who killed Dr. Nichols, the answer is in here somewhere.”

“Say something to her, order her. She can’t stay in there,” Spencer’s voice cracks and you shake your head, now was not the time to get distracted.

“She’s right, her best chance is to be inside,” Hotch replies and you set your phone down as you read through his writing. “We’re gonna get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother, I’m already infected,” you mumble and break apart all his lab reports. 

“Your dad is going to kill me,” Hotch tells you and you sigh, shaking your head. 

“He does his job, I do mine.”

Your mind reels at the information, but you force yourself to focus and read through the reports and how Dr. Nichols managed to make such a potent spore. In your mind, your best bet is a combination antibiotic and antibody treatment to combat the toxins and ensure that any remaining bacteria is killed off.

“I think there was a struggle, there’s glass spread out and clutter all over,” you tell them, looking around and finding another desk in the corner. “There’s also another desk in the corner that’s smaller and organized. It appears there are two sets of handwriting as well as instructions on how to sterilize and transfer spores.”

“Nichols would know all that,” the general states. 

“He has a partner, maybe even a protege,” Spencer suggests as Hotch and the general run off to go follow that lead. Your phone begins to vibrate and you see that your father is calling you. Picking up, you put the phone to your ear.

“Papa, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, feeling the tears well up once more. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sh, piccolo. This is not your fault. How are you doing?” he asks and you inhale deeply, beginning to feel sharp pains in your chest. 

“I’m fine. I’m working,” you let out a sad laugh and shake your head. “I’m scared.”

“You’re going to be okay,” he tells you and he says it with such conviction that you almost believe him.

“If I’m not--”

“Don’t talk like that,” he cuts you off and you shake your head, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“If I’m not okay, I just want to tell you that you were the best dad in the whole world and that I love you so much. I’ll tell mom ‘hi’ for you,” you hold in a sob as he begins to protest. “I love you.”

You hang up the phone and sob into your hand, breathing in as deeply as possible to try and stay afloat. Quickly, you call up Penelope as something crosses your mind.

“Hey, you,” Penelope mumbles solemnly.

“No funny quip?” you bite your lip nervously as she sighs.

“I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are,” she says.

“Hey, Penny. Do you think you can record something for me?” you ask, glancing out the window to where Spencer is staring in.

“Anything,” you hear her type. “Alright, you’re good.”

“Hey, Spence,” you bite back another sob as it shakes through your chest. “This isn’t how I intended for you to hear this, but here it goes. I love you. So much. And I’m such a coward for not saying it to your face, but, if I’m gone then I want you to know that your brain and your smarts are so incredible, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I love you so much.”

A woman in an orange suit steps into the room and you quickly hang up your phone, smiling at Dr. Kimura.

“Dr. Montgomery,” she says as does her best to walk in the suit.

“You look nice,” you say and let out a shaky laugh. “How is everyone else doing?”

“Let’s worry about you,” she states and you nod as Spencer calls you back. You answer and put him on speaker. 

“Hey, it’s me and Garcia,” he tells you as a tickle in your throat bubbles up and makes you cough. “I think the cure is in there somewhere. Dr. Nichols was a former military scientist so he’s secretive and paranoid. Prentiss and Rossi don’t think the partner was a coworker.”

“Can you look for the cure while I help them?” you ask Dr. Kimura and she nods as you look around the room. “I’ve been through everything, Spence.”

“I know you’re not thinking straight,” his voice cracks. “But, we need you.”

 You clear your throat and nod.

“You’re right,” you rush over to his desk and look through his items. “There’s a picture of him teaching and a syllabus.” 

You think back to the instructions and think for a moment.

“Hold on,” you run over to the other desk and look at the content. “It’s a student, it has to be if he went through the trouble of writing lab procedures.”

Picking up the thick stack of paper, you instantly recognize it as some sort of thesis. Years of curating your own, you would never forget it. 

“A thesis, his partner was a doctoral student,” sweat drips down your hairline as you sift through the papers.

“He wouldn’t have let just anyone in there so perhaps he opened his lab to a student,” Spencer formulates as you read through the paper. “Check the sciences.”

“Uh, cross-checking with names of former employees or customers with grievances at the bookstore.” Penelope types away at her keyboard as you read through the paper, it mentions things like preparedness and less about the spores itself as well as scientific findings. “Nothing, my doves.”

“This doesn’t sound like a science student, this is all about city preparedness, and response,” you cough and try not to stress about the taste of blood in your mouth. 

“Check the social studies,” Spencer states. “Public policy, urban planning.”

“Hot to trot. There’s a Chad Brown, School of Public Policy at U. of M. matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front. I’ll tell Hotch,” Penelope hangs up as you stifle another cough, the pain in your chest worsening.

“You did it, now get out of there,” Spencer says and you turn to Dr. Kimura as you let out another cough. Blood splatters on your hand and you wipe it on your pants.

“You said the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn’t suspect. What about Nichols’ inhaler?” she walks up with the inhaler as you put Spencer on speaker. 

“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you out here,” he says and you hang up as the two of you walk out of the lab and into the tent where people are ready to spray you down. You let the tears flow freely now that you’re out and the water rolls over you in an attempt to get rid of all the powder that might have stuck. Spencer is outside the tent speaking to Hotch and your father as you get naked and hosed down. Once they’re finished, you’re toweled down and put into a gown as you get on the gurney and are wheeled off to the ambulance. 

“Hey, you,” you mutter weakly to Spencer as he walks alongside you. Another cough bursts out of your chest.

“I’m seeing you off to the hospital, the team doesn’t need me,” he states and you nod, taking his hand as they get you into the ambulance. There is a sharp pain in your lungs every time that you move and you cough up blood more and more. The lights in the ambulance are too bright and you feel so hot as Dr. Kimura places her stethoscope on your chest.

“How are you feeling, Dr. Montgomery?” she asks as you fail to hold back another cough.

“I’m obey,” your eyes widen as the words in your head fail to come out of your mouth. “Obey. I fleel fin.”

Your eyes water as you look over at her and then at Spencer who watches you in terror. 

“Okay, that’s okay,” she mutters to you before calling out to the driver. “Driver, faster.”

The sound of your heart beating echoes in your head is nausea and dizziness loom over you, making you close your eyes. All the sounds, including Spencer who seems to be calling out to you, dissipate as you drift off into the darkness. At least he would know. 

[deanzboyfriend]

Unexpected

BAU x gn!teen!reader///Criminal Minds

Requested: Yes or No

Request: i heard you write for cm x teen! reader! i’m happy because there’s not a ton of those on here. i have a request, if you’re willing to write it, of course: the reader is the kid (you can choose pronouns) of an unsub and they/he/she know a little more than they’re/he’s/she’s letting on, so they/he/she get interrogated. hope that sounds okay!

⚠️Warnings: None? ⚠️

 //I was so happy to write this! It's my first fic on tumblr, so I'm sorry if anything seems off. I keep switching from my phone and my laptop 😭 I tried to avoid pronouns all together, but there are some gn ones in there, but feel free to tell me if there's a mishap somewhere! Feedback is much appreciated xx

There are a lot of things you plan in life. But being interrogated in your own house spilling your life story to a couple of FBI agents? That definitely was not on your list of things to do today.

-2 days prior-

"Alright my furry friends! Here's what I've got!" Garcia pressed the clicker for the screen. "Three women, all strangled to death in the last 4 weeks. All white, mid 30's with dark hair. Unidentified fingerprints were found at the scene that appear to be male. All three women were sedated with ketamine.”

“It’s obvious that our unsub has a hatred for a female figure in their life. Mother possibly?” JJ said, looking through the women’s files. Reid took a further look at the crime scene photos. “The ligature marks on the neck suggest that it was an older necklace, could that have some significance?”

The team nodded. “Garcia, double check the fingerprints again. See if the M.E get any metal residue off of the victim’s necks. JJ,Morgan,Prentiss, see if you an find anything at the victim’s houses. Reid, help Garcia and work on the geographical profile.” They all got to work.

-Friday, 2 pm-

“Our unsub is male,roughly six foot tall,with an athletic build. He’s recently divorced, and has a misogynistic mindset.”

“He’ll have a higher paying job, likely something working with his hands. He will seem like a good employee to his customers, but will have several complaints from his co-workers.”

After the team gives the profile, the PD got a tip about a man named Markus Y/L/N that fit the profile and was seen with one of the girls at the bar. Garcia did some digging and stopped in her tracks and immediately called Hotch. 

 -with the team- 

“Team, we have an update. Y/L/N has a kid.” The team all had wide eyes at the news. With what they knew about Markus, they certainly did not expect a kid of all things. “Reid,Morgan,JJ,head to the Y/L/N house and talk with them. I just got word from Garcia that our unsub is not present there currently. Be cautious.”

-Y/L/N house, Your POV-

I was reading my new book on my bed when I heard a knock at the door. “Coming!” I dog-eared the page I was on and went downstairs and looked through the peephole before opening the door.

“Hello, my name is Agent Jereau, this is Agent Morgan and Doctor Reid. We’d like to ask you a couple questions if that’s alright?” They all showed their credentials. 

I felt myself tense when she said agent. This can’t be any good.

“O-Of course,come in.” I opened the door the rest of the way to let them in. “Would any of you like something to drink? I have water and fresh lemonade if you’d like any.” Agents Jereau and Morgan shook their heads no. Doctor Reid asked for a glass of lemonade. I smiled at him and went into the kitchen.

-3rd POV-

Morgan shifted to look at Reid. “You good man? It’s not like you to take any offers from people, especially since we’re in the house of an unsub.” Reid looked back at him. “You could see the nervousness right? They relaxed quite a bit and even smiled after I asked for it. They feel intimidated by us, so we can assume they know something we don’t.”

JJ and Morgan just nodded and smiled as you came from the kitchen with Reid’s lemonade.

“So, your father isn’t here right now?” You nodded your head no. “He’s off on a business trip for a few days. If you need to speak with him, he should be back tomorrow.” You shifted in your seat as Morgan stared at you, seeming to be studying you.

“Is that really what he’s doing? Or do you know what he’s actually doing?” He stated and you gulped. You weighed all your options as you watched JJ elbow Morgan whispering something about ‘being too harsh’ and ‘It’s just a kid’

“I-I um I-” you stuttered, still not knowing what to say. You had some steady tears flow down your face as you started to panic a little. 

JJ’s motherly instincts kicked in as soon as she saw your tears. She sat next to you and shushed you to keep you calm. Reid just smiled sympathetically at you while she held you close.

“He said he had business to attend to...I think he is going to do it again. H-He um, he mentioned an adress of a w-woman who used to be our neighbor...C-Cassidy Howards.” You said quietly, barely loud enough to be heard by the other agents in the room. Morgan immediately got up to call Garcia and Hotch.

“Shhhh...It’s ok, we’ll take care of you ok?” JJ softly rubbed your back as you cried harder.

-Your POV (sorry for all the POV changes 😅)-

I held tightly onto Agent Jereau as I told her everything. How I figured out what he was doing, when I caught him in the act, how I met all of the victims because he brought them to the house at some point. All of it.  

When I finally started to calm down to just sniffling, I wiped my tears and sat up. Agent Morgan walked back in and looked toward Doctor Reid. “Hotch said we could bring the kid back to the Bureau. C’mon kid, get some stuff and come with us.” I nodded but before I walked up the stairs, I turned on my heel to face the agents again. “I h-have a name you know, an’ I’m not a kid. My name is Y/N.” 

Morgan laughed and smiled at me. “Alright, alright. Now go get your stuff.” I turned back around to go up the stairs to get some of my stuff. I grabbed my school backpack and put my laptop and notebooks in there as well as a few of my favorite books. I zipped it up and grabbed my phone as well as one more book.

I went back downstairs and met with the agents outside. Before we got into one of their fancy SUVs, Dr. Reid stopped me. “ ‘The Canterbury Tales’ huh? You have to read that for school?” he asked me as I looked down at my book.

“Oh! Well, not exactly. It’s one of my favorites by Chaucer. This one specifically was given to me by a dear friend of mine a while back. I tend to read a lot, since I don’t get much time for making friends. Have you read any of his books?” He smiled at me and we started talking about our other favorite books on the way to their HQ. I wasn’t aware of the two agents smiling at us the whole ride there.

-BAU HQ-

“Wow, this place is huge.” I said as I looked around in amazement. I heard Morgan laugh. He pats my back and says “Most people have that same reaction when they first see this place. You’ll be watched by our Tech Analyst, Penelope Garcia for now. I can show you to her offic- Nevermind, there she is.”

I saw a blond, brightly dressed woman speed walking towards us. “Whoa Baby Girl, slow down or you’ll scare the kid.” He laughed as she playfully hit his arm. I smiled at her as she looks over to me.

“Oh! You must be Y/N! Aww you’re so adorable! I just wanna eat you up! Time to show you my lair!!” She grabbed my arm, making me laugh as she pulled me with her to her “lair”

-3rd POV-

The team was conversing about the case in the bullpen after they caught Markus. “I feel bad for the kid. Having to go through all that and keep secrets with him in the house. What do you think is gonna happen to ‘em?”  Morgan asked, wanting to know that you’d be safe somewhere.

“I’m pretty sure CPS already found a nice Foster family that would take them in. They live here in Quantico.”  The whole team had smiles on their faces as they looked over to you listening to Rossi talk about profiling and his favorite recipes to make. They had all gotten attached to you.  Later when the CPS person came to pick you up, you got hugs from every team member. “Don’t be afraid to come visit here sometime. You can call us anytime you need something. Even if it’s just needing to talk. We’re here for ya kid.” You smiled at Morgan as you gave him one last hug. 

Yeah, some things in life can be unexpected, but sometimes, it’s not all that bad.

//Omg! My first fic is finished! Again, sorry if there are any mistakes, feel free to correct me. Please give feedback! <3

Tags:

@spncersreid

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Sweet but psycho...

For the lovely @ronaldrx​

Hope it will cheer you up!

TW: Mentions of violence, strong language, sexual undertones, murder.

At the Black Mask Club, Roman Beauvais Sionis was sitting in his favorite place, drinking his Martini.

While doing so, he observed the patrons of his nightclub dancing or getting drunk on the dancefloor. 

"Pathetic!" he snarled as he sipped his glass.

"Sure, boss. But let's say it's a necessary devil as they make you rich!" suggested Victor.

"You mean necessary evil? You got the point, Vic: at least, they contributed to my lifestyle!"

"Besides, boss: are you sure that they are all pathetic?" grinned his henchman as he glanced at the dancefloor where a specific young man was dancing.

"Oh, Victor: you know he is the exception!" cooed Roman as he glimpsed at his lover (Y/N), who swayed his hips on the rhythm of the music.

(Y/N) (L/N), the only man Roman Sionis was devoted to. They were dating for 6 months, and the mob boss treated his boyfriend like a prince. It was an understatement to say that Black Mask adored his lover.

"It was nice of your boyfriend to invite us here!" said Mindy, a little brunette.

"Yeah, sure! And he was not obliged to!" added Sam, an Afro-American.

"Don't worry about that: it was his pleasure! Moreover, he never refused something that I asked nicely!" smiled (Y/N).

"Of course, but your boyfriend is one of the most powerful men of Gotham! I don't think he would care about some commoners like us!" pointed Shanna, a blonde girl.

"Nah, don't worry! Roman knows how much you mean to me. And he will do anything to please me!"

"Speaking of the devil, did you notice that he is checking you out since you start dancing with us?" grinned Sam.

Slightly eyeing, (Y/N) noticed his lover's intense gaze at him.

Smirking, the young man had an idea.

"Well, I see he likes it. What if I put up a show?"

"What do you have in mind?" giggled Shanna.

"Wait and see, Shanni. You won't get disappointed!" sneered (Y/N) as he climbed on a table.

"I think I'm gonna like your idea, dude!" squealed Mindy as she climbed on the next table and started dancing again.

Soon, Sam and Shanna climbed on another table and swang on the rhythm with delight.

The other patrons cheered loudly as (Y/N) danced with all his passion.

"I think he caught you!" smiled Victor as he drank his glass of vodka.

"Indeed. And I thought I was discreet!"

"Not enough for him!"

"I guess so..." trailed Roman as he was amazed by his lover dancing on the table.

He could not take his eyes off of the athletic body swaying on the beat. And to spicy up things, the song hypnotized Sionis:

Oh, she's sweet but a psycho!

A little bit psycho

At night she's screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind."

Oh, she's hot but a psycho!

So left, but she's right though

At night she's screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind."

Grab a cop gun. Kinda crazy

She's poison but tasty,

Yeah, people say, "Run, don't walk away."

'Cause she's sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night she's screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind."

Sweet but psycho... An accurate depiction of (Y/N), indeed. For those who knew well his lover, Roman can say that he had two distinctive personalities: the first one, sweet and loving, was kept for his loved ones, whereas the other was more wicked and twisted. A part of (Y/N) that scared his enemies...

Meanwhile, (Y/N) continued to dance along with his friends.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"What, Mindy?"

"I think Roman loves the show if you see what I mean..."

"I see it, yes... Perhaps should I take the next step?"

"What does it mean?"

"Admire the artist, baby!" the young man smirked as he took off his shirt under the excited cheers of the habitues.

Once topless, he continued dancing as he provocatively moved his hips and his upper body, glancing at Roman with a mischievous smile.

Watching this desirable view, Sionis get turn on. He swore to God that (Y/N) drove him crazy every time. 

Victor noticed the lustful glance of his boss: looks like the two lovers will have fun tonight...

Nevertheless, Zsasz admitted that the presence of (Y/N) in his boss life was a blessing. Indeed, the young man was able to calm down Roman when the latter had his terrifying fits of anger. He was his most valued ally when his boss was enraged...

He would not say that they were friends, but, at least, they respected each other, which was enough for the scarred man.

Suddenly, the song ended, and the clients loudly applauded (Y/N)'s performance. The young man bowed, saluting his audience before he puts his shirt on, gets down from the table, and walked towards the place where Roman and Victor were.

"I hope you fancy the performance, baby!" smiled (Y/N) as he sat close to his boyfriend.

"I did not miss a part of it, my little prince! Gosh, you're an amazing dancer!" laughed Roman as he kissed his lover's forehead.

"Thank you, handsome!"

"I confirm: he was not able to take his eyes off of you!" snickered Zsasz.

"I did not ask your opinion, Vic!" growled the mobster.

"Don't grumpy, Roman: I thought you had fun!" cutely pouted (Y/N).

He felt Roman's grip tighten around his waist as he heard him mutter at his ear:

"I am eager for another type of fun if you know what I mean!"

"So am I!" 

"I suppose you two lovebirds want to be alone at the penthouse tonight?" grinned Victor.

"Unfortunately. Sorry, Vic!"

"That's the rule!" shrugged the henchman.

(Y/N)'s friends arrived near the table, glasses in their hands.

"May we sit with us?" politely asked Mindy.

"Please, be my guests. My sweet boy's friends are always welcomed!"

The three young people sat near (Y/N) and started a charming conversation with Roman. When he was not terrifying people, Sionis could be an elegant and cultivated man with excellent manners.

They talked until the young adults decided to come back home, as the club was about to close. 

"Alright, let's go! We have to find a cab!" declared Sam as he put his coat on.

"Leaving already? Well, I guess good things come to an end!"

"Don't worry, sweetie: we'll do it again next Friday! Besides, I want to be in a clean state of mind for my job!" laughed Shanna as she pecked (Y/N) on the cheek.

"Okay, I understand! Be careful!"

"Don't worry! See you later, pretty boy! Goodbye, Mr. Sionis!" waved Mindy.

"Have a good night! You are always welcome here!" smiled Roman.

As the three left the room, the criminal sighed:

"You have nice friends, (Y/N)."

"I know: they are like my second family. They are so kind to me..."

"Speaking of that..." grinned Sionis as he tightened his grip on the young man's hip.

"You've been a very naughty boy, you know? Getting me horny like that... That behavior deserves a punishment!"

"I am sure what awaits me once we come back to the penthouse..." laughed (Y/N) as he sat on Roman's lap, dominating him with a triumphant grin.

"Provocative, cheeky, arrogant... Boy, you're my type!" chuckled the latter while letting his fingers running along the legs of his lover.

"SIONIS!" boomed a masculine voice.

"Oh, fuck! What again?" growled Roman.

Suddenly, around ten armed thugs appeared in the club, scaring habitues who fled.

"Step aside, baby. Looks like I have some business!" muttered Roman, gently pushing (Y/N) on the couch.

Once the night club was empty, Roman asked:

"What's the problem, gentlemen?"

"You're the problem, Sionis. You stole territories from Boss Maroni, and he did not like it!" snarled the leader of the thugs.

"Who cares about what this old jackass would say? If he is not capable of handling his districts, I take his place!"

"Shut up!" barked one of the gunmen, aiming his rifle at Roman.

"Who the fuck you think you are? Nobody talks to Roman Sionis wit that tone!"

"You're not in the position to tell us what to do! If you want to see the sunlight, tell your scarred lapdog to step back!"

Victor stayed silent, but his gaze was murderous. He was in the mood to peel off some faces tonight...

As for (Y/N), he tried to escape without being caught, but unfortunately, one of the mugs noticed him and pointed his gun at him.

"Not so fast, sugar baby. Where do you think you're going, huh? If you don't want to see your boss ending up like a colander, you sit down!"

The nickname made the young man twitch: nobody called him like that! 

"You're so pathetic..." he grumbled.

"What did you say?"

"Are you deaf, you twat? I said that you and all your little jerks are pathetic! Don't you want to know why?"

"My patience is growing thin!" roared the mug as he put the barrel of his gun between (Y/N)'s eyes.

However, he felt unease when he saw the growing smile on (Y/N)'s face. A deranged, twisted smile that promised nothing good...

"Why do you smile?"

"You made several mistakes when you arrived here, you know? First of all, you believed that you can walk in there and threatening us without suffering the consequences: how wrong you are!"

"You think so? While you prattle, all Roman's guys are busy dealing with Boss Maroni's henchmen! You won't get away this time!"

"Secondly, I am not Roman's sugar baby, you moron: I am his boyfriend! And thirdly, I am not a defenseless sweet boy... I am worse!"

And, without warning, he drew a blade out of his jacket and slit his opponent's throat, killing him. 

It allowed Roman and Victor to fight back and eliminate the other gunmen. A few minutes later, only three thugs were severely wounded but alive. Probably not for long...

"Well, it was easier than I expected!" stated Sionis.

"Sure, Boss!" answered Zsasz as he started to peel off the face of a corpse.

"Ew, Victor! Seriously, can't you just wait to be in the warehouse?" frowned Roman.

Soon after, Roman's henchmen appeared in the club.

"Sorry, Boss: we've been ambushed by the rest of the group! They planned this for a long time!"

"You're fucking lucky that we're alive! Are there survivors?"

"A few plus those three. In total, we have a dozen of Maroni's men!"

"Perfect! Now, clean this mess up: I want to open the club tomorrow night!"

"Yes, sir!"

"And bring those fuckers out of there! The warehouse would be fine!"

"Does it mean I'll have fun?" asked Victor with a sadistic smile.

"Of course, Vic! They're all yours! Consider it as your reward for tonight!"

"Thanks, boss."

Soon after, (Y/N) and Roman were alone in the club. The mob boss turned and glanced at his boyfriend.

"Oh, baby boy: you always made me proud!" he exclaimed as he wiped out the bloodstains on his lover's face.

"I could not let them threatening you without intervene!"

"And you were right, my beloved."

He kissed his boyfriend.

"My perfect little psycho!"

"My handsome sadistic gangster!"

"Oh, I like that. So, what if we're going back to the penthouse and having all the fun I promised earlier?"

"I can't wait, darling! Shall we go?"

"Your wish is my command, my prince!"

Later, as the two terrible beloveds were making love with all the passion they had, Roman thought that nothing could replace his sweet but murderous boyfriend.

After all, (Y/N) was lovely but deadly as hell. And he would never get tired of it.

Provocative, cheeky, arrogant, sexy, smart, deadly, and in love. The embodiment of perfection for the bad-tempered and cruel boss of Gotham.

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story!

See you later and I’m looking for your requests!

[nerdyfangirl67]

If You Only Knew - Criminal Minds Reader Insert

Pairing: Hotch x reader

Warning: angst, language, depressing thoughts, fluff ending!

Word count: 1725

Something takes place between Hotch and the reader. The reader tries to live without him but soon realizes that he is her grounding force.

A/N: I got the idea for this one from the song If You Only Knew by Shindown. I suggest listening to it at some point when reading this, or before, because it really adds to the mood. Perfectly okay to read it without though. It was a bad day for me so I didn’t get this proofread. If you find anything, and I haven’t gone through and fixed it, you can totally let me know.

Numb. All you had felt for the last month was numb. Sure, you had felt pain in the beginning, followed swiftly by anger and then rejection, but for the last month, all you could remember being was numb.

When he had been in your life, you had never realized how much he grounded you, in a good way. His presence alone had you feeling as though you could achieve anything you set your mind to. Now though, he was gone. And you had come to realize that you were floating away, with nothing to hold you in place.

Aaron had left with barely a warning. He gave you the simple, “I’m not good for you” speech and had walked away. You hadn’t believed that he was the kind of person who would do that, especially because you had quickly and quietly given him your heart in the short year the two of you had been together.

The first week after he left, when all you felt was pain, you had spent on your couch, surrounded by used Kleenex, empty ice cream containers, and all the comedy DVDs you owned. You had hoped that if you stayed there long enough, it would all turn out to be a dream. A cruel, pointless dream, but a dream none the less. Then, after forcing yourself out of your pit of despair, you had written letters. Letters intended for Aaron, that you used as an outlet for everything you felt for him. You wrote letter after letter, sometimes three a day, but you never sent them. You had gotten as far as addressing the envelopes, and even put stamps on a few.

As the rejection crept in on the pain squeezing your heart, you had spent many a night surrounded by empty bottles of cheap beer and an increasing need to see him, to hear him, and feel him, as you used to. There were even the handful of nights you had driven all the way to his apartment building, intent on giving him a piece of your mind and admittedly wanting to see him again outside of the Aaron in your longing  imagination. Yet, all you ever ended up doing was sitting outside of the building in your car, some nights for hours.

Then after a few weeks of pain and building resentment towards him and what he did, you stopped feeling anything at all. Period. It was as if all the feelings you had ever felt, or would ever feel, were simply gone. Try as you might, you couldn’t find joy in any of the things you used to. And you hated yourself for it. You hated that, in the last year, your happiness had become dependent on your relationship with Aaron.

At this point, you had used all of your vacation days, and even some sick days, from work. The thought alone that you might run into Aaron when you returned, even though you worked in the Cyber Crimes unit on a different floor, had you scrambling to try and come up with an excuse good enough to earn you a few more weeks off. In the end, you were unable to come up with such an excuse.

Your first day back was a Monday and had you been thinking clearly, you may not have told your best friend, who just so happened to work for the FBI as well, that you would be returning. You didn’t think you would be able to fake having actually been on vacation, rather than experiencing one of the most painful breakups of your life. Especially if your best friend was the ever-enthusiastic Penelope Garcia.

But you hadn’t thought enough about your return, other than how you were going to avoid Aaron, so when you walk your desk Monday morning and see Penelope waiting there for you, you quickly have to decide whether to tell her the truth or make up a vacation story.

“Oh Y/N/N, what happened?” Apparently Penelope didn’t have to be a profiler to read you. You grab your chair and roll it towards her, resting your head on her shoulder when you get there.

You didn’t even know where to start. Penelope knew you had been dating someone, just not who. “I--my, uh boyfriend left, I guess. He decided he wasn’t good enough for me or some shit like that.”

Penelope grabs your hand gently, lacing her fingers with yours. “He still loves you.” Her simple words have you sitting up and looking her in the eyes.

“What? How do you know?” The slight confusion is evident in your voice.

“It’s so obvious Y/N who ‘he’ is. You guys are always giving each other googly eyes. And ‘he’ has been a real mess these last couple weeks.” You feel both a sense of relief, at not having to hide the truth from your best friend any longer, and an intense wave of pain, one that you hadn’t felt for weeks, at the thought of Aaron suffering.

“I-I can’t. I don’t know what to say to him. All I want is to feel his arms around me and for him to tell me ‘everything is going to be all right’.” You whisper, no longer able to hold back the truth of what you were feeling.

“Oh baby, you gotta tell him. He won’t come to you, he’s too stubborn.” She gently states, giving the hand you were holding a soft squeeze.

You nod your head in agreement and after a few minutes of small talk with Penelope and a promise for a girls’ night soon, you get to work on the pile of case files on your desk. The day drags by slowly, with you only risking leaving your desk for lunch and the occasional bathroom break.

——-

The week continued in a similar fashion. You worked close to your desk, with little interaction to anyone outside of your unit, other than Penelope. You were caught up on all the paperwork that had piled up on your desk by six o’ clock Friday evening and decided to head home.

After a quick stop at the supermarket, in which more bottles of wine than you actually needed end up in your cart, you arrive home. You are quick to change into lounging clothes and pour yourself a glass of wine before moving to the couch. Turning on your favorite TV show, you binge-watch late into the night.

It’s one AM before you finally drag yourself to bed. And although it’s the middle of the night, you have trouble falling asleep. In fact, you spend a majority of the remaining hours until dawn tossing and turning in bed.

When you do finally look at the clock, after a night of little sleep, the time, 4:03 in bright white digits, stares back at you. You let out a sigh of defeat as you push away the covers and climb out of bed. It is as if your body is on auto-pilot as you unconsciously pull on a pair of sneakers and slip on a hoodie. You quickly make your way through your apartment building, down the stairs and out to the parking lot.

You are halfway to Aaron’s apartment before you truly realize what you’re doing. Even once you do realize where you’re headed, you keep going. You were tired of being apart from the man you loved and even if all you get is ten minutes with him, you were going to make it worth it.

Ten minutes later you were knocking rapidly on Aaron’s door. A moment of silence follows before the door is being swung open. You shove past Aaron, not wanting him to slam the door in your face. He turns to you, watching you but not speaking. His eyes, usually the color of warm whiskey, are darker now. His brow is creased and his stance tense.

“What are you doing here?” He asks in an emotionless tone.

Your heart jumps to your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I-I can’t do this Aaron. I can’t spend my life having let you go. I know it’s cheesy,...but you, and Jack. are quite literally the ones who make me complete. I tried Aaron, I did. But you and Jack are all I need and now that I know what it is like without you, I can’t ever live that life.”

Aaron’s eyes scan your body hungrily and you take a step towards him, holding a hand out as you gently approach him. He doesn’t move as you tentatively brush a lock of hair away from his forehead. Standing this close to him, you notice the dark circles under his eyes and the wrinkled appearance of his T-shirt. He doesn’t move when you touch him so you close the remaining space between you.

“Kiss me?” You ask softly, your voice thick with want and anticipation.

He doesn’t move right away, but suddenly his lips are roughly pressed against yours. You kiss him back with an equal amount of need and intensity. You feel him weave a hand into your hair and grab your hip to pull you closer to him. You grip the front of his T-shirt tightly in your hands. The kiss continues until the two of you break apart for air.

You pant lightly, keeping your hands on his chest. He removes his hands from your body, placing them over yours. The warmth fades from his eyes and is replaced with a serious glint.

“You deserve better than me. I’m never home, I work all the time and whenever I am free, I spend time with Jack. You deserve someone who will take you out for dates, who will be there to fall asleep with you, and give you the life you want.” As he speaks he moves to put space between the two of you.  

You shake your head violently. “No. You are all I want.” Your voice is firm as you take a step closer to him. He stares at you for a long moment, not moving or speaking. Then he hesitantly steps forward and wraps you into a tight embrace. You lean your head against his chest, listening to the dull thud of his heart. And for the first time in weeks, you feel whole.