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insomniumstella · 2 years

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as we slowly die (4) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky

word count: 4,620

taglist is down below (please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!)

author's note: i cannot believe we're at chapter four already ahhh. also, thank you for all of the love and support, it means the world! this series has been too much fun to write. i cannot wait until we get to the end, if you've peeped at the playlist you might've noticed some steamier songs on the bottom for the last chapter — i fear they've given me too many ideas haha

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

series' SPOTIFY playlist

The third day in Maui had started eerily serene. Dreamy, as if she had not yet abandoned the vivid scenarios and vibrant colors her mind had created.

She had woken up in the early hours of morning alone, with the warm sun rays that had managed to sneak past the blinds and into the bedroom dancing across her exposed skin. Furthermore, the suite’s temperature had been adjusted and the faint buzzing of the AC resembled the most glorious of music. James gave in to my complaints, she had realized, have pigs started flying too?

He had not, however, bothered to leave a note before leaving, and she had not taken the trouble, or cared enough, to text his work phone and uncover the soldier’s whereabouts.

The suite had a Nespresso machine with a delightful selection of coffee pods, and, as y/n lounged on the terrace, cozily curled up on one of the chairs, she couldn’t help but indulge in the faint sounds of the onshore breeze and bitter smell of coffee. She closed her eyes, committing the blissful moment to memory, and stored it deep within the chaos of her thoughts for far scarier and inevitably more uncertain times than a false honeymoon with an insufferable sergeant.

It would’ve been perfect if not for the tinges of anxiety at the pit of her stomach. Last night, she had been convinced that she was in desperate need of Steve’s advice, and, in some ways, she was. He could provide help, but could the woman convince Captain America to lie? Would he trust y/n’s instincts enough to stay silent if James admitted to reopening Elijah’s case? Shit, she realized, dragging a palm across her face out of irritation for allowing one major detail to slip past her plans.

On one hand, she could let go of the idea that James had contacted Steve, but on the other — Steve would skin them both if he found out they had begun reinvestigating Elijah Williamson. Mark Basso, the person she craved to probe, had never been tied to the politician, as far as y/n was aware, but Steve wouldn’t need to suddenly possess Wanda’s magic to miss a blatant lie. There had to be a way to obtain information without arousing suspicions.

Wanda had been on probation since the destruction of a building complex in Paris. Natasha had left for a mission in Singapore before the Maui trip and would, lamentably, return after. Tony would be no better than Steve if he found out James and she had gone against the wishes of the justice system and the FBI.

Sam, she scoffed at her absurdity for excluding The Falcon, Sam would know what to do.

The coffee had been long forgotten by the time she gathered the courage to text Sam’s number. Perhaps her concerns had been for nothing. Sam was a righteous man, yes, but he was also y/n’s floormate, and the two would often find themselves in the middle of trouble. The fun, laugh-until-we-can’t-breath kind of trouble. Though it was not the foundation of their bond, the pair’s mutual dislike towards James had led to countless nights of free-flowing tequila and extensive conversations. Sam was a compassionate friend and an incredible soldier who, unlike the captain, trusted y/n’s abilities and judgment entirely. It was never Steve who she had needed. Sam had been the answer all along.

BEST AVENGER: Sam! I’m in desperate need of a favor.

BEST AVENGER: I’ll do whatever you want.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: anything?

BEST AVENGER: ANYTHING.

Anything was not a word she’d often use when it regarded offers, but if he’d gather the information she needed to prove her theory, there was a slim chance of y/n performing anything Sam wanted of her.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: I want my laundry washed, ironed, and folded for the next month.

Except for that. She had bribed Rhodey to do laundry for her years ago. It had been surprisingly easy, considering he enjoyed a particular Portuguese dessert, and y/n, as a fan of pastel de nata herself, had the best spots in New York to obtain said dessert memorized. Rhodey would receive a bag of pastéis de nata, and, in return, she’d receive her laundry washed, ironed, and folded week after week. The woman doubted Rhodey would agree to do the same for Sam as the Falcon had been an avid pastéis de nata hater.

BEST AVENGER: we can negotiate the terms when I get back.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: what do you need?

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: if this is about Thomas, I took him out.

BEST AVENGER: who’s Thomas?

Confusion clouded her features. Thomas, Thomas, she searched her brain for anything until it hit her, fuck. The last few days had been too hectic to remember Thomas, the compound’s weaponry assistant, inviting y/n out on a date to a nearby dive bar with incredible appetizers and dirt-cheap cocktails. The bar would never be treated as the best place for dates, but she had fallen in love with it, including Jennifer, the bartender, who’d ring her vodka Red Bulls as single-shot cocktails and pour two shots in the concoctions instead.

BEST AVENGER: never mind, except for the part of you TAKING HIM OUT?!

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: on a date.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: it was a manly date. We drank beer and ate nachos. Watched a football game. He’s a pretty cool guy. Why’d you ghost him?

BEST AVENGER: what is a ‘manly’ date?

BEST AVENGER: also, I forgot.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: you have to apologize when you get back. I’d love him as a brother-in-law.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: and don’t worry about it.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: I thought you needed a favor?

I should apologize, she silently agreed. Thomas was a man not only kind but beyond funny. She had stayed up for hours to talk to him, and though she had found herself being lectured by James the next day when she could barely keep her eyes open during a meeting, y/n had not regretted the decision. Thomas and his witty jokes had been worth it.

BEST AVENGER: please look up Mark Basso. Send me every file you can find, any photos or security cam footage, especially if he’s near Elijah Williamson.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: Elijah Williamson?

She could almost hear the interest in Sam’s tone as she raked her eyes over the words.

BEST AVENGER: pinky promise to not tell Steve?

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: if the laundry will get washed, pressed, and folded for the next month, yes.

Tony might give into y/n’s innocent eyes and distressed monologue of ‘we need to hire a housekeeper, so the world can get saved’. He had to because she texted Sam back without giving the action much consideration.

BEST AVENGER: fine.

Sam’s reply came several minutes later, proving the minor of her concerns.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: wanna tell me the reason why you’re interested in a former HYDRA operative?

She did, except there was no way to reveal her outrageous theory of Elijah Williamson and Mark Basso without terrifying Sam, so the only response she could think of sending was limited to a short and simple —

BEST AVENGER: no.

It was deep into the evening when she had abandoned the suite.

The single time James had returned, y/n had been on the terrace, basking in the sun and scanning over the room service’s options; he had disappeared as hastily as he had come. It shouldn’t have bothered the woman, she had tried to not let his behavior disturb her peace, and yet … it did.

A sole greeting would’ve sufficed, an acknowledgment, whether surly or amicable, would’ve lifted the weight off her heart, but James had chosen radio silence as his weapon. It had been a foolish mistake to wonder whether something between them had changed.

It had not.

She needed a break from the break or the vacation Wanda had fooled her into.

Wanda and Steve would decidedly receive a lengthy monologue of ‘what the fuck were you two thinking by sending James and me on a fucking honeymoon in Hawaii’ when she got back. She had always refrained from cussing too much when Steve was in earshot, but desperate times allowed desperate measures.

The past two days had been the opposite of y/n’s expectations. Had she expected margaritas, scorching sun, and below-average pizza in the 24/7 lounge? Yes. Had she foreseen being roped into the eminently criminal lives of Elijah Williamson, Mark Basso, and the unfathomable reason why would the two take interest in Steve Rogers? She would’ve predicted a truce with James Buchanan Barnes before she had anticipated the disaster. Or sex. She would’ve envisioned sex with James before she would’ve forecasted the mess they had gotten into. Not that y/n would ever want to have James naked, sweaty, and hot from sinful activities, of course. Absolutely no.

She forced her mind to return to the problem at hand. Steve Rogers was an intriguing man, a mere science experiment in the forties, a true hero in modern times, and crowds of people desired to meet him. However, a corrupted politician and a former HYDRA officer? As soon as they had entered the suite after enduring the yacht party, she had wondered whether it was a lighthearted chat over a beer they’d want from him, and each thought had led to the answer of definitely not. She had also pondered over Bucky and his muscular arms, but that she’d rather not remember, for the shame would consume her whole. Get a grip, she had scolded herself then.

Mark Basso and Elijah Williamson as formal acquaintances would be the best-case scenario. The worst scenario she could conceptualize had been Mark and Elijah hoping to recreate the super soldier serum. It had been the fall of HYDRA, and it would be poetic for it to be the beginning of a new wave of criminals. It’d also explain Elijah’s interest in The Winter Soldier rather than in James.

That was her final theory — Elijah and Mark desired to produce super soldiers. She had decided it was far better than James’s ‘HYDRA exists’. It only needed the answer as to what the two had been planning on using the super soldiers for and what crimes had they already committed. And proof. It desperately needed evidence.

Sam had confirmed Mark to be a HYDRA operative, but he had also observed that Mark had been marked as deceased. He had gone through heaps of files, each identifying the man as deceased or missing, dating back to seven years ago. She hoped Sam would find the footage from the gala in Germany. It had taken place two years ago, she was certain, for she had attended. The database had to contain fraudulent documents.

Sam had a unique method to the madness, but y/n trusted him on the field, and she trusted him to meticulously search through complex databases. He’d contact her soon, and, in the meantime, the perfect opportunity had presented itself. It was as if her intuition had led y/n to a secluded area on the beach just south of The Maui Resort.

She trailed after the sound of music, ducking palm leaves. The sun had long fallen, and the icy touch of the sand clawed at her bare feet. Jordan, the woman remembered, the party’s tonight. She would not describe her worn-out tee and tiny shorts as party attire, but it’d have to do.

“Hi!” Jordan abandoned the lounge chair, weaving around people on the bamboo deck. “She remembered.” She had not realized their height difference until he was standing in front of the woman, looking down at her with a boyish grin. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hi.” She returned the grin, studying his drunken expression. “I like the braids.” It was an honest compliment, and she returned his embrace when he hugged her as a thank you.

“Appreciate it.” His smile showcased his teeth this time. “I like the shirt.”

“Thank you.” She spun around to showcase the vintage AC/DC tee she had thrifted almost four years ago and cocked her head to the side. “I don’t usually wear oversized tees to parties, but it might’ve been the correct choice.” Playfulness colored her tone as she referred to his bare chest and lounge shorts.

“It was.” The boy nodded. Though he had mentioned recently turning twenty-four during the anniversary dinner, she decided he’d do a great job at blending in as an ordinary freshman at college. It might’ve been his carefree attitude at the core of it all.

“Mmmh,” she watched him through hooded eyes, holding his stare before her eyes dipped lower.

His skin was scattered with tattoos, intricate art pieces, and tiny doodles adored most of his upper body, resting on the lean muscle of his biceps, adonis belt, and pecks. The ink was on the verge of blending into the golden brown of his skin, creating a strikingly beautiful contrast.

“Let me get you a drink,” Jordan’s hand slid to the small of y/n’s back as he led her further into the backyard, “can I get you a drink?” He questioned, flashing another grin when she perched on the terrace’s wide railing. Hints of cockiness had infiltrated his tone.

“Yes, please.”

James had zero recollection of the path he had taken to wind up at an unfamiliar house. One moment he had been at the Hale ‘A bar, drowning his solicitudes in dirty martinis, and the other, his own body had stopped listening to his commands, leading the way against Bucky's wishes.

Fairy lights bled a soft glow onto the cozy couches and the tiny kitchen on the first floor of the house. The backyard was decorated with lights too, James could see through the window, from where he was sprawled out on the cushions. His body had taken him to The Maui Resort’s staff party, a place in which he shouldn't have been, yet decided upon staying in anyway.

This morning he had woken up at the crack of dawn, laying motionless as he listened to y/’s shallow and uniform breathing. He had taken a peak at the woman, her figure deep in peaceful slumber, before slipping into the bathroom and swiftly abandoning the suite altogether.

James had silently cursed himself out for the heavy silence between them. It was, partially, on him, but she had not made an effort to text him either. Forced conversations had been the norm for years, and yet the pair had strayed far away from the shared standard in the past two days. A line had been blurred, both had sensed it. Perhaps he had been a fool to indulge in fictitious hope of the relationship between them ever shifting. The two were not destined to become friends, James would never want to be friends. It was best they stayed somewhat professional, balancing on the line of nemeses and cordial co-workers.

“You look like a gin and tonic kind of guy,” a redhead pushed a drink into his flesh hand, “god,” she sighed, plopping next to him, “I hope you’re a gin and tonic kind of guy.”

James was a Thor’s Asgardian ale kind of gal, favoring the only alcohol, which could effortlessly provide him a pleasant buzz, but the woman’s expression reeked of insecurity, the hue of her eyes overflowing with doubt.

It was evident she found James attractive from the way she’d play with the ends of her fiery waves to the way, she scooted closer and closer until the space between them had vanished. Though James didn’t move a muscle to push her away, the closeness between him and the stranger was fairly uncomfortable. It had been more relaxing to have y/n, the last woman he’d think of for such an occurrence, sit on his lap. Her sun-kissed skin had been remarkably soft against the soldier’s, her thighs a perfect weight to rest atop his own, her nimble fingers subconsciously drawing patterns on his forearms the most peculiar of comfort. Get a grip, James, he winced at the direction his mind had taken, you cannot find y/n attractive.

“I am,” James lied through his teeth, wondering whether the woman had recognized him as the Winter Soldier.

“Good,” she nodded, propping a bent arm on the couch’s backrest. “You look awfully familiar,” the redhead drained half her drink, “have we met before?”

James sincerely hoped they haven’t, for it would mean she had encountered the version of him James preferred to keep under wraps these days.

“I doubt it.” He shrugged, staring at her.

She was an undoubtedly gorgeous woman, and she wanted him. The redhead desired James, and it was the strangest emotion. He could never sweep his past as a ruthless assassin under the rug. She, presumably, had not identified James as such, and yet he couldn’t allow himself to believe she, or most women for that matter, would crave him.

Except for y/n. He had permitted himself to accept that y/n had wanted him by the way she had repeatedly clenched her thighs on the god-forsaken boat. It might've been delusional, he understood, but if she had not squirmed in his lap for the reason of lust, what else could it have been?

Anxiety, you big buffoon, James scolded himself. The disgraceful thoughts of y/n would one day be the end of him, and the soldier feared the day might be closer than he could envision.

“Maya!” A deeper voice rang through the room. It was Jordan, the waiter, James recognized, who was leaning against the doorframe. “Where are the mics?”

The redhead jumped from the couch, rummaging through a woven basket before waving two microphones in the air. James stared at the man, attempting to distinguish the figure behind him. He could not see the person’s face, but dread washed over James as soon as the woman giggled.

“I love karaoke,” she admitted, drunkenly holding onto his waist, “can we sing Life Is A Highway?” The sound, which slipped past y/n's lips, was muffled, and James guessed she had rested her face against the waiter's exposed back.

Jordan stepped aside, reaching back to catch y/n's forearms in his tattooed hands before he tugged her in his direction to clear the doorway and make room for someone else, a guy less intoxicated.

"Jordan!" A sound from the deck slithered inside. "I think you two should stop with the drinks!" He called out, popping his head into the room to rake his eyes over Jordan's figure once more before disappearing.

"Alright!" Jordan called after him and focused his attention on y/n, a lazy smirk painting his expression. "Yes, we can," he squatted down to mess with the TV, a tangle of cables, and the pair of microphones, "and we should."

Though the house, both inside and out, was crowded, she’d undeniably notice James, cheeks flushed, shirt wrinkled from when he had hurriedly dressed in the morning without ironing the clothing article. Unless, of course, the state of her mind was beyond heavy tipsiness and bordered on harsh intoxication.

“It’s only the best song ever,” She giggled again, leaning against a dresser, her eyes fixated on Jordan’s hunched form.

James had never seen y/n loosen up as if the world outside the territory of the staff house did not exist. As if every single one of her worries held no weight at that moment. As if he was not sitting just a couple feet away from her, the redhead breaching his personal space, her head lazily resting on his flesh shoulder. She wouldn’t care, he thought, why should I?

“Lick It Up by KISS is a close second,” Jordan chuckled when the karaoke app on the TV belatedly turned on, the screen glowing dark purple. “Right above You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC.” He offered her a microphone.

The woman took it without hesitation, turning her back to James entirely.

“You did shake me all night long,” yet another giggle slipped past her lips, her drunken movements far slower than customary, “and I loved it.”

James had zero clue of what the comment could reference.

“C’mon,” Jordan chuckled, clicking on Life Is A Highway in the app, “it was the least I could do after that bastard husband of yours abandoned the anniversary dinner.” He narrowed his eyes, lost in the memory. "I suppose he did show up, but what kind of a man is almost an hour late to meet his wife for a celebratory evening?"

“No!” Maya, the redhead next to James, gasped. “Are you married?”

She stayed silent for a beat longer than she should’ve. “Yes," the innocent piece of fiction rolled off y/n's tongue.

“And your husband missed a fourth wedding anniversary celebratory dinner?” It was a mess of a sentence, but James had a sober idea the gin and tonics were to blame.

“Partly,” she replied, gawking at the TV — the track was about to play, "he arrived late on purpose and,” she blurted out before the white letters had the chance to turn yellow, indicating it was her time to sing, “I’m considering a divorce.”

It was apparent the two had either consumed more alcohol than their limits supported or were too preoccupied with one another and the karaoke to notice James, the abhorrent husband, sprawled out on the sofa.

"How can a man get married," Jordan commented, eyes glued on the screen in front of him, right arm loosely draped across y/n's shoulders, "and treat his wife in such an outrageous way is beyond me."

"Agreed," James chimed in, exhausting the red plastic cup of the gin and tonic, "the husband is a jerk." The sound of his voice was louder, bolder.

She didn't notice his presence or, perhaps, she did, and solely pretended to miss Bucky's distinct tone. Perhaps Life Is A Highway had consumed y/n's attention, too. James would've never deemed her as a great singer, but then again, he had never heard y/n sing, the man observed as she stayed on key, effortlessly hitting all of the notes.

It was only Maya, who acknowledged James, mumbling a low “mmmh.”

Jordan's hand snaked down to y/n's waist, and James averted his gaze to silence the ugly emotion some tended to describe as jealousy.

"I found a water bottle in the mini-fridge," his voice was a meek sound in the night's wind, "placed in on the bedstand in case you'd need it," she didn't speak when he dropped into an empty seat on the suite's terrace beside her, "you look rough."

You look rough, she replayed the remark in her head and chuckled, surrendering into Bucky's sarcasm, for it was an understated statement. The staff party, while fun, had not been kind on y/n's appearance, though the woman couldn't care less as the memories, if she could remember any in the morning, had been worth it. The night had been rich in alcohol, music, and dance.

A silence settled between the pair. She sought to establish a description best fit for the stillness, yet every acceptable name would die on the tip of y/n's tongue.

The moment sanctioned James an opportunity to forget life outside Maui. To care for y/n by ensuring she had water and a brisk bedroom to sleep in. To abandon the emotions, she had been familiar with and showcase his inner self that had never desired war in the first place.

It was James who disturbed the peace, "have you always been carefree, or have I been too big of an asshole to notice?"

She laughed, the sound of it boisterous and genuine. "I am everything, but carefree," her tone was firm, calculated, mournful even, "but the world continues moving forward as we slowly die."

Carefree was a foreign word in her vocabulary. The woman had not been a carefree agent nor a carefree friend, always concerned over problems that were not her own. Her heart had always been y/n's greatest strength and worst weakness, she realized, staring into Bucky's curious eyes. It might be the vodka speaking, she considered, but I could be nicer to James. In the past, she'd rather perish into dust than involve herself in anything regarding the soldier.

"We are dying," he observed, "every last one of us."

"It's the cruel truth of the universe," she nodded, bringing her knees to rest on the woven chair, "we experience living in parallel with death." It was the harshest of jokes. "If I notice a rare opportunity to melt away stress and lift the weight of saving the world off of my shoulders, why wouldn't I take it?" The question was one of the rhetorical kind.

The burden of rescuing the world and its residents would inevitably break y/n into unsalvagable pieces one day, but, it was also a remarkable reason to push forward.

"When I sneeringly suggested we kiss yesterday," the corners of his mouth turned up into a weak smile, "it wasn't an invitation."

The woman gasped, amusement glimmering in her eyes, and spoke before James could clarify the sentence, "I would never take it as such."

"Outstanding," he cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised in merriment, "but the remark wasn't all sarcasm," his fingers mindlessly picked at the loose strands of the chair's cushion, "I don't hate you."

And there it was — a second observation for y/n to add to her mostly blank image of James Buchanan Barnes. The former soldier was vulnerable, despite his icy exterior suggesting otherwise.

"I don't hate," she began declaring and hastily paused, thinking her next words through, "alright, I do hate you," Bucky's mouth fell open in faux shock, but she continued before he could bite back, "but you break me in training, and you snitch to Tony whenever I drive his stupidly expensive cars, and you bring Rhodey pastéis de nata, so he'd stop doing my laundry," she hiccuped, drunkenly eager to list further reasons.

"It hasn't worked yet," James admitted, "I'd guess there are a lot more arguments for your disdain towards me," the sentence, though not formulated as such, rung through the night as a question.

"You'd be correct. You hid Natasha's favorite suit and blamed it on me. Who does that?" A soft punch landed on his bicep. "That was an exceptionally low blow, Barnes, even for you." Playfulness colored her tone with hints of resentment clinging to it.

"Yes," there was no shame in the sentiment, "but you knew I was lactose intolerant when you switched out the milk."

She giggled under her breath, "oops." The word held no guilt. "Besides, I am James Barnes intolerant."

A tender sigh slipped past his lips, "how about a truce? I carry you to bed, and you never touch my almond beverages ever again?" James suggested, taking notice of y/n's heavy eyelids as she attempted to appear awake.

The answer had not been a sound but rather an action. The woman outstretched her arms, suggesting Bucky's almond milk would remain untainted if her body would soon reach the comfort of the suite's bed.

It did. She had fallen asleep as soon as her figure had ended up in James's arms.

Sleep tight, he thought, retreating back to the couch and abandoning the sinful idea of sleeping beside y/n on the single bed in a massive bedroom, for tomorrow's hangover will be brutal.

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faustocosgrove · 9 months

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and on the fourteenth day of reviewmas I, Fausto, give to thee:

14 missing light sources

[(a show taking place in 2040/6 other shows i reference in this dual review)/(a different franchise with 1 manga + 4 anime series + 3 tv specials + 5 feature films + 1 musical +1 video game + 2 live action adaptations)] - (one show released in 1994 - the other released in 1987) = 13 reasons why i’m placing this review at number 13.

one of 12 instances of elder abuse

11 yawns

my 10 remaining brain cells after this shitty movie jfc

9 instances this show reminded me of a better show

an 80s cult movie

7 lgbt main characters in an incredibly queer manga like holy shit

6 ye olde government agents

5/5 stars best movie of the decade easily. might be the best movie of all time

4 scantily clad teenaged girls (fbi open up! meme)

the 3rd time i read the same book about lawns maybe?

2 high school animes

and a ninja book

…from a guy who still thinks about the naruto series in the year 2024

the devil conspiracy

this movie had so many plot holes it was like watching a how it’s made video about colanders. it was also dark as fuck. as in lighting wise you can literally not fucking see anything that’s going on. and it has some of the worse cgi i’ve seen.

the basic plot is there’s devil worshippers in italy who want to steal the shroud of turin to get jesus’s dna to make a jesus clone so lucifer can possess the jesus baby and take over the world. they pick some random blonde american woman to knock up with jesus, her italian priest friend dies in the scuffle and his dead body is possessed by the archangel michael who proceeds to save the world lone wolf american action hero style.

if i started listing everything about this movie that didn’t make sense i would get nothing done today. i will say the most problematic thing about this movie is the over arching character development the random blonde lady goes through. she starts as an independent, world traveling, phd student on her way to gaslight gatekeep girlboss her way to the top and then she gets raped and fails to abort the baby, pops out the kid and can’t give him away because he’s literally jesus and she’s suddenly this pure virginal birth mothering character who doesn’t speak.

the best thing about this movie is that the actor who plays toddler jesus for the last minute of the movie is clearly not white. so 10/10 for that. and i’m pretty sure the actor playing powered up angel michael is black but i’m honest to god going to have to google who the actor is because the movie is so dark you couldn’t really tell. light googling he is! his name is peter mensah. which is like, some pretty bottom of the barrel praise. especially since like, you’ve cast a black actor as the character whose going to save the world but then turn the character into a white guy for like 90% of the movie. and double that with the non-white jesus actor and the kind of ambiguous ending the movie has where it’s sort of implied that resurected jesus is like trapping lucifer in his body naruto and kyuubei style. but like this could also be lucifer acting like he’s jesus, it’s actually that ambiguous.

okay i gotta stop now or else i really will be here all day.

#fausto reviews things #the devil conspiracy

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parkerslatte · 3 years

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Years Passed [Chapter Three]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Part Summary: After Spencer asks Y/N our for coffee, the two share about their unlucky love lives.

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of maeve, mentions of surgery

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Years Passed Masterlist

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***

CHAPTER THREE: CASE CLOSED

In the days following since Spencer showed up at Y/N’s apartment, she had been quite lonely. Harper’s school had started back up so she was gone the majority of the day leaving the house in silence. The constant giggles of her daughter were absent for six of the twenty four hours. Of course, Y/N took this as an opportunity to finish a commission she had been working on these last few weeks. The smell of paint was evident in the air causing Y/N to open all the windows around her. Y/N enjoyed painting very much but she missed the smaller version of her by her side, questioning everything she did and copying it to her best ability.

The slip of paper that Spencer’s phone number was written on was sitting not too far away from Y/N and she would find herself occasionally glancing over to it. She did want to call Spencer but she didn’t want to seem too eager, and besides, he was working a case, there was no way he had the time for her.

Seeing Spencer again wasn’t exactly on Y/N’s bucket list. Ever since she moved back six months ago, she hadn’t run into him once and he never even crossed her mind. However, once she saw him just days ago, she thought about him at least once a day. None of the thoughts were exactly bad, she just wondered if he had a family. If he was still interested in the same thing he was thirteen years ago. If he was the same Spencer she loved thirteen years ago. Shaking her head clear of any thoughts of Spencer, Y/N continued to paint the canvas that stood in front of her while softly singing along to the music that drowned out the silence.

Y/N had only been painting for what she guess was another fifteen minutes before her phone started to ring from across the room. Groaning, as she had just gotten into a rhythm of painting, she walked over and looked at the caller ID. The number didn’t have a name but she recognised it - it was Spencer’s number.

“Hello?” Y/N answered.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Spencer.”

“Spencer, hi. What’s up?”

“I was just calling because we caught the guy who abducted Ava.” Spencer said.

“That’s good. Is she okay?” Y/N questioned quickly.

Spencer paused, “She’s alive, she’s in hospital currently. If we didn’t get to her in time there was a chance that she wouldn’t make it.”

“But she is alive.” Y/N clarified.

“Yes, and the doctors say that she will make a recovery.”

“Thank god.” Y/N said, placing her hand over her heart.

“You okay?” Spencer questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad that Ava is okay.” Y/N replied.

“We all are.” Spencer responded.

The two fell into a long silence, normally if this happened someone would hang up however neither of them did. Y/N wanted to say something but she didn’t know what to say. She did want to continue speaking to Spencer but she didn’t exactly know how to approach the topic. Luckily she didn’t have to say anything.

“Do you want to go and get coffee, um, with me?” Spencer asked.

“Um, sure, when?” Y/N asked, suddenly feeling a weight lift off her chest.

“Now? Only if you’re not doing anything, if you are we could always reschedule and have coffee another time.” Spencer rambled.

Y/N couldn’t help but let a small smile appear on her face, “Coffee sounds great Spencer, text me where.”

“Okay, okay, I will, I’ll see you soon Y/N.” Spencer replied, suddenly sounding perkier.

“See you soon.” Y/N responded before hanging up

***

As Y/N stepped through the doors to the cafe, she immediately looked around for Spencer. She found him sitting at the back corner of the cafe. As their eyes met, a wide smile spread across Spencer’s face as Y/N began to walk over. When she was finally standing at the table Spencer’s gaze didn’t move from Y/N for a second.

“Hi.” Y/N greeted with a smile.

“Hi.” Spencer responded, his smile that Y/N could recognise anywhere still evident on his face.

Y/N sat in the seat across from Spencer and got comfortable. Once she looked down she noticed that there were two cups of coffee on the table.

“I don’t know if you still like your coffee like that but if you don’t I can always get you another cup.” Spencer said nervously.

Y/N smiled, touched at the simple action, “You still remember my order?”

Spencer felt his face heat up slightly, “Yeah, I do.”

Y/N smiled at him, causing Spencer to clear his throat, “So how have you been?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I’ve been good,” Y/N responded, “I’ve been settling in since I moved back here six months ago from England. Normally I would settle in quicker but Harper took a little longer to adjust.”

“Why did you move back?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I loved living in England but being away from my family and friends was always hard and I couldn’t exactly afford to keep coming back and I couldn’t keep taking Harper out of school to have a small holiday to visit her family. I wanted her to get to know them in person not just through a screen,” Y/N explained, “Harper has loved being around her family since we moved.”

“She seems great,” Spencer said, “Harper that is.”

Y/N smiled at the thought of her daughter, “She is. Harper is the greatest thing to ever happen to me, I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“How old is she?” Spencer asked, genuinely interested.

“Seven, she’s eight in a couple weeks,” Y/N said, “I can’t help but feel a little sad about it. Like I know she’s going to grow up but these years seem to have flown by. I feel like it was only a week ago she learnt how to walk, now she’s practically running everywhere,” Y/N was lost in thought for a quick moment before she snapped herself out of it, “Anyway, that’s enough about me for now, how’s the FBI been treating you?”

“It’s been treating me fine.” Spencer said, the grin on his face faltering.

Y/N narrowed her eyes momentarily, “Are you sure? I may not be a profiler Spencer but I can tell that you’ve been through a lot,” Y/N said as Spencer made eye contact, “You wanna know how I know that?” Spencer nodded slightly, “It’s your eyes, they used to be so innocent, now they’re filled with sadness.”

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking eye contact, “I, um, I’ve seen a lot and I’ve been through a lot.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through,” Y/N said sympathetically, “Thirteen years working for the FBI. I can’t even wrap my head around how long it’s been.”

“Me neither,” Spencer agreed, “You have a sadness in your eyes too.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N questioned.

“You have sadness in your eyes too,” Spencer repeated, “The only time it disappeared was when you were talking about Harper.”

Before Y/N could stop herself, she nodded her head, confirming Spencer’s comment, “I do. For the last eight years everyone has commented on it - around this time of year too.”

Spencer could tell that Y/N was abou to tell him why she felt the way she did but he was quick to interrupt her, “You don’t need to tell me Y/N.”

“No, it’s fine, seriously, practically everyone knows,” Y/N said before taking a deep breath, “My husband and Harper’s father, Owen, well he was in an accident and had to have surgery. We were told that there was a seventy-five percent chance the surgery would be successful. It was successful for the most part, he was like himself, always around Harper, playing with her.”

Y/N found herself smiling at the memory of Harper playing with her father, “However, after a couple of weeks, he began to find himself getting more tired than usual. He just thought that it was the stress of work but he began to get worse to the point that he couldn’t get out of bed without him being in constant pain.” Y/N stopped her story for a moment, she never had a problem explaining this story before, but being the time of year it was, she was having a hard time.

“He was on so much medication just so he could actually walk around. Both of us knew that he didn’t have long left. I never wanted to make peace with that, I kept denying the inevitable saying that he was going to get better and we would be the happy family I always wanted. Deep down I knew that would never happen but I couldn’t help but lie to myself,” Y/N took a deep breath, by now her eyes were glossy with tears.

“The one thing Owen wanted was to make it to Harper’s first birthday,” Y/N said, “He died four days before.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Spencer said sincerely, he contemplated reaching across the table to take her hand and give her a bit of comfort but thought better of it.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, “Normally when I tell people about Owen, I don’t normally get this upset about it, at least I don’t anymore. But since it’s coming up to the anniversary of his death, I guess I just can’t help myself from feeling this way. Sorry for dumping all of that on you, I don’t know why I did it.”

“Y/N, it’s fine, seriously.” Spencer said.

Y/N gave Spencer a tight lipped smile, “So what about you Spencer Reid, do you have a family?”

Spencer shook his head, “If you mean an actual family as in a wife and kids, I don’t.”

“Why’s that? Do you ever want a family?” Y/N asked.

Spencer nodded, “I’d like nothing more in the world,” He said, “You don’t mind if I talk about something personal do you?”

“I mean I just did so I’m sure it’s perfectly reasonable for you to share too.” Y/N said.

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking, “Well a few years ago I had a girlfriend, Maeve. She was being stalked so we only communicated through phone calls,” Spencer began to explain, “We never saw each other but I fell in love with her. The only time I saw her was when she was killed in front of me by her stalker,” Spencer paused, “I thought that when we could eventually see each other then we could start a family, get married, have kids. Of course that could never happen but I could only think of what would’ve been.”

“I’m sorry Spence,” Y/N said, unconsciously reaching across the table and gently placed her hand on top of his. Neither Y/N nor Spencer thought any different of it and Spencer squeezed her hand as a silent thank you.

“I haven’t really felt a connection to anyone after Maeve, not enough to fall in love with.” Spencer said.

Y/N nodded in agreement, “Ever since Owen died, I haven’t really had a long term relationship, none of them lasted more than a few months at most. Some of them just thought of it as a fling, some of them couldn’t handle the responsibility of being a parent and some of them were scared off by the thought of me being a mother.”

“You’ll find the right person eventually.” Spencer said.

“And you will too Spencer, and you’ll get to start your family.” Y/N said, offering a small smile to which Spencer returned with one of his own.

Looking down at her phone, Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, “Is that the time? I’ve got to go now, I need to pick Harper up from school.”

“Of course.” Spencer said, removing his hand from Isla’s after he had noticed that they were still connected.

Y/N stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder before turning back to Spencer, “This was fun, we should do it again soon but I’m buying the coffee next time.”

Spencer let out a quiet chuckle, “That’s only if you’re here before me.”

“Oh I will be,” Y/N said, “I’ll see you soon Spence.”

Y/N gave him a parting smile before turning and walking out the cafe to go and pick up her daughter.

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@spenxerslut @averyhotchner @drayshadow @moviequeen51 @spencer-reid-am-i-right @ssavanessa22 @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat @mbjackie @jklemps @reformedmoneyshovel @nomajdetective @jesuisbenny @jooniehomie @spencerreid-187 @onyourfingertips @uhuhuh @rubyhi208-42 @archer561 @c0rpsecore @sweetandsunny @zoeygraygubler @algonsa @jswessie187 @shemarmooresfedora @kaz-2y567 @alfonsais @aikrus @nani-2305 @death-becomes-her @sarejane @isabelle-558 @measure-in-pain @the-nerd-gang @manuosorioh @luredwithpretzels @ceeellewrites @totallyclearwitch @jekkles @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @sarahpaulsonlov3r @periwinklemax @kuolonsyoja @heartmira @hoodpankow @parahmur @happymangospot @beepbooptoop @ilovespencerreidmarryme @spencesoulmate25 @bloodyxheaven @nyx2021 @morganwilliams @malindacath @pastelbabygirl19 @doctorspenceryeet @reidsbookclub @pinkdiamond1016 (will be continued in reblog)

SERIES TAGLIST

(Will be added in reblog)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid series #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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onlyfreds · 3 years

Text

Miss Americana and Her London Boy | F.W.

Title: Miss Americana and Her London Boy (x American!reader, Muggle!Au)

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: Y/N goes on a vacation in London to find experience, adventure and memories. But after she meets Fred Weasley, a London Boy. She heads home with not only the experience and the memories, but also love.

It all started in a café in London.

You had gone on a vacation in London to do a little sightseeing and also to cross another thing off your bucket list.

You entered the café that my friend had recommended to you, ordering a peppermint mocha.

On your way out, you accidentally bumped into someone, the coffee only missing you by the skin of your teeth.

“Oh Merlin, I am so sorry.” The man who bumped into you suddenly apologized, his British accent ringing clearly through his voice.

You looked up to get a better look at him, his ginger hair was windswept as if he had just gotten back from the beach. His eyes sparkling in the sunlight. A small, apologetic smile on his lips.

“No, it’s fine.” You said, “I was the one who was looking where I was going."

He smiled, shaking his head, “Nonsense love. I almost spilled my coffee on you.”

You laughed, “If we keep on going on like this, we’ll never finish. So, let’s just call it quits."

He chuckled, “Whatever you say love.” He then offered his free hand, “I’m Fred by the way. Fred Weasley.”

You smiled, taking his hand and shaking it slightly, “I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

“American?” He asked, as the two of you walked down the avenue together.

You chuckled, “The accent gave it away, didn’t it?”

Fred took a sip of his coffee as he replied with a small laugh, “A little bit.”

“So, where do you live in the States?” He asked.

“New York.” You simply stated.

He smiled, running a hand through his hair, “It must be a blast. Living in the Big Apple.”

You laughed, placing my free hand in the pocket of my jeans, “Most of the time. I did come here to have a vacation.”

“So, how long are you staying in London for.” He asked.

You shrugged, “About a month.”

“A month?” He asked in disbelief, “You’re staying here, on a vacation, for a month?”

You laughed, “Why not? I have been dreaming of this vacation ever since I was five. So, I decided to just make the most of it.”

Fred shrugged, a small smile adorning his handsome features, “That makes sense.”

You stopped at the beach where you were supposed to meet your friend. You turned to Fred, “Well, I better go now. It’s been nice having a little chat with you.”

“My pleasure.” He said, taking out a pen and a piece of paper from his pocket as he scribbled something down on it.

“Here’s my number.” He explained as he handed you the piece of paper, “Just in case you want somebody to show you around or you just need someone to talk to. Give me a call and I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

You smiled, gently taking the piece of paper from him, “Thanks Fred. I’ll see you around?”

He took your free hand, raising it up to his lips as he kissed along your knuckles, “You’ll surely will.” He said with a small wink before walking away.

“Who was that?” Your friend, Claudeth, asked as you walked towards her.

You gave her a look of confusion, “Who’s who?”

She rolled her eyes at you, “The cute guy you who was talking to you just now.”

You felt a blush rise up to my cheeks as you avoided her gaze, “Oh, that was Fred.”

“Oooh.” She teased, nudging your shoulder, “Somebody’s got a crush.”

You jokingly pushed her away, “I don’t have a crush on him!”

“Yeah, right.” She said, “If you don’t have a crush on him, then why are you blushing?”

You felt myself get redder, “Okay, I may find him a bit cute." Your eyes widened as you realized what just said, "Not helping Claudeth!”

Claudeth looped her arm around yours as the two of you walked through the beach, “Come on, tell me more.” She encouraged.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, we bumped into each other outside the coffee shop you recommended me. We chatted on the way here and he gave me his number.”

“What?!” She looked at you with wide eyes, before starting to shake you vigorously, “That’s a sign! He’s obviously your soulmate!”

You laughed at her antics, “Does him giving me his number already make him my soulmate? Seriously Claudeth, give me a break.”

“According to your story, you and Fred just met today. And after a few minutes of chatting with him, he already gave you his number. Just trust me and my matchmaking skills Y/N.” She said.

You rolled my eyes at her for the umpteenth time, “Whatever.”

You leaned back against the headboard of yout bed, scrolling through your social media, a bit bored. Claudeth was out with her boyfriend so, you texted the person you couldn't stop thinking about.

<Hey Fred! It's Y/N.

Not even a minute has passed before you received a reply.

>Hey love! What's up?

You smiled to myself as you typed out my reply.

<Well, remember your offer about showing me around London?

>Of course sweetheart! Why?

<I was wondering if you were still up for the it.

You smiled giddily as you read his reply.

>I sure am! Text me your address and I'll be there in twenty minutes.

You quickly typed out my address as you hopped out of bed to change.

You were still deciding whether a denim jacket would go with jeans you were wearing when your best friend suddenly called.

"Hello my soul sister!" You greeted, resting your phone on your shoulder as you pressed your ear against it, going through the rest of the clothes you packed.

"What's got you in a cheery mood today?" Claudeth asked, sligthly amused.

You hummed, "I think it's the fact that Fred is coming over in fifteen minutes. And tell me honestly, does a denim jacket go with jeans."

She laughed, "Yes, denim jackets do go with jeans. And in return, you have to give me some tea about your little 'date'."

You rolled my eyes as you put on the jacket, looking at yourself in the mirror, "It's not a date Claudeth. He's just showing me around."

"Yeah, yeah, then you'll be calling me tomorrow at his apartment..."

"Claudeth!" You chastised my best friend.

Her laugh could be heard as her boyfriend playfully scolded her, "You didn't have to be so mean."

After she had recovered from her laughing fit she said, "What? I'm just saying."

You heard a quick knock on the door, "I'll talk to you later. He's here."

"Go get your man soul sister!" Claudeth cheered on before you dropped the call.

You glanced at your image one more, fixing your hair a bit before grabbing your shoulder bag and opening the door. Being met with the sight of Fred, a cute smile on his face, his hair windswept just like the day you two met.

"Thank you so much for coming on such short notice." You said, closing the hotel door behind you.

He seemed in a daze, as if distracted by something as he just looked at you, his eyes glazed over.

"Are you okay Fred?" You asked.

He snapped out of his trance, blushing slightly at the fact that he got caught, "Nothing, you just look absolutely stunning." He said, adding a small wink at the end.

You felt my cheeks heat up as you looked down at your feet, avoiding his gaze, "Thanks."

"Where exactly as you taking me?" You asked as both of you walked down the avenue.

He smiled, "You'll see."

You playfully raised a brow at him, "How do I know that you're not some part of gang or something and is actually kidnapping me?"

His laughter rang through the air, "Then, I wouldn't be walking with you out in the open. I wouldn't even give you my number in the first place, the fbi and the police can track that."

You chuckled, "Smart. Very smart."

After a few more hours, we arrived at a park.

Fred stretched his arms out dramatically, "Behold, one of the best parks in London."

You laughed at his antics, "I'm relieved. With all the secrecy I thought you were taking me to see the Queen."

"If you want too, I can arrange that." He joked as we laughed.

"So, are you up for an adventure?" He asked.

You scoffed, "Have you forgotten who you're talking to? I'm a New Yorker, I'm always up for an adventure."

He chuckled, handing me a helmet as we walked towards the bikes, "Well come on then, we wouldn't want Miss Americana to get bored do we?"

You rolled my eyes playfully as he gave you a teasing smile.

The two of you sat by the curb as Fred handed you a bottle of water.

"Thanks." You said, taking a small sip, "How much?"

He smiled, shaking his head, "No need. It's on me."

We went on a few more rounds before nightfall came, Fred then escorted you back to your hotel.

"Thank you." You said as we reached your room, "For coming quickly on such short notice. And for the little adventure as well."

He smiled, "It's my pleasure Y/N. And I'd happily do it again. So, are you up for another adventure tomorrow?"

You bit your bottom lip, looking down at your feet to keep the blush from rising up to your cheeks, "Sure, why not?"

He placed his hands in his pockets, "See you tomorrow then. G'night Y/N."

"G'night Fred." You said, as you entered your room, closed the door and leaned against it. Closing your eyes as you committed his dreamy smile to memory.

"No! No! You can't tell me that it's not a date!" Claudeth said dramatically.

You giggled, "Why not?"

"Because," she elongated the last sylablle to emphasize, "You have been 'hanging out' with him for literally the past two weeks. So, you can't tell me that it's not a date."

You rolled your eyes at her, "Just because Seth asked you to be his girlfriend after a week of seeing each other, doesn't mean my future boyfriend has to do the same."

You ducked as she chucked a pillow at you, "Hey, hey, that makes it obvious that Seth is my soulmate. And I am sure that Fred is yours."

You then heard a knock on the door, "That's Fred, I gotta go now!" You said, heading to the door.

"That's what I'm talking about." Claudeth muttered to herself as you opened the door.

"Hi Fred!" You greeted as he gave you a smile.

"Hey love." He said, before turning to my best friend, "As usual, I'll be stealing your friend for a little while. Hope you don't mind."

Claudeth nodded as she gave him a smile, "Go ahead, don't let me stop you. You can even take her home if you want."

"Claudeth!" You scolded.

She gave an apologetic but teasing smile, "It was a joke. Now, run along you two."

You gave her a death glare before closing the door behind yourself.

"I'm so sorry about her." You apologized as you and Fred entered the elevator, heading down to the lobby, "She can be a bit of a crackhead at times."

Fred chuckled, "Don't worry about it. I might actually take up her offer and bring you home."

"You've got to be kidding me!" You said, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

"I'm kidding." He said, accompanied with a small laugh.

When we walked out of the hotel and kept on walking until we stopped in front of a black scooter.

Fred handed me a helmet, "Well Miss Americana, what do you think?"

You stared at him in awe, "I didn't know you had a scooter."

He chuckled, "Prepared to be surprised then."

He put on a helmet before climbing on the scooter, holding out his hand, "I thought you were a New Yorker." He teased, "What's taking you so long?"

You playfully rolled my eyes as you strapped on the helmet, "There's something called 'patience' London boy." You retorted as you climbed on behind him.

"Hold on." He said, before starting to drive through the bustling streets as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

After a few hours, you stopped at some park.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked as he pulled you through the trees.

He shot you a wink, "You'll see love. And I'm sure you'll love it."

We walked into a clearing that looked like something out of a fairytale.

Trees surrounded the clearing, a small footbridge led to a nearby lake that glistening under the light of the sun.

You smiled, "It's beautiful Freddie."

He chuckled, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, "I knew you'd like it."

"How did you find this place?" You asked, sitting by the edge of the footbridge.

He sat by the space next to you, "My twin and I found it while my family was hanging out at the park. Wandered a bit too far from the group and ended up here."

"A twin?" You asked, "I didn't know you had a twin."

Fred laughed, "Not just a twin. I have four more brothers and one sister."

"Wow." You grinned, "That is a lot."

"Only child problems Miss Americana?" He teased.

You laughed, "Unfortunately for you, I'm not an only child. I happen to have a younger sister, her name is Ahnica."

He tsked, "Cute. But not as stunning as Y/N."

"You always know what to say, don't you?" You said, trying to keep the blush from rising up to my cheeks.

"It's all part of my charm, isn't it?" He said with a small wink.

"Cheeky, that's for sure."

When nightfall arrived, it also started to rain.

"We're too far from your place." Fred said as we drove through highway, soaking wet from the rain, "Do you want to stay at my flat at least until the rain stops."

"Sure. Whatever works." You said.

We went up to his flat after he parked his motorbike.

As soon as you walked through his door, he immediately threw a towel around me, fussing over me.

As if he wasn't soaking wet as well.

"Fred." You said in an attempt to calm him down, "Stop fussing over me. You're also soaking wet. I can handle myself."

He shook his head, droplets of water flying all over the place, "You might get sick. You might catch a flu or something."

You rolled your eyes at him, grabbing a towel and putting it around him and drying his hair, "You keep on worrying about me getting sick when you're just equally soaked as me."

He chuckled, "Easy there Miss Americana. You don't have to lecture me."

You scoffed, "Not only cheeky. But, stubborn too."

"You love it anyway." He teased.

"Whatever." You said, trying to hide the small smile that was growing on your lips as I sat down on the couch.

Fred headed to the kitchen, coming back holding two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Here." He said with a small smile as he handed you a mug, sitting down beside you.

"Thanks." You muttered, looking up at him, offering him a small smile.

We talked with each other just like we did during the day we met, the feeling of tranquility and peace feeling the atmosphere.

"It stopped raining." Fred pointed out after a little while.

"Oh." You said, trying my best not to sound disappointed, "Well, I better be going now."

"Wait." He said, desperately glancing at his watch, "It's too dangerous to go out alone this late at night. You could stay the night if you want, but if you don't, I can always escort you home."

You bit your lip, "I appreciate the offer Fred. I really do. But, you've already done so much for me. I can't ask you to do anything more."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up, "I insist love. It's absolutely no problem."

"Fred, seriously, I can't. That would be asking for too much." You tried to reason.

But he wasn't backing down, "I insist. You've only got two choices, it's either you stay the night or I'm taking you home."

You sighed, "Fine. But, I'm taking the couch. No buts, no ifs."

He chuckled, "Whatever you say Miss Americana."

"Do you ever stop being so cheeky London boy?" You asked with a small smile.

He grinned, "Never."

You went into the bathroom to change into the oversized shirt and shorts Fred had let me borrowed.

When you had finished, you saw Fred sitting on the balcony.

You chuckled quietly, opening the slide door and stepping outside.

"That's pretty dangerous." You said, "You could lose your balance and fall 50, 60 feet? You'd be lucky to still be alive at that rate."

He smiled, "Aren't you a New Yorker? You should be used to the chaos."

You climbed over the balcony and sat beside him, "Just because I'm a New Yorker doesn't mean that I do things that will put my life at risk."

He looked at you, "Well, you're doing the same thing right now."

"I guess that you have that affect on me then." You said, looking at him.

"I can't believe that you're already leaving tomorrow." Fred suddenly said, causing you to look up from your coffee, since he decided that both of you should spend your last day at the place where you met.

You chuckled, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear, "Time really flies when you're having fun."

You looked at the ginger in front of me. Something about him was... off today. He was quieter than usual.

"Hey," you said as your thumb rubbed small circles at the back of his hand, "are you okay? You seem a bit quieter than usual."

He bit his lip as he looked at you, "No, I'm absolutely fine sweetheart."

You gave him a skeptical look, "I can see it in your eyes, there's something bothering you."

Fred sighed, "It's just been something that I've been thinking about for the past week."

You licked my lips, terribly concerned, "Then tell me, maybe I could help you with it."

He interlocked our hands together, "Will you promise that whatever happens with what I tell you, it won't affect our friendship at all?"

You nodded, "Of course it wouldn't."

Fred took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for the worse, "Spending the past month with you has been the highlight of my entire year. I will honestly tell you that I've been dreading the day that you would have to go back to New York. I have been dreading the day you'll leave and possibly not come back."

You gulped, "Freddie, you're scaring me."

"If I don't tell you this, then it would be my biggest what if. I love you Y/N. More than a friend, more than anything else that I've loved before. It's perfectly fine if you don't feel the same and turn down my offer. But, Y/N L/N, will you be my girlfriend?" He said with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

You smiled as you nodded, "Yes Fred. I will be your girlfriend!"

He grinned, standing up and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

"Thank goodness!" He said as we pulled apart, "You've just made me the happiest man alive."

You giggled, "Well then, that makes me the happiest person to ever walk the planet."

"But, how about the distance?" You asked, "New York isn't on the other side of London."

He licked his lips, "Well, that's what technology is for, isn't it?"

You laughed, "You are a smart cookie."

The time flew by, before you knew it, Fred was taking you back to the hotel for the last time.

"Got everything packed?" Fred asked as he rested a hand on your suitcase.

You looked around the room, already feeling a bit nostalgic for the place that had served as your home for the past month.

You nodded, "Yeah, everything's complete."

We walked out of the room, climbing into the cab that brought you to the airport.

We were silent for the most of the journey. Fred holding on tightly to your hand as much as possible.

When we arrived at the airport, Fred stayed by your side during everything, check-in, immigration and now the moment you dreaded the most.

"So, this is it." You shrug, trying to keep the tears at bay, "I have to go."

Fred sniffed, obviously trying hard not to cry, "I know. But, I don't want you to go."

You gave him a small smile, "I don't want to leave yet too, baby. It's not like I have a choice. Besides, that's what technology is for."

He pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly, "Yeah, but it's not the same as having you here with me." He said, now openly crying.

"Hey, hey." You said, my tears now dripping down my cheeks, "Don't cry. Just call and text me anytime. Don't think about the timezones. Okay? I don't care if you call or text me at 3 am. I will answer."

Fred sniffed, wiping the tears from you cheeks, "Okay. But, I'll be seeing you in two months."

You chuckled, "Two months? I'll try and get a ticket."

My boyfriend gave a small smile, shaking his head, "I meant me. I'll be visiting you in New York in two months."

"Really?" You said in awe.

He nodded, "Yeah. Now before you protest, I already bought a ticket."

You flung my arms around his neck, "You're the best boyfriend ever!"

"You're the one who brings out the best in me." He whispered.

"Passengers of flight 2B5567 please head to the boarding gate immediately." Someone said over the intercom.

Fred and you pulled apart, profusely wiping the remaining tears from our eyes.

"This is it." You said again.

He nodded, "The 'it' we can't avoid no matter what we do."

He pulled you into a passionate kiss, one where we poured all of your love into it. For one final time.

You grabbed my luggage, heading towards the gate when you suddenly didn't care about missing your flight.

Your let go of your luggage, running into Fred's arms as you threw your arms around him, pulling him in for another kiss.

"Last reminder, all passengers of flight 2B5567 please head to the boarding gate immediately." The intercom sounded again.

"Sweetheart, I love you and all, but you're going to miss your flight." Fred said.

You nodded, taking off my bracelet, it was the one you were wearing the day you met Fred.

You handed it to your boyfriend, seeing his expression falter a little, "I can't take that princess."

You gave him a reassuring smile, "You can and you will. Whenever you miss me, just hold this and think that I'm holding your hand."

He sniffed as he took it, "I love you." He said, his voice cracking a little.

"I love you too." You said.

"Go to the gate." He urged, "The plane won't wait for you."

You nodded, giving him one last smile before heading back to your luggage and going to the gate.

"'Till we meet again, Miss Americana." He said with a small smile, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

You waved goodbye, "Till our next adventure, my London boy." You said before showing the attendant my ticket and heading into the plane.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @wand3ringr0s3 @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading (If you are crossed out, that means I can’t tag you)

#fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley one shots #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #london boy #fred weasley smut #fred weasley angst #muggle!au #fredweasleyxamerican!reader

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heyitssmiller · 3 years

Text

Clandestine: Chapter Fourteen

We’re here. The final chapter. Y’all. I’m gonna cry.

@lumosinlove thanks for these characters!!

@donttouchmycarrots thanks for being my partner in crime during this whole mess of a story <3

And thank you, lovely readers!! For sticking with me for this crazy rollercoaster of a story, for encouraging me when I felt like quitting, and for always being so, so wonderful. I appreciate y’all more than I can say.

CW: prison, food, anxiety

Clandestine Masterlist

The drive back was silent, punctuated sharply by the two empty seats in the van. It was something they should’ve seen coming, but yet were completely blindsided by. Sirius had been on their side for so long now, it seemed odd to picture him anywhere else. It was like he’d been there for years already, fitting in seamlessly and making friends fast, filling a gap that hadn’t been obvious before but felt like a chasm now. He belonged in Gryffindor with them. And Regulus, while more reserved and distant than his brother, didn’t seem to deserve the fate he’d found. The main motive that kickstarted this whole mission had been him – all for him – and he still couldn’t avoid being dragged down with the Snakes.

Remus was on the phone with a contact from the FBI – he had been since they’d taken Sirius away – trying his hardest to find any loopholes he could. He was… actually strangely calm. Methodically tackling one idea after the next, his analytic brain working overtime. Logan could understand, though. Being productive was helpful. It was when things settled down and got quiet, when all you could do was sit there and wait…

That was when things got tough.

His leg bounced up and down in anticipation the closer they got to the cabin, his one-track mind stuck on one thing and one thing only – getting a blond safe-cracker into his arms again. Not having Leo with them had been like missing a limb, making everything feel out of balance. And even thought he was safe, he was still too far away. Logan couldn’t stand it.

Finn reached over and placed a hand on Logan’s with a knowing smile. He was ready to be home, too.

Gravel crunching under their tires only fueled the eagerness. There were lights still on in the cabin, a warm, inviting pull. The front door was open before the cars had pulled to a complete stop, revealing Leo and Hope and Lyall. Julian was presumably asleep, given the hour. Logan’s seatbelt was thrown off and the door closest to him was yanked open, Finn hot on his heels.

Leo bounded down the steps of the porch and flung himself at the two of them, finding every inch of space between them and filling it, a soft sound escaping from his lips as he held on tight in a one-armed grip. Logan and Finn both stumbled back a few steps at the impact but quickly returned the embrace, Logan’s face buried in the junction between neck and shoulder and Finn’s forehead pressed against the blond’s. They seemed to take their next breaths in tandem, slow and steady, as they leaned into each other. Time slowed, everything in the periphery faded, and the world, previously off-kilter, evened out in equilibrium.

Finn suddenly realized he felt the coarse, scratchy texture of Leo’s sling pressed up against him and pulled back a little. “Careful, baby.”

That made Leo pull back. “Why?” He glanced over them nervously. “Are you hurt?”

Logan sighed long-sufferingly and cupped Leo’s face in his hands, looking him in the eyes with a fond expression that belied his exasperation. “No, but you are,” he moved his hands to smush Leo’s cheeks, causing Finn to laugh, “so take it easy.”

Leo smiled – a real one this time, not one of the fake ones he’d given them before they left – and relaxed. After a quick kiss from Logan he asked, “So it went well? Mission’s done?”

Logan and Finn both froze at that. Finn looked over to Remus, who was still on the phone (like he had been for the past hour at least) and frowned.

“Not quite.”

“We can talk inside,” Leo said, looking worried again. “there’s lots of food for y’all.”

He wasn’t wrong. Food covered pretty much every open surface of the countertops, ranging from pancakes to grilled cheese to the cinnamon swirl muffins Leo brought to their first briefing all those months ago. Finn smiled at the memories and instantly snagged one on their way to the kitchen table. His eyes landed on Talker, who was explaining something to Hope as she took a look at his leg. Nat, Kasey, and Alex were piled onto one couch, looking tired and each with a grilled cheese sandwich in hand. He could see Remus on the porch every once in a while when he passed by a window as he paced, phone pressed to his ear.

It didn’t bode well.

Logan sat down with a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and started telling the story, voice a quiet murmur and only interrupted when he shoveled food into his mouth. Finn wondered how none of them had really seen this coming. In hindsight, it made sense that there would need to be a trial – after all, Sirius and his brother weren’t innocent. Finn wasn’t sure what happened next, though. Criminal trials and sentencing weren’t part of the job for them. He hoped they could get the brothers out of this mess, though. If anyone could find a way to do it, it would be Remus.

At least the Snakes were done for. The information on the flash drives was enough to lock them away for a very, very long time.

He took a bite of his muffin, no longer really hungry, and listened to Logan talk.

***

Remus sat down on the porch swing, tired and stressed and not at all ready to quit. He listened to Alice, his only contact in the FBI, rattle off some statistics that he couldn’t even begin to understand. And he wasn’t trying to be rude – that really wasn’t his intent – but he needed to act quickly about this. So he grimaced and cut her off. “Can we get them placed in another prison? Or even in solitary until we can figure something out? If the Snakes can get to them…”

Well. Remus didn’t think they’d show much mercy to the two people mainly responsible for putting them in jail.

Alice sighed, the sound of her rummaging around in her desk filtering through the phone. “We can try. Since they did help you guys, we should be able to swing it. If something jeopardizes their lives, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Remus’ heart twisted – a deep, chronic ache under his ribcage that refused to let up. “Do it fast. I’m going to start reaching out to lawyers.”

“Lupin, it’s four in the morning.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. “Thanks for all the help, Alice.”

He hung up, then braced his forearms on his knees, hands gripping his hair, and breathed.

If there was one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was planning. It was his job, and a big part of the reason he’d switched from field work in the first place. He relied on structure to get through his days, needed the stability in order to function.

There was none of that.

This was being adrift at sea, constantly assaulted by the waves and the current without rescue in sight.

And Remus had no idea what to do.

His phone pinged, catching his attention. A text from Alice flashed across the screen.

I’ve got a friend who’s a lawyer, and she’s a damn good one. I know you’ll want to do your research on her yourself, but I can vouch for her too. Here’s her contact if you want to reach out.

The contact number and email were listed under the name Dorcas Meadowes.

***

Dorcas Meadowes was, to put it simply, awe-inspiring.

Black curls, a dark complexion, and a serious, no-funny-business expression on her face. Her office was neat and organized, a few pictures around the place of her and a blonde girl with a wide grin and freckles. There was a small pride flag on her desk. Without a word, she motioned for Remus to sit, cool and composed and ready to get to work.

That was all it took for Remus to instantly respect her.

“So I’ve heard some of the story from Alice, but I’ll need you to start at the very beginning. Don’t leave out any details, tell me everything.”

Remus did, settling into the chair and getting comfy. It was a long story, after all. When he was done he looked back up at Dorcas, whose face was expressionless except for a single, raised eyebrow.

“That’s…” she trailed off with a low whistle.

“Yeah.”

“Well, the good news is that, if we’ve got enough evidence to back your story up, we can reduce his sentence by a lot, maybe even get him released.”

Remus sagged back into the chair, relief taking over and wiping out the tension radiating through his muscles. “Great.”

He’d known, logically, that they’d be able to reduce his sentence. With all the work he put into taking the Snakes down, there was no way they’d give him a full sentence. But getting him out of there for good…

Remus had never wanted anything so much in his life.

Dorcas leaned forward, powering her laptop on. “We’ll go visit him in the next few days and tell him what’s going on, but first we need a plan. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

***

Sirius hated this.

He was bored, he was tired, and – more than anything – he was lonely.

In Gryffindor, he’d become so accustomed to always having at least someone with him at all times. It was usually Remus, but he’d also grown close to most of the team. And it was nice at the time – god, did he miss it. But it was painful now. He’d witnessed what his life could be like, happy and surrounded by friends and possibly in love, and now he was back to the way his life used to be. Alone and on the wrong side of the law.

He hadn’t seen Reg since they’d been escorted into isolation for their own safety. Which don’t get him wrong – he was grateful for it. Knowing Riddle, they wouldn’t have survived the night if they were all being held together. But it was too quiet now.

The door to his cell rattled and Sirius looked up sharply. A guard was standing there, unlocking his door and opening it.

“Come with me,” the guard said, sounding bored as he opened the door further and held out a pair of handcuffs. Sirius looked at him hesitantly, not moving an inch. The guard rolled his eyes. “You have visitors.”

Sirius perked up at that, the only thought running through his head being Remus. He knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t going to take this sitting down. He’d be fighting to get Sirius free, no doubt about it. He wasn’t sure who else would be visiting him, anyways – if someone was here, it was sure to be Remus.

So Sirius got up and held his wrists out to be cuffed, then watched as the officer pointed down the hall.

“This way.”

It took all the self-control Sirius had to not run, to slowly put one foot in front of the other until he finally reached his destination. The guard moved around him to open the door and then Sirius was moving again.

He spotted caramel curls as soon as the door opened to the visitation room and felt his shoulders sag with relief. “Remus.”

Worried brown eyes followed him as he crossed the room quickly to sit in front of him, separated by a thick wall of glass. The movies weren’t lying, apparently. But it was so good to see him that Sirius didn’t care.

Remus looked tired. Unfortunately, that didn’t surprise Sirius at all. He knew the tendency to overwork all too well at this point. More than anything, it made Sirius want to get out of there, to wrap him up in his arms and let him take a nap there, to make sure he was taking care of himself. He settled for giving him a stern look instead.

“You need to get some sleep.”

Sirius expected a sharp, witty retort. Some sass, a comeback of some kind. Instead, Remus did the unthinkable and just smiled. “I missed you.”

Sirius sighed, softening at the gentle admission. He’d missed Remus too, of course. More than he could really put into words, and it had barely been a day. The smell of his shampoo, the quiet, reassuring presence of him by Sirius’ side, those eyes that just seemed to see right through him and know even the things Sirius tried to keep hidden. He found he didn’t mind it too much - not when it was Remus.

“I missed you,” he echoed in agreement, refusing to look away until someone cleared their throat loudly. Sirius looked over to a woman sitting next to Remus, looking unimpressed. Sirius hadn’t even known she was there, as wrapped up in Remus as he was.

Remus, to Sirius’ endless delight, blushed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Remus blush before. It was cuter than it had any right to be. “Um, Sirius this is Dorcas. She’ll be representing you in court.”

Right.

He had to go on trial.

Dorcas took over from there. “We think, with the evidence we have, that we can get the charges reduced, maybe dropped if we’re lucky. If you can think of any evidence we don’t know about, we can use that to strengthen your case, too.”

Sirius nodded, relieved. That sounded better than he thought he’d get, to be honest. “What about Reg?” he asked, looking between the two.

Dorcas was very hard to read, Sirius realized. And Remus looked confident… until he looked over at the lawyer. Then his expression flickered.

And Sirius’ heart sank.

“That’s a bit trickier,” Dorcas stated slowly, treading carefully. “The thing is, he never tried to get out. He stayed with the Snakes. And I know it’s not easy to get out of situations like that,” she rushed to continue when she saw the look on Sirius’ face, “but the fact still stands. And he didn’t do as much to help take the Snakes down, not like you did. We can probably reduce his sentence, but he’ll be in prison longer than you. I don’t think we can fix that.”

Sirius felt himself being torn in two different directions. He wanted to be free, to be able to live his life again. Maybe make a home in Gryffindor (or maybe move in permanently with a certain spy), get a job as a consultant. He’d make sure the poor houseplant in Remus’ apartment survived, the poor thing, and he’d keep Remus’ favorite tea stocked in the cupboard. He’d be able to relax for – well, the first time in a very long time.

But his brother.

He was the main reason Sirius got out in the first place. The reason he ended up in Gryffindor, this entire mission was for him. To get him out, to make sure he was safe.

What was the point, if he was stuck in jail while Sirius got to walk free?

He could practically hear his brother telling him how stupid he was being in that dry voice of his, but he pushed the thought away. He’d made up his mind, and it was practically impossible to sway him when that happened.

Sweet, caramel eyes might test him, though.

Sirius looked up at Remus guiltily, dreading the response he was going to get. But yet again, Remus took him by surprise and smiled sadly.

“I understand.”

Those words hit Sirius like a freight train. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes stinging and throat getting tight. “I’m sorry.”

Remus just shook his head. “Don’t be.”

Sirius loved him.

Remus glanced over at a confused Dorcas. “He can’t leave his brother. Whatever sentence Reg gets, Sirius wants to do the same.”

She was silent for a long time, looking back and forth between the two of them. Then she sighed, seeming resolute. “Well then we’d better get those charges as low as we can.”

***

Four Weeks Later

Leo found Remus in the courthouse hallway during the trial recess before they were supposed to reconvene for the sentencing, looking seconds away from pacing from one side of the building to the other. The past few weeks had been hard on all of them. Between coming to terms with everything that had happened in the recent months, to trying to figure out the evidence they needed to bring forward to try and get the charges dropped against both Sirius and Regulus, to the strange feeling in the Agency brought forth by Sirius’ absence, it had been weird for all of them. Remus had been hit the hardest by all of it, though – and understandably so. That didn’t make it any easier to watch, though.

He’d been running himself to the bone the past four weeks, going above and beyond to make sure everything was in order for the trial. He looked ready to drop, if Leo was being honest.

But he understood. If it were Logan or Finn in Sirius’ place… well. He’d already figured out just how far he’d go for them.

He put a hand on Remus’ arm, trying to be as calming as possible. “You’re going to be ok,” he said carefully, choosing his words meticulously. He didn’t want to be cold, but he didn’t want to get Remus’ hopes up only for them to be dashed.

Carmel eyes met his own, and Leo sighed at the stress he saw there. He looked tired – so tired.

“What do you need?” Leo asked quietly, hoping for some sort of guidance on how to help him, how to get that look off of his face.

Remus just laughed under his breath, a sad sound. “There’s a lot of things I need.” He shuffled on his feet, gathering his sleeves in his hands. “But a hug would be a good start.”

Not hesitating, Leo gathered him into a hug, the stretch pulling at the scar tissue in his shoulder that was finally free of a sling. Remus was tense and still for a while, then relaxed into it. Leo wished he could do more, wished he could make any sort of difference in this situation. But everything was so far out of their control now; the only thing left to do was wait.

“Whatever happens, we’re here for both of you. You’re not alone in this.”

Remus stepped away with a fake attempt at a smile. “Yeah.”

There was a visual cue that neither of them seemed to catch and people started filtering back into the courtroom, making Remus’ face grow paler and more pinched. Leo stuck by his side as they walked back inside, trying to ignore the soft sound Remus made when he saw Sirius again – all the way in the front, in a jumpsuit that looked too big for him, hair longer and eyes a little duller than they remembered, fidgeting with something in his cuffed hands. Regulus was next to him, head down and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Leo just stuck to Remus’ side as they squeezed into the row of chairs with the rest of the Agency, making sure Remus was right in the middle, surrounded by so many of the people who cared about him most. Finn and Logan sat down next to him with grim smiles.

Leo reached over to tangle his fingers with Finn’s, feeling him squeeze back gently. The bruises were completely gone from his face, and he was walking limp-free now. He dropped his head onto Logan’s shoulder, having to angle his shoulders down to rest somewhat comfortably against the shorter man.

Leo would never get over the height difference.

“I’m taking a nap when we get home. This is so stressful, oh my god.” Finn sighed, making Leo smile.

Home.

That was still somewhat new for the three of them. After a few days back in their separate apartments in Gryffindor, they’d realized how incredibly codependent they’d become during their mission. Leo would find himself staring up at the ceiling most nights, worrying about the other two, until he’d get a phone call from one of them and they’d end up driving to each other and collapsing in bed together, squished together just like those hotel rooms they’d shared. And it had gotten to the point where there wasn’t any point living in different apartments when they ended up together most nights anyways, so Leo and Logan had packed up their things and moved in with Finn. He had the largest bed, anyways.

So yeah. They lived together now. And Leo was ridiculously pleased about it.

They were taking that vacation in a few weeks, too – the one Finn had first brought up in the back of a getaway car, tears in his eyes and blood on his hands. Somewhere warm, just like he’d promised. He’d get to watch Logan tan and Finn turn red like a lobster, only to go straight back to pale. They’d get some time to relax and not stress about work – just themselves and the vast expanse of beach and water in front of them.

Leo couldn’t wait.

“We’ll take that nap together.” Logan answered Finn quietly, turning his head to meet Leo’s eyes as he pressed an affectionate kiss to Finn’s head. Leo smiled at him, the sense of one chapter ending and the next beginning washing over him.

Whatever came their way, they’d be ok. They’d proven that already.

The crowd hushed as the judge sat back down, face impassive.

“We have reviewed the evidence and testaments brought forward in defense of Sirius and Regulus Black.” He started, looking down at the two in question critically as everyone in the courtroom seemed to hold their breath.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that they committed crimes while with the organization,” the judge stated firmly, then continued, “Regulus and Sirius Black are hereby sentenced to one year in prison.”

The gavel slammed.

Remus sat there in quiet disbelief.

They’d done… everything. They’d worked so hard for the past month in attempts to let Sirius and Regulus’ sentences reduced – and that was technically a reduced sentence – but it was still more than any of them had been expecting.

A year.

They hadn’t done enough.

Remus almost missed all the movement around him, too busy staring at the back of the seat directly in his line of vision, but his gaze snapped up when an achingly familiar voice called his name.

Sirius slowed to a stop as he passed Remus on his way out, eyes wide and frantic. Desperate. It broke Remus’ heart, more than it already was. “Wait for me?” He asked intently, like his sole focus was on Remus and his answer. He shoved his open palms out, revealing what he’d been fidgeting with during the entire trial. Remus looked down to find an origami flower, conveying all of Sirius’ hopes for the future within the delicate folds.

Remus wished more than anything that he could reach for him; to pull him in tight, hold him close, and refuse to let the guards take him away. He also had the half-formed plans of a jail break already in mind, even though he knew Sirius would never agree to it. It was then that his eyes locked with the gray ones he’d come to know better than his own and he knew – he knew that he’d wait, however long it took.

Remus loved him.

It wasn’t a grand revelation, it wasn’t sudden. In all honesty Remus had probably felt that way for a long time now, the truth prodding at the back of his head, nagging at his subconscious. He loved Sirius, plain and simple. Simple except for the fact that one of them was going to jail for a year. And yet, no matter how complicated it got, no matter how much time went by, it was the easiest decision Remus had ever made.

Well. If love made people crazy, Remus was certifiably insane.

He smiled a little tearfully at Sirius and nodded fiercely, picking up the paper flower delicately.

“You know I will.”

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine #cw: food #cw: prison #cw: anxiety

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years

Text

Looks up, grinning like a devil

Chapter 10 of In Breakable Heaven!

Summary: Where did our reader end up?

Warnings: criminal minds level violence, mention of past teacher/student relationship

word count: ~1800

When you open your eyes, you are struck by how dark it is. After you moved to DC, it took a while for you to grow accustomed to not having complete darkness. Even in your apartment at night, light still filters in through the curtains.

At first, you assume the power went out or something, but then you notice something else: the fact that you’re not in your bed. In fact you’re not in any bed. You’re in what feels like a weirdly shaped box.

That’s when it all comes back to you. You had just hung up the phone after talking to Spencer when someone grabbed you from behind. You tried to fight, but they stuck a needle in your arm.

The memory causes a jolt of pain in your arm, waking you up. Based on what you can feel and hear, you determine you are in the trunk of a car. You’ve got no way of knowing how long you were out for, or how far you’ve travelled since then. You can feel the panic setting in, but you don’t have much time to think about it before the car is coming to a stop.

At first you assume it’s a red light or a stop sign, but then the engine cuts out. Without being able to see, every noise you hear seems amplified. Somebody slams the door, walking around to the trunk.

Before you can come up with a plan, the trunk is thrown open. The light feels blinding as a hand reaches for your arm, dragging you out of the trunk.

“Move. Let’s go.” The voice is younger than you would’ve thought, and surprisingly enough sounds like a woman. You’ve been around Spencer and the team enough to know most offenders are male.

You stumble as your feet hit the pavement, eyes slowly adjusting to the lights. You blink a few times, trying to take in your surroundings. You’re in a parking lot, but you don’t recognize the surrounding area.

The woman drags you along with her. “Don’t even think about running. I’ll drug you again if you don’t cooperate.” You simply nod in response, trying to take in as much information as possible about where you are.

The area looks empty, but not abandoned. It is clear people still you the building, it just must be closed. Once you’re inside, you realize you’re in a high school, which makes sense since the woman seems so young.

She pulls you through the halls until you’re in what looks like a history classroom. There is a few globes on a shelf in the back, books littered across the teacher’s desk, and a few assignments written on the white board in the front.

The woman pushes you into a chair, immediately tying your hands and feet. “Now, we’re going to play a game.” She says slowly, as if you might not understand. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and if I don’t like your answers… well, it’ll hurt.” She pulls various knives out of the duffle she was carrying, tossing them on the ground in front of you.

Spencer’s head is reeling. The second note has so much information in it, and yet he can’t figure out what any of it could mean.

“Reid, what songs did he use this time?” Rossi poses the question, writing the titles on the evidence board.

“Hey Stephen, Back to December, Fifteen, Sad Beautiful Tragic, This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, exile, Bad Blood, mirrorball, Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince, mad woman, Call it What You Want, The Man, Don’t Blame Me, and White Horse.” He listed the songs without having to think about it.

“Our unsub could definitely be a woman. I mean, mad woman, the Man? Those are some pretty obvious clues.” Emily threw the idea out as soon as Reid was done listing titles.

“Definitely. And she’s young if the note is accurate, fifteen three summers ago would make her 18 now.” JJ added, looking through potential case files.

“What strikes me is the love affair that we took away.” Derek added. “Could we have put away someone she thought she was in love with?”

“Of the three child predator cases we had, there was only one that dealt with teenagers.” Reid stated, scanning the files laid out in front of him. “Garcia, what happened to Matthew Bradson after he took the deal to do jail time?”

The only sound in the room was Garcia’s typing as everyone awaited an answer. “He was sentenced to three life sentences, one for Sadie Pullman, one for Kayla Fibbs, and one for Carly Spires. He stayed in DC Department of Corrections, but was killed two weeks ago in a prison riot.” “So our unsub was separated from who she perceived to be her love, and the stressor for taking Y/N was his death.” Hotch stated, earning nods from the rest of the team.

“Sadia Pullman and Kayla Fibbs were killed before we were called in on the case. We saved Carly Spires though.” JJ read from the case file.

“The notes said she would be right where we left her, lost in the lights where they whispered she’s a bad, bad girl.” Rossi read from the notes pinned to the evidence board. “Where did we find her?”

“The high school. We found Bradson and Carly in his classroom. He was collecting items from his desk, and she had a bag with her, as if they were going to run away together.” Spencer recalled from the day in question.

“That makes sense. The bright lights from the football field, plus rumors about her must have spread like wildfire after the arrest was made.” JJ added.

“And the man clue, men are praised for their sexual encounters while women are often shamed.” Emily suggested.

“Garcia, send the address.” Hotch stated as he moved to put on his bulletproof vest, the rest of the team following suit.

“Already done, sir. Get her back.” Garcia’s voice was firmer than ever before as the team ran from the room to the elevators, headed for their SUVs.

“Would you say having a relationship with an older guy is wrong?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she stared you down. You haven’t gotten an answer wrong yet.

“No, I- I don’t think so.” You were frantically trying to figure a way out of this, trying to profile like Spencer had shown you so you could answer the questions correctly.

“Good answer. How old is too old though?” Her voice dropped with venom, willing you to get it wrong.

“Um, I think… it depends… um” You stuttered trying to come up with a number that she would be okay with.

“Depends on what?” Her words were growing harsher.

“Well, um, maturity level I guess. As long as the two people are equals, the age gap probably doesn’t matter. It’s just if there is an imbalance in power, ya know? Then it might not be the best thing to do just because you don’t want to take advantage of anyone or anything like that…” Your eyes kept growing wider as you realized the hole you were digging for yourself.

“You see, I don’t think I like that answer.” Each word was enunciated with purpose as she walked closer, dragging the knife along your arm. Before you could reply, she quickly sliced across your right shoulder.

You couldn’t stop the slight whine that escaped your lips.

“What? Did that hurt? Poor. You.” She sliced across your shoulder again before asking another question. “Here’s another one. Would you be mad at the people who ruined your relationship?”

“I don’t know, probably.” You were trying to hold back the tears as the woman started pacing.

“Not good enough.” She punctuated the sentence with another cut. “Why are you here?”

“B-B-because you brought me here.” Your words were quiet. You knew it was the wrong thing to say, but you couldn’t think of any other reason.

“Wrong again.” Another cut. “You’re here because the people you call friends ruined my life. I’m just trying to repay the favor.”

The team’s two SUVs pulled into the high school parking lot, recognizing the lone car from the video Garcia found. “She’s here. Rossi, Prentiss take the left. Reid, Morgan the right. JJ and I will go straight. Clear the area and move toward the history classroom. If we’re right, that’s where they’ll be.” Hotch called out the orders as the team entered the school, immediately splitting up to search each hallway.

Their footsteps echo through the halls of the empty school, clearing each classroom they pass. Minutes later, the team converges on Bradson’s old history classroom. Two voices can be heard inside.

“Answer the question.” Carly Spires sounds enraged, screaming without regard for who could here. “Answer it now!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know who you are or what happened or why you’re so mad at them.” Your voice is quiet in comparison, almost raw from crying. “I don’t know.” The sound of you in pain nearly brings Spencer to tears.

“Wrong again.” She cuts into you again, drawing a scream that you try your best to stifle.

“FBI, drop your weapon.” Hotch moves into the room, followed by Spencer, Derek, Emily, JJ, and Rossi.

“The whole gang’s here. Perfect.” Carly shifts the knife, pointing it into your back, suddenly calm after showing so much rage. “We’ve been playing this little game for hours. What took you so long? I thought my clues were so obvious.”

Spencer made eye contact with you while he moved farther into the room. You did your best to reassure him you were fine, but your smile felt more like a grimace.

“Put the knife down. Now. There’s no way out of this for you.” Hotch tries talking her down, but she just laughs in response.

“No way out huh? That’s what you said to Matthew to get him to abandon me. I had no one left. The only person who ever truly cared about me left, because of you.”

“Carly, Matthew didn’t care about you. He would’ve killed you if we hadn’t of caught him.” Hotch continued.

“Liar! He loved me. And when he left everyone turned on me. I was alone. You took him from me, so I’m taking something from you.” She drove the knife into your back quickly, surprising everyone in the room.

She put her hands up after that, allowing Derek to take her into custody. “Surprise. Not enough time to profile me, bet you didn’t see that coming.” She laughed maniacally, a sickening grin on her face as Derek pulled her from the room.

Spencer stood frozen, watching the life drain out of your eyes as Emily and JJ untied you. Hotch called for a medic, moving Spencer out of the way.

Even when you were on the stretcher, being wheeled out of the room, Spencer couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching you leave.

tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @eevee0722 @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets1967 @laurakirsten0502 @green-intervention @burnin-passion @takeyourleap-of-faith @secretpickleprofessordean @awkwardnesshabitat @loveheathens @fan-girl-97 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

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rpmememe · 3 years

Text

JelloApocalypse: Pokémon Colosseum - Dogs in Love

Sebtence starters based on JelloApocalypse's Pokémon Colosseum video. PLEASE play Colosseum, y'all. P L E A S E -

"Oh no, the clone factory!"

"I am... stinky."

"You're from Megan's meat!"

"Do you have the lung capacity of two beans?"

"Yeah, I'm Sosh. Short for Soshua."

"I like her. She comes out, she says weh, she does her job."

"He's been trying to get a word in edgewise for the past fifteen years."

"Idea: maybe you... shouldn't kill people at all."

"You're right. Torture is a better way to get more information."

"Yes, BnB: Bullets and Bombs."

"Can I glomp you?!"

"The Onceler is a twig! He has no ass!"

"Funeral is one of my favourite words, because it almost contains both fun and feral."

"I can't pick up a spoon. I'm starving!"

"I love my cute doggos!"

"You hearing this shit?"

"Whoa! Get a load of that dog!"

"Number 1 on the FBI's Most Wanted list... I'll say."

"You guys go out on dance nights?"

"Choo choo, here comes the third wheel!"

"This is a huge dog."

"Right to your titties!"

"We'll blow up whatever we want."

"Look at my hands. Look at them."

"They look like bread!"

"Oh no, that's not good! They're getting too old!"

"They look like my boyfriend. Who looks like DOG GREAT."

"Tape a knife to my back!"

"I'm charmed but terrified."

"Who knows? Maybe one of them will die suddenly!"

"I could squish you and no one would ever find the body."

"People can talk and dogs can't, obviously."

"Mountain, are you a dog?"

"If a dog can talk, it's a man."

"No bodily relations until after marriage!"

"You see these rings? Every one of them is a chastity belt that I've engraved into my skin."

"That was not very Quag."

"I feel like he's playing nice but he's actually a huge prick."

"I'm told I have resting shitting my guts out face."

"I haven't seen any grass since I visited my grandma."

"Are you my grandma?"

"I'm not friends with any of these people."

"I don't want you guys watching me."

"I complain about you on my Twitch a lot."

"What's that wiggling my buttcheeks?"

"I like to prolong the inevitable."

"Beating the shit out of children makes me feel better about myself."

"Why not ruin it with more sand?"

"Just look at this! My palms are drenched with sweat!"

"I will never forget the battle we had."

"They've got to live the lie now."

"Don't deadname people!"

"Hey, did you say we did something smart? Fuck you!"

"Eurgh! How long have you been there?"

"You will know the humiliation of total domination."

"I'm a DILF!"

"My ears don't have any holes in them. They don't work."

"You nasty bitch!"

"If we get through this, we can do anything."

"Will you join me in the sidecar of life?"

"Yeah! I saved the day! Suck my fucking dick!"

"That's how many friends I think we have!"

"I don't know directions."

#rp #rp memes #rp meme #starter memes #sentence starter #rp sentence starters

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leahseclipse · 4 years

Text

Daily surprises

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Summary: Everyday, Spencer finds a new book in his bag, as he begins to look forward to it when the event has been occurring for a while.

Requested by @writing-in-april

A/N: I really liked writing this request!!! it really was cute asF!! Thanks for proposing that April, the fic u wrote for me last time was amazing (as ALWAYS), so I hope that you’ll like this one.

And uhh sorry about the books parts, I don’t know any of the books- I literally googled the summaries-

Word count: 3.8k

Books have always been a passion of mine; I have always been fascinated by how words can make the reader feel, how each reader can have a different opinion about them, different feelings, every reader is different when it comes to the fact of the opinion they have about the work.

They had always been a sort of shelter to me. I usually had the habit (and still have it) to comfort myself in them, they’d be able to express feelings like no one could, allow me to learn about various things, subject, build an opinion on a subject I had never thought of having an opinion, debate or even mention before.

I had been collecting more and more of them through the years, to the point of having an apartment that could be mistaken as a sort of tiny library.

My books are literally everywhere, in my shelves, on my couch, on the low table, under and on chairs, even at my desk, and in my bag.

I always carry around one or two in my bag (of course, if they both don’t contain a lot of pages to the point of weighing a ton when combined together), in case I happen to have free time (which happened to become rare when I had begun working at the FBI), and have nothing else to do but read.

It also happened to be a passion I've been sharing with another person, more known as y/n.

She had first mentioned that she didn't happen to read a lot, but eventually appreciated reading, which I was more than happy to hear, considering all the books I knew and how much it meant to me.

Clearly, she didn't expect me to know a whole library in my brain when she happened to ask if I could recommend a few; but she always liked to hear me rambling about them.

She had eventually begun taking a liking to reading again; often asking me about books I've read, talking about her opinion on the book she had read, which would often be followed by an endless rambling from me, being much longer than what she had previously explained, or even expected when I had begun sharing my opinion as well.

It was nice to have someone else to talk about books with, without feeling I could possibly be disturbing them.

Most of my colleagues would either stay there until I'd be done, they knew how much I appreciated talking about these to them; even if the majority of the team wasn't much interested, they were just being polite and respectful by staying.

Now that I talk about it, I probably should have apologized for all of the times I had rambled for a large amount of time when talking about the four books I've read in a day.

They're pretty much the main subjects I talk the most about, if, of course, I exclude Star Trek, Doctor Who, and the many subjects I throw facts about all day long from the long list that includes all of the things I'm interested in;

...which would take quite a while to detail its entirety, since I probably would take the time to explain each of them as detailed as possible, without letting any word behind, as my brain would constantly send me as much information as it contains...which again, means, a lot.

But, even if my passion about them is often difficult to keep for myself without having the need to ramble an essay worth long about them, I try not to begin to talk about it, or mention it, except if someone else does.

That became rare…as I often end up talking more than intended each time.

Reading can sometimes lead me to fall asleep quite later than I planned before even taking the book itself.

Having the ability to read fast has often led to many nights with little sleep, considering how many books I can read in a short amount of time.

The aftermath of it isn't pleasant, as it results in more fatigue on top of the one I already have because of how late I'd stay up when working at the bureau.

The feeling I had this morning when I had woken up happened to be one of the side effects of a long and endless reading session I had done the previous night.

Little did I find out after thinking about it for a bit that I'd probably be regretting it at the end of the day, if not earlier.

Even if my body was telling me to stay in my bed considering how tired I was, work couldn't allow me to do it, unfortunately.

It only took a quarter of an hour in order for me to get ready, as I already had been crossing the door to leave my apartment without having the time to think about doing it.

The rest of the morning wasn't as busy as it usually would be; only paperwork for the previous days, nothing too complicated.

But because of the short night I had, the coffee trips have been quite numerous after a while.

A short conversation had occurred later in the day between y/n and me when she had gone to peek over my desk, curious to why I had been going in and out of consciousness; and leaving a lot to take refills.

I didn't mind her asking at all, on the contrary, I had been waiting for an opportunity to talk with her; but as I didn't want to disturb her, I just kept glancing discreetly at her from time to time, hoping something to talk about would awaken a future conversation.

After a while, I noticed that she had left the room, just as I had the thought of something situated in my bag.

I had soon taken it in search of what I've been looking for, as I suddenly happened to be quite surprised as I found a book that I didn't remember putting the night before, any other day, or even this morning before leaving my apartment for work at all.

‘The Collector, John Fowles’

It was a surprisingly good choice, and the person who had put it there either had good taste or personally knew my preferences; or even both.

Who knows.

Even I would be explaining it to myself, and not to anyone; I’d prefer not to engage myself in that; as it could last up to an hour considering the length, and all that is to explain in order to understand the moral, and the motives of whatever is in the character’s mind in the book; so...a lot.

“Withdrawn, uneducated and unloved, Frederick collects butterflies and takes photographs. He is obsessed with a beautiful stranger, the art student Miranda. When he wins the pools, he buys a remote Sussex house and calmly abducts Miranda, believing she will grow to love him in time. Alone and desperate, Miranda must struggle to overcome her own prejudices and contempt if she is to understand her captor, and so gain her freedom.”

The resume of the book had simply begun automatically playing itself before I could even lay my eyes on the back cover; as I had read this book more times than my two hands could ever count, and you know; because of the eidetic memory thing, even if I had read it only once, I would have remembered it anyway.

I remember reading it for the umpteenth time around last week, precisely on a saturday, at 11PM. As long as I can remember, I apparently had nothing else to do but read, and absolutely not any other book to pull out of the shelf, except that one.

Even if I had strictly- no idea -of who could have truly placed it there, except y/n-, I still had appreciated having this work as a possible distraction, or a way to pass the time if I eventually happened to have no idea of what I could do next, in case I didn’t have any work left to do.

As I raised my eyes to the desk in front of me, I happened to meet with y/n’s eyes just when she had happened to stare at me as well.

“What’s that book genius?”

“Oh, that? It’s the collector, from John Fowles. I like this one, but- is that you who put it there?”

“Yeah...why?”

“I uh- no particular reason! I just uh...wonder why it’s there…?”

“Well, read it, and you’ll see.” She said, as she stood to go god knows where.

“Read it? But I’ve already read-” I hurried out, but she had already gone out of the room, shooting me a smile before disappearing in the corner of the door. I stood there for a good minute, as I decided to open the book and read a bit of it as she previously told me to before leaving without even giving me an answer. She always liked to be mysterious, that’s kinda the reason I fell in love with her for.

It really took a while so I would get a number.

She had slid it in one of my file just when she had left the building to go home, I swore I didn’t even have any breath when I had attempted at catching her before she has gone to her car, and if I hadn’t decided to go, one minute later, she would have been on the road, and I doubt that calling people on the road would have been safe and clever for me to do it.

It might have been a bit “mean” to do that as some would say, but we always had the habit of doing that, way before we started dating. We’d always let the other try to guess what the other meant, what he wanted to say, it all was a game, a sequel to the story that would occur later, all of these discussions, secrets, have been a preparation, and kept for what happened right now.

It all was thanks to her, because if she wouldn’t have given it, I doubt that I would have gathered the courage too soon. Probably in 10 years or so, if not.

As I still was in my lecture, a bright blue paper with an inscription written in black ink had brought my attention, which led me to read it.

“I know you’re surprised, yes, it’s in a book, and yes I could have told it to you in person, but I find it better in a note, you can keep it and carry wherever you want. It's also better as a note, and, in a book, because you had always liked books, which became the passion that has made us grow closer. This book was the first one that started a conversation between us, I don’t remember the day, but you probably do. This note might be confusing, but I wanted to do that, because at least, you have a reason to finish the book, because you might have another surprise soon. -yours truly, y/n”

The note had even ended with a heart; she’d always write one at the end of her texts, even a small word sometimes, it probably was an habit of hers, I don’t really know, we never mentioned it once, as I didn’t mind at all, I really liked the attention.

Well, I pretty much like everything she does, whether she’s talking to me, talking to someone else, or doing whatever thing. I always like to see her around; I tend to get more relaxed when she’s with me; she always talks with me, and tries to know about what I do, even if I often noticed she probably didn’t understand a single word of whatever I rambled about.

Among all of the subject she was at ease with, books happened to be one of them, she’d always participate actively, as most of the subjects included in the books would often inspirate her, push her to talk more than she usually would with other subject, or even in general, I’d help her find her words, participate in the conversation by argumenting, agreeing with her opinion, sharing my opinion so that we could compare them and argument once more about the differences, I’d also initiate the conversation by switching to another book when we’d have nothing else to talk about the book, or if one of the details in the book would make me think of another one.

Our discussions would often last hours, we wouldn’t even realize the amount of hours we’ve spent talking until one of us would think to look at the time.

Even if I liked every single moment we’d spend together, if I had to choose one (a temporary, as I always change my mind on which moment I prefer as I again like every single one), It’d be our numerous discussions about books, I had and would never grow tired of it.

As much as I like to hear her talking, I often let myself get distracted by her, to the point of having to be “woken up” from my thoughts by her when I happened to not pay attention.

Because in these moments, all that matters is that I get to hear her voice, her smile as she passionately talks about what she likes, she way she always talks while moving her hands around, when she looks at me while I talk, when she touches my hand with the tip of her fingers to take the book situated in my hands.

She made me get more and more excited about the moments when I’d reach for a book in my bag, or somewhere in the drawer of my desk.

Especially when she had begun picking my interest by telling me she might propose another book the next day...or so?

I don’t think I’ve been more excited about reading a book again before now.

Who would have thought someone would have such an effect on me on a subject I admire before y/n arrived in my life? I’ve never been so passionate about something other than books before her.

My waiting (that had seemed like an eternity) had only lasted till the next day, not long after my arrival at the bureau.

I hadn’t expected it, but the book had happened to be situated close to my keyboard, which after thinking, was obvious, if I’d take account of the numerous trips we both had done throughout the morning due to various reasons concerning either paperwork or matters of previous cases.

I had taken a seat on the desk, quite empty for a while due to, again, the trips, as I had glanced at the surroundings, only to see a few members of the team, busy doing whatever task that was in front of them.

‘Great Expectations, Charles Dickens’

Again; fairly surprising, but quite a good surprise to discover, as I hadn’t seen it for a while before today.

The edition of the book present on my desk was one of the original versions of it, The cover had a black color, along with the title and the author written in large letters under the title of the book, both just on top of an illustration representing a woman holding a bouquet of various types of flowers, behind it, the outfit she wore was visible; a white embroidery, with a grey-ish and black necklace on top of it, which was situated around her neck. The illustration was displayed in the shape of a large square, almost taking the rest of the bottom of the cover, as a space was present after the closure of the white border around the illustration.

My eyes wandered around the cover, as I switched sides, ending up on the back of it.

“Considered by many to be Dickens’s finest novel, Great Expectations traces the growth of the book’s narrator, the orphan Philip Pirrip (Pip), from a boy of shallow dreams to a man with depth of character. From its famous dramatic opening on the bleak Kentish marshes, the story abounds, with some of Dickens’s most memorable characters; Among them are-”

I wasn’t able to finish the rest of the summary, as a familiar scent had caught my attention, two arms embraced my shoulders.

“You didn’t say hi today. I’m gonna begin to think you don’t love me anymore.” She had said, in an obvious playful tone that had taken some time for me to understand as it was, only a joke.

“Sorry, I’m married to someone, my work.” I had said, before the feel of her lips on my left cheek interrupted me; as, before she could go, I turned my face, stealing a kiss from her.

“Is that your apology?” She asked.

“If you see it that way, yeah.”

“Then I accept your apologies;”

“I’m glad, I couldn’t bear to see you in such a state that would make you sad, all because of me.” I talked in a dramatic tone, which seemed as if I was doing a play, but she had laughed at it, so, turns out that my ‘play’ had been worth it after all.

“Have you opened it yet?”

“No, I only read the summary. Why, is there something there again?”

“See by yourself.” She said, gesturing her hand in the direction of the book, as I opened it per request.

When my eyes fell on the first page, I had expected to see the page on which the title and the author are written in black, but instead of it, a picture that had apparently been printed in a matte paper was taped on the page.

The picture had contained a picture of me, reading a book while I was sitting on the floor, against the wall, of what seemed to be my apartment, the book I was holding seemed to be the same ones I was holding in my hands.

“When did you take that? I never saw you taking your phone when we were together.”

“That’s because you never pay attention to your surroundings when you read. A fire could happen in the apartment and you wouldn’t even notice it until you’d smell the smoke.”

“No, you’re lying, I do pay attention…sometimes.”

“See? You admitted it yourself. The tone of your voice when you reached the end of the sentence even said it for you.”

“Yeah but, did I...do something wrong or…?”

“No, nothing wrong. On the contrary, your focus was so strong that I was able to take the picture. So, that’s a good thing, do that more.”

“Now that you told me that, I’m gonna pay more attention, you might attempt to kill me behind my back.”

“Yeah, I might kill you if you keep saying that. I’ll kill you with a bad book, I’d be a shame to kill you with a good book, I might damage it.”

“You care more about a book instead of possibly committing a murder on the one and only love of your life?”

“My one and only love is tea, you know it.” She said, as I faked being offended. “Come on, I’m kidding. But, if you keep insinuating that, I’ll care more about the book. So, if you don’t want me to kill my one and only love, behave on your best.”

“Okay, behave on my best.” I said, tracing the outline of the picture with my index. “Even if the thought of seeing myself in that picture is kinda weird, I’ll keep it. Thanks for it, I’ll read it, well, if...I get to finish the work on my desk.” I said, as we both glanced at the paperwork on the desk.

“Yeah...I, uh. Yeah. I don’t want to...sadden you even more, but you should check your mails, there...might be more.” She said, as she tapped my shoulder before leaving, the smile on my face dropping as I came to the realization.

“I guess the reading session is getting postponed then.”

The week had really been full of a lot of surprises (if I don’t count the case we had, of course), she had pulled out books I haven’t read for years; books that I had wanted to read, but never got the time for; or even books I’ve never read, but she had surprisingly matched my taste well, as I ended up liking them more than I thought I would before even starting the book.

To my surprise, we had gotten to have rest for once after the busy week that cancelled all of our plans in a snap.

I haven’t even realized that it already was October 31st today, the work had completely gone over everything else that made up my thoughts, to the point that I haven’t thought of the book y/n had chosen today.

She’d always put it either on the top of my desk where I could see it, or in my bag, but after a minute or so of searching, I didn’t see it.

The only book that I could see was in my bag, a copy of ‘The Narrative of John Smith by Arthur Conan Doyle’, I had always left it there, it was one of my favorite books, I had never gotten anywhere without it.

‘Maybe she forgot about it today. It happens.’

We had a small party like we usually do (when a case doesn’t interrupt us, of course), and various small events had been organized.

As I had been looking around, my attention had been snatched away by a hand slightly tapping my right shoulder, as I turned around to see y/n.

“Missed me?”

“Yeah, I did.” I said, as I brought her closer, and brought my lips to hers, as we exchanged a brief kiss. “Where have you been?”

“I was with Penelope, just for a bit, because if you didn’t see it, she wasn’t around either.”

“Wasn’t she? Oh, apparently not.” I said, as I saw her coming in, walking in the direction of Emily who had called her.

“What were you thinking about?”

“You, and books.”

“Oh, talking about books, did you notice something?”

“Something? Uh, no. I haven’t seen one, except the book I always carry.”

“And what is it?”

“The Narrative of John Smith, why?”

“Well, you just noticed something. The book you just saw is the one you were looking for.”

“But, I had it yesterday, and all of the days before. I-I don’t get it.”

"In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s October 31st today; the date the book was published by the edition you own, it even was the first book I laid my eyes on when we met.” She pointed out.

“...you just reduced my IQ to 60 in a minute.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yeah, I knew it was our anniversary, but never had I thought that this book was involved.”

“Now you did, and you better remember it, and never forget to carry it.”

“I would never.” I said, as I gently put my hand on her cheek, as she suddenly raised herself on the tip of her toes, kissing me before I even got the time to think of it.

“Happy anniversary Spence.”

“Happy anniversary y/n.”

#Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Spencer Reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

172 notes · View notes

sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

As Ethan Sees It

Author:SisterSpooky1013

Rating: Mature

Words: 3698

Read it on AO3 Here

Tagging @today-in-fic

The first thing I’d noticed about her was how self-assured she was, particularly in contrast to her diminutive stature. I’d been grabbing lunch at a local deli between classes and some high school kids were picking on a third boy who may have been a classmate. Everyone in line was just ignoring it, looking away, when this tiny redhead steps out of line and walks up to the tallest, bulkiest guy in the group and tells him to fuck off, in so many words. She barely reached his shoulder and was probably 100lbs soaking wet, but she had no problem standing up for the little guy. After I picked up my order, I noticed her sitting alone at a table near the window and asked if I could join her. She was hesitant, but agreed and listened politely while I told her how impressed I was by her bravado with those kids. That’s when I noticed the second thing about her; her incredible smile. It was like the first burst of sunlight over the horizon in the morning, blinding in its beauty. I introduced myself and learned that her name was Dana, and she had just moved to DC to accept a job with the FBI. We talked for so long I missed my class, but I didn’t care. I was fascinated by her. Aside from being strikingly beautiful with rich auburn hair and porcelain skin, her blue eyes some intoxicating shade of blue I had never seen before, she was also wickedly smart. She seemed to know about everything, any topic that came up she could speak to, and I learned more during that 90 minute conversation than I probably would have if I’d made it to class. She was a doctor, and a scientist, and even the way her voice sounded was enchanting to me, the S’s softly sibilant as they poured from her pouty pink lips. She had realized the time and stood suddenly to leave, and I was so flustered by our impromptu date ending so abruptly that I stupidly forgot to get her phone number. The sinking feeling in my gut when I realized this fact, right about the time her cab disappeared into a sea of other cabs, still ranks as one of the worst moments of my life.

I thought about her every single day for two weeks. I talked about her every single day for two weeks, until my roommates begged me to either figure out a way to get in touch with her, or shut the hell up. All I knew about her was her first name, that she had recently graduated from Stanford, and that she works at the FBI. First I tried calling the FBI and asking for Dana, but they had more than one Dana who worked there and were unwilling to let me try them one by one. Next I contacted Stanford and was able to have a list of the last two classes of graduates faxed to me. Thankfully, there was only one Dana on that list; Dana Scully. I called back to FBI headquarters and asked for Dana Scully, and the next thing I knew she was on the line, her sing-song voice saying “This is Dana Scully.” My mouth went dry, I forgot how to speak, how to breathe.

“Uh, um, hi, hello.”

“…Who is this?” Her tone was the one I’d heard her use with the high school bullies

“Uh, this is Ethan? From the deli, a couple weeks ago?”

“Ethan from the deli? The guy who’s getting his masters in journalism?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Oh! Hi! How…how did you get this number?”

“Well, I hope this isn’t too weird but I forgot to ask for your number and I remembered you said you worked at the FBI, so I kind of tracked you down.”

“Oh. That’s kind of sweet.”

I let out huge breath of relief.

“I’d really like to see you again, if you’re interested. It’s alright if not, I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least ask.”

She was quiet for a moment but he had a feeling she was smiling.

“I’d love to, Ethan. Do you have something to write with? I’ll give you my number.”

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

The first real date we had, I took her to a fancy Italian place that my buddies said was sufficiently romantic. She let me pick her up at her apartment in Georgetown and when she answered the door, I nearly passed out. She had on a strapless blue cocktail dress and tall black heels, her hair down and soft around her face. Her lips were red and plump and I wanted to kiss her right then, but I knew it was too soon. I held doors for her and watched closely for her reaction, unsure if she was the kind of woman who found chivalry insulting, but she seemed to appreciate it. She was so petite and delicate, like a beautiful bird, but also had this incredible air of confidence that made her so captivating. I was careful not to outright stare at her, so I didn’t make her uncomfortable. She told me more about herself as we ate, what she had studied in school and the things she was doing now at the FBI academy, working in forensics. She asked me about my school and my plans for after graduation, and she really listened when I talked, asking thoughtful questions and wanting to learn more about journalism and broadcasting, so eager to know as much as possible about everything she could. I told some stupid joke, and she laughed, and I think that’s when I fell in love with her. That laugh worked its way into my bones, vibrated in my blood stream and sent a shiver down my spine. I had to imagine that the only reason she was single was that she was so new to the area, because a woman like this was never single for long. I didn’t want the night to end, so I asked her out to drinks afterward and to my delighted surprise she suggested that we have them back at her place. I didn’t want to assume anything, so I didn’t make a move, just talked with her more on her sofa, learned about her family and her childhood as an army brat, her love of reading and bubble baths, her fondness for children and animals. When she leaned in and kissed me, I thought that I may be hallucinating. Maybe I was having an intensely long, lucid dream. How did someone like Dana Scully cross my path of all the places on earth she might have been, and how did I have the nerve to approach her, and how was she interested in me, and how was it possible that right then she had her tongue in my mouth on her sofa?

We didn’t have sex that first night, but it wasn’t too long before we did. And it wasn’t too long after that that we decided to be exclusive, and 6 months later that I told her that I loved her. Two weeks after that, she said it back, and for two years, we were happy. It’s typically the case that when you’re newly in love with someone you have that divine infatuation that makes you see everything about them as perfect, but over time it wears off and the things that were once cute become annoying. That never happened with Dana. I was obsessed with her, everything she did was the most incredible thing a human could accomplish or be. Aside from the megawatt smile and musical laugh, she had this sweet little beauty mark on her lip that I loved to kiss. She was witty and skilled at debate, and we’d spend evenings arguing over something like the moon landing conspiracy before fucking like animals over the back of the couch. And the sex. Oh my god the sex. She was an absolute vixen in the way she played, teased, and ultimately delivered on every promise she made, and she would smile in this self-satisfied way when she came, looking me right in the eye like she’d tricked me out of my last dollar. She could be dominant, or dismissive, sometimes one then the other in the same night. She could be anything and everything, and she was.

I loved to hear her talk about her work and new assignments she was getting, and I was so proud of her and her goals and dreams. I wanted to be right beside her as she climbed the ranks at the bureau, and knew that she would be anything she set her mind to. She was equally supportive of me as I graduated and then worked my way up at a local broadcasting company with dreams of being a news anchor. She made me feel important and worthy, showed interest in the things that I cared about and was so loyal to me that she cussed out one of my friends for making jokes at my expense. We never moved in together technically (her choice) but we slept together at one or the other’s apartment every night, rented a movie every Friday, had dinner with her parents every Sunday. Her sister, who she was close to, seemed to like me okay, and her friend Ellen confided in me that she thought I should propose soon, that Dana was ready for that step. I picked out a ring, a slender gold band with a princess cut solitaire, only half a karat because I knew she didn’t like to be flashy, and hid it in my sock drawer. Our anniversary was coming up on March 23 and I decided to do it then, which was a little ways away, but I wanted it to be perfect.

For her birthday, I took her out to dinner and she had exciting news to share. She’d been offered an assignment with an obscure unit at the FBI, requested specifically by Section Chief Blevins for her background as a scientist. I didn’t fully understand what the unit did or why they’d want Dana for it, but it was something about unsolved mysteries, by the sound of it. She was so happy and felt like this was a great sign, her big break, the fact that Blevins even knew she existed and wanted her on this team was an indication of the reputation she was building for herself there. I bought a bottle of champagne, told her how proud I was and that I couldn’t wait to hear more about it. She let me know there would be travel, it was a field agent role, and that she’d be on the road sometimes. As much as I didn’t look forward to being away from her, I couldn’t help but share her excitement at this new step in her career. That night we had the most incredible birthday/promotion sex you could imagine. I made her come three times before she finally tapped out and told me how much she loved me, and how excited she was for the rest of our lives together, how much she appreciated that I understood that her career was important, and that I supported her. If we would have been at my place, I would have grabbed the ring and proposed to her right then, but we were at hers. So I just kissed her and told her that I was the luckiest man on earth because I had the opportunity to be her partner in life.

The first day of her new assignment, she was nervous. She’d heard some stories about the agent she was going to be working with, her partner, a guy named Mulder. He sounded like somewhat of an oddball, and a ladies man to boot. I made a joke about him staying away from my woman and she rolled her eyes, had me help her choose between the plaid suit or the maroon one, kissed me goodbye and told me that she loved me and I didn’t need to worry about this or any other male agent, or male person for that matter, stealing her away. That afternoon at the station I got a message from her saying that she had to fly out to Oregon for a case they were investigating, which caught me by surprise. She had said she’d be on the road, but I didn’t expect it to happen that fast. I heard from her only once in the three days she was gone, and when she came back, she was different.

It’s hard to explain in what way she changed. She was distracted, spacey, staring into nothing when we watched TV in the evening, not really listening to what I was saying when I told her about my day. She told me a little bit about the work she was doing, but she was suddenly guarded and defensive about what she did all day, most of her sentences starting with “Mulder says...” The phone would ring at odd times, she worked late or was out of town almost constantly. I felt her slipping away. I did all I could to make things easy for her when she was home. I did all the cleaning, all her laundry. I cooked her dinner each night, though half the time she would say that she had already eaten with Mulder. She didn’t seem as interested in kissing or sex, but she would let me go down on her and I did, every night, trying to hold on to her attention and her affection with my tongue on her clit. I tried to talk to her, to ask her what was wrong, if I should be doing anything differently, and she’d say “no, of course not. Everything’s fine, I’m just tired.”

Then it was our anniversary, and I made a reservation at the same place we’d gone to that very first time. I picked up flowers for her, dahlias which I knew she loved. I went by her apartment at the agreed upon time, but she didn’t answer the door. I used my key to enter and it was quiet and cold, no sign she’d been there anytime recently. I called her office at work and Mulder answered, said she was up at Quantico performing an autopsy and could he take a message. I just hung up the phone. I went to bed at her place, and when she finally crawled in at 3am she was startled to find me there. The way she looked at me made me feel like she’d forgotten I existed, and I didn’t even bother to remind her that it was our anniversary. I decided to start fresh the next morning, with a new plan. Maybe I was being too demanding, expecting too much. Maybe this Mulder was difficult to work with and she didn’t want to bother me with horror stories. I would just have to be the most supportive, accommodating, wonderful boyfriend possible, and we could come through this together. When I woke up, she was still snoring softly beside me. I slipped my head under the covers and pushed her legs open gently, sliding her nightgown up over her hips. She stirred and moaned as I pressed my lips to her clit, kissing her there before beginning to lap at her labia, two fingers sliding inside just how she liked it. She responded readily, flexing her hips and pushing her hands into my hair, and I flipped the blankets off my head so I could see her face. I loved the way she liked to watch me, to hold my eye as she went over the edge, so intensely intimate. To my disappointment, her eyes were closed, head back against the pillow. When she came, she didn’t look at me, didn’t say anything. I crawled back up to lie beside her and when her eyes met mine they were so full of sadness it sent me into a panic.

“Dana, what’s wrong?” I implored, seeing tears welling under her blue irises.

She shook her head and scooted up so that she was sitting with her back against the headboard.

“Ethan-“ her voice caught under a sob that she quickly swallowed down.

My stomach dropped. No, this can not be happening.

“Ethan” she began again. “I care about you so much.” Tears were falling now, trailing down her alabaster cheeks and dripping off of her angular chin. “I just don’t think I can give you what you need right now.”

My mind was racing, I looked around the room like there might be something, or someone, who could help me.

“I think it might be best if we took a break for a bit. Took some space from each other.”

I sat up on my knees and grabbed her arm, suddenly regretful that I had chosen to sleep naked.

“Dana, what are you talking about? We don’t need space. I don’t need space from you!”

She closed her eyes. “Ethan, it’s not fair to you. I can’t be available to you right now. My new assignment, I’m just so busy-“

“No, it’s okay, Dana. I know you work more now but I don’t mind, I’ll always be here when you come home. I support you, I support your work, you know that.”

Pulling her arm from my grasp, she stood and went to her dresser. Pulled on panties and then jeans before stripping off her nightgown and putting on a bra and sweater. “Ethan. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. It’s just not a good time for me, right now.”

“Is it that Mulder guy? Is he making moves on you?” I hated how desperate my voice sounded.

“No, Ethan. This has nothing to do with Mulder, he’s been nothing but professional. This is about me, and what I need right now. What I’m capable of. And I’m just not in a good place for a relationship, I’m sorry. I need some time.”

She was standing near her bedroom door, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She was ready to walk out.

“How much time? How much time do you need?”

She looked at the floor and whispered “I don’t know.”

I slid off the bed and went to her, dropped to my knees on the floor, wrapping my arms around her hips as I pressed the side of my head into her belly.

“Please don’t do this. We can work through it. I love you, I love you so much. I’ll do whatever you need, just tell me.” The humiliation of begging on my knees while nude makes my skin crawl to this day.

She put her hand on my head, petting my hair as she often did. I felt hot tears drip from her eyes and fall against my scalp. “What I need is for you to let me go” she finally said, and she sounded very sad but also very resolute.

“I’m going to go to my mothers for the day, and I’d like you to pack up the things you have here. You can leave your key on the table. I’ll call you soon, to see how you’re doing, okay?”

“Dana, no, I won’t let you go. Please let me try to make this better.” I clung to her like a child, physically keeping her from leaving me. She crouched down and kneeled in front of me, taking my face in her hands. She kissed me softly on the lips, once.

“You have been a wonderful boyfriend, Ethan. You have loved me so well. I don’t want you to think that this is your fault, okay? You are the best. I just can’t be with someone right now. I know you’ll be okay.”

She stood and walked out of her apartment, pausing once at the door to look back at me, naked and destroyed on the floor in her bedroom doorway, and then she was gone.

She didn’t call me, not in a day or a week or a month. She deleted me from her life like a file she no longer needed. I didn’t know how to explain to my friends what had happened, because I didn’t really know myself. I thought about her every day, ate at restaurants around her work and apartment hoping to catch sight of her, so we could chance a meeting and maybe she’d be willing to talk. When I finally did see her, it was at a sandwich shop a few blocks from the Hoover building. She walked in looking like…well an FBI agent. Now in a black, tailored skirt suit that fit her perfectly, her hair cut shorter and more styled, her heels tall and her posture confident. A man was with her, and my stomach turned at his hand on her back, the familiar way they stood close as they waited in line. He was remarkably tall with dark features, handsome in a kind of mysterious way. I wondered if that was Mulder, assumed that it was. They sat down and I watched her face, the intensity in her eyes and the curl at her lip, recognized the way her features danced as she talked about something she found interesting, the rapturous way she listened while her male counterpart spoke. I remembered when she used to look at me that way. She must have felt my eyes on her because she looked at me suddenly, registering surprise and then sadness, offering me a tiny wave as the man turned to see who she was looking at. I gathered the rest of my sandwich and chucked it in the trash can as I stalked out, suddenly having lost my appetite. I wanted to hate her, to be angry at her betrayal, her abandonment. I wanted to hate him, for taking her from me. All I could muster was the same hallow acceptance that I had my chance, and somehow let it slip away. I just hope that he appreciates her smile as much as I do.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #xf fanfic

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zalrin · 3 years

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Dream SMP x Detroit: Become Human AU

DSMP x DBH AU Part 2

Background Information: I was inspired to do this after watching Tubbo's play-through of Detroit: Become Human. At first, I was planning on posting art with descriptions, but I'm over flowing with ideas and not enough artistic talent to hurry along...

Author's Note: Okay, I'm going to be completely honest. Both part 1 and part 2 are pretty much posted on impulse. I should be going to sleep because I have work in the morning, and I started on this post early with that thought in mind, but for some reason my computer is glitching... I've written this out almost three times T-T Everything was deleted at one point, with NOTHING SAVED, so I was nearly about to rage quit... Pray for me. My patience is not unlimited.

Aside from all that, please enjoy! I worked REALLY hard on this (even excluding all the technical issues) so I really do hope you enjoy!

Character Plots:

1. Technoblade

Technoblade, notoriously known as the rogue deviant, was always a mystery due to the fact that no one, not even CyberLife, knew what model android he was. This was due to the fact that Techno was actually not even an android, but a human. This all began at a young age of thirteen, when Techno started to question the set rules of society and how he fit into its rigid hierarchy. Although it was just a budding curiosity, one he didn’t expect to go anywhere, it soon took a drastic turn. After pretending to be an android, just for fun, he was appalled by how he was treated by his fellow humans. More so than the random civilians, he was more disgusted by the inaction of the police. As an act of rebellion for the present corruption of authority, he committed small acts of violence and destruction of public property. He promoted equality and spoke out against the tyrannical attitude of those in power. Due to him indiscriminately acting out against both humans and androids alike, fighting against anyone in power who became physical and bullied those weaker than them, public opinion slowly began to shift. He eventually went from a crazy anarchist to a modern-day robin hood, much to the government’s dismay. Even those that flocked to his side, joining his cause, were a good mix of both androids and humans. His growing popularity began to raise the urgency of his capture, making his name slowly climb up the Most Wanted list. Eventually, while on his many brushes and runs from the police, he met with Detective Kristin (before she was promoted to Lieutenant) and her android partner, Philza. After many encounters, Techno and Phil surprisingly became close friends. In fact, they became so inseparable that their relationship was more akin to family than just friends. Though Phil didn’t particularly condone Techno’s more violent methods, he still supported his cause from behind. Willing to dirty his hands and become the mole, Phil secretly fed Techno intel from classified files as well as supplying Techno with android fuel, aka. Blue Blood. It was only later that Techno revealed to Phil his human identity, Phil being the only one he ever disclosed that information to, but Phil swore to never reveal his secret. Besides, the fuel was necessary for Techno’s growing followers, eventually taking on the name of The Syndicate. Techno understood the reason Phil never openly supported him, even though the android was more than willing to. It was to protect his loved one, Kristin, who would eventually become his wife. Techno understood, even supported Phil, and worked harder to never be a burden to his closest friend. Suddenly, Techno’s reputation exploded when a video clip of him went viral on social media. Though the government tried to spin the story in their favor, the video captured the full extent of the event. Techno had fought off several CyberLife security officers and police forces, exhibiting exceptional fighting prowess, while also making off with a ton of android fuel. He and his team had tried to hijack the vehicle loaded with the goods mid-route but was caught and almost apprehended. However, the thing that raised his public opinion to his favor was not just his fighting capabilities, but also how little he endangered the civilians around him. Instead, it was the government officials who had unintentionally dragged innocent people into this chaotic fight, suspecting them to be on Techno’s side. Then, not long after his growing popularity, Techno and Dream teamed up, officially marking Technoblade’s name as number one on the FBI’s Most Wanted Fugitives list.

2. Dream

Clay, or better known as Dream, was once a star employee at CyberLife. He was actually one of the many brilliant minds that helped make CyberLife into the giant company that it is. However, Dream soon gave up his employment due to the many restrictions they had placed on his creative vigor. Instead, he pursued his own android business, taking on the name Dream for both branding purposes and to embody his own "dreams." Teaming up with fellow ex-employees, Sapnap and George, the three were an ambitious trio that were talented enough to eventually become a threat to CyberLife’s growing industry and monopoly over the android market. When Dream realized that his life was being targeted by CyberLife, even being threatened to either come back into their company or give up on his current business, he became more determined to grow his industry. This even propelled him to start designing his most prized creation, DreamXD. However, his unbending will soon began to falter. CyberLife took a different approach when they realized that Dream did not hold his life more dear than his company. They began to threaten not just his life but also the lives of his most trusted partners and friends. This finally forced Dream to worry, eventually driving his friends away. Dream knew Sapnap and George like the back of his hand. He knew that the two would stick by him, through thick and thin, so he didn’t even give them that choice. Instead, his attitude towards them got worse and worse, until they eventually cut all ties with him. That was the only way he believed he could protect them. However, Dream underestimated the effects his friends had on his mental stability. Eventually, without their presence, he became more insane from the combined pressure, stress, and loneliness. Soon, he realized that it was getting too dangerous to stay still and was forced into hiding. With little time, Dream only took the incomplete DreamXD with him and shook off those tailing him. Then, he left his most prized possession to his dear ex-partner and friend, George. Dream intentionally left DreamXD incomplete. He had created the android in his image and left him unfinished to gather experience and human emotions on his own. This was the only android in existence that had been designed not only to be a deviant, but to be a human. Even with high expectations for his own future, Dream never could shake off the feeling of death following close at his heels. DreamXD was created to be his contingency plan. In the event that Dream died before his goals were achieved, DreamXD was programmed to take over Dream’s human life, or the life of Clay. Of course, Dream knew that free will was a part of humanity. That’s why he left DreamXD with a choice. While forced into hiding by CyberLife, the company spread rumors about his capture and imprisonment. CyberLife hoped that it could lure out his loved ones, baiting Dream to come out of hiding, but they had underestimated him. They had failed to realize just how severely Dream had cut out all his friends and loved ones from his life, leaving no one behind. No one to look back for him, or so the two thought... Surprisingly, even on the run Dream was fairly rich. He had planned out many things in the event CyberLife truly carried out their threats, and hidden many resources to one day come back to. However, he could not leave the city. Not while his goal was still left unfinished. So this left him with no place to stay for long periods of time, leaving him essentially homeless. That’s when he reached out to Technoblade, whose infamy had grown exponentially. The two had similar goals and so easily agreed to a partnership. Technoblade wanted to take down the tyranny of the government, while Dream wanted to end CyberLife’s influence over the android market and quiet down his chaotic life. Since CyberLife was a large reason for the power corruption, the two found working together to be simple. Techno would help Dream by providing him a place to stay, as well as offering man power when available and needed. Dream, on the other hand, would assist with supplies and android repairs, using his expertise in androids to even upgrade their parts. However, outside of these agreements they wouldn’t get in one another's way. They would only provide assistance if their plans overlapped. The two had a good understanding of the nature of their relationship. They were neither friends nor enemies. Just partners. Nothing more, nothing less.

PREVIOUS PARTS: 1

Note: I'm sorry, but after writing all this over again, nearly from scratch, three times... I really can't be bothered to go back and fix anything. I know I could have done better, but I'm kind of defeated right now and a bit tired. Please understand and I really do hope you enjoyed the read! Feel free to leave a comment on what you thought of it or maybe ways to improve the story! I'm all ears (when I have free time) ^^ And thank you so much for all the likes on my previous post! I'm really happy that you all enjoyed it <3

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sometimesiwritebadly · 4 years

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Paintbrush (Spencer Reid x Artist!Reader)

Summary: You’re an artist in DC, and a serial killer has started using your artwork as inspiration for his murders.

Warnings: Mentions murder (duh) but doesn’t go into detail

Notes: This is way longer than I planned lol. I based the chaotic-artist vibe that the reader has going on the tiktoker @/artistkatiesmall so y’all can watch her tik toks if you like chaotic energy and paint as much as i do. Oh also I tried to keep this gender-neutral but if there are any pronouns in here that shouldn’t be let me know and I’ll fix it!! I use she/her so sometimes it just comes naturally and i don’t notice.

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

You were in your studio, listening to music as loud as physically possible. Your art studio is like a safe haven; the only place you feel completely yourself. Right now you’re working on your latest piece. Your art style is very “splattered paint that ends up looking like something”, which your mother had told you on multiple occasions. She had meant it as an insult, but you ended up taking the term and making it your own. She’s not wrong; you typically start your pieces by throwing some paint on a canvas and letting it take you somewhere. So here you are, slapping paint on a canvas and screaming the lyrics to your favorite song.

As the painting began to take form - you hadn’t decided what it would be yet, but you’re excited with what you have - you heard some pounding that didn’t match the beat of the song. Grabbing your phone, you turned down the music, and the pounding could be heard much more clearly now. “Y/N Y/L/N! FBI!” You quickly paused the music and rushed to the door. As you opened the door, your paintbrush (still covered in paint...oops) was tucked behind your ear. At your entrance was two men, one tall and skinny, and the other older with graying hair. “Y/N?” The younger of the two asked, his voice considerably softer than when he’d yelled through your door. You only nodded, and each of the men showed you their badges before the older of the two spoke.

“I’m SSA Rossi, and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Can we come in? We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You opened the door wider now, allowing them both to step inside your small studio. “Um, sorry about the mess, I’m not exactly the most conventional artist.” You apologized. You would've offered them a seat, but you only had two chairs in the place, and they were both occupied by piles of your various art supplies. “What is this about?”

Dr. Reid held a file in his hands, which he passed over to you as he spoke. “Do you recognize any of these paintings?” You open the file to find 4 pictures of your own artwork; portraits of various different people. One short blonde woman, one ginger man with an impressive beard, and a hispanic woman with a pixie cut.

“Yeah, I painted these a while back...Why does the FBI care about some random commission artwork?”

“Someone commissioned you to do these?” Dr. Reid spoke quickly, causing you to look away from the pictures and back towards him. “Uh, yeah. He calls me every once in a while and asks for weirdly specific portraits.”

“What do you mean, weirdly specific? You don’t base your work off of pictures?” SSA Rossi asked you.

“No, he’s never given me pictures to work from. He just describes the person he wants me to paint. Like about two weeks ago,” You paused as you walked over to your cluttered desk, and grabbed your notepad, which was still open to the page you’d jotted down your notes on, “He asked for a portrait of a short, Asian man with bleach blonde hair, dark eyes, and one pierced ear.” You handed the notepad to Dr. Reid, who scanned it quickly.

“What’s his name?” He asked, before handing the notepad to his partner.

“Tanner. I don’t know his last name, he always pays with cash. What’d he do?”

The two men looked at each other briefly, before Dr. Reid spoke again, “We believe Tanner has been killing the people that you paint. He left the paintings at the crime scene.”

Your heart dropped. Not only had you been in constant contact with this psychopath, but you felt like you’d inadvertently helped him. You took his money, and he killed the people who looked like your paintings.

“I know this is shocking, but have you painted anyone else for him?”

“Uh, no, this was the most rece-” You cut yourself off, remembering something from the last time you’d spoken with Tanner. “He bought a painting of me.”

“When?” Dr. Reid asked.

“When, uh, when he picked up the last painting. I had a self-portrait sitting over there that I'd done for fun. He asked if he could have it along with the other one, he paid me extra for it-”

“What day, Y/N?” Dr. Reid placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. You felt like you might pass out.

“3 days ago.”

Again, the two agents looked at each other, and their faces didn’t make you feel any better.

“Y/N, why don’t you come with us to the police station, you’ll be safe there.” You could only nod in response letting them lead you out of the studio. Before you exited, Dr. Reid grabbed the paintbrush from behind your ear, placing it on a table before you made your way out to the car.

~~~

Sitting in the police station was like torture. First of all, you were wearing your normal painting outfit: a paint-stained t-shirt an ex had left at your place, jeans that were so ripped up you could barely call them jeans anymore, and of course, socks and sandals. The cops were either completely ignoring your presence, or asking you the same questions you’d already answered dozens of times. One top of all that, they wouldn’t let you do anything besides sit and wait. You had managed to find a paper pad and a pen, so at least your doodling could help pass the time.

You’d been at the station for over an hour already, which meant your doodle was nearly perfect; you ended up drawing one of the agents, Dr. Reid. From where you were sitting, he was in clear sight, and one of the only people who was actually sitting still enough for you to draw. And, y’know, he’s the only person you want to look at long enough for you to draw.

“Is that me?” His voice startled you; you’d been looking down at the paper and didn’t notice Dr. Reid coming towards you. You dropped the pen immediately, and moved the paper out of his sight.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I was just, y’know, bored and-” You tried to put together a sentence, but your embarrassment was getting the best of you.

“I don’t mind, I, um, think it’s kind of flattering. Can I see it?” Dr. Reid asked, and you reluctantly handed the paper over. You’d been an artist for so long, you were almost never nervous for people to see your work anymore; you have a very “if they like it, great! If they don’t, I don’t care,” kind of attitude when it comes to your artwork. But Dr. Reid was making you nervous. “You don’t have to call me Doctor by the way. Reid is fine. Or, uh, Spencer. You can call me Spencer.” He had a light blush on his face as he spoke, which calmed you a little bit. At least he’s just as nervous as you. Suddenly, as if he was snapped out of his train of thought, Spencer handed the paper back to you and cleared his throat before speaking. “We used the phone number you gave us to find Tanner, but he doesn’t have any listed addresses. Did you ever deliver paintings to him?” Behind him, another one of the agents who’d talked to you, Hotch, walked up.

“Um, no. I’d just call him whenever I finished a painting and he’d come to me.”

“Would you be willing to call him again?” Hotch asked. Your eyes widened at the idea. You’re already terrified at the notion that you may be a target for a serial killer, but calling him? Hotch must have noticed your fear, as he began to explain further, “We can track his location with a phone call, but we need some time to do it. If you’re the one speaking, he’ll probably stay on the line long enough for our technical analyst to find him.”

You took a deep breath, before nodding slowly. “Y-yeah. I can do that. Can you guys give me a minute first? I need some air.” You didn’t wait for an answer before walking out of the police station. Once you got outside, walked to the end of the building and leaned against the side wall. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply. You couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility over those people’s deaths. Tanner had taken your artwork, your passion, and ruined it.

“Are you ok?” You looked up to find Spencer standing in front of you, hands in his pockets.

“Not really.” You played with your hands as you spoke, not making eye contact.

“You feel guilty, don’t you?” He asked, as he moved to lean against the wall next to you.

“Shouldn’t you be inside? Y’know, you’ve got a serial killer to catch.”

“You know there are a lot of signs that someone feels guilty. Avoiding eye contact, changing the subject, lack of an appetite...I noticed you didn’t eat the snacks JJ got for you.” He was right, Agent Jareau had gotten you some snacks that you left untouched back in the station. When you didn’t say anything, Spencer continued, “Usually when I see people acting like this, they have good reason to be guilty. You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.”

“I inspired him.” When you looked up at Spencer, he gave you a confused look. “When I saw him last, when he wanted to buy that painting of me, I asked him why. He said that my artwork inspires him. If...If I hadn’t painted those people, they could still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But there’s a possibility, isn’t there? You can’t say for sure that he would’ve killed them anyways, can you?”

Spencer was silent for a moment, confirming your fears. Eventually, he spoke up. “He may not have killed those exact people, He would’ve killed someone. He’s already killed before.” Your eyebrows shot up at this, so Spencer kept talking, “We think we can connect him to two murders from a few years ago. If he had never used your art as part of his signature, it would’ve taken us a lot longer to find him. He may have even gotten away with it all together.” Spencer’s words did give you a little relief. You still felt bad for the way your art had been used, but it was a good reminder that you weren’t the murderer. That Tanner’s actions had nothing to do with yours.

“Thank you.” Spencer nodded in response, giving you a small smile. “I guess I have a phone call to make.”

~~~ a week later ~~~

You were back in your studio, getting ready for a new painting. Just as you placed your canvas on the easel, there was a knock on the door. When you opened it, you were surprised to find Spencer Reid on the other side. “Spencer?”

“Hi.” There was an awkward moment of silence before Spencer spoke again. “I, uh, saw your mural. It’s beautiful.” A small smile formed on your face at the mention of the mural. After you helped the BAU catch Tanner, you reached out to the family of the victims. With their permission, you painted a mural that was put up at the memorial down the road. The mural had been featured on local DC news channels, which is probably how Spencer had seen it.

“Thank you. I probably wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for you.” As you spoke, you moved over so that Spencer could enter the studio space. “Back at the police station, I wanted to quit art. Figured I’d finally put that communications degree to use or something.” Spencer lightly laughed as you continued, “But you made me realize that I can still do something good with my art.”

“I’m glad.” Spencer paused, and took a deep breath, and a step towards you, “Do you, uh, think we could go get coffee sometime? I mean, it doesn’t have to be coffee, we could get tea, or um, lemonade, we could get lemon-”

“Spencer!” You cut him off, with a light laugh. You found his nerves to be both flattering and cute. “I’d love to get any beverage you’d like, as long as you’re there with me.” You ran your hands through your pockets, looking for the sharpie you’d had in your hand before you’d opened the door. “Where is…” you mumbled, looking down at your pockets. Suddenly, you felt Spencer’s hand at your ear, where he pulled down the sharpie you’d placed there.

“Looking for this?” He was now standing close enough to you that he only had to whisper.

“Yeah” You responded, at the same volume he’d used. You took the sharpie from his hand, but before he could pull it away, you grabbed it and wrote down your phone number. When you finished, you looked up to Spencer’s face, which had turned pink. “Call me whenever.”

Neither you or Spencer said a word, you just stood there, staring at each other. You couldn’t help but try to memorize every feature of his face. Your staring contest was interrupted by Spencer’s phone dinging. He took a step back, much to your disappointment, and looked down at the text. “I, uh, I have to get to work. We have a new case.” You could tell he was disappointed too.

“Ok.” You whispered. Spencer looked at you for one more moment before he did what you least expected; before you even realized what was happening, his hand was wrapped around your waist and his lips were on yours. Your hands found their way to his collar, pulling him even closer to you.

You two didn’t pull apart until Spencer’s phone went off again. “You better call me.” You said, finally letting go of him.

“I will, promise.” Was the last thing he said to you before rushing off to work. When the door closed behind him, you turned to your blank canvas with a clear idea in mind. So you turned up the music, grabbed your paints, and began to put every detail of Spencer you could remember onto the canvas.

~~~

Notes: i’ll be honest idk how i feel about this ending lmao but i hope y’all liked it

Tags: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @la-vie-en-amour1 @peculiarinsomniac

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic #david rossi #aaron hotchner

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calwrites · 4 years

Text

The Halloween Party

Summary: Reader has lived across the hall from Penelope Garcia for a couple years and considers her to be one of her best friends. That’s the only reason she agreed to go to a Halloween match making party.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.2k

I wrote this very quickly so it’s not the best, but I couldn’t let Halloween go by without writing something for Reid.

——————

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this stupid match making thing,” you grumbled at the blonde currently on your couch.

Penelope Garcia smiled at you over her wine glass. “Well I wanted to go but only if my favorite neighbor did it too.”

“I’m the only neighbor you talk to,” you pointed out. Penelope stuck her tongue out at you and waved her empty glass in the air. You rolled your eyes, but refilled her glass anyway.

You and Penelope had lived in the same building for a few years. When you had seen the brightly dressed woman lugging boxes down the hall, you had offered to help her move everything in. She had intrigued you. You had passed each other in the hall a couple of times after that, but had never really talked until one evening when you heard a knock on your door.

It had puzzled you because you were still pretty new to the area so you didn’t have any friends who would be dropping by unexpectedly. Opening the door, you had found Penelope standing in the hall crying.

“I had a really bad day at work. I just really need someone to talk to,” she had said. You ushered her in and spent the night learning about Penelope’s job as a technical analyst for the BAU. Now whenever Penelope’s team got through with a tough case, she would come collapse on your couch while the two of you drank wine and decompressed.

“You’re also the one who told me to get out there and forget about Kevin,” Penelope countered.

“Yeah well I didn’t think you’d drag me along.”

“It’s not just you! I convinced some of my friends at the BAU to sign up too. Besides, I know you’re excited for the party. You already bought two dresses.” She pointed at the dresses still laying out on your kitchen table. You were trying to decide whether a black dress or white dress would be better for your costume.

“I’m always excited for a Halloween costume party. I just never thought I’d be one of those sad people who signs up for a matchmaking party.”

“Y/N, you are one of the smartest people I know. And I work for the FBI. I know a lot of smart people. The only reason you’re still single is because whenever you get time off from teaching you spend it trying to solve impossible math equations. And I thought you said your match sounded nice.”

You sighed. “Trying to solve an impossible math equation is arguably the most important part of my job. I think the university cares more about that than the courses I teach sometimes. I guess he does seem nice. He’s either very smart or he’s very good at using google to sound smart. Either way, when you look at the data, the likelihood of finding a long term partner through a survey is-“

Penelope groaned. “No! I get enough info dumping at work. Let’s just talk about the party. It’s next weekend and you’re buying clothes for it so I assume you and your partner decided on your costumes. What is it?”

When Penelope had invited you to a Halloween costume party, you had been quick to accept. She then told you that it was a matchmaking party where you had to fill out a survey and were then matched with another attendee. Pairs would have to decide on costumes and then find each other at the party. Until then, pairs wouldn’t know who the other person was. Definitely not your usual definition of fun.

“I’m not telling you,” you teased. Penelope gasped on faux anger before the two of you burst into laughter and decided on a movie to watch.

——————

You stared at your computer screen intently, willing the message to change.

I’ve been out of state for a work trip for the past few days. I didn’t mention it earlier because I was hoping that we would get back in plenty of time. It took a couple more days than we were anticipating though. We’re about to take off, so I’ll make it back in time for the party but I won’t have time to put out on my whole costume. I can just wear the cape or something if you don’t have any better suggestions. I’m looking forward to meeting you tonight.

You chewed your lip thoughtfully before an idea popped into your head. And you began typing back a response.

That’s a shame. I was looking forward to seeing your Masque of the Red Death costume. I have a new idea though. What character refused to wear a costume to a costume ball?

The response came back almost immediately.

And I was looking forward to seeing your Leonore costume. I’m sure that there are a number of characters who fit that description. Would you like a list?

You smiled and rolled your eyes.

It’s another gothic story. He’s throwing the fancy dress party, but he refuses to dress up. His new wife’s costume causes a bit of a stir. Enough clues?

The reply caused you to get up quickly to begin sorting out your new costume.

I’ll see you tonight, Mrs. de Winters.

A few hours later found you ready to leave. You were thankful that you still had the white dress you had previously purchased with the idea of using it for Leonore. You were even more thankful that you still had a wig from a few Halloween’s ago that worked for your costume. So now, with a white dress and curly dark hair, you were ready to leave.

“Ok I give up,” Penelope said when she opened her door. “What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m the narrator from Rebecca,” you told her. “It’s kind of a last minute costume. I’m glad your case wrapped up today. I would be bummed if I had to go without you.”

“Well it’s a good thing it didn’t come to that.” Penelope looped her arm through yours and pulled you down the hallway, the two of you laughing as you went.

——————

Thankfully the room wasn’t too loud when you and Penelope arrived. Jack-o-lanterns and bowls of candy sat on tables around the edge of the room, and bats and ghosts hung from the ceiling. You and Penelope made a circuit around the room, trying to find your matches.

“Maybe ours guys are running late,” Penelope suggested. The two of you had moved to a snack table while you surveyed the sea of costumes around you.

“Or they’re ditching us.” Penelope gave you a playful swat. You were saved from another attack by Penelope’s phone dinging.

“Oh! Some of my friends are here. Come meet them.” Before you could protest, Penelope was dragging you across the room. Two people stood against the wall talking, but broke into smiles and waved when they saw Penelope approaching.

“Y/N, this is Derek and Emily. Guys, this is my neighbor Y/N.”

You smiled and shook hands with the two FBI agents.

“So you’re the famous Y/N,” Derek grinned. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Famous? If anyone is famous it’s Derek “chocolate thunder” Morgan. The way Penelope talks about you, I was imagining a superhero. She wasn’t wrong.”

“I like her,” Derek laughed.

Emily groaned. “He does not need a bigger ego.”

“Where’s Reid?” Penelope asked. “Don’t tell me he bailed.”

“He said he needed to stop by his apartment first. We came straight from the plane. And don’t worry, Hotch and JJ both assured us they would take pictures of the kids in their costumes.” Penelope squealed and clapped her hands excitedly.

You chatted with Penelope and her friends for a few more minutes before Penelope spotted a man wearing a matching costume to hers. She waved bye to your little group and rushed off to meet him, leaving you with the two FBI agents.

“Oh there’s Pretty Boy,” Derek cried.

“I was kind of expecting you to show up in an intricate costume. You love Halloween, Spencer,” Emily said.

You turned to find a handsome man approaching your group. He was wearing a nice suit and had a leather satchel slung over his shoulder.

“No time, unfortunately.” The man shrugged. “I just had to pick up some books from my apartment. Hi. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. You must be Garcia’s friend.” He turned to you, but didn’t extend a hand. You realized that this must be the young genius Penelope mentioned from time to time.

“Y/N,” you replied. Spencer’s eyes took in your costume carefully. You tried not to shift uncomfortably.

“Are you planning on doing some reading tonight?” Derek asked.

“No. My date and I were discussing a volume of poetry that I have, so I wanted to bring it to show her.”

“What a ladies man,” Emily teased. “How’s she going to know it’s you though? You’re not wearing a costume.”

“Actually, I am.” Spencer smiled slightly at the confused looks on his friends’ faces. What he just said clicked for you suddenly.

“Maxim?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

Spencer blinked at you in surprise before smiling widely. “Mrs. de Winters?”

Emily and Derek looked between of you in slight confusion, but you and Spencer smiled at each other in delight. “We’ll leave you two to it,” Derek teased as he and Emily walked away.

“I’m glad that you’re a friend of Penelope’s and not a complete stranger,” you admitted. “I was a little worried I’d get stuck with some weirdo. Not that you sounded weird when we talked!”

“Well our first conversation was about the statistics of meeting a murderer when online dating. That’s a little weird.” The two of you laughed slightly.

“I’m a math professor, so I’m interested in anything statistics,” you admitted. “I’m kind of a nerd.”

“Same,” Spencer laughed. “You know these last minute costumes were a good idea.”

“I still want to see your Masque of the Red Death costume sometime.”

“Deal, but only if you tell me what you teach.”

You waved your hand. “Oh nothing exciting. Just some upper level math that nobody wants to take. The fun part of my job is trying to solve the Riemann hypothesis.”

“You’re trying to solve one of the Millennium Prize problems?” Spencer asked in surprise.

“I’m surprised you know about it.” Most people you talked to had no idea what the Millennium Prize problems were. You were sure they wondered why a university would tenure you just so you could keep trying to solve a math problem.

“I’ve looked over them before,” Spencer admitted shyly, like he was waiting for you to make fun of him.

“No luck?”

“Way beyond my level.” The two of you laughed slightly. A slower song began to play and couples danced slowly across the dance floor.

“Want to dance?” you suggested. Spencer hesitated and you worried for a second that you had overstepped, but then he smiled and held out his hand.

Neither one of you were very good dancers, but what you lacked in talent you made up for in smiles. You continued to discuss everything from mathematical theory to what working at the FBI was like to classic literature.

“Do you think this is how the Manderley fancy dress party would have gone if Mrs. Danvers hadn’t sabotaged the narrator?” you asked. “They could have been as happy as us dancing.”

Spencer thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. I don’t think they could have been truly happy together with all of the secrets still between them.”

“True,” you agreed. “So you think we’re happy?”

When Spencer smiled at you, your heart fluttered. “I’m pretty happy. This is going a lot better than I expected. Not that I didn’t think you sounded great when we talked online! But Derek said something about you sounding too good to be true, so I started to worry that you wouldn’t be as amazing in person, but I shouldn’t have. You’re even better in person.”

You smiled gently back at Spencer. “You’re better in person too.”

Spencer studied your face intently for a few seconds, a look of uncertainty on his face. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quickly, like he was afraid he would lose his nerve if he waited.

Your smile grew. “I’d like that,” you responded.

Spencer put one hand gently on your cheek, the other still resting on your waist, and brought his lips down to meet yours. When the two of you broke away, still smiling widely, you were totally oblivious to the looks of shock and delight on the FBI agents’ faces.

“I think we might have to do this again sometime, Mrs. de Winters.”

“I think so, Maxim.”

Without speaking, the two of you leaned in again, and you were able to capture Spencer’s lips once more. You didn’t think you’d get tired of this any time soon. If only you had taken Penelope up on her offer to set the two of you up last year.

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #calwrites

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years

Text

Standards of Performance, Chapter 5: Thai Food and Realizations

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

AO3 Link

I got this one out QUICK because I'm moving this week and packing is taking up 94% of my brainpower but!! It's out on time!! If I ever have to delay a chapter, I’ll post an update here on my blog. Also, I don’t usually do taglists, but I have had a few people ask - so if you want to be added to a taglist for new chapters, just shoot me a message! I love you all so much, thank you for the continued support and comments!!! <3

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 5, Thai Food and Realizations

Chapter Summary: You decide to talk to Hotch after the Matthews incident, and wind up discovering a lot more about both of you than you bargained for.

Words: 2616

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You weren’t prepared with the immense boredom that came with actually having free time.

The rest of the team had closed the case and flown back (at least you assumed they had; you hadn’t checked), and Hotch had texted you not to bother coming back in until they got a new assignment. You were grateful for the courtesy - a little time to decompress after almost being murdered was nice - but after months of having almost no life outside of the internship, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with yourself.

By the time day four rolled around, you had caught up on the reading you’d been meaning to get to, deep cleaned twice, tried and failed to get into running, and sought out at least a dozen other forms of mindless entertainment. You tried not to think about the fact that this would be the perfect time to catch up with friends if you actually had any, but your college and post-college life spent studying like a madwoman to land a position with the BAU hadn’t exactly lent itself to a healthy social life. There were acquaintances, of course, people you’d spent time with, college boys you’d dated briefly, but none of them had ever lasted. Gotten close.

None of them had ever killed a man for you.

That was the core of it, right? The reason you couldn’t get him out of your head? He’d only known you for a few months, not like the rest of his team that he’d dedicated years to, and yet he didn’t hesitate to end someone’s life in brutal fashion to save yours. You were grateful, of course, given the alternative, but a part of you felt bad. Given his history, he was already encumbered with enough trauma - the last thing he’d needed was another death on his conscience.

That was his decision to make.

That’s what you told yourself, at least. Or tried to. But after four days of the guilt eating at you and failing to distract yourself from it, that thought stopped being reassuring. That evening, after a couple glasses of wine, you finally worked up the courage to acknowledge the idea that had been tossing around in the periphery of your mind for a while.

Committing to action before you convinced yourself this was a dumb idea - and it was, of course, but the slight buzz and four days of isolation said otherwise - you called in an order to the Thai place down the street and heaved yourself off the couch. You tried not to care about how you looked, but changed your outfit an embarrassing number of times before you got the text that your order was ready.

When you first started at the BAU, Garcia had sent you a directory of all the team members’ information. You remembered asking her why their home addresses were on the list - that’s kind of unnecessary, isn’t that, like, personal? you’d said - and you remembered the sad look she’d given you by way of an answer. Turns out the job had followed them all home at one point or another, usually in a way that required rescuing. As you checked the directory for Hotch’s address, you considered that this information was probably only intended to be used if you needed to save him from an unhinged serial killer breaking into his home, but you figured “thanking your boss for snapping a man’s neck to save your life” was a satisfactory enough purpose.

Turns out, Hotch lived in an apartment only a few blocks away from yours. After picking up the takeout order, you started to make the trek. The closer you got, however, the more your confidence started to waver, and not just because you started to realize how weird you were about to look. Even in the dimming light of the evening, you could tell from the building facades that you were entering a much more well-to-do part of downtown. The storefronts and restaurants occupying the bottom floor of brick condos looked more high-class, the cars parked along the sidewalk more expensive and well-maintained. It made sense given his status in the FBI that Hotch could afford to live in an area like this, but still, you hadn’t imagined it. You hadn’t imagined him living outside of work at all, actually - like an elementary school teacher, it was strange to think that he had a life outside of his job.

You stopped outside of the address on your cell phone, a greystone, ivy-covered apartment building. The doorman saw you pause at the threshold and opened the door from the inside.

“Visiting, I assume?” he asked, as you stepped inside.

Still in shock at the fact that you were in the sort of area that had doormen, you nodded. “Um, yes, Agent Hotchner? I mean, Aaron Hotchner? I work with him. For him, actually. He doesn’t know I’m coming.”

The doorman gracefully ignored your verbal fumbling. “Do you have a badge?”

It made sense that Hotch would use that as a barrier to entry. Smart. You nodded again and produced it from your bag. He waved you on to the stairwell, where you made the climb to the fourth and topmost floor.

You stuttered to a stop outside his door at the very end of the hall. Suddenly overcome with nerves, you took a mental stock of yourself: slightly winded from the four-floor climb, dressed in an oversized sweater and leggings, hair less-than-artfully windswept, hands slightly shaking with adrenaline, clutching a bag of takeout. Not the image you wanted to present to your boss.

God, this was such a fucking stupid idea.

You started to turn away, intending to leave the way you came, when the door in front of you flew open. You yelped, dropping the bag, and turned back to see Hotch standing in the doorway. He was in his work pants, still, but a plain black t-shirt replaced his usual button-up. His left hand was on the half-open door, right hand behind his back, no doubt holding his gun. You put your hands up sheepishly in surrender.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner. Sorry. I just wanted to-”

“What are you doing here?” he interrupted, eyebrows screwed up in confusion.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to, um, thank you. For saving me, the other day. I brought you dinner.”

He continued to look at you like you’d just grown two heads.

You leaned down and picked up the bag of food, holding it out towards him lamely. He looked down at it and finally seemed to relax, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I don’t get many- I wasn’t expecting a visitor. Please, come in.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that he might invite you in, but you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to see Aaron Hotchner’s apartment. You stepped in, and he replaced the gun he was holding back in a drawer by the entryway, locking the door behind you. You were suddenly overcome with sorrow, knowing his life had progressed in such a way that hearing footsteps outside his door was a cause for alarm.

The apartment was nearly as intimidating as the man himself. Tall, industrial ceilings loomed over the open, warehouse-style floorplan, populated by neutral furnishings. An exposed brick wall on the left housed a stainless-steel kitchen, while a king-sized bed on the far right wall was placed near the only closed portion of the space, which you guessed was the bathroom. The windows were numerous - multi-paned and massive, but curtains were drawn over most of them. It was all a reflection of Hotch - impressive and somewhat cold.

There was a single photo, from what you could see, in the entire apartment - a small frame on the otherwise file-covered coffee table between the couch and flatscreen. It was a photo of Hotch, a woman, and a young child. You found yourself drawn towards it, as Hotch took the bag from you to set it on the kitchen island, and you walked over to pick it up. He was smiling in the photo - a genuine smile, not the tight-lipped imitations you caught a few times at the office - and the sight filled you with emotion. Who was he before you met him? A father, a husband, of course, but what was he like? Did he laugh at Prentiss and Morgan’s off-color jokes instead of chiding them, did he go out to social gatherings with the team? Did he spare emotion when speaking to a victim’s family, as he so rarely did now? Would he have broken a man’s neck without thought like he did to Matthews?

“You’ll stay for dinner?”

You quickly set the frame back down.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t planning on it. Like I said, I just wanted to thank you. I’ve been thinking about it the last few days and I just feel… bad. I guess. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why would you feel bad?”

You hesitated, trying to avoid the truth - that he didn’t need another body on his conscience. He waited for an answer, and when he didn't receive one, he stepped closer and scanned your face. "What aren't you telling me?"

You weren't keeping anything from him, not really, you just didn't want it to sound like you were calling his mental state into question like you did at the hotel. It didn't matter though, because he had apparently pulled the answer from your expression already.

“You think I’m damaged. And that killing Matthews somehow added to that.”

There was no point in even attempting to lie to him, so you stayed silent.

Hotch sighed and pulled out a seat at the kitchen island. You took it and watched him distribute the takeout containers between the two of you, noticing that despite insisting you weren’t intending to stay for dinner, you’d ordered plenty of food for two people.

Profiling yourself is the worst.

“When Haley and I were married,” Hotch began, picking at his curry, “I took her for granted. I spent more late nights at work than I can count, and I always assumed she would be there when I got home. She was, at first, and then she wasn’t.”

You nodded, afraid to speak, trying not to disturb the moment you’d somehow stumbled upon.

“She had an affair. I never confronted her about it, but I knew. I didn’t hate her for it, but when she asked for a divorce, I let her go without a fight. I wanted the best chance to keep Jack in my life and I didn’t want things to get ugly between us. It worked - I got to see Jack; we were amicable.”

He paused before continuing, “They were killed a few years later by George Foyet. We mismanaged that case. He was ahead of us the entire time; we couldn’t catch up. When we finally caught him, after Haley and Jack-” His voice finally broke, and he set down his fork, staring at the counter.

“He surrendered. I didn't care.”

“You beat him to death,” you whispered. You’d looked up the case file, after JJ had told you what happened.

He nodded, seemingly unsurprised you were familiar with the details. “I was never charged, hardly investigated. No one blamed me. I took some time off, and I came back. I thought about going back to law, but I didn’t.”

He looked up at you, meeting your gaze. “Why didn’t I?”

You blinked away the tears that were forming, confused.”I-I’m sorry?”

“Why didn’t I go back to law? Leave the BAU? You should know the answer.”

“Are you asking me to profile you?”

He nodded in confirmation. “You’re not going to offend me, don’t worry.”

Hotch was the last person you wanted to profile, especially to his face, but you knew better than to try to refuse.

“You... wanted a sense of purpose. If you could keep the same thing from happening to other people, it would make up for what happened to your family,” you responded quietly. It was an easy answer, but it still felt wrong to put Hotch on display like that, especially after he’d already revealed more to you than you’d ever seen him do with anyone.

“Correct,” he said, without a hint of the bitterness you’d have expected to accompany that statement.

“And did it? Help, I mean?”

He studied your face, as if trying to decide whether to grant you the answer. You were suddenly aware of the strangeness of the situation - sitting feet away from your boss in his own apartment talking about the darkest moments of his life. This was insight you doubted he’d ever given before, and as you glanced over his mussed hair, the black t-shirt, caught a whiff of his cologne, you tried not to think about the implications of that statement.

Clearing his throat and raising his eyebrows, he turned back to his food. “It did. It does, most of the time. The rest of the team has been exceptionally understanding, perhaps more so than I deserve.”

“You deserve everything they can give you,” you said with a small smile. “From what they’ve told me, you’ve done the same for each of them several times over.”

“It’s my job,” Hotch said, but you could tell he softened at hearing how his team regarded him.

You both went back to your food, finishing the meal in relative silence - the kind that was comfortable, where you both knew that everything that needed to be said for now, had been. At least, the silence probably felt comfortable to him. Your mind was in overdrive.

Everything Hotch had said and done the last few months that had caused you to falter - the way he shook your hand when you first signed onto the BAU internship, the innocuous moments of praise, that goddamn tie - they were circling your mind like a vulture waiting for the kill. You had tried to brush those moments off, but hearing him open up like this, bare his soul, was too much. It was the next look you stole, watching him eat in quiet contemplation, faint remnants of the blush from the compliment you paid him still gracing his cheeks, that did you in.

You were pretty sure you were in love with Aaron Hotchner.

You were so, so unbelievably fucked.

____________

When Hotch bid you goodbye that night, after you helped clean up his kitchen (which allowing you to do had been a debate in itself), you had the brief, stupid thought that you should just be honest with him. How long, truly, were you going to be able to hide the fact that you were infatuated with your boss? Especially when your boss was in the business of reading people like books?

That idea went out the window, however, when he leaned against the doorway with his signature half-smile and said, “Thank you for everything tonight. I’m glad you’re on the team,” because you know where you wouldn't be, if you confessed your sudden realization? On the team. Hotch made it clear when he hired you, and every day since, that clear judgement was paramount to the team's success. There was no way he'd trust you to be unbiased in a situation that required it if he knew how you felt. And this position was too much to think about giving up, not after the years of studying and social isolation that allowed you to make the cut.

So, you can do this, you decided. You can lie to Aaron Hotchner.

Right?

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of dead bodies and cases. Usual CM stuff.

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites

~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so, maybe you'd admit that sitting next to Reid on a plane was making you nervous.

After you had made it to the jet, you carried your go back to the back of the jet where they stored the luggage. Right as you did so however, your phone began to ring. You looked at your watch and sighed. You would have to answer the phone and get on the jet. Whoever it was was going to have to accept that it would be a short phone call.

"Hello?" You answered, adjusting your bag as you made your way back to the boarding stairs of the jet.

"So~? It's probably not your lunch break yet… but how did seeing mister teacher's pet go? Did he give you any hair care tips cause he looked good for having such messy hair."

You fought the smile that formed on your face, staying put near the bathroom so your phone call could be semi-private. Though you knew that Gabriel wouldn't have cared otherwise.

"Hello Gabriel. And for your information, I'm headed out on my first case. On an actual jet of all things. So don't expect me home tonight. I don't think these cases are usually as quick as a day."

"Ah okay. So you’re avoiding the question now? Jesus, you're really into this guy." He teases.

"Gabriel I swear-!" You growl. After a much needed sigh, you close your eyes and start your statement over again. "You tease me enough about my study habits. If you don't stop this you'll need to sleep with one eye open. Maybe start wearing a night-cap so I don't cut that hair of yours." You playfully threaten. Gabriel lets out an offended gasp.

"You wouldn't!"

"I totally would. Try me."

"Grr… Fine. Get me lover boy's number and I'll call it even. I'll tell Iris we'll be alone for a few nights~" You could hear his tell-tale smirk in his voice, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Don't you even dare. You know you'll wake up in the middle of nowhere in nothing but your rainbow underwear. She's capable of more than you realize." You laugh as you warn him of what you both knew Iris was capable of doing to him if he pissed her off.

"Yeah yeah, sure don't want that to happen again. Anyway, have a good trip with that pretty boy of yours~" Gabriel teased.

"What did I say?" You warned sternly.

"What? You didn't get me the guy's number yet, so teasing is still on the table."

"Leave it to you to find a damn loophole." You groan, rubbing the creases of your forehead out with your fingers.

"Everyone please take your seats, we need to go over the case, see if we can start building a profile." Hotch announces behind you.

"Sorry, I gotta go. We're about to take off. Don't die, please." You teasingly beg before you hang up and put your phone in the slot on your belt.

"So… Gabriel, huh?"

You gulp a bit and turn your head frantically until you find where Derek had sat on the jet. You roll your eyes and specifically choose the seat farthest away from him out of spite.

"Oh hush. He's my roommate. Not what you think." You insist as you grab your bag and place it in your lap, situating the case file in front of you. As soon as you get settled into your seat, you feel a presence suddenly sit next to you.

"Sorry, I had to grab something real quick."

You feel a slight blush grow on your face as you realize who the presence was. That was also accompanied by the sudden increase in the smell of mahogany wood and soft musk. It was pleasing.

"Don't worry about it, Pretty boy. We were just talking about L/N's little 'roommate'. Weren't we?" Morgan teases. Instead of taunting back you feel like almost sinking into your seat. Why did he have to bring that up right now? Especially when Spencer was here to fucking hear?

"Living with roommates is actually more common than you think. There was a study done recently that showed a total of 18-34 percent of people have roommates. It's more logical as it helps people afford apartments with minimum wages." He explains. You sigh with relief. You were glad for Spencer’s statistic. It moved the conversation away from you. At least you hoped.

"Whatever. Still. Who is this 'Gabriel'?" Morgan asked with a determined smirk, ignoring Spencer’s statistics. You sighed. You weren't going to get out of this as easily as you thought.

Spencer swallowed a bundle of nerves as Morgan pushed aside his attempt at changing the subject. If he was truthful, he didn't want to speak about the possibility of you having someone special in your life already. Although he doubted he ever had a chance. Who was this Gabriel though? He wouldn't deny that he was curious, at least to his own conscience.

"Fine," you sigh. "Gabriel is my best friend. Well… one of my best friends. He is gayer than a rainbow and is currently working as an FBI undercover agent. Happy?"

Morgan raised his hands in defeat, chuckling.

"I'm just asking baby girl, no hard feelings." He teases.

Spencer let out an undetectable sigh of relief, his unknowingly clenched fist loosening against his leg. "He's an undercover agent? How did he get hired as one as a new graduate?" Spencer asks. "Of course there are some rare occasions where recently graduated agents have gone immediately to a semi-high position, but that in itself is exceedingly rare. Almost impossible." He rambled, finally finishing and turning towards you.

"Oh, well I think it might've been because of his family ties. His father works in the CIA. Though I doubt that his father pulled any strings. He's kind of homophobic." You shrug. "But hey, it's not too impossible. It happened for you and me, right?" You asked, wiggling a teasing eyebrow.

Spencer chuckled a bit and nodded, laughing gently. "I suppose it isn't as impossible as I make it sound. Although it still is rare. We just both happen to meet the requirements." He answers, flashing you a genuine smile.

"For someone who's pretty private about her own personal life, you're pretty open about sharing your roommate's life." Morgan speaks up with curiosity. Spencer bites back a growl and glares at Morgan to knock it off.

"Don't worry, Gabe's not that worried about his own life being leaked. He's got a squeaky clean record, and he says anything that someone finds out from someone other than him is always hearsay in court without proof."

Morgan shrugged and pulled out the case file, getting the notion that the conversation was over.

"We should get started. We'll be touching down in Illinois in a couple hours." Hotch announces, gathering everyone's collective attention. Garcia's face popped up on Derek's laptop he opened up as Hotch began to go over the case. "Any outstanding details yet, Garcia?" He began.

"No sir, the only thing I could find was that each of your victims visited stores for newborns to toddlers. Babies R Us, Bottles and Babies, you name it. Each of them also had either a wife or serious romantic partner who had recently given birth." Garcia answered, looking up from her list.

"What kind of job would you have to have to know this stuff about your victims? I don't think our unsub is stalking them." Rossi spoke up.

"Maybe they work at one of the stores? Garcia I'm gonna need a list of employees at each of those locations." Derek started.

"No wait, if they're all different stores then the idea of the unsub working at one doesn't fit… do each of these stores have the same supplier?" You speak up, looking over the case details before looking up at the rest of the team.

"Uhh… yes, a company called Mommy and Me supplies all three of the stores these men visited." Garcia clarifies.

"Good work, (L/N). Garcia, I'm going to need that list of names." Hotch informed.

"I'll get that straight back to you sir as soon as I can. Garcia out." She says, disappearing from the screen.

"So what are we thinking about behavior? Why would our unsub attack these men? And why now?" Emily spoke up.

"The stressor in this situation is most likely to do with a partner. Or perhaps something to do with our unsub's physical appearance or self-esteem. Since each of the men are dark haired and left out for anyone to find." Spencer explained, laying the folder down onto the table in front of him.

"Maybe something to do with a child? This unsub might just be a customer at each of these places. Maybe their partner recently left them and they're lashing out at surrogates for that partner." JJ suggests.

"Are we looking for a female unsub?" Morgan asks.

"I believe so." You spoke up.

"Why is that, (L/N)?" Prentiss replied.

"Well, in one of the crime scene descriptions, it was said that the newborn of one of the men was fed after their father had been murdered. I don't believe any man could do that. There weren't any leftover bottles either." You answered.

"Actually, it is possible for a man to lactate. Although very rare, some men still produce the hormone prolactin even if they have a Y chromosome. This produces the process of lactation. But I doubt that is the case here, as most examples of this happening have been influenced by medical means." Spencer expressed, his eyes widening and sparkling with wonder at his fact.

Derek groaned. "I really, really did not need to know that man."

"But he's right. If there is no trace of a bottle having been used, or of one missing, we could be dealing with a woman." Hotch affirmed. "That paired with the obvious craving of power in the way the bodies are dumped and each victim is tortured."

"What if our unsub recently had a baby also?" JJ spoke.

"That would make sense, if our unsub is finding men at these different stores, then it could be plausible for her to have taken these men while alternating between stores." Rossi points out.

"Good work everyone. When we land JJ and I will talk to the families. Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi, I want you three to investigate the last dump site, see if we can gather any more information on this unsub's methods and cause. And (L/N) and Reid, I need you two to take a look at the bodies. See id there are any patterns we missed. However we need to be quick, or Galesburg is going to have another body on their hands very soon." Hotch divides the jobs, closing the folder for the case. "Reid."

Spencer looks up and turns towards Hotch. "Yeah?"

"Show (L/N) the ropes for Prentiss. Try to teach her if you can. This is a learning opportunity for her as much as this is a case for us." Hotch orders. Spencer nods in understanding, feeling nervous butterflies building up again in his stomach.

"Well, I guess you're stuck with me for a couple hours. I promise I don't bite too hard." You tease, nudging his shoulder. He smiles at your tease, letting out a soft laugh.

"Oh I know that. The question is…" he pauses, raising a teasing eyebrow. "..if I do."

You snort and laugh, shaking your head. "You wouldn't hurt a fly, Reid. No offense."

"Wouldn't hurt-" Spencer playfully scoffs. "You hearing this, Morgan?" He says with a teasing smile on his face.

"I've hurt a fly. I outsmarted its mother." Spencer insisted. Morgan snickered and looked towards Prentiss with a knowing look. She gave him one back, smiling smugly.

"Really? Outsmarted its mother? Reid, a human infant is capable of outsmarting a damn fly. But whatever you say, Fly Genius." You teased. Morgan let out a long 'Ooo' in response.

"You just got told."

"Whatever Morgan." Spencer playfully rolled his eyes, smiling still under his attempt at trying to look annoyed.

"You're just mad I ended up getting you to prove your innocence." You insist.

"You totally didn't." He retorts.

"Spence, you've always been innocent." JJ interjects.

"See? You can't deny that." You insist, a playful smile cemented on your face.

"Who knew of all of us to bond with, you'd choose Pretty Ricky first." Morgan teased.

"You're just jealous I got to talk to her first." Reid insists playfully. You roll your eyes.

"Yeah, cause without seeing a map I assume your sense of direction is terrible." You tease. He looks at you mock offended and laughs a little.

"Is not. Your eyes just met mine and you looked friendly." Spencer defended.

"Alright children settle down before you give me an aneurysm." Rossi teases in a playful sigh. You giggle and shake your head. You didn't expect that amount of welcome feelings coming especially from Spencer. But everyone was already warming up to you. It felt nice. You just hoped you didn't let everyone down.

○●♡●○

Walking off the jet, you immediately were greeted by the chief of the Galesburg PD.

"Hi, you must be the BAU. I'm Chief Anthony Sherwood. Thanks for comin' down so fast." The chief thanks, shaking Hotch's hand.

"Of course. I'm Agent Hotchner. This is Agent Morgan, Prentiss, Jareau, Rossi, Reid, and our trainee, Agent (L/N)." Hotch introduces. The chief goes down the line, shaking almost everybody's hands. (Spencer gave him a peace sign instead)

"So, a trainee huh? If we weren't so crunched for time to find this guy, I'd ask how you're liking the BAU. Come along now, we got everything you need set up at the station." Sherwood spoke to you before he gestured to everyone else and began to lead you all to the rental SUVs they had waiting for you all.

You gulp softly and sigh, clenching and unclenching your fists a couple of times before you begin to follow. It was your first case. You were a big bundle of excitement mixed with nerves that wouldn't go away.

Once inside the police station, you found a place for your things, setting them down in the main room that the Chief had set aside for you all to use.

Once you had everything settled, you began to head out to the SUVs again without much of an introduction to everyone else. Hotch had said to get to the morgue as soon as you could to take a look at the bodies. You told yourself you were just following orders.

You climbed into the driver's seat of the SUV that you had ridden to the station and immediately groaned, placing your now aching head against the steering wheel. With all the excitement of being on a case you hadn't been prepared to go on yet, you hadn't noticed you were having one of your head splitting migraines from your hyperthymesia. And lucky you, you had left the bottle of acetaminophen in your bag that you had left in the station. Great.

"Rough day already?"

You jumped with sudden fear, banging your head against the window of the car. You groan and rub the affected area, turning your attention to the owner of the voice who just spooked the shit out of you.

"Reid…" you sighed, turning back to the wheel. Of course he had followed you. He was supposed to go with you. How dumb could you get?

"Yeah… that's me." He says, a slight smile on his lips. "You okay?" He asks.

"Yes… No… No not really. With my condition, I get occasional head-splitting migraines. They usually happen at least once a month. I hadn't gotten one yet, till today. And I left my prescription in my bag." You groaned, running a hand through your hair.

"I see… but I don't think it's just the headaches."

"Guess you caught me. I'm just nervous about this being my first case. Trainee or not. I've thought about this experience plenty of times. But you can't predict what the case is gonna entail." You conclude, squeezing the steering wheel.

"That's understandable for any new agent, (L/N). Whether you're wide-eyed like Hotch and Rossi, or cautious, I think it's pretty normal. At least from my own experience."

You can't fight the urge to smile as he finished his advice. He really didn't have to do this. You were new. But then again, he probably just saw a piece of himself in you.

"Thanks Reid."

"Of course, (L/N)."

○●♡●○

"I've seen plenty of messed up injuries in my time, though I've never seen something as crude as this." The mortician said as she guided you and Spencer into the cold chamber room.

"Most places like this don't usually see much serial killer action, so it's to be expected." Spencer says, trailing off as the mortician pulled out the most recent victim.

"He looks pretty athletically built. Garcia texted me and told me they all were pretty active in the gym too. Not the same ones nor the same days though." You point out, pulling on a pair of gloves to take a look at the different injuries. "Each of these bruisings seem to be done by hand, no remnants of wood or anything else. So then how did our unsub subdue these men? They had to have been stronger than her." You questioned, looking over John McAllister's wounds near his neck.

"He wasn't strangled around his neck either… she might've used some sort of drug to temporarily paralyze the body. We've seen it before in a few cases. Was there any traces in their systems?" Spencer asks the mortician.

"Unfortunately, no. Nothing other than an increase in the production of glutamine, epinephrine, norepinephrine, and a few others." The mortician clarifies.

"Hm…" you pondered, crossing your arms briefly. "Are there any needle marks at all?"

Spencer considers what you say before he takes a gloved hand and tilts the head of the victim to the side. "Yes, behind his ear. Though the access to the blood supply would be harder to reach."

"I doubt that mattered to her." You remind.

"Can we see the others? Or have their bodies been claimed?" You ask.

"The first one, yes. But the second one no." The mortician says, putting the latest victim back in the cold chamber before pulling out the second.

"Is there a needle mark?" You ask, hoping this connection would help the case.

"Yes, around the same area too…" Spencer trails.

You turn your head to the second victim's file and narrow your eyes. "Hey… from this photo, our second victim is supposed to have long dark brown hair, our unsub is cutting the hair."

"She's trying to make them look like a partner." Spencer realizes, pulling out his phone to alert Hotch. You nod to the mortician and help her put the second victim's body back into the freezer.

Then you began to follow Spencer out of the morgue, your nerves finally having calmed down. Maybe this is what you had needed, as morbid as it was. Just to see the reality of the case instead of just your own worries and ideas of the case. You were going to be fine. You felt like a real profiler.

Of course it helped that Spencer was there, but still. It felt good. And you knew this case needed the good.

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