#but i was like what about the x files!!!!!

[frannyzooey]

Sun Drenched

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Rating: E

a/n: a little something I wrote after the premiere of the trailer — enjoy while I work on some other things! ❤️

—

Marcus’s fingers drum on the table, his eyes drifting over the wood. His gaze is unfocused, every color and fine line blending together, his mind distant from the talk of battle around the room. 

The whorls remind him of your curves, the ones he left draped in his sheets. 

The slow rise and fall of your breathing, your bare chest on display. He plays with the curve of your breast, reveling in the petal soft skin: fingertips circling your peaked nipple, his thumb skating over the plump weight. Bending to give it a kiss, the skin feels like velvet under his lips. A butterfly’s wings, delicate and achingly soft. 

Your fingers run through his curls on a soothing loop, his scruffed cheek resting over your heart. His touch dancing along the inside of your thigh, the bend of your knee, the sloped indent of your waist. 

Sated and spent, every sense satisfied. 

Touch, taste, smell, all nourished for the time being. 

You hum, and he listens, closing his eyes. 

“General Acacius?”

His name brings him back to the present, a table of men staring at him. 

“Hm?”

Some chuckle, some barely hide their impatience. 

“Looks like his mind is elsewhere.”

“Between his lover’s legs, more like.”

“Can you blame the man? He’s been away for almost a year.”

His smile is tired, but good natured. He holds his hand up, silencing their comments.  

“My apologies. Please, continue.”

They do, Marcus trying his hardest to focus on the plans they have laid before him, the training suggestions, the maps. Everything plotted, everyone with an opinion to voice. They fight across the table; old men and young.

“Do you have to go?”

He turns, thumbing at a mark you’ve left on his bare chest while riding him this morning. 

“I can’t neglect my duty to Rome,” he says, drinking deeply from a cup of wine. 

“And what about your duty to me?” you tease, pulling your naked leg out from under the sheets. Your hand drifts down along the inside of your thigh, and he stops his search for a tunic, watching. You skim it higher, and then higher still and his eyes darken when you slip it under the sheets between your legs, just out of sight. 

“I think I’ve more than satisfied that,” he replies, abandoning his search for clothing. Climbing up onto the bed to join you, he takes your ankle in his hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. His lips drift higher, his grin pressing into your leg at the giggle you let out when he tugs the sheet from your body. 

Settling heavy and warm on top of you, his mouth immediately seeks your own. 

His voice is heard above the rest in the end. Plans settled for the day, he stands from the table, rubbing at the stiffness in his lower back from years spent in the training yard, sitting in a saddle, sleeping on the ground. The men shake his hand one at a time as they file out of the room, and he follows, walking out into the courtyard. 

The sun shines down on his face, and he tilts it upwards, soaking in all he can before he’s summoned again. A council with the emperors is next, the future of Rome to be decided. More old men sitting around on their pompous asses to decide the fates of both himself, and the men that fight beside him. 

Passing the training yard, the men shout their greetings to him as he passes. He molded so many of them, took them from their cradles into manhood, taught them how to be worthy of protecting one of the greatest cities in the world.  He pauses, watching, the clang of swords melting into the background. 

You buck underneath him, your bare skin flush with his own, your hands splayed across his chest with a shove. As hard as you can, you try to budge him, and he grins above you. 

“You can do better than that, my love,” he teases. Still, he lets up a fraction and you use your weight to roll him onto his back, your thighs straddling his hips. Your breasts bounce with the movement, and his mouth waters. 

“It’s not fair,” you complain, slightly breathless, your pretty pout making him thicken underneath you. “You’re so much stronger than me.” A mischievous glint dances in your eyes. “Maybe I should wander down to the training yard. See if grappling with those men makes me any better.”

Your fingers entwine with his, and he takes advantage of your momentary distraction to let you catch your breath – and then he lunges. Sitting up with a cinch, he pins your hands behind your back and tips you backwards into the bedding, trapping your arms. You laugh and fight back, trying hard to ignore the stiff weight of his cock as it brushes between your legs. 

“Why, when you have the best one in your bed already?”

You try to dodge him, rolling to the side to see if you can escape the bed, and he snatches you back into place, his strong arm banding across your stomach. Faster than you can react, he’s pinned you face down into the sheets, and his knees force your legs open, his hand wrapping firmly around your plush hips to jerk them up. 

Breathless and hard won, he lines up and shoves himself forward, fucking his victory into you.  

Stuck longer than he would have liked in councils this afternoon, he feared they would turn into a dinner invitation. The emperors were fond of drawn out, elaborate affairs, tables of food and wine, pleasantries exchanged with the secret intents hidden beneath smiles. 

He walks with a purposeful stride and a stern expression, one he’s practiced among the years. It’s a commanding gait he hopes will deter anyone from stopping him for an idle chat. He’s had enough of Rome’s business for today. 

“General Acacius.”

A guard greets him as he passes, the man snapping into a rigid stance.

“Is she in there?” Marcus asks. 

“She hasn’t left all day, sir. Just like you asked.”

Marcus nods, rounding the corner to his private chambers. Opening the door, he’s greeted with silence. 

It’s a peaceful silence, the room drenched in the sunlight of the late afternoon, the lingering smell of the rich oil you use on your skin in the air, the curtains to his balcony billowing in the breeze. It’s there where he finds you, fast asleep on a chaise. A book open and laid flat across your chest, he admires the softness of your profile for a moment. 

Long lashes, plump lips, beautiful, soft skin – and completely naked, underneath your thin robe. 

He carefully takes a seat and you stir at the shadow that overtakes you, giving him a gentle, lazy smile in greeting. 

“You’re back.”

“Finally,” he says, lifting the book from your chest. He gives it a glance, flipping through the pages for a moment before setting it down. “Is this how you spent the day?” he teases warmly. “Lazing in the sun?”

You roll onto your side, your robe sliding open with the movement. His eyes drop to the exposed juncture between your thighs before slowly drifting upwards: the soft curve of your belly peeking through the folds of fabric, the plane of your chest awash in sunlight. Your skin looks freshly oiled and warm, and he longs to press his face against it. 

Instead, he leans in for a kiss. 

“You told me not to leave, sir.” You murmur the words against his lips, your hand slipping over the curve of his bare thigh, sliding up underneath the hem of his tunic. “So I didn’t.”

He hums, pulling back with a lick of his lips. His eyes make a hooded, dark circuit down your naked body only to slowly crawl back up. 

“Did you have a good day, my pet?”

The endearment is one that he knows you like, the implication that you exist only for his leisure and pleasure. If only you knew it was actually the other way around, that you held the leash of the world’s most feared general. 

“I did. I’d hoped you’d join me for dinner,” you smile, bringing his attention back to your face. 

“And what’s for dinner?” he asks, his voice dropping into a low, raspy tone. His hand slides up the inside of your thigh, cupping you wholly between your legs. “This?”

His fingers press against your damp curls, searching, exploring. His hold tightens, and you suck in a breath before melting into the chaise. 

“If you wish,” you sigh, letting your legs fall open. 

He does. He’s been waiting all day to settle between your plush thighs, to be wrapped in the warm embrace of your body. So much softness, after a life spent so hard. The way he stirs for you makes him feel like a young man again; it’s constant, his wanting. He shifts to his knees, the stone digging into his skin. 

The sun catches the chestnut hidden in his curls when he bends for a taste of your sweet cunt, and you brush through the soft locks, twirling them around your finger. Every lap of his tongue makes you lazy and warm with arousal, until his nicked hand splays across the inside of your thigh to open you wider – and then the heat that he’s been stoking turns into a bright flame, his tongue flicking faster and faster. 

“Marcus,” you moan, your thighs tensing around his scruffed cheeks. 

With a suck, he pushes you over the edge. And when he pulls back, another flame licks hot through you at the sight of his glistening chin. 

Status and wealth, lands and glory. Respected and feared, a place of honor in the Roman Empire. 

All of it at your feet, lapping at your cunt. 

He stands, stripping himself of his tunic, his sandals. Your own robe discarded on the ground, he kneels on the chaise and the body that he’s molded over the years both in the training yard and in battle is bare and firm, your fingers stretching out to brush through the dark hair that collects beneath his navel. His stomach is a soft curve, his cock heavy between his thighs, and you drift your touch down, wrapping your hold around it and giving it a tug. Hard and aching just for you, he groans as you explore the velvet skin, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest. 

Stopping, you pull him down to join you and he lines up, pushing himself inside. 

He fucks like he’ll never be able to stop. 

Like he didn’t know if he’d ever have the chance again. 

Like every push inside is a claim, like every kiss is a mark he’s branding on your skin. 

The silver at his temples and that dusts the corners of his jaw are indicators of his age, and he fucks with the same experience it would imply. 

He fucks like he fights; ruthless and hard. With his hand wrapped around the curve of your shoulder, to keep you underneath him. With your leg hitched high over his hip to force himself deeper.

He’s insatiable; your cunt sore, and yet begging for more. 

Sweat slicks across his back, the sun of the fading day beating down upon it. He sits back on his heels, and brings you with him, and then you’re both drenched in the light. Your arms wound tight around his broad shoulders, his arms keeping you in place on his lap. 

His mouth lingers against your own, labored breathing passed between the two of you and he fucks until you cry out his name into the sky, your own on his lips shortly after. 

Then he lays with you, entwined, until dusk dims the sky. 

The warm breeze skims across your flushed skin, and he stands, walking back into his room. 

Admiring his bare ass and strong back, you watch him call to a guard for dinner – and then close your eyes, stretching with content.

[chithereader]

playing it cool / aaron hotchner

[credits to the owners of these photos!!]

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff!!!!!!

cw: sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, so much of aaron’s thoughts because we know that man thinks soo much more than he speaks!!

a/n: hiiii this is my third post so far and tbh i was so nervous to post the first two as that was my first time ever posting any of my writings anywhere!! but i’ve been getting so much more love on those than expected and i just really wanted to say thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs <33 i was honestly only expecting less than 10 notes as a newbie and reaching up to 200 is so so so wonderful. and especially for the love of hotch i– ugh!!!!! i already love u all 

The team had worked a straight 5 weeks worth of cases prior, which had warranted Strauss to grant them all a mandatory 3-day rest. This simply meant that for 3 whole days there are no cases, no deadlines, and no new case files. They could come to the office at whatever time they’d like as long as they finished some reports at the end of the day. 

Aaron being Hotch the boss man still aimed to arrive at the office at a reasonable time– 7:30am. To be fair, this is an hour and a half later than when he usually arrives at the office. And in his mind, the earlier he arrives, the more he can get done, and the more he gets done, the earlier he can come home. 

This is the only reason why he is up at 6:00am on a supposed rest day. He did expect that he’d struggle a bit more to drag himself out of bed, knowing you’d be keeping him hostage with limbs that wrap around him in ways he can’t begin to understand, but to his surprise, you weren’t there. 

Dragging his feet across the carpeted floor, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips and white shirt fitting him oh-so-snugly, he tries to find you. He’s rubbing the sleep of his eyes as he peeks his head into your shared bathroom. No sign of you. 

He’s covering his mouth as he yawns when he quietly opens the door to Jack’s bedroom–still no sign of you. Remembering his son has been nursing a stomach bug since yesterday, he opened the door further to check on him. No fever. No chills. No sign of discomfort. 

When he’s sure Jack’s okay, he turns around to go back to find where you went. He even checked the backyard as he passed by a window to see if you’re at your favorite swing reading, that perhaps you just woke up early and wanted to feel the morning sun because you claimed it lightens you. 

He smiles a little to himself as he treads downstairs, finally hearing your soft murmurs as you spoke with someone presumably over the phone. As he neared the kitchen he realized that the person on the line was your colleague and friend Tilly, and that she was on speaker phone making it easy to listen in. 

He slows down his steps as he nears the landing and pauses when he gets behind a wall near the kitchen. He doesn’t know what came over him. He doesn’t usually sneak around to eavesdrop, nor did he ever feel the need to especially when it came to you. You tell him everything, prompted and unprompted. 

But perhaps it was the haze of the morning or the curiosity of what could possibly get you out of bed this early when you’re usually the one snoozing away as he’s getting ready for work– he stayed quiet behind that wall and made it his mission to understand the conversation. 

He clears his mind and strains his ear, going as far as making his breaths slow and far apart. 

He hears Tilly giggling, “Don’t get me wrong, Adam from Finance is really cute but.. isn’t he just a little too serious? He’s always got that frown going on.” 

You sigh a little loudly, obvious that it’s a sigh to humor and not of exasperation, “Tilly, you know I love you, but every day you complain about being single. And every other day there’s a decent guy who you always always find that one flaw in that just crosses them off for you forever.” Tilly lets out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a gasp. 

“That is so not tr–” “Oh, Hugh’s just too clean. And Frederick’s too hard, it’s like- scary. Yes, veiny hands are hot but there’s veiny and too veiny, and Jason was just a double too veiny.” 

Aaron momentarily pauses his listening and looks down at his hands, suddenly conscious where he fit in that category. Factoring in his age, his work, and the action he gets from the field– these all show. He tried thinking of a time you could’ve shown any dislike or disgust towards his hands but all he could think of was that one night when he cupped your face and you leaned towards it more, turning slightly to take his thumb into your mou–

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when he hears Tilly asking about you leaving, “What time are you getting to the office by the way? I just don’t want to get there without you. Adam might ask about that second date and I just need you as my bluff, my beautiful girl.” He makes a mental note to message Jessica before you both get ready for work. 

“Riiiight. Remind me how many guys have I scared off for you now? And how many times have I helped you scare them off? Besides, I can’t go today and I’ve already told Bobby I’m on leave.” 

In a slight surprise and panic Tilly whines, “What?! Why? You’re such a traitor. You know damn well I get so bored without you.” Aaron didn’t even know you were planning on staying home. You hadn’t mentioned anything about it last night which made him even more curious what made you decide. 

He hears your soft laugh, “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll manage a day without me. I mean you have to– my son caught a stomach bug yesterday so I just want to make sure he’ll recover completely.” 

Aaron can hear Tilly responding, something about soup and warm baths, but his heart has just stopped so he’s not really processing any new words at the moment. 

My son. My son. My son. My son caught a stomach bug. 

He feels lightheaded. His heart kickstarts again, his pulse is ringing in his ear. He can feel his chest pounding to his heart’s beat. The words that rolled off your lips so effortlessly, so mindlessly, echoes in his head. 

Jack may be young but he is smart. So so smart beyond his years. And he has grown to understand what had happened to his mom Haley, but not once has he– and even you allowed Jack to forget who Haley is and how much she loves him. 

Images of you joining in their traditions of honoring and remembering Haley plays in his head in flashes. You helping Jack arrange a bouquet for Haley’s death anniversary. You helping Jack make a card for her birthday. You mixing the paint to get the right shades as Jack paints a portrait of Haley for his Mothers’ Day homework. 

Aaron had told you everything there was to know about Haley and you’ve listened. He knows you adore her. You adore her for the same reasons he adored her. You understood the space Haley had in his life and in Jack’s life, and not once were you ever jealous, immature, or selfish about it. Even though he would’ve completely understood if you were. 

You were nothing but supportive, and understanding, and loving. Even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when you deserved better. Admittedly, there was a point in time when he struggled with coming to terms with falling in love– with you nonetheless. You’re young, ambitious, brilliant, talented, insanely beautiful, and unfairly kind. 

When the two of you had met, this was his profile: divorced with a kid, recovering from trauma that stemmed from being stabbed multiple times in his own home, emotionally unavailable, annoyingly serious and fatally dull– which really makes him wonder what made you fall in love with him in the first place, and even more so what made you stay even when he was bafflingly dense about how you felt about him.  

He didn’t know how long he was standing there, like a deer caught in headlights. Replaying your words and his memories over and over again, slowly coming to the conclusion that you’re absolutely perfect and he’s absolutely gone for you. 

Slowly coming to his senses, Aaron becomes more aware of the silence. The call must have ended while he was having realizations about things. He rounds the corner silently, getting a feel of where you’re facing. Luckily he guesses right, that you’re facing away from him. 

You were rummaging through the fridge– the vegetable drawer if he had to guess, judging by how much you’re slouching and reaching, and the sound of the glass containers you use to prolong their freshness. 

He quickly surveys the scene- your phone is on the counter, beside it is a chopping board with carrots and onions, a carton of chicken broth, Jack’s favorite dinosaur-shaped pasta, and chocolate milk– the one drink you both know can make Jack feel instantly better, happier. 

His heart pinches again. You got up early to make sure Jack had something to eat for breakfast in time for his medicine. You got up early even though you aren’t planning on going to work. You aren’t going to work because you want to stay with Jack. You called Jack your son. 

With so many things running in his head, he stands quietly observing you finding god knows whatever vegetable. Maybe it's the intensity of his stare or the volume of his thoughts, or maybe he started to breathe loudly– but suddenly you knew he was there. He could tell. 

You slowly straightened your back from when you were leaning. Your hands have stopped rummaging through the drawer, and he could see the goosebumps on your legs and shoulders from the way the sunlight hits you through the kitchen window. 

You turn around slowly, as if you were just caught doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing, “I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” grimacing as if it was a crime to be hot and cute and gut-wrenchingly-sweet. 

“No.” His voice is groggy. Deep and rough given that he just woke up minutes ago and hasn’t really used it since. Looking at you through studying eyes, he clears his throat “Uhm, I woke up to get ready for work and you weren’t there.” 

Aaron suddenly feels a little cold. The thin material of his shirt and pajamas doing little to contain what warmth he has left in his body. Or maybe it’s you, maybe his body has sensed that you’re near and is now craving your warmth, making him feel a magnified amount of its absence.

“Oh.. I’m sorry I just wanted to get ahead of cooking so Jack can have soup before he takes his medicine at 8 and since I was also planning to do some work though I’m on leave, it just made sense to get an early start…” You slow your words, noticing how Hotch is studying you tenfold in the moment, as if you were an apparition, “Are you okay? Did you want soup too? I can pack you some before you go?”

His silence makes you panic a little. You can’t really tell if he’s upset about something or if he’s sleepwalking, “Or you can eat here. I mean– you live here, of course you can eat here. I mean like instead of bringing it to the office– not that if you eat here, you can’t bring some anymore.” 

The longer he stays silent, adoring you, the more you scramble to fill the silence, “I’m just– you know you can do whatever you want. You can eat here, there, anywhere. Unless you don’t want soup. I mean we still have leftover steak, I cou–” 

You pause your rambling because you can see a smile starting to form on his face. A real, big smile. Laugh lines and dimples and all, which makes you smile. Realizing how stupid you were sounding and how funny the situation was becoming, you started giggling.

And just as you think he’s about to join the laughter to make fun of you, his smile softens and he says, “Marry me.” 

[nickynclark]

The Psychology of Love and Loathing

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Enemies to lovers! 

Word count: 7,584

Warnings: no use of y/n, reader goes by 'bunny', discussion of a case (nothing too far from usual Criminal Minds gore), reader has three PhD's (bet you didn't know that), briefly mentions readers mother committing su!cide, mentions of toxic parents, alcohol consumption, jealous! Reader, jealous! Reid, pet names (good girl, silly girl, baby, sweetheart, sweet thing), degradation, oral f! Receiving, like one line of oral m!receiving, unprotected p in v (pls wrap it before you tap it), no mention of reader being on birth control, anal play, overstimulation, after care. If i missed anything let me know!

Author’s note: i’m so sorry im ovulating. This is porn w a shit ton of plot. We’re talkin WORLD BUILDING

MDNI BELOW THE CUT

You blink at the papers in front of you, checking once, twice, double checking three times to make sure what you're seeing is correct. 

You were on a case in Texas, called in by local police after four bodies, two wealthy couples, were found shot execution-style and posed on different park benches throughout Amarillo. While at first, it seemed as though it was your average serial killer, the autopsy report showed that the gunshot wound was done post-mortem- all four victims were murdered by being forced to drink household bleach. 

You looked down at the papers one more time, noticing that one man, Adam Gilman, cleaned houses of the wealthy, and he purchased a lot of bleach. Way more than needed to clean a few bathrooms. 

You quickly dial Garcia, and she answers within the first ring. 

"Ask and you shall receive." 

"Garcia, what can you find out about Adam Gilman?"

You hear typing from the other end of the line before spewing information, "35-year-old white male, he grew up super rich until his dad pulled his college funding his senior year when his sister went to school to be a doctor. He started paying for her," She suddenly sucked in a breath, "It looks like he had to drop out. He was at Harvard Law. Spiraled downhill from there, sending you the files and address now." 

"Thanks, Garcia!" 

You rush into the room where the rest of the team is and run up to Hotch. 

"Look at this! He fits the profile to a t!" 

Hotch looks down at his tablet, and you feel eyes glance over to you, about to speak, but Spencer Reid bursts through the doors. 

"Guys our unsub is Adam Gilman! He lives five minutes from here, and his job is on the way." 

Hotch nods at you, acknowledging that you have the same information but Reid said it louder, "Let's go." 

Since you joined the Bureau last year, Spencer Reid has been competing with you. Whereas he was thirty-three with three PhDs, you were twenty-five with the same amount. Of course, he got his when he was much younger, but he still seemed to overcompensate. 

He was intimidated by you. 

This wasn't the first time a situation like this had happened. It's almost like he had a radar for when you made a big break, and he wanted to steal the spotlight. 

And not to mention he hates you for some reason. 

Ever since your first week in the BAU, Dr. Reid has acted indifferent to you. You understand that change can be uncomfortable, but you have done nothing to deserve this cold shoulder. 

On your first day, you strutted into the office dressed in a pair of black slacks, a black, v-neck blouse, and some hot pink pumps; being honest, you looked like you owned the place. 

When Aaron introduced you to the team, you shook everyone's hand except Reid's. 

"The number of pathogens passed through a handshake is staggering," he stated mater-of-factly while staring at your hand, "it's actually safer to kiss." 

You laugh and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, "Although I appreciate the concern, a handshake is actually a sign of peaceful intentions. Soldiers would cover their swords on their left side and shake their right hand to show they mean no harm," you shrug, "but I understand the mysophobia." 

He nodded at you, a glare suddenly hardening his features, "interesting." 

He has refused to hold conversation with you, maintain eye contact with you, or be in the same room with you for an extended amount of time ever since. 

He hates it the most when you're right. 

After arresting Adam, the team desperately needed to interrogate him. He was denying all claims despite all the evidence against him. In fact, all he has said has been denials. Besides that, he didn't speak. He hadn't asked for a lawyer, hadn't shown any recognition to the couples, and hadn't said anything besides I've never seen those people before.

"We need to make him uncomfortable," Morgan says, "he's running this whole show. We gotta flip the tide." 

Emily looks up from her Chinese takeout, laughing, "Let's throw Bun and Reid in there." 

Your eyes widen, and you are suddenly incredibly red. Your face is on fire, and you start looking around panicked. 

The team started referring to you as 'Bun' over the summer when you all went to a bar together. You accidentally had one too many drinks, and Derek said you were bouncing up and down the whole time. 

"She's like a Bunny." 

"Don't call me a Bunny!" You slur, "I'm mean. And vicious." 

Penelope laughs at you, throwing an arm around your shoulder, "Alright, Bun. Let's go dance!" 

Ever since that night, the nickname 'bun' stuck. 

Although Emily suggested you and Reid distracting Adam as a joke, Rossi's lips pull into a smile, "That just might work." 

Emily sets her food down, suddenly aware that she presented the first good idea so far, "we could dress them up some, make them look like a wealthy couple, and have them ask Adam some questions. It might make him mad enough to break." 

Aaron looks at you and you gulp subtly, then he looks to Reid, "It's up to you." 

You look at your feet, frowning, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get this guy in jail." 

Reid simply nods. 

"Okay," Aaron says, "we'll go get the stuff." 

You and Spencer remain in the small room while the others rush out to get the things you require for your transformation. 

"Hi." Your voice comes out quiet. 

"Hello." He responds blandly. 

You suddenly realize this is the first time you and Reid have been in a room alone together, so you take the opportunity. 

"What have I done to you?" 

Reid's eyebrows shoot up at the confrontation "Huh?" 

You roll your eyes, "ever since my first day you've avoided me. What did I do?" 

He scoffs, "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"Sure you don't." You sigh and run a hand through your hair, "I'm the only person on the team you practically refuse to talk to." 

"I'm talking to you right now," he says as if that's a counterargument, "I talk to you all the time." 

"Yeah, when you're forced to!" You say exasperatedly, "You know everyone on the team's birthdays, all except mine. You know their family situation because you've asked." 

He shrugs, "I know plenty about you."

"How old am I?" 

He looks into your eyes calmly, "You're twenty-eight." 

"I'm twenty-five." 

Emily suddenly bursts into the room, "There isn't anything for you guys in lost and found. You have to go on a shopping trip. Strauss said a 300 dollar limit." 

You nod, "I assume that's just for clothes?" 

"Yes," She answers, "Reid is going to wear Rossi's watch and a wedding band JJ's going to pick up. Both of you will wear a ring." She then looks to you, "We have a lot of jewelry for you to pick through." 

You nod, standing and Reid rises next to you. 

Emily tosses you some keys, "be back in an hour." 

***

The ride to the mall was quiet. You didn't bother talking to Spencer as you drove, and he didn't bother speaking to you. 

He also kept turning down the radio when you tried to turn it up. It was painfully awkward. 

Once at the mall, you and Reid split up incredibly fast. 

He ran to some men's warehouse, and you rushed to the women's section of a department store. 

You quickly pick up a pair of black pinstriped slacks that hug your curves and a tight, white blouse. You finally grab a black, pinstriped blazer, and you head to check out. 

On your way, though, a pair of stunning, emerald heels grabs your attention. 

You walk closer to study them, and god do they look lavish. 

If you weren't here for work, you would grab them in a heartbeat, but you were, and you had already met your price cap. 

"Buy them." 

You hear Spencer's voice from behind you, and you jump, grabbing your chest in fright.

"What?" 

"Get them," he shrugs, "it's obvious you want to." 

You laugh shyly, and he stuffs his hands into his jean pockets, his bag of clothes hanging around his wrist. 

"I've already met my limit." 

"Okay?"

You frown, studying him. He looks calm and relaxed. You tilt your head slightly, and he matches your movement. 

No, that can't be right. 

You cross your arms in a silent stare down, and he does, too. 

"You're mimicking me." 

He scoffs, "God, Bun, not everything I do is to spite you!" 

Your eyes widen and you suddenly point at him, "You!"

"What?" 

"You just called me Bun!" 

His eyes barely widen, but he catches himself, staring straight ahead. 

His foot stops tapping, "you're hearing things." 

"And that's your tell!" You point at his foot, "You just mimicked me, called me 'Bun', and then lied about it!" 

He rolls his eyes, "what size are you?" 

"You're avoiding the question!" 

"You didn't ask a question." He gestures to the heels, "What size?" 

"Why?" 

"Answer the question, Bunny." 

His tone is stern, and you freeze under his stare. 

"Nine." 

He nods and grabs a box in that size. 

"No!" You protest, "Don't!"

"I still had a hundred bucks left over, it's on the company's card." 

You blink twice, confused as to why he's being so nice to you. 

"Okay. I need to pay and I'm done." 

He nods to you, and you both check out. He hands you the heels and you let out a quiet thanks while headed to the car.

***

When you got back to the station, the turnaround was dizzying. 

You were shoved into a room to change, as was Reid. 

After you changed, JJ came in and whistled. 

"Sheesh, Bun, you look good!" 

You laugh and straighten out your jacket, slipping on the heels Spencer bought you today. 

"Are those new?"

You nod, "yeah, Spencer said he had some left in his budget." 

She shook her head, "Reid must've bought those with his own money." 

Your eyes widen, and she laughs, "C'mon, Bun. You need to look at jewelry." 

You picked out a pair of dainty, diamond earrings, a matching necklace, and several expensive bracelets that had to be physically screwed onto your wrists. 

Once standing in front of Hotch, Emily gave you the wedding bands JJ had picked up. 

Yours was a gorgeous gold band with an emerald-cut diamond on top. It was simple, but, God, was it stunning. 

You slipped it onto your finger and Reid slipped the simple golden band over his, his hands looking all that much better with the ring on it. It makes your mouth water just thinking about his fingers.

You quickly shake your head. No. You hate Spencer Reid. Nothing will change that. 

Hotch gives you and Reid strict instructions on how to talk to Adam, and then he's sending you in. 

"Sell it," Aaron says, "this might be our only shot." 

You give him a curt nod, linking your arm with Reid and smiling as you walk into the interrogation room. 

Spencer looks down at you with a look of passion you've never seen before. One that you aren't convinced could be fake. 

As soon as you looked at Adam, you could tell there was something off. He was picking at the skin around his nails and chewing on the skin of his lips where they looked raw and painful. 

As you sat down in front of him, Spencer was the first to speak. 

"Who is this guy again, babe?" 

You held back the shock in your face at the pet name as he put a hand on your thigh. You made a point to twist the wedding ring on your finger before opening the files in front of you. 

"Adam?" You look up at the man in front of you, "are you Adam?" He nods, and you hum, "Who are you, exactly?" 

Reid smiles and looks to you, "Play nice." He slides the files over to him, "Harvard law, that's impressive. Did you apply or did your father buy your way in?"

Adam's eyes narrowed, "I applied and got accepted. I was a prodigy." 

You smile subtly, knowing you and Reid have already gotten him to show more of himself than he had to anyone else. 

You look at your fake husband and laugh, "I don't think you can decide that you're a prodigy." You look Adam up and down, "my husband, here," you place your hand on Spencer's shoulder, looking at him as if he hung the moon and stars, "he is a prodigy. How old were you when you got your first PhD?"

"Seventeen," he laughed humbly, looking at you, "you flatter me." 

You smile softly as Reid squeezes your thigh, something Adam could not see and, therefore, was unnecessary. You look at Spencer, but he refuses to meet your eyes. 

You turn back to Adam, pulling out the photos of the four bodies and showing them to him, "have you met these people before?" 

He shakes his head, "I've never seen those people before." 

"Really?" You ask calmly, "You've never, ever, seen Andrea Haskins?" 

Adam shakes his head. 

"Never, not once, seen her husband, Kent Haskins, either?" 

He shakes his head again. 

Reid sits up straighter, linking his hands together on the table in front of him, "you received a pretty generous amount of money from him every month since... August?" 

You mentally thank Garcia for that information, and mentally thank Reid for remembering it. 

Adam sits up straight, too, but falling shorter than Reid, "I clean their house for them, don't mean I've ever met 'em." 

You hum, "I wouldn't let a stranger into our home, would you?" 

Reid shakes his head, and Adam gets visibly upset at your interactions. His hands clench to the table ledge, knees bouncing, eyes narrowed. 

"Say, Adam," you perk up, "how much bleach do you use per house you clean, about?" 

Adam's eyes trained on me, "you're a smart girl," he then looked to Reid, "with an even smarter husband." He spits the words as if they are poison on his tongue, "You do the math." 

You stand, smiling softly, "So, not 10 gallons per week?" 

Adam shrugs, "If that's your calculation." 

You walk closer to the man, sitting on the table next to him and leaning down to him, "And I assume you also have never met the Coleman's?"

He shakes his head. 

"Never met anyone in the Coleman family?" 

"No. God, you people suck at your job."

"That's actually interesting considering we have video footage of your picking up Lacey Coleman from school last Monday. A family doesn't let a stranger house cleaner pick up their child from school." 

Adam's eyes widen, and you know you have him cornered. 

"How long had your sister been friends with the Colemans?" Reid interjects. 

"Don't you dare talk about her." 

"Why not?" Reid asks simply, "Does she bother you?" 

"I was going to be a Lawyer, I was going to be successful and make my dad proud of me. Until she ruined it all with her perfect schooling and perfect husband," Adam spits.

"Halley is a pretty successful neurosurgeon, huh? She gets all of daddy's special attention, doesn't she?" You say.

"Get your wife on a leash," Adam says to Reid. 

"All you wanted was to feel loved, to hear your dad say he's proud of you," you keep talking, "and you were going to kill him because he wouldn't say it." 

"Shut the hell up, bitch!" 

"You were getting ready to kill your mom and dad because, hey, why not go straight to the source? Why not kill who made you like this?" 

"What if your family pulled your funds for a sibling, huh?" He yells to you and Reid, "How would you feel?" 

The room goes silent and Reid allows you to keep talking, keep getting on his nerves. 

"His daddy left him when his mom got sick, and my mommy killed herself when I was seven. We worked for our degrees, and we worked even harder for the scholarships that paid for our three PhDs." You hiss, "I would've worked harder to get what I want instead of just expecting it." 

"You're a bitch," Adam spit in my face. 

"I could be worse. I could take away a little girl's family. I could kill four innocent people out of my frustration and failure." 

Reid finally stepped in, grabbing your hand softly and pulling you back to your side of the table. 

"I didn't kill those people." 

"That's not what your body is telling us, Adam." Reid states simply, "You are hurt and still are hurting, I understand that. But now so is Lacey. That's on you." 

Adam's lip quivers, "I didn't hurt Lacey! Lacey was at her friend's house!" 

Reid rises, grabs your hand gently, and walks to the door, and you follow.

"Hey!" Adam screams, "where are you going? Get back here!" 

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you let go of Reid's hand. He turns to you and watches your expression shift. 

"Good work, Bun." 

You nod, and he looks like he's about to say something else, mouth opening, but then Hotchner walks in. 

"Great work.” 

You smile at Aaron, and Reid stares at you with something dark behind his eyes. He looks nervous, and hungry, and concerned, and certain. 

"We'll be heading back in 30. Wrap up. Great job, Doctors." 

***

On the plane, you and Reid are still in your "Rich Couple" personas, not having enough time to change out. 

You sit near the back of the plane, headphones in, and reading Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience by William Blake. 

"Little Lamb who made thee, Dost though know who made thee?" 

You hear the words of "The Lamb" spoken, causing you to take out your headphones and look to the source: Spencer Reid. 

He sits across from you as you ask, "You read Blake?" 

"Blake to Poe to Plath, I don't mind." 

You narrow your eyes at him, "what do you want?"

"Really?" He asks, "We can't just have a nice moment?" 

You raise your eyebrows at him, "Not you and me. We don't have nice moments."

His facial features soften, and he sighs, "I'm sorry for acting so harsh toward you. You didn't deserve that." 

You're shocked by his statement, "Pardon me?"

He runs a hand through his hair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, "I was scared, Bun. I was the smart one. I convinced myself that was all I could be," his breath hitches and his eyes connect with mine, "I thought if there was someone smarter, more sociable, and nicer than me, they wouldn't need me anymore." 

"Spence..." you start, and you realize it's the first time you've called him his nickname. 

He notices it, too, eyes shifting from one of concern to one of understanding, "You're incredibly smart. You're kind, and you're fun to be around. I'm sorry it took me so long to notice that."

You nodded, "thank you." 

He nods and goes to stand.

"Wait." You quickly speak up and he freezes, "What's... um..." you stutter, "what's your favorite Poe?" 

Reid smiles, sitting back down, "Annabel Lee." 

You smile, "Gold-Bug."

He laughs, "Really?" 

And you nod. 

**** 

"Let's go get drinks!" Garcia announces as you and the team wrap up your paperwork, and you laugh. 

"I don't think so," you smile, "not tonight." 

"C'mon, Bun," Garcia whines "It'll be fun!"

Reid suddenly looked at you, eyes darker, eyes that held you tight in a grip, "Yeah, c'mon, Bun." He says the name with a sensuality you had never heard before. It sent a shiver down your spine, "it'll be fun." 

You look at him, taking in a shaky breath, "I.. uh, don't have a ride." 

"I'll drive you," Reid says simply, and the rest of the team just stares at the interaction. 

Things have changed since the interrogation room, you know that, but did you want to be alone with him already? 

You look at him, his messy hair, his stubble, and chocolate brown eyes, and your pussy clenches around nothing. 

You find yourself nodding, mouth too dry to speak.

"Good," he smiles, "follow me."

Your team watches with uncertainty as you walk off with Spencer, and it's almost like they've seen the change, too. 

No, they're profilers. They know Reid had you wrapped around his finger while reciting Blake. 

They also knew Spencer had been pining after you since you wore those hot pink heels on the first day of work. But they didn't need to tell you that. 

Reid guides you to the elevator, and you comply silently. Once the door closes and it's just you two, you turn to Spencer.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" He responds simply.

You turn to face him, "why are you being so nice to me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Bun." 

You roll your eyes, "yeah right." 

The elevator doors open, and he walks you to his car, opening the door for you.

"Thank you," you smile cautiously, and he nods. 

He sits down in the driver's seat and pulls out of his parking spot. One of his hands rests on the wheel, the other placed on the gearshift. His eyes focus on the road, but they occasionally slide over to you. The silence- although comfortable- practically kills you.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" 

He glances over at you, and he smirks, "I want to." 

You look at him, "why?"

He shrugs, "spent too long not doing it." 

You nod and glance out the window, just as Spencer puts the car in park. 

As you step out of the car, you hear Derek and Emily from behind you, making a show of letting you know they are also here. 

You walked over to Morgan and hugged him.

"Hey, Bunny," he smiles and kisses your forehead, "first rounds on me tonight, sweetheart." 

You laugh, "thank god! Need a handsome man to buy me some drinks!"

Reid scoffs from behind you, but you shrug it off, assuming it was about something Emily had said. 

It wasn't. 

As you walk into the bar with Derek's arm around your shoulder, you quickly make your way to the table with Garcia and Rossi. 

"What are you drinking?" You ask Garcia, gesturing to her hot pink drink in front of her, garnished with cotton candy, strawberries on sticks, and a big, twisty straw.

Gracia's eyes widen, "oh my gosh! You've never been here before??" You shake your head, and she squeals with excitement, "Okay, so, it's called the Cotton Candy Chameleon. It's basically strawberry vodka and coconut rum with strawberry soda! Look!" She picks up the cotton candy and places it into the liquid, watching as it rapidly dissolves, "did you see that?!" 

"That's why it's called a Chameleon," Derek laughs, arm still around you, "want me to get you one?" 

You nod happily, "and a shot of Titos? I'll pay you back!" 

Morgan winks at you, "It's on me, Bun." 

As he walks toward the bar, you and Garcia continue to chat about anything and everything, her childhood cat, where you grew up, and how Garcia got put on the team. 

"You were so good at being bad," you laugh, swirling your third Cotton Candy Chameleon that Morgan brought over to you, "that the FBI gave you a job instead of jail time?" 

She nodded, giggling, "Pretty much. Are you going to take that shot?" She points to the round Rossi had bought for the table. 

You laugh, quickly picking it up and downing it, "god!" 

"Woah!" Morgan laughs, hands catching your hips to keep you steady, "careful, Bunny." 

You feel eyes glaring into you, and you trace them to Reid sitting at the bar. He has his elbow on the bar, leaning into his hand as he watches you with a look of unhappiness. 

You roll your eyes, finishing the final chug of your drink, and placing a hand on Morgan's chest. 

"You're warm," you say with a goofy smile, and Derek laughs.

"Oh, really, sweetheart?" 

You nod, leaning further into him as his hands rest on your hips. 

You make eye contact with him before you smirk and push away, "I'm going to get another drink." 

"Hey, Bun!" You turn around to Rossi, his empty glass raised to you, "Get me another old fashioned." 

You nod, smiling at the older man, and waltzing to the bar, right next to Reid. 

"You having fun, Bunny?" He asks, voice low. 

"Yes, sir." You smile, waiting for the bartender to walk over. 

He sucks in a breath at the title, "You sure are touchy with Morgan," he grits out, staring at you, not quite your eyes, but something a little bit lower. 

You scoff, "What's it to you?" 

"Nothing." He spits, eyes connecting with yours, pupils taking over the brown of his eyes. 

The bartender finally comes up to you, a cute girl in a black, low-cut tank top and some black, short shorts. She has short blonde hair, barely reaching her shoulders and it's curled up and pinned back so her hair is framing her face. 

She was gorgeous, actually.

"What can I do for ya?" She asks, shaking a drink before breaking the seal and pouring it into a glass. 

You tell her your order, and that it's on David Rossi's tab, and she nods. 

Then she turns to Spencer, "What about you handsome?" She says it sultry like she's trying to seduce him, "Need another? I'd be happy to get you somethin' else." 

Your eyes narrow on her, a deep, red-hot feeling forming in your gut. She doesn't see your stare though, completely focused on Spencer, leaning over the counter so her cleavage is on full display, biting her lip and twirling her hair. 

You decided then and there that you hated her. 

Reid tells her that he's okay, water if she insists, and when she comes back with his water, she hands him a napkin with ink scribbled on it, "I get off in 45 if you're interested."

"He's not." 

The words come out of your lips faster than you could think, your brain taking longer to catch up with your mouth. 

"Pardon?" She asks you, calm and calculating, "Didn't know you could decide that for him." 

You laugh cockily, "Oh?" You act fast pulling yourself into Reid's lap before he can protest, but his hands wrap around you, trapping you where you sat, "I think I can." 

Reid looked at the bartender, then his eyes trailed back to you, "Sorry, Brooklyn, I'm spoken for," his eyes darkened, a sly smile rising on his lips. 

The bartender walks away to work on your drinks, and you turn all the way to face Reid. 

"What are you doing, Bun?" He asks, voice low. You shift your hips and he hums, grabbing your waist to stop the movement, "Stop that. Talk to me." 

You whimper, leaning into his chest, "You were really going to choose some bottle blonde over me?" Your words come out harsh, but it's also the first time you've said what's truly on your mind in front of Reid.

His eyes land back on Brooklyn, and he smirks, "She's pretty, I'll give her that," he looks down at you, right as the bartender places the drinks in front of you, "But you? You're on a whole different level, Bun." 

You blush and shake your head, just as Brooklyn walks back over to hand you your drinks. 

As she sets them down she says, "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you two were a thing." 

You quickly shake your head, "Don't worry about it," you smile, "neither did he." 

"In my defense," Spencer laughs, his lips close to your ear, "I didn't know you were an option. If I had, there wouldn't have been a competition."

You shiver when you feel his breath on your neck, "yeah, right. You've hated me since I joined the BAU."

His eyes widened, "Hated you?" 

You nod softly, a little confused by the question. 

"Hated isn't the word I would use," He laughed. 

"What is?" You ask quietly. 

He leans his head side to side, as if pondering the best way to answer, "obsessed? Intimidated?" He looked at you, a small smirk playing on his lips, "Lusted?" 

Your eyes widened, "what?"

He shrugs, a hand falling to your thigh, thumb drawing circles, "The way you are entrances me. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you exist." He leans his head down so his eyes meet yours, "I knew I couldn't do anything about that, so I stayed away. I guess it came off as hatred." 

The hand that wasn't on your leg reached up to pluck the cotton candy off of your drink, opening his mouth and letting the sugar melt on his tongue. 

"Mmm," he hummed, eyes still locked with yours, "so sweet, Bun." 

Your jaw dropped slightly, thighs clenching, and he grips your flesh, "Nuh, uh. What's wrong?" He chuckles as you whine against him, "Use your words." 

You sit up, straightening and sliding off of his lap, "You're a sick freak, Spencer Reid." 

He licked his lips, eyes trailing down your body, "I'll bring Rossi his drink, wait by the door." 

You cross your arms over your chest, but your heart is pounding so loudly you can hear it in your ears, "what makes you think I listen to you?" 

"Oh, Bunny," his finger lifts your chin, "I'm a profiler. Absolutely everything tells me that you'll listen to me." 

You roll your eyes and scoff, "And if they ask where we're going?"

A devilish smirk flashes across his lips, and he leans toward your ear, and you can feel his breath on your skin, "you already told them you're tired," he pauses, "I'm going to fuck you to sleep, Doctor." 

You suck in a shuddering breath, eyes glazing over as he chuckles, pulling away from you. 

You take a step back, mumbling, "Hurry back." 

He smiles widely, pupils practically taking over his chocolate eyes, "good girl." 

You suck in a breath as he turns on his heel, walking over to the team as you wait by the door. Penelope frowns at you, waving, and Emily blows you a kiss. 

Rossi looks at you calmly, and Derek raises a smooth eyebrow with a smirk. 

Spencer walks back to you, grabbing your arm as you walk to the car.

Once you get back to his black Dodge Challenger, he presses you against the door, “How drunk are you right now?”

“From one to ten?” You ask, voice quiet, Reid looking at you like you’re a meal.

He nods, hands gripping your hips, “Goddamn it, Bun,” he hisses, “Yes, one to ten.”

“Four,” you answer, and his lips slam into yours in a frenzy.

It’s all tongue and teeth like he couldn’t wait a single second longer to taste you. Like it would kill him. 

Your chest arches into his, hands going to his shoulders, holding on for life in the bruising kiss. 

He pulls away, his eyes nearly black, eyes filled with an undeniable hunger, and it makes you shiver. 

A smirk comes over his face as he steps away from you, opening your door, “get in.”

You don’t have to be told twice, stepping into the car, carefully so you don’t fall in the emerald heels he bought you.

With his own money.

“Spencer?”

He turns on the car and pulls out of the parking spot, “Yeah?” 

You look at him, studying how you are both still dressed like a posh-rich couple, “You bought me these heels.” 

He nods, chuckling and placing his hand on your thigh, “Excellent observation.”

You shudder at the contact, “with your own money.” 

He smirks, “Who told you that?”

“JJ?”

“Ah,” he laughs, “Yeah, green’s your color.”

You raise an eyebrow, “How did you decide that?”

“A few weeks ago you wore this emerald green sweater,” he says, “It looked so goddamn good on you.”

You recall the memory, smiling softly, “Is that why you were avoiding me? You thought I looked pretty?”

His voice gets stern, face serious when he looks over at you, “Stop talking, Bun.”

A belly laugh escapes your mouth, head thrown back as you cackle, “I thought I pissed you off somehow!”

He gives your thigh a sharp squeeze, “I don’t think I’ve ever been genuinely angry with you.”

You sit dumbfounded, a quiet oh slipping past your closed lips. 

He looks at you and parks the car, “I’ve been upset, frustrated, and God have I been irritated with you,” he turns to look at you, pulling his hand away from your leg, “But I have never been angry with you.” 

He unbuckles quickly as you stare at him in surprise, and he gets out of the car, rushing around to open your door, “hurry up.”

You stumble out of the car, and he puts a hand on the small of your back, ushering you into his apartment.

You don’t get a chance to fully appreciate the chaotic charm of Spencer Reid’s place. As soon as you notice the books piled up everywhere, he spins you around, pressing your back against the door and capturing your lips in another kiss. This kiss is slower and more controlled, with his hands sliding up your sides to your back, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck. You ball his shirt into your hands, pulling him impossibly closer.

“God, Bun, your fucking intoxicating,” he sighs against your lips, hands slipping under your shirt to rest on your bare hips, and you sigh at the contact. 

He smirks, trailing wet kisses down your neck, gently grazing his teeth over your pulse point, and you moan, “there she is,” he mumbles, “been wanting to hear you make those pretty little sounds for a while.”

You whimper, “Shut up.”

He laughs, tugging you away from the door, and guiding you into his bedroom. 

You shed off your suit jacket, and he rips your shirt over your head before pushing you down on his mattress. You gasp as you fall, Spencer's hands quickly move to your slacks, unbuttoning them and looking up at you with eyes so fiery you feel your whole body set aflame. 

“Yes,” you say, noticing the silent question Spencer is asking you, “please, yes.” 

He smirks, kissing the skin just above the waistline of your pants before tugging them down, and you lift your hips to help him slide them off.

He throws the items into the corner of his room, sitting up and looking at you: dressed in nothing but a black bra and matching panties, his eyes darken. He slides his hands down your body, and he practically growls when he feels your sopping wet cunt.

“God dammit, you’re so wet Bunny,” he says, his finger sliding over the soaked fabric of your panties, “such a silly girl, thinking I could want anyone but you.”

You whimper at the comment, and he leans down to kiss your upper thigh, slowly spreading your legs apart with the palms of his hands. Your legs widen as he settles in, kissing slowly up and around them, licking, sucking, and biting until you’re littered with heart-shaped marks. 

“Gonna show you how much I wanted you,” he hisses, his hot breath fanning over your covered pussy, “gotta let you know how dumb you are for thinking I was anyone’s but yours.”

You whimper shamelessly at the comment, your legs trying to close, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, Bunny?” he laughs, looking up at you from between your thighs, “You like it when I tell you just how stupid you are? How fuckin’ useless that little brain of yours is?”

You nod rapidly, and Spencer licks a thick stripe over your clothed core. You let out a loud gasp, your head lolling to the side at the much-appreciated attention. He pushes your underwear to the side, diving into your pussy like a man starved. Spencer kitten licks your clit before pulling it into his mouth and sucking harshly, and your back arches from the bed.

“Fuck, Spence,” you moan, hands shooting into his hair, “so fuckin good, feels so good.”

“Mmm, there you go, baby,” he says, his index finger circling your entrance, “let me know how good I’m doing,” and his finger slowly pushes into you as his mouth reconnects to your hot skin.

Spencer Reid was talented with his tongue, but, god, his fingers were a whole other story.

He curled his finger toward him, finding that sweet, gummy spot inside you almost immediately, abusing it before inserting another and scissoring his fingers.

“You’re so tight,” he mumbles against your cunt, and a loud moan slips from your lips, your hands tangling into his hair as you desperately try to grind against his tongue, but he puts a hand over your stomach, holding you down.

He continues his torment, fingers working you open and his tongue moving rapidly through your folds. His fingers drag down your front wall slowly, and you can’t help his name slipping off of your tongue. 

He smirks, looking up at you, “Atta girl, Bunny. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

You moan loudly as he continues his torment. Your legs start to shake, his tongue swirling circles around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and one of your hands grabs your breast to ground you. Your breathing gets ragged, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from screaming.

“You gonna cum for me, Bunny?” He asks, voice low, “Gonna cum all over my fingers?”

You nod, and he tsk’s.

“Without asking?” He says, a smirk on his perfect lips, slowing his fingers down and moving to kiss the insides of your thighs, “Not even going to ask after I’ve worked so hard for you?”

You throw your head back with a groan, “Please, Spencer!”

“Please what?”

You consider slapping him, telling him to stop treating you like some desperate slut, but in your current state? You might as well be.

“Please let me cum! I’ve been so good for you, Spence, I’ll be so good!”

“Yeah? You going to be my good girl?” he asks, eyes locking with yours, eyebrows raised, as he speeds up his fingers inside of your spasming pussy, “You promise?”

“Promise! Please, Spence, let me cum for you!”

He pauses for a second like he’s thinking, the smirk on his face growing, “cum for me, Bunny,” and he watches your face, jaw dropped as you orgasm around his fingers, your slick coating his palm and dripping onto the sheets below you as he works you through your bliss.  

Once you come down, though, his fingers don't stop moving, his thumb moving to rub tight circles on your pulsing clit, “You’ve got another one in you,” he says as you bite your lip and your eyes water slightly, “C’mon, baby, you can give me another, right?”

You nod your head, your lip tugged between your teeth, your legs still shaking. He doesn’t give you time to breathe, just continues to suck and lick on your clit like it’s what he was made for, and, before you know it, your eyes clench shut as you rapidly approach another orgasm.

Little whimpers leave your lips, and Spencer chuckles slightly, “My poor girl, so desperate for me. I can tell you’re getting close again, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, and he speeds up his pace, your jaw dropping into a silent ‘o’.

He kisses your stomach, holding your shaking legs with his free hand, “Give it to me, Bun.”

And you release with reckless ambition, thighs flung open and a hand gripping the sheets for your life as a string of moans leaves your lips. Spencer removes his fingers and moves down to lick up your come, and you have no choice but to whimper. He smirks and pulls away from your cunt, placing his lips hot on your own, and you taste yourself.

“You’re so sweet, Bunny. Sweeter than candy,” he sighs, hands sliding down your chest.

You whimper, forcing your hands into his hair in another soul-crushing kiss, and he chuckles into it. 

“Desperate for something?” 

And you nod, one hand trailing down the front of his body, grabbing his dick covered by his pants and he groans.

“You want this cock, Baby?” He lifts off of you, sitting with his knees on either side of your body while he quickly undoes the top two buttons of his shirt before deeming it useless and pulling it over his head while your hands make quick work of his pants, pulling off his belt and tugging his pants and boxers down enough to free his aching cock.

You moan at the sight, immediately leaning forward to kiss his tip, before he pushes you back onto the bed. 

“Another time, Bun,” he grumbles, “need to feel you around me.” 

You moan, nodding and lining him up with your quivering pussy, and he pushes forward just slightly, enough for his tip to pop inside of you, and the groan that leaves his lips is pornographic. 

“She’s so fuckin’ tight, baby, can feel her squeezing me.” 

You whimper, “please! More!” 

He chuckles darkly at your request, “yeah? You need something?” 

You roll your hips forward, pushing him in a little further before he slaps the outside of your thigh harshly. 

“Nuh uh, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time with you.” 

He emphasizes his words by pulling out slightly, and pushing back in, fucking you with just his tip, and a desperate gasp leaves your lips. 

“Look at you,” he groans, continuing his torturous motions, “so desperate for my cock. Such a nasty little thing.” 

And the thrusts harshly, abruptly sheathing his whole cock inside of you, and your head throws back. 

He has the audacity to laugh at you, quickening his pace, each thrust hitting causing him to hit your cervix in a blissfully painful way, your eyes rolling back, begging for something. You're not quite sure what, though. 

“So fucked out you can't think straight?” He coos, his pace never slowing, “if I knew this was all it took to shut you up I’d have done it a long time ago.” 

And you whine at the thought. 

He raises an eyebrow, “You like that idea, don't you, Bunny?” And you nod. 

Suddenly, he pulls out completely, slapping your thigh again, “Roll over. Hands and knees.” 

You quickly comply, supporting yourself on shaky arms and legs, and he trails a hand up your spine before pushing down, forcing your chest to the bed below you. 

He groans as you arch your back, quickly pushing himself back inside your sopping cunt.,

“Such pretty holes you got here, baby,” he whispers, spitting onto your asshole as one of his thumbs spreads out the lubricant, causing your breath to hitch. 

“Wanna fill both of them for you, can I do that?” 

And you nod recklessly, your head bouncing against the pillows at the speed and power of his thrusts, and he takes your permission to push his thumb into your virgin ass, and the moan that rips through your throat is almost humiliating. 

“You like being so full of me, don't you, Bunny?”

And you groan out, “yes! Fuck, I’m so close, Spencer!” 

He laughs as your cunt starts quivering around his cock, his tip bullying that sweet spot inside of you. 

“I know sweet thing, give it to me. Cum around my cock.” 

With permission, you release around him, your pussy clenched around his dick and your ass squeezing his thumb, but he keeps fucking you through it.

His free hand laces through your hair, pulling your head back as you whimper in overstimulation. 

“Take it,” he groans, mumbling more to himself as his cock twitches inside of you, “come on, take it like the dirty whore you are. Love having me fill both your nasty holes, fuck.” 

His rhythm falters, and he thrusts one or two more times before spilling inside of you, fucking his seed deeper inside of you. 

Once he calms down, he slowly removes his thumb before carefully pulling out of your pussy, and you whimper at the empty feeling. 

“Stay here,” he whispers, kissing your hip before scrambling to the bathroom for a warm, damp washcloth. 

He gently wipes you off, murmuring about how good you did for him, saying he’s proud of you before he helps you roll over onto your back. 

He chuckles at the goofy smile on your lips, eyes tired and droopy, and he pushes the hair that had matted to your skin with sweat out of your face.

“You okay?” He asks, voice low, and you nod happily. 

“‘M perfect.” 

“Good,” he smiles, pulling the comforter over you and cuddling up to your spent body. 

You lay in silence for a moment, happy and relaxed in his arms, before you speak up.

“So, you never hated me?” 

“Jesus Christ, Bun,” he sighs exasperatedly, “go to sleep.”

[greenplumbboblover]

[WIP] Lyralei's Pose addon - Part 2

(See previous post: Click me!)

First things first, MASSIVE thanks to @thesweetsimmer111 for all the help to make this work better and sharing her knowledge on Track masks with me (and the world!)

👀 Better Look at (with reactions!)

Maybe it’s just me, but I used to get endlessly frustrated when Sims wouldn’t properly turn their heads to face an item. So, I set out on a little mission to make their head movements more natural! Unfortunately, that didn’t go as planned—turns out EA’s code for the “Look At” feature is completely deprecated and no longer functional.

Knowing I couldn’t just code a fix, I had to explore other approaches. That’s when @thesweetsimmer111 came up with a brilliant solution: blending left, right, up, and down poses to create a more convincing look-at effect! 🎉

(See: Post)

What's different?

Here's the original pose, without Look at turned on....

On the left, we got VA's original look at.

On the right is what Savanita and I came up with! :)

don’t want to make it seem like the original Look At feature was awful—it actually works pretty well in some cases! For example, in this pose, if the plant were on the other side, the difference wouldn’t be that noticeable since her head is already tilted slightly. 😊

(Same layout again: Left = VA's, Right = Me and Savanita's approach)

Plus, maybe you do want something more subtle, then VA's Look at is great!

Anyways! Of course, I couldn't stop there! Now, your sim has a few options of turning towards the object:

(Note, this list will get 10x cooler in the next feature ;D)

This list is what the "trackmasks" are. :)

Okay, let's give "Eyes Only" a try. So, we expect Morgana to ONLY look at the plant, with her eyes.

(Left is before using look at, Right is with look at, and one up for fun-cies)

And, to please @nocturnalazure's wishes, yep! It now accepts Facial Expressions! :D

(I never would've thought I would see Evil Morgana lmao)

🎭Blending Poses/Reactions

After Savanita's amazing idea of using Track Masks, I found out that I can apply that same technique on, well, poses! And this is a feature I'm SUPER proud of (And honestly, it's taken me an entire week to get working 🙃)

First things first, when we choose the interaction, we will first be greeted by our "trackmask" list with all the selections on it

So, I made a few examples to show of what you could do, but in all fairness, it's endless!

Here I chose the option "Both Arms".

Here I chose "Head And Neck". Look! She even has the expression! (Don't worry though, i also have an expression-less version in the making ;))

What about... Animations?!

While blending poses has the ability to also type in your pose names by name, rather than list, you can also use EA's!

The list is pretty long ( believe 200 entries?) but here is a sneak peek:

Though, as far as I've been able to tell, EA reactions aren't as flexible, where I can tell it to only use the arms, or the eyes. Instead, we got these options:

So, unless I found a way to get around it, this is the only way to do it.

But without further ado....

Here I used the same pose(left) as the last 2 pictures, but with "OverlayHead". And chose "Boo"

(I just realised it looks like she is about to get hit by a ball lol)

🕰��� History List

The Add-on now remembers your pose history!

Whether you’re a dedicated “Pose by Name” user or prefer the simplicity of “Show by List”, both options now display your pose history for quick reference.

Note: Each Sim has their own individual history list. This means you’ll only see the pose history for Sim X when clicking on them, and not for Sim Y.

📓What's up next?

Adding all the trackmask. (I still need add the hands and legs ones)

Adding an in-game Category maker, so you don't have to edit the XML. It will mean you need to replace the XML file in S3PE yourself. But I can always make a quick How-To for guidance 😉

(Note to self) Optimize the Categorisation code. It's currently taking 1 minute up from the loading screen 😬)

Fixing some minor bugs where Look at will still turn the sim's head back to it's original position.

Fixing some issues where Blending poses with certain track masks aren't working well or at all.

Fixing an issue where the dialogs can crash the whole game (woops!)

Sooo, I think a release date is pretty soon! I think within a week :)

Any VA Addon Bug Fixes?

Of course! It's the mod that inspired me to make stories, and even get to make this mod! I couldn't just... leave it to collect dust while it's other child mod is getting all the attention. :p

Changelog:

There is now an interaction that uses both look at & reaction simultaneously. (In case you don't want to use my look at interaction).

Fixed an issue where reactions would sometimes or never show on the sim.

Fixed an issue where using "Random Quick Poses" would occasionally show a breathing sim, doing nothing.

Fixed an issue where certain poses get called twice, making it harder to keep reactions or even look at history data.

Some minor code changes that aren't worth mentioning honestly.

[bullet-prooflove]

Such A Good Girl: Ryan x Reader (Yellowstone)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @Yousigned-upforthis @queenslandlover-93 @hal3ynicol3

Companion piece to:

With Me (NSFW) - Ryan and you send the night together for the first time.

The Morning After - Ryan and you enjoy the morning together.

Adrenaline - Ryan gets turned on by your capability.

My Favourite Kind of Night (NSFW) - Ryan and you send the night together at a law enforcement conference.

Bed Breaking (NSFW) - Ryan breaks your bed.

Marks - Ryan decides he wants to commit.

Wishes - Ryan wishes things were different between the two of you.

Stop Thinking, Start Listening - Ryan hates seeing you with another man.

Kitty - Ryan knows something's not right when he seees you with another man.

The problem is Ryan can’t keep his nose out of your shit, not when he knows you’re doing something dangerous. The thought of you out there undercover, it makes his skin itch because the assholes you work with they don’t have your back, they’ve never had your back. That was made abundantly clear during the first couple of cases the two of you worked on together when you came hurtling in like the cavalry despite the fact there was a hold order on their backup due to a dispute between the Sheriff and John Dutton.

“I think I owe you a drink, for saving my ass back there.” He had told you in the aftermath as he stood on the steps of the precinct, hands tucked into pockets of his jeans.

“You owe me more than a drink. I’ve just got my first write up.” You’d told him, your hands running through your hair as you tied it back into a messy bun. “I was such a good girl before I met you.”

He finds out later that night how much of a good girl you really are and you find out how much of a bad boy he is.

In the present he sits in his car and he thinks over everything he’s learned over the past couple of hours. The ATF believe guns are being run through a microbrewery in Bozeman owned by Sebatian Myers, you’d been selected to pitch in because you’d run a similar operation back in Alabama before you made the switch to Montana. There have been no wire tap warrants, no surveillance requests, they’re running this like you’re a C.I which means you’re out there entirely on your own. What’s actually puzzling to him is the reason that you agreed to it. That op in Alabama, it had ended badly for you. Ryan’s seen the scars, he’s kissed them in the dead of night. Three stab wounds all in your left side, you’d lost your kidney and an enormous amount of blood. You couldn’t be around the department after that, especially after you learned it was your partner who ratted you out, a man you’d worked alongside for three years, who had gambling debts coming out of every orifice.

“I learned my lesson.” You had told him as his fingers had trailed over each of those scars. “Undercover work isn’t for me.”

It’s when he flicks through the file on Myers that he realises what your investment is. Two years ago Myers had been linked to the rape and murder of a teenager from the reservation. It was one of  several cases you inherited from your predecessor. You’d tried to reopen it but the reservation police wouldn’t trade information with you and it wasn’t a priority to the Sheriff’s office so you’d been forced to stand down. You used to have nightmares about it because you felt like you were failing those girls, you’d wake up in a cold sweat and Ryan, he would be right there holding you, soothing you.

He knows you, he knows those cases were something you had never been able to let go because you were convinced that it was still happening, that the killer had just gotten better at concealing it. When the opportunity to investigate Myers had come up you wouldn’t have been able to resist. You’d dressed yourself up and walked straight into the lion’s dean, no back up, no safe guards, just you.

He’s fucking livid because he knows you wouldn’t be pulling this shit if the two of you were together, he would have talked you down, figured out another way.

But you aren’t and that’s  why Ryan’s now sitting outside Myers’ place, his gaze fixed on the windows because he can’t let you do this alone. He won’t let you do this alone.

Love Ryan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[revelboo]

REVELLLLLL DROP ANOTHER SCAVENGERS CHAPTER AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSS !!!!

Disaster squad!

Lifeless Ordinary Pt 5

Scavengers x Reader

• Shifting slightly to keep an optic on Misfire and Crankcase as the two try to get behind Swindle at the bins of human things, despite Krok warning them to not steal anything. They have to realize they need this crook to get them food for you. And if they get caught, Swindle’s likely to refuse to sell them anything else. “I mean, you gotta understand with the way humans multiply, they’re everywhere. Hundreds of different languages going. How was I to know which one your pet speaks?” Swindle flashes his denta, but it’s his newest acquisition that Krok’s attention keeps sliding to. Another human sitting in the middle of a bin of cloth coverings, folding the items one by one and sorting them into stacks. Ignoring the rest of them.

• Used car salesman aura robot is back and talking with your guys. Even not understanding a word the guy is saying, you’re almost positive he’s lying through his denta as he talks to Clicky. Over the weeks of being stuck as a pet, you’d started making up names for them all. Clicky, Goggles, Wings, Broken, and Big. Not exactly creative, but naming them makes you feel better. Makes them people instead of just scary, giant robots that want who knows what from you. You’re so busy watching the fast talker, that you almost miss the other human. Almost.

• Adjusting you against his chassis, Fulcrum watches you try to signal the other human, waving an arm until they look up and chattering at them. Sagging some when they reply, shaking their little head and gesturing at Swindle. You can’t understand the other human, he realizes. So the crook isn’t lying and he winces when you slump against him, sullen now. Still muttering nonsense. “You have their language?” Krok asks, beginning to click that thing he carries around and the sound makes Swindle grimace.

• Slumping against Goggles you have the absurd urge to cry, because there’s another human right there. And they can’t understand you. Apparently the universe is having fun jerking you about. Just one thing. Can just one single thing go your way?

• “I know that language,” Swindle grumbles glancing at you in Fulcrum’s hands and tearing his optics away when Spinister grumbles softly and rests a big hand on Fulcrum’s shoulder. Staying close to his tiny pet, but letting someone else carry you so he can get to his weapons if need be. It’d be easier just to shoot the mech in the face and take everything. He’d explained that to Misfire, but the seeker had just shook his head at him like he was being the unreasonable one. These things are all things you’d need, right? So why not take them. How’s that short sighted? Relaxing some when Swindle hands the data file over to Krok and he calls for Crankcase to try it. Because if this one doesn’t work, he’s shooting the other mech no matter what Misfire says.

• “Why is it always me? Why not test things on Spinister? Or Fulcrum.” Swearing at them all, he lets Spinister install the language chip. “You’re all awful,” he mutters and you sit up straight in Fulcrum’s hands and lean so far out, the other mech pins you tighter to his chassis in surprise. Staring right at him with wide eyes.

• “I understand you!” You’re so giddy, you almost pitch out of Goggles’s hands. Because that wasn’t weird alien noise coming from Broken. He’d spoken and you’d understood him and you’re about to start bawling you’re so happy. Finally. You can go home.

Previous

[finelinevogue]

, happy endings

summary - everyone sees you as this weird and crazy ravenclaw. everyone except remus and sirius.

pairing : ravenclaw!reader x wolfstar

word count: +3k

tw: angst | nearly a happy ending | mentions of fight | self deprecation | sirius being sirius | she pronouns used

[part 1] [part 2]

You walked out of Flitwick’s office with your head low.

It caused you anxiety to know anyone could watch you exit your Head of House’s office, because everyone knew the only reason you’d be in there is because you were in trouble.

You accidentally bumped into people on your way out, though, making you stop short.

“I’m so sorry.” You said.

“Y/N? Hey, it’s only us.” Sirius said and you lifted your head to catch sight of him and Sirius before you.

You became anxious over Sirius coming to find you over a moment that you’d shared with Remus in Potions earlier. You knew that it had meant nothing to Remus, even if it had meant something to you. The way Sirius had looked at you afterwards though still made you uncomfortable thinking about.

“Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Just as Remus was about to say something, Professor Flitwick came out of his office.

“Ah. Just the two people I need to see.” Flitwick said, causing you to bolt before any other questions could get asked.

“But…” Sirius started, watching you leave without a goodbye.

“C’mon.” Remus tugged Sirius, not wanting to get into any more trouble if they somehow already were.

“If it’s any consolation, Mr Black, i’d like to talk to you both about Y/N.”

That caught Sirius’ attention and he was more engaged to enter Flitwick’s office then. Remus followed close behind.

Flitwick’s office was small but magical. Literally.

He had pieces of paper filing themselves away everywhere. There were books also putting themselves away on designated shelves.

“Take a seat boys.”

Flitwick went around the side of his desk and sat opposite where Sirius and Remus now sat.

Remus’ fingers started scratching at one another, because the anticipation of knowing what he’d done wrong and how he would be punished was too much. His only saving thoughts were that Sirius was beside him and you were the reason they were here, not him.

Sirius reached over to take Remus’ hand in his, interlocking their fingers to stop Remus from fidgeting.

“Are we in trouble, Professor?” Sirius asked, “‘Cause if we are, I can guarantee it was all me and nothing to do with Remus.”

Remus slightly smiled at how protective Sirius still was even after so long.

“I can assure you that neither one of you are in trouble. I just need to ask something of both of you.”

“Okay.” Sirius said skeptically.

“Darcy Gunther came to see me today, claiming that Y/N provoked Darcy’s cat and this explains the scratches down Miss L/N’s face. Now I have known Y/N since she started at this school and I don’t particularly think they would be so silly to do such a thing—.”

“They wouldn’t.” Sirius quickly chimed in, feeling Remus’ hand tense in Sirius’ due to the rage of hearing Darcy’s story.

“However.” Flitwick clearly didn’t enjoy being interrupted, “Miss L/N came in here and did not defend herself. I asked Y/N what was said to cause such a reaction from Darcy’s cat and all I got was a shrug in return. Miss Gunther explained that it was because Y/N was jealous that you two never give her the time of day? Again, I know Miss L/N and I don’t think this would be a concern of theirs.”

“Definitely.” Remus agreed.

“I don’t need to know what you two think about this. However, I am aware of Miss L/Ns lack of social circle and would like to ask if you two—.”

“Absolutely.”

“Yes, anything!”

Flitwick had to bite back a smile.

“— could make sure Y/N feels included.” He finished his sentence whilst the boys continued to nod. “Good.”

“So that’s it? No… getting into trouble?” Remus asked warily.

“Unless you have a direct link to what happened to Y/Ns face, Mr Lupin, you are free to go.”

“Wow. First time getting called into a teachers office and not getting told off!” Sirius laughed, as he and Remus stood to leave.

They both walked for the door, knowing they were about to burst out in conversation with each other once they’d left.

“Sirius?” Flitwick asked.

Sirius turned, whilst Remus had one hand on the door ready.

“Remember detention at Friday lunch.”

Sirius winked, “You got it.”

Remus rolled his eyes before they walked out the door.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

You were sat at your favourite spot in the library when Sirius and Remus approached you.

The book you were reading was a novel full of adventure, mystery and treasure. You loved reading. The escapism into a world entirely different to your own was second to none. It was freeing and most importantly safe.

“Hey.” Remus said as he approached you.

You were sat at a four person bench table, you in the middle of one bench and - now - Sirus and Remus clambering to sit on the opposite bench.

“Hey.” You smiled.

“What’re you reading?” Remus asked.

You showed him the title and he looked impressed.

They didn’t have any books or notes of their own, so they must’ve either come here to cause trouble or to genuinely just sit and talk with you.

Curious.

“Are you two okay?” You asked.

“Y/N, you got attacked by a cat and you’re asking whether we’re okay?” Sirius asked, staring at your wound with intent.

“Did Flitwick put you up to this? To interrogate the truth out of me?” You frowned.

You had hoped they’d come here to chat with you, but maybe they were here on business to cause trouble after all.

“No.” Remus said.

“Yes.” Sirius said.

You looked at them confused.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked Remus, flicking his finger on his forehead.

“What are you doing? Exposing us.”

“When have I ever been good at lying, Moony?”

“Uh… That time it turned out you’d been using my toothbrush for a whole term!”

“At least I was keeping my teeth clean!”

You stared at them with utter confusion.

You didn’t know what to feel. First they are here to spy on you and the truth? Then Remus lies to you about it? And now they are bickering over oral hygiene. If you didn’t insanely like them both, a normal person would have left by now.

“This is ridiculous. We’re talking about this later.” Remus muttered, annoyed with his boyfriend.

Sirius turned to you grinning and Remus tried his best to smile.

It took you all of three seconds to start chuckling to yourself. You could feel the corners of your eyes crease and the dimple on your face pop out to say hello.

Your giggles filled the space around you and you had to out a hand over your mouth in hopes of keeping them muffled.

“Ssh!” Some senior prefect glared at you.

“Oi! Don’t tell her to shush,” Sirius barked and then quietly muttered, “Prick.”

“No it’s okay. It’s a library, I should be quiet.” You stopped laughing, but not smiling.

“Not when you’re laughing like that, you shouldn’t.” Remus said.

His comment made you blush and you had to dip your head before Sirius could see.

You were worried if Sirius caught you being affected by Remus’ kindness - again - he would probably have to confront you, and you weren’t too excited for that.

There was just something about Sirius and Remus that made your heart feel right. Like they were a reminder that even through all the tough moments, there was still sunshine in the form of them.

Remus had his level-headed, introverted-ness, about him and Sirius was all hot-headed and cool. Both of them together just made sense.

You wished you had someone that would complete you into being made sense of.

It was hard though when, well for one no one in the school ever talked to you, and the only people who do speak to you are already in an established relationship.

“Y/N, are you single?” Sirius asked, breaking the silence.

Remus’ jaw dropped and looked at Sirius like he just killed his grandma.

Why was Sirius asking whether you were single when his boyfriend was sat next to him?

“What is this?” You nervously chuckled, “An interrogation over my love life?”

“Sirius…” Remus tried to stop him before he could start, but there was just no point.

“Have you ever been in a relationship?” Sirius asked.

“No.” You said quietly, embarrassed.

“Do you ever want to be?”

“Sirius!” Remus cursed.

“I-I don’t know what game you’re playing, Sirius, but it’s not funny. I get that I’m the joke of Ravenclaw and possibly even the school, but I’m not going to sit around and have you of all people embarrass me.” You spoke firmly, gathering your book in your hand.

“What do you mean ‘of all people’?” Sirius pushed.

“Sirius stop.” Remus gripped his boyfriends arm.

“W-we shouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“What conversation, Y/N? I’m just talking.”

“You’re being a dick.” You muttered.

“A dick?”

“Yes. You know damn well that no one in this school likes me and it’s really cruel of you to make such a big deal of it.” Your eyes started to well with water.

“Y/N… That’s not…” Sirius started.

You stood up from your chair at the bench, “Look, I know what people say about me okay? I’d just rather not hear it from you today.”

And with that you were gone.

Sirius and Remus both watched you leave in a hurry, clearly not wanting to hang around for a single second longer than needed.

Remus whacked Sirius around the head with his hand.

“Ow- What the…?” Sirius whined.

Remus just glared at him.

“I screwed up.”

“Yeah, you screwed up.” Remus nodded in agreement. “What were you even trying to attempt?”

“Ask her on a date.”

“With who?”

“Us.” Sirius looked at Remus now like he’d not been present for the past five years.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause asking a girl who has never been in a relationship before on a date with, not one but, two guys is a great starting point.” Remus sarcastically answered.

“Ah…”

“Christ alive, how did you ever win me over?” Remus mumbled as he got up from the bench.

“Heyyy…” Sirius whined. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To fix your bloody mess.”

“Shall I….?”

“You stay here.” Remus ordered, hugging Sirius from behind with his arms dangling over his shoulders.

“And do what?”

“Read a book.”

“Read? A book?” Sirius pretended to gag.

“Love you.” Remus kissed Sirius’ cheek, before reluctantly unravelling himself from him.

“I love you, but you are causing me much pain by forcing me to read.” Sirius banged his head on the table, hoping his sat force would cause Remus to change his mind.

But no.

Remus was gone and Sirius would have to go and find a book.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

You were sitting on the floor of a dark corridor by yourself.

No one ever came down here because they were too scared of the Ravenclaw ghosts - that you had befriended over the years.

You wiped your tears from your cheeks a with your sweater as you heard footsteps approaching.

It was slightly sad, no definitely sad - the lame kind - to be sitting on the floor crying over two guys that you never thought would’ve given you the time of day, but here you were.

Remus and Sirius occupied too much of your brain space.

They made you happy, even if they didn’t know it.

You imagined what it would be like being happy with them.

Then, perhaps, you imagined a little too hard because the next thing you see is Remus walking down the corridor towards you.

You briefly catch him slip a piece of parchment into his back pocket, before wiping the rest of your tears away.

“Hi.” He nervously smiled.

You curled your knees up into your chest as your back pressed against the cold stone. Your eyes slowly watched Remus walk beside you, only to slink down against the wall and sit next to you.

“I don’t want to talk.” You said quietly, even though there was no one around to hear but him.

“That’s okay. If all you want to do is sit in this hallway in silence, then I’m happy to do it with you.”

Your heart swooned over his words.

You’d never had someone so insistent on being around you. A day ago, Remus and Sirius probably had never had you on their mind and yet today you had already seen them 3 times. 4 if you included this time with Remus.

Remus kept his word and remained silent next to you, until five minutes later your thoughts were too loud to keep them in your head.

“How did you know where to find me?” You asked.

“Oh, uh, I guessed.”

“Lucky guess.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I should apologise to Sirius?”

“What?” Remus laughed, “No absolutely not. He was being a dick and he knew it. I love him, but he has no boundaries.”

You chuckled at that, because you could only imagine.

You scooted closer to Remus, needing to feel a little extra warmth in this cold corridor. The stone floor wasn’t exactly ideal for sitting on, but it had grounded you when you felt like you were slipping away. Now that Remus was here you felt like you had another way - a better way - of grounding yourself.

Plus, for some reason, Remus was exhorting a lot of heat.

“I feel like I need to apologise to Sirius anyways.” You admitted.

“How come?” Remus didn’t make any jokes. He just gave you the space to talk.

“I… It’s.. Gosh I don’t know how to say any of this.”

You shook your head, burrowing it down to your knees as if not being able to see the world would mean you’d entirely removed yourself from the situation.

How on Earth were you supposed to explain to Remus that you needed to apologise to his boyfriend because he’s caught you ogling Remus one too many times now? How do you admit a crush like this? And then not just on one, but two people? At once?

It was insufferable being inside your head currently.

It was like a giant wave of guilt and shame constantly crashing its way down on you, weighing you down until you felt like you couldn’t breathe any more.

“I.. I think there’s something wrong with me.” You let the tears fall then, feeling safe enough next to Remus to cry.

“Y/N…”

Your head shot up from your knees, needing to get this out, “I have never been loved before, Remus. I know I’m the butt of the joke. That I’m deemed unworthy and a bit pathetic. I get it, I do. But it fucking sucks that people see me like this when I still have a heart underneath, just like anyone else. It’s full of love and joy and happiness, but sometimes I forget it’s all there because of how small people make me feel. I’ve never felt like I fit in. I don’t fit in. And I certainly wouldn’t fit into a relationship with the likes of you or Sirius. So I need to apologise to Sirius and I need to apologise to you for ever believing that I could worm myself into your relationship - like I’ve wanted to for the past sodding half my life.”

You felt out of breath as you finished speaking, letting your chest heave off the anger.

You felt lighter for letting it all out, but also terrified at the boy you adored staring blankly in front of you and what his answer would be.

The silence lasted for two seconds too long before you decided that you’ve ruined everything.

“I’m sorry Remus. God, I’m so so sorry.”

You made tracks to stand up, but Remus stood up with you just as quickly - ignoring the resulting cracks from his bones.

He made his quickly into the space between you both and cupped your cheeks carefully.

“No. No, stop that. Don’t be sorry, not for that.”

You pouted your lips and your eyes watered.

“I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart? You’ve not hurt anyone,” Remus delicately traced his finger down the cat-scratch wound on your face, “Except only yourself.”

“I-I’m so.. s-sorry.” You hiccuped, tears falling down your face. Remus raced to catch them all as if it was a game, urging them to stop falling.

“Sshh. You’re okay.”

“I’m ru-ining everything.” You tried to drop your head but Remus kept you facing him.

“Never. You’re not, I promise. You haven’t ruined anything. You’re too good to ruin anything. Too sweet.”

You started sobbing then and Remus let you drop your head against his chest. He cupped the back of your head protectively and wrapped the other around your back to keep you close to him. His body shook as yours did and he felt every bit of devastation that you did.

You hurting, hurt Remus just the same. Just as Remus knew Sirius also felt.

Sirius soon appeared down the corridor, almost running when he realised it was you that was shaking heavily in Remus’ arms.

“Moony, what happened? Who did this? I swear when I find out who—.”

“Sirius will you calm down. She’s not hurt - well, not physically.” Remus explained, trying to calm down his boyfriend whilst also consoling you.

After hearing Sirius’ voice you reluctantly pulled away from Remus’ embrace. You nervously looked over at Sirius, your eyes no doubt swollen and puffy and your hair frayed from all the nuzzling into Remus chest.

“Y/N…” Sirius said your name so softly you would have smiled had it not been for the heartbroken tone he used.

“I’m so sorry for interfering with you and your boyfriend.” You apologised to Sirius.

Your fingers started scratching at each other with nerves.

You expected Sirius to lash out and agree with you, but instead he looked devastated - not with you, but himself. There was a look of remorse and guilt on his face, one you knew all too well.

“Is that how you’ve felt? How i’ve made you feel?” He asked.

You didn’t answer because it was clear he already knew the answer and you didn’t feel cruel enough to say it out loud.

“Moony… I’m sorry. I’ve ruined everything.” Sirius started to become upset now.

It only was moments before that you’d been upset over the same thing.

“Hey, listen to me. You’ve not ruined anything. You’re as perfect as you always are. But Y/N has something to say, okay?” Remus wrapped his arm around Sirius waist and turned him to face you.

As they both looked at you with starry and tearful eyes you couldn’t help but believe that you’d caused so much unnecessary pain and hurt to the two people you’d vowed never to upset.

It was clear that there was no room for you to fit in beside them, regardless of how badly you wanted to.

That was okay. It was something that would hurt but it would be something you’d learn to grow from in time.

“Sirius…” You started, before not really knowing where to go from there. You wanted to apologise, but you didn’t know quite how.

Sirius moved away from Remus and in front of you, wiping away some loose hair from your face. He was so close to you, you almost couldn’t breathe.

“I always felt unworthy…”

“Sirius…”

“No just hear me out. I always felt unworthy, until I met Remus. He showed me that I was able to be loved and treated with kindness. Then I came to realise that I could also love and treat people with kindness, and that realisation came when I met you. In fact, it was before I met you. It was the first time I saw you standing on the Platform, waiting to leave for Hogwarts. I saw you and I instantly believed I could be capable of loving someone else. My heart let in Moony, of course it did, but it never felt quite whole. Like there was a piece of the puzzle missing.”

You quickly glanced from Sirius to Remus, to make sure this was an okay conversation to be having - despite how much you never wanted the moment to end.

Remus gave you an encouraging nod.

“I felt it too.”

“All this time we’d been reeling over what that little bit of emptiness was caused by, until we realised that it was because we were missing you.”

[nanamineedstherapy]

Mouth to Meat

Cannibal Yakuza Sukuna X [Retracted] F!Reader

A/N: This one-shot is inspired by an amazing fic idea shared by @sukuna-ryo. Thank you so much for letting me explore this concept! Your creativity brought this to life, and I hope I did it justice. 💕

GIF by feitanporter

Summery: Dr. Y/N L/N is tasked with profiling Ryomen Sukuna, a feared yakuza boss known for his violent tendencies and taste for human flesh. Through a series of therapy sessions, she gains his trust—or so it seems. But Sukuna isn’t the only predator in the room. Behind Y/N’s professional demeanor hides a secret far darker than even Sukuna’s sins. When the masks drop, it’s clear: monsters don’t always look like him.

Tags: Sukuna x Reader Cannibalism Yakuza AU Dark Psychology Slow Reveal Manipulation Monster x Monster Energy Gritty, morally ambiguous character studies

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence Implied cannibalism Moral ambiguity (everyone’s awful) Mentions of child endangerment

Please read tags/warnings as this will get dark!

The room smelled faintly of metal and antiseptic, overpowered by the stink of Sukuna’s restraints. He leaned back in his chair, chains rattling against the bolted-down table, lips curved into an irritated smirk. Another day, another self-important idiot thinking they could peel back the layers of Ryomen Sukuna like some common criminal.

When the door opened, his curiosity barely flickered. Until she walked in.

Unlike the usual parade of interrogators or officials, she carried herself with a casual confidence. No clipboard. No body armor. Just a slim file in her hand and eyes sharp enough to cut glass.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sukuna,” she said as she sat across from him, her tone light, unbothered.

His gaze dragged over her like a predator sizing up prey. “And you are?”

“Dr. Y/N L/N. Forensic psychologist. I’m here to evaluate you.”

He chuckled, low and mocking. “Oh, they sent another one. Let me guess—you’re going to crack open my head and figure out what makes me tick?”

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. “Something like that.”

Leaning forward, Sukuna rested his chin on his palm, the chains clinking with the movement. “Tell me, Doc, what’s the diagnosis so far?”

“You’re impatient,” she said easily. “And maybe a little bored.”

For the first time in years, Sukuna’s smirk faltered—just a hair. “Keep talking.”

She set the file down, not even opening it. “You’re not here because of some uncontrollable bloodlust, are you? You’re not a mindless killer. Every choice you make has purpose. Even your cannibalistic tendencies—they’re calculated.”

His grin widened, shark-like. “You’ve done your homework.”

“I have,” she replied, leaning forward slightly. Her voice dropped, just enough to draw him in. “I know you don’t just eat to survive or for power. You do it to send a message. To dehumanize your victims.”

“Or to elevate myself,” he shot back, amused. “It’s not about dehumanization, Doctor. It’s about taking what others won’t. What they can’t.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “And what does that give you?”

“Dominance.” His tone was smug, matter-of-fact. “In every way that matters.”

There was a pause, the kind that should have made anyone squirm. But Y/N met his gaze without flinching.

“Does it ever get old?” she asked softly.

The question caught him off guard, though he didn’t let it show. “You’d be surprised, Doc. The taste of fear? That never gets old.”

She leaned back, as if satisfied, and tapped a finger on the edge of the table. “You fascinate me, Sukuna. You don’t just kill—you savor it. I’ve seen your records. You’re… meticulous.”

“You sound impressed,” he teased, voice low and dangerous.

“Maybe I am.” Her smile was small but sharp. “Or maybe I see potential.”

His laughter echoed through the room, rich and feral. “Potential for what? Rehabilitation?”

“Something like that,” she said cryptically. .

.

The sessions continued daily. Y/N’s approach was unorthodox—no lectures, no moralistic speeches. She asked questions that dug deep, steering the conversations toward his cannibalistic acts. Why this victim, why that moment? What did he feel when he consumed them?

Sukuna, for once, played along, curious to see how far she’d go. She didn’t flinch at his answers, no matter how grotesque. If anything, she seemed intrigued, even... amused.

“You’re not like the others,” he said one day, eyes narrowing as she scribbled something in her notes.

“Is that a compliment?”

“An observation.”

Her smile was polite, but her eyes betrayed something darker. “Maybe we’re not so different.” .

The room was quiet after Y/N left for the day. Sukuna leaned back, replaying their conversation. She was digging for something, and he wasn’t sure what. Not fear. Not control. Something deeper.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he mulled it over.

.

Meanwhile, Y/N stepped into her dimly lit apartment, setting her bag down by the door. She pulled off her coat, revealing the faintest smear of something dark—something red—on the cuff of her sleeve.

In the kitchen, she opened her fridge. Rows of vacuum-sealed packages lined the shelves, each labeled with dates and initials. She reached for one, her fingers brushing the plastic before pulling it out.

“Meticulous,” she murmured, her smile stretching wide as she placed the package on the counter. A butcher’s knife gleamed under the fluorescent light.

As she sliced into the flesh, her mind wandered to the child she had rescued from an alley once, its tiny body trembling with gratitude. The memory turned deliciously dark as she savored the look of dawning horror on its face when it realized not every woman was as kind as its mother. Y/N reveled in the bitter taste of fear—fear that lingered, even after the flesh was cooked.

She set the knife down, adjusting the heat on the stove to a low simmer. A small smile tugged at her lips, wicked and sharp. “He thinks he’s a monster,” she murmured, almost lovingly. “He has no idea.”

.

Back in the cell, Sukuna’s smirk returned. His instincts screamed that Y/N L/N was far more dangerous than she appeared.

And for the first time in years, he wasn’t bored.

A/N: Thank you for reading! 💀✨ I had way too much fun diving into the twisted dynamic between Sukuna and Y/N. What did you think of their little “therapy session”? Who do you think is the real monster here? 👀 I’d love to hear your thoughts, theories, or even just your favorite line! Drop a comment and let me know if you’d like more stories like this—or if you think Sukuna ever stood a chance. 😉 Your feedback means the world and keeps me inspired! 💬🖤

All Works Masterlist

[zarsghost]

For Worse

dark!Ghost x fem!reader pt. 2 of “For Better”

Warnings: manipulation, brief mentioned of blood/gore, toxic behavior, threats

The overhead lights buzzed as the electricity continued to flow through them as Simon sat in his chair. He doesn’t know how long ago Price left his tiny on base office but it didn’t matter. In his hands were the rings that should still be on your finger. It shouldn’t have moved from when he slid them on all those years ago but yet here they are. Here they both are, without you. Now, was Simon a good husband? Not at the moment, no.

But he was an even worse individual. The things he had endured and the things he’s done upon others would not qualify him as a ‘good man’. Doesn’t matter if it was on behalf of his country or the safety of the world. It was two sides of the same coin in a constant rotation but Simon knew that that’s not what weighed his conscience. It was the fact that he had none.

The one thing he had to keep him sane was trying to leave. The one thing that tethered him to this world and he’d be damned if he was going to let that slip away from him. A familiar shift faded over Simon as his eyes became dark and his breaths became shallow. Simon was gone and in his place, his shadow filled the void. His Ghost. He placed the rings in his breast pocket, velco securing it tightly to his chest at all times, as he sprung up from his desk chair and made a beeline towards the rec room where he knew his sergeants would be with tight and tense shoulders and his head straight forward. Target acquired.

Almost slamming the doors open, Ghost filled the nearly empty room with his presence alone as he made his way to a lone table where Kyle and Johnny were currently playing cards. There was the sound of scraping chairs against the shitty linoleum as the few other people in the room quickly left when they noticed who had just walked in looking like he was on a mission. And he was, but he wasn’t about to do this without his team.

Both men were well into their game when the overheard light was suddenly obstructed by a thick silhouette of a man. Johnny looked up just in time recognizing said silhouette, “Lt! Whit are ye doin blockin the licht? I-” his voice immediately dying in his throat when he realized the look on his lieutenants’ face. Kyle noticed immediately the change in the Scots demeanor and looked up as well. “What happened?”, he asked as he immediately clocked the aura radiating off of his superior.

“Need you to be in the briefing room in 10. No questions till then.”

Both men nodded in agreement before Ghost walked away.

Ghost stood in front of the long wooden table as Gaz and Soap filed in. Price was already seated with his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the rest of his team with a slightly annoyed but determined look on his face. They all shared a collective nod in greeting before setting their eyes on the man in front.

“We’ve got a job to do and a tight window. No distractions. This is your priority now. Understood?” He waited but was met with silence.

“Good.”

—-----

Simon was ecstatic. You had said no to continuing the proceedings. You were still his. You would still be his. And you wouldn’t be doing this again.

After carrying you out of the courtroom, he set you down and connected his forehead with yours. “I have to take care of something really quickly while I’m here but I’ll be out shortly. Why don’t you wait in the car and then we’ll go down to that asian place around the corner that I know you like as a celebration hm? My treat.”

You smile up at him and peck the corner of his mouth before walking out to his car. You had taken an Uber since Simon mainly uses the car to get to and from base when he’s home, which he now was and planned to be for a while.

Simon watched you leave before his mask slipped back in place. Turning back into the courtroom, he walked around the bench to the door where it led to the judge’s chambers.

The judge looked nervous as he sat in his leather chair behind his desk. A faint glow in the dark corner of the room grew brighter before dimming again. A puff of smoke came out of the shadows before being followed by his Captain.

“Good to see that you kept your end of the bargain. Was worried there for a second there but you managed. Hate to see what would’ve happened if it hadn’t.” The familiar gruff voice sounded from behind his chair. The lawyer that you had used was currently unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves before rolling them up his forearms at a small table next to the door.

“That would’ve been really disappointing too. After I had worked so hard to… convince you as well.” His smooth voice rang out.

The judge looked between them and stuttered,” But I did what you asked! Why-why does it feel like I missed something?” The judges’ nervous eyes landed on the bailiff that was shifting his weight from side to side as he watched what was currently unfolding. “Bailiff! Please! Do something!”

The bailiff cracked his neck to the side before removing his hat. His bright blue eyes never leaving the panicked shit brown ones of the sweating man in front of him.

“Ah kin dae something a'richt. Bit ah dinnae think ye'll be tae chuffed by th' outcome.” His hand ran through the currently flattened fauxhawk. “ 'n' how come ah hae tae be th' bailiff?! Gaz a’ready wears a cap!”

Price chuckled a bit, “Well she knows my face and I don’t think ya see too many lawyers ‘round here with a haircut like that, do ya?”

Johnny grumbled a bit before refocusing on the man of the hour. “Och sorry, did ye think ah wis gonnae actually help?” He laughed and the rest of his teammates joined.

Ghost walked forward as Gaz made sure the door was locked behind him. “I don’t think anyone will be coming back any time soon but to answer your question, there is something that you missed.” There was suddenly a heavy pressure on the judge’s shoulders as Price held him in place in his chair. Gaz and Soap came up on either side of Ghost as he leaned over the desk.

“SAS doesn’t leave any loose ends behind.”

Simon walked out with his team behind him while he wiped his hands. Setting up everything in such an exact way just to watch it all fall into place was truly beautiful. Getting into your laptop wasn’t hard to make sure that you had picked Gaz as your lawyer. All he had to do was sneak in when he knew you’d be out was simple enough. Making sure that Soap had the correct badges to pass inspection with his stolen uniform. Price just had to make sure that the judge they’d found fell in line. Considering that this hearing was never actually recorded and that he wasn’t even a practicing judge anymore helped their case as well. The remains of the judge stayed mostly in the room behind them. Some technically were on his hands but a quick run to the washroom would fix that. But they’d be long gone before anyone found him. Ghost almost wishes he could do it all over again but he had a pretty bird waiting for him outside. With a nod behind him, he made his way outside.

—---------

Months had gone by after your almost divorce and you believe that it actually knocked some sense into your husband. He was now always home when he wasn’t deployed. Even when he was, he made sure to call you to hear your voice and check in on you. When he was home, his hands were almost always on you. And maybe that’s why looking at the small plastic stick in your hands wasn’t as big of a shock. But what would your husband think?

Don’t worry, he has already told his mates and has his pick of names ready when you exit the bathroom. Those sugar pills you’ve been taking were already in the bin.

[randomfoggytiger]

Which writer or director was the biggest shipper of Mulder and Scully and essentially told CC "no, you got to let their relationship thrive" through their episodes?

I think CC was a shipper from day one (have a long post featuring his own quotes here); but he had a niche interest in mind and wanted to stick to it. Like you said, it was the other writers or directors who helped keep the relationship ball rolling.

For the writers, it's gotta be Vince Gilligan--

Q #8 – Hi, my name is Peggy and I want to thank you, fist of all, ’cause you guys make the show every week – you’re great. (all of them – Thank you.) Vince, I was going to ask you something that’s been bothering me. In “Momento Mori”, when Mulder is about to take Scully into his arms, what does he say?

FS- “Come on back.” He say’s “Come on back.”

Q – Thank you, it’s been bugging me.

VG – I didn’t write that, I’m sorry. I forgot… that was these guys.

JS – But, Vince.. they HUGGED Vince! Isn’t that your part?? [laughing]

FS – This has been a running joke with Vince. The three of us, you know, are so sick of each other because we work together constantly but Vince has always got Mulder and Scully hugging, or winking at each other…[big applause and screaming] …so we just think he is shameless, you know, suck up to the audience.

VG – I used to work for Hallmark, so…. [laughter]

-- and David Duchovny.

David particularly kept slipping in little romantic moments between Mulder and Scully at every possible opportunity (and voiced his irritation at the "will they won't they" when it dragged on too long.) He also wasn't shy about fighting with Chris over his instincts during the original run, so that helped.

For the directors? ...Probably gotta pick Kim Manners:

The final scene of the episode featuring Mulder and Scully kissing almost was not filmed. Initially, the script called for Mulder to kiss Scully's forehead. Both Duchovny and Manners argued that the scene was "mundane" and that they had "been teasing and doing that bull for so long" that they wanted "a real kiss at this point".

(Also, I think The X-Files relationship progression wouldn't be complete without Spotnitz: he ironed out Chris's ideas and was the most transparent about William's paternity.)

What do you think? Maybe I'm missing an obvious choice. :DDD

[missmarveledsblog]

A knight in Shining ...denim ( Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Reader )

summary : one day a woman shows up to the shop only for eddie to find out she the new receptionist changing his work space , life and feelings .

warning: mutual pinning , idiots in love , no upside down here ( soz ) jason carver is alive ( again soz ) sort of age gap ( eddies like early thirties where reader is mid twenties ) , 18+ no smut but allusions to it

It’s not that working wasn’t the bain of existence because he actually loved the shop , working on the cars  listening to music of his own choosing even being able to squash some of the stupid assumptions people had about him although it was also the downside of working  there was some people still thought he was the devil incarnate. Some of his old highschool associates could he even call them that would come in with minor or even non existent problems just to make some off handed or down right insult him . the snobby asshole who once we jocks now owning their own small town businesses thinking they were donald trump or some sort of multi billionaire , or they constantly  bring up their successful marriages and  families when eddie dates consisted on woman that preferred to keep him as a secret . life was still like high school to these fucks .   then like a shift in the wind working during one of the hottest days of the year when he heard a clearing of a throat and sound of a knock. Pulling himself out from under the car only to have the wind knocked out of his lungs . 

“ are you eddie ?” soft velvet voice hitting his ear drums like a piece of heaven on earth . 

“ what can i do you for sweetheart ?” . 

“ oh didn’t frank tell you i’m the new receptionist …  i thought he told me you would show me around… i’m y/n by the way  “ her brows furrowed in such an adorable way he almost melted to the spot . 

“  you don’t mind if i just double check make sure you not some new hot thief that steals from the auto repair shops  or i would be in so much shit “  only for a laugh to fall from her lips  standing little taller making a pretty lady laugh was always an ego boost .  the two stood patiently as frank suddenly remembered but eddie never blamed the guy he was getting older at first working there well it was a favour for his uncle wayne  giving the two were buddies  .  

“ So check out although i don’t think you’ve been fully briefed in what the job entails” he winced slowly walking over to the office he swore one of these days he was going to tidy up .  opening the door waiting to hear a gasp or for her to storm out and say not my problem . 

“ holy shit “ was probably selling it lightly at the chaos of files everywhere . “ ok take what you need for today and i will do the rest “  she nodded walking more trying not to knock over the stacked boxes and create more of mess although it wasn’t like it would really make a difference.   Eddie doing just that in truth he was still that whole the day even the first week waiting for her to run out of there. Only thing was he was not allowed step foot in the office until then  . everytime she would open the door a little  handing him out paperwork  he needed or receipts til  maybe the middle of the second week she finally opened the shutters on the small office which he honestly never even noticed they were shutters to begin with .  then one day while he was eating lunch he watched her with a trolley carrying boxes into the garage only to see cleaning supplies while throwing out the near ancient ones . by the end of the month well it was like a whole other place  , old furniture replaced  in the waiting area , the break room was cleaned out and refreshed , even returning customers wondered if they were in the right place  and word travelled fast the new changes to the shop , the new beautiful receptionist .  which second part he was kinda sad she was thought of in such a way it was like his own greedy little secret . 

Working day in and day out together for that time too became fast friends he almost smacked his head when he heard her blasting metallica in as she cleaned or how hard his mouth fell open when he found out she was franks granddaughter . which explained how she was able to get approval for everything so easily or why she didn’t run for the hill when she first saw the place. It was also a surprise to see steve harrington driving in giving that eddie already repaired the bmw the weekend just gone. 

“ harrington “ he arched his brow . 

“ the windshield wiper fell off that like safety thing right?” he asked looking around everywhere but at eddie. 

“ fell off … did you pull this off “he gasp seeing the mangled state of piece in his hand. 

“ no why would he do that now” robin voice called as she too was looking around the space. 

“ you helped it wouldn’t have to do with the news of a certain lady that start working here would it ?” he mused looking at his close friends who in his opinion couldn’t lie for shit. 

“ oh hey welcome  would you guys like a cup of coffee “ the voice of angel rang out as the two stood goofy smiles on their faces. 

“ sweetheart no need for the niceness these are my friends actually more like pest robin and steve this is y/n , y/n robin and steve” he chuckled. 

“ oh nice to meet you both … did a bear attack your wipers “ her head tilted looking down at the scrap metal in Eddie's hands. 

“ yeah i had to fight it off save my car “ steve nodded trying to appear strong and buff only for his friends faces to scrunch in disgust.  

“ yeah right  yogi bear , soo y/n how old are you … single ?” Robin smiled sweetly. 

“ erm i’m 25 and yeah i’m single .. I spend so much time here to even find a boyfriend  “ she laughed . 

“ ignore those two .. you heading out ?” 

“ oh thought i get us lunch was just coming  out to see what you wanted .. or you guys wanted if your friends want to join” 

“ yes “ ..”they were just leaving “ the three spoke in unison . 

“ hey why don’t  i come with you i know what they like and plus  make a new friend “ robin linked arms already leading her out the door . 

“ I taught her too well “ steve sighed . 

“ yeah cause your swimming in the ladies lately” Eddie teased walking to the car trying to  see where to even begin . 

“ i’ll have you know i’ve a date for tonight munson “ .

“ so why are you flirting with my hot coworker harrington ?” 

“ cause she hot plus i’m not the only one  you do realise more repairs  lately have be guys wrecking their cars on purpose to try and talk to her ?” steve snorted. 

“ so you admit that you broke the windshield wiper … wait that why we’ve been so busy lately?” eddie turned his head to the side  as steve nodded his head yes . 

“ come on man she new and well she easy on the eyes  and yeah she gonna be a hot ticket in town “ . 

“ she not just a pretty face man , she funny and goofy and great music taste that dio album playing she brought that in from home and she friendly and kind makes the old gals feel like vip honestly she the best” eddie beaming smile only made steve eyes widened. 

“ oh my god you love her” 

 “ dude i know her a month and couple of week i do not love her” scoffing pretending like it wasn’t close to it . which in his defense was a cruel joke on universe part to put her so close knowing a woman like that would never go for a guy like him, girls like that make guys like him the best friend or close friends it was a cruel thing but it was a fact he could already see unfolding . barely listening to steve drowning on, not even realising he was moved on to a new topic of conversation til the time past and the girls were back robin was more friendly then flirt must of picking up that y/n was straight well he thinks she was .  steve and robin thought they could see it , the lingering touches or the fact her eyes would be on eddie  or how they would quickly move before he could catch her bluntly checking him out . 

It went on like that for weeks both looking when the other wasn’t or slightly flirty undertones of exchanges that they would brush off thinking they were reading too much into it .  another thing it was always just at work it was like the friendship or whatever it was only extended to the walls of franks automobile repair shop not that the two didn’t want to like anytime they went to extend it ,they would chicken out or say something completely different . soon  it was a year that had passed since y/n came to the shop , a year of trying to convince himself that he wasn’t in love or that he wasn’t good enough for the woman who gave him sweet words every single day .  like the day she arrived it was hottest day of the year and like it was the universe was trying to kill him when she walked in the door wearing pair of shorts and tank top looking like one of those supermodels on the coke and pepsi commercials . he could feel his throat go dry and his mouth water  trying not to stare at the way the shorts hugged her ass so right  or how perfect her cleavage was in the tank top or how he was sure to melt and evaporate all in one.  Then like the universe called he sensed the real devil in town . jason carver and his bum chum andy another two idiots who still thought they were in highschool .  

“ I got these, would you check the inventory please  “ he called as y/n gave him a nod and a quick good morning. 

“ well looks like your still here huh munson and still the  one fixing the cars , i thought you at least be manager or something “ that smug smirk on his face , the pearly veneers that his buddy never told him look ridiculous . 

“ what can i do you for gentlemen” 

“ it’s making weird noise cop told me get checked out or next time he’d give me a ticket.. Hey were the hot piece of ass that works here maybe i could service her while you service my car” he chuckled looking around . 

“ her name is y/n not piece of ass and she working “ the glare if it could kill jason carver would fall to the ground dead , usually the comment never hurt shit he’s heard it all since he was a kid learned to grow tick skin but hearing them talk about y/n was different . 

“ go get her then i wanna talk to her about the price of all this not that matters maybe throw her a bone give her taste of a good thing instead of being here with your deadbeat ass all time i mean i’m sure she nice to you all time cause she feels sorry for you “ he snickered as andy high fived him . 

“ i mean i seen her man she definitely wouldn’t be into satan spawn here … you like her don’t you munson … what you think girl like that chooses to be here listening to these noise you call music “ andy snide smile as two found themselves hilarious but what they didn’t know was said woman was listening to everything, finding that part of her that wouldn’t end up in a orange jumpsuit . how dare they talk down to eddie like that one of the funniest , goofiest sweethearts that was basically sex on legs . how drooled over her work as she watched him bent over the hood of a car or how she had to clench her thighs when she saw his arm muscle contract along with the ink on his body . how dear these two personality void asswipes talk down to anyone when they looked like dollar store versions of wall street nope not in this world or the next would she let anyone talk down to eddie not on her watch . she didn’t even have a plan nor did she wanna even think of the consequences of what she was about to do it could wait another time . instead she came out of the closet before jason carver could even get anything out of his mouth she pulled eddie by his overalls and crashing her lips against his taking every single male in the room off guard including the one she kissed only to pinch his side to bring him to reality  well it wasn’t reality for him , he was sure this was a dream because it was like so many of the ones he woke up painfully hard from . it had to be a dream because this felt too perfect , too right . like every nearvein his body was under her control as it came to life from just her touch . 

“ oh shoot sorry i didn’t even notice you guys”the coy smile as she pulled back from clearing of a throat. It wasn’t a true lie she did actually forget the two  were there after a while getting lost in the feeling and taste of eddie on her lips . 

“ really the town freak” 

“ really those highlights “ she shot back , “ those clothes i mean  i get you guys got money but shit you got no personality as for eddie being a lowly mechanic he’s been running the place since he started , he is this place but you wouldn’t know that since you work for daddy “ she rolled her eyes . 

“ so what your just some slut anyways “ . 

“ ah as well as no personality , no brains either best you can do is slut ok my turn …. You rich boy never been told his whole like so well you been a prick all your life and who can blame you when toupee tommy which isn’t fooling anyone here bigs you up when your insult hurt as much as a feather … now do you want the car that clearly is compensation for the fact you got nothing going on down there or your free to leave” she batted her eyelashes  while eddie on the other hand never though his feelings could grow even more. 

“ your a receptionist why should i care what you say  , your both trash literally a fuck and dump is all your worth “ . 

“ and all your worth is nothing , yeah you may get girls but it’s for the money and even that isn’t worth sticking around for , which is why you have more girlfriends than you’ve had birthdays , oh and lets not pretend that you have actually friends because the second you go broke you will have no one not even toupee timmy who’s afraid to tell you those veneers make you look like a horse that died decades ago and now looks like a bad taxidermy job  so now do you want the car fixed or do you wanna leave because those are your opinions my friend either learn some manners or drive to another place “ she smiled sweetly like andy didn’t like he was going to start crying suddenly the universe and eddie were great old school pals as  looked weighing their options . through gritted teeth and almost killing him to say it but small town there wasn’t a luxury of going somewhere else and the other repair shop  well  he had a messy situation there too . through the whole interaction eddie stood looking at her like she save him and his whole family from a burning building or she hung the sun, moon and stars and after that fuck she did in his eyes.  The two men stood usually quiet while eddie got to work it wasn’t a tough repair but with those two tried to do it themselves when it would of been a whole other mess . once paid and speeding the hell out of there as she wave ever so sweetly .  like pride filled his body almost forgetting himself in the moment when he picked her up and spun her in a circle , placing his lips on her until he pulled back wide eyed thinking he overstepped the boundary that the other kiss was for show. 

“ shit sorry .. fuck “ he pulled back cursing himself . 

“ eddie..” she went to begin but he went on his own rant. 

“ i am sorry i know you did it to get the guys off my back i stupidly though ..but why would a girl like you like a lo.. Ouch did you just pinch me “ he gasped probably a little over dramatic but then again it wouldn’t be eddie if he wasn’t . 

“ yes because you were going to go on about being a lowly trailer park kid and shit ? wanna know what i think ?” she asked. 

“ if it like what you told carver i’d rather you hit me with a wrench instead … here” he winced handing her the wrench making her roll her eyes she wasn’t new to deflecting humour  she practically mastered it herself . 

“ i see a man who knows how to appreciate things in life like friends and possession, one that even if he did have a ton of money would spend it on his friend than to show off what he had , one of those people that would make sure everyone is ok before himself , a funny silly man who enjoys entertaining those around him , big nerd but honestly nerds are hotter “ she winked . “ also if you haven’t gathered i kinda of kissed you first and it wasn’t fully for those guys but maybe my own selfish reason of wanting to kiss the hottest guy in town by a mile “ she added slowly walking towards him placing her soft hand  on nap of his neck puling him down to her level so she could place a kiss on his lips . 

“  i mean sometimes i do wanna hit you with the wrench but like ninety seven percent of the time i wanna do that” she pulled back only for him to walk over hitting the shutter before lifting her up . 

“ well if we're showing off what we wanna do my little knight in shining ... denim let me really show you what i  really wanna do with you “ a wolfish grin and new found confidence maybe the shop could shut earlier for the day .

[evervigilantnightshade]

The Line - Part 6

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

Warnings for series: Angst, violence towards reader, reader attacked by men, a pup gets hurt (but don't worry he's ok) Blood, fluff, flirting, a bit of light smut. Death and killing on missions, Father of reader's death mentioned. Puking.

Authors notes: Should I start a tag list?

MASTERLIST

The rest of the team slowly woke and filtered into the kitchen. Once they were all there Simon addressed them. 

“I’ve decided it’s time to end this little road trip. It’s been hell and I think it’s safe to say we’re all ready for this to be over.” 

“Nah, tis been a stoatin time.” Soap said sarcastically

Simon looked over at him and he just shrugged with a smirk on his face. 

“I’ve changed the next flight for us. Instead of continuing to skip around we’re going to our final destination. Once in country we’ll drive the remainin.” 

“How fars the drive?” Kyle looked at YN 

“About three hours, maybe three and a half.” 

“Flights at 17:00. So be ready for 12:00.” Simon started to get up but Soap spoke up. 

“We get tae know what country at least?” 

Simon thought for a moment and then his eyes narrowed when he saw how intently Gaz and Soap were staring at him. He smirked when he realised what was going on. He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Canada.” 

“Fucking kidding me.” Gaz cursed as he pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills towards Price, Soap doing the same. 

“At least Ghost didn’t cheat us like he coulda.” Soap added and Gaz nodded 

“Someone want to tell me what's going on?” Y/N asked. 

“We’ve had a bet going since you joined the team.” Gaz explained.

“A bet? What kind of bet exactly.” Her voice rising. 

Simon reached over and put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down. 

“Well your file is redacted, and you don’t wear colours, so we all kinda bet on where you were from. Except Simon, now it makes sense because he knew, but at the time he told us he thought it was stupid.” 

“Still think it’s stupid.” Simon rolled his eyes. 

Y/N looked at them and then relaxed a little. 

“What were your guesses?” 

“I said American. You’ve a western accent and thought it was obvious.” Gaz explained.

“Not bad.” 

“I said British.” Soap offered  

“Yeah? Why?” 

“Well of the little that’s in yer file there’s a sniper program held in the UK. Accents easy to overcome.”

“Again, not bad.” 

“So sir, you goin to finally tell us how you knew. You were so confident we were convinced you were cheating.” Gaz asked 

“Didn’t cheat. Just paid attention.” Price said still not having touched the money in front of him. 

“Ye make it sound like she was out there eating hunners of maple syrup and apologising every three seconds.” 

Y/N smiled at Soap. She then glanced at Price, curious how he knew. He made eye contact with her and for the first time in days there wasn’t hostility on either side. 

“Go on then.” She nodded her head. 

“Well you have an accent. It’s faint normally but when you’re drinkin or you’re… particularly sassy it comes out. It’s not super strong, just certain words.”

She blushed and then looked around as if thinking before looking at him and nodding slowly. Price took it as a sign to go on. 

“When you write your reports, you use British English spelling, not American English spelling.” 

“Well that’s no fair, you read her reports, we don’t.” Soap argued. 

“Didn’t say it was fair, did I?” Price glanced at Soap and then looked back at Y/N. 

“You use Kilometres, Kilograms and Centimetres and you measure distance in time. Like you just did when Gaz asked how long the drive would be, you said hours, not distance. You call it a toque, not a beanie. And I knew instantly you weren't British because when you make a cup of tea you leave the tea bag in your cup while you drink it.” He shook his head disaprovingly.

“You don’t!” Gaz cried out with disgust 

“Should be illegal.” Simon added. “Hate when she does that.” 

“Come on lass, even I know that’s wrong” Soap spoke up. 

“What’s happening here?” Y/N shook her head. “You guys keep this up, the next time I make your tea I’m going to put the milk and sugar in before the water. Or heaven forbid, microwave the water” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Ghost snapped, causing John and Soap to laugh. 

“That’s it, I agree with the Captain now, you’re off the team.” Gaz joked but the table went immediately silent. 

“Oh Gaz.” Y/N sighed and then hung her head, knowing what was about to happen. 

“What are you talking about?” Simon’s voice was surprisingly calm. 

Y/N looked over at Price, who was looking at Simon, a look of acceptance on his face. When Gaz didn’t answer him he looked at Y/N who made eye contact with him. 

“Simon…” 

“What the fuck is he talking about Y/N?” 

“Listen, let’s just go get ready for the flight home yeah?” Y/N said softly

Simon stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back with such force it hit the wall behind him. Everyone was on their feet then ready for what was about to happen.  

“What the fuck did you do?” He asked John, his voice rising  

He took a step forward but Y/N stood in front of him with her forearm pressed against his chest. 

“Si, stop.” 

He wasn’t looking at her though he was glaring at Price, breathing heavily. 

“Be a man, own up to what you did.” He pushed against Y/N. 

Price sighed and then looked at Y/N who was silently pleading for him to not say anything.  

“Don’t look at her, look at me.” 

Price’s gaze then landed on Simon. 

“When we were in Germany, I told her I wanted her off the team.” Price admitted and the results were explosive. 

Simon all but shoved Y/N to the side and she had to call out to Soap for help, who jumped over the table to help her restrain Simon. Price just stood there, looking resolved to take whatever Simon was about to do to him and Gaz stood beside him. 

“You think I’m going to stand by and let you kick her off the team? I’ll kill you first before that happens.” Simon yelled. 

“Come on then.” Price grunted back and Y/N looked back at him with anger. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Let em go. Let’s get this over with.” 

His words put venom in Simon’s veins and he shoved Y/N and Soap almost breaking free. 

“Gaz git him outta here.” Soap called out 

“No. Come on.” Price yelled, slamming his fist to his chest. “I deserve this.” 

Y/N momentarily eased up on Simon looking over at John in distress. It was enough for Simon to break free and he lunged at John, tackling him back causing him to hit the wall. John hit Simon on the back with his elbow and Simon punched John in the knee causing his leg to give out. Using this opportunity Simon pulled away from him and punched him in the jaw and John punched Simon in the stomach. 

Soap and Gaz jumped in at that point and pulled them apart, both fighting them to get back at each other. 

“She’s not off the team you fucking prick.” 

“Enough. Y/N yelled. “It’s already done!” 

“No it’s not, he’ll take it back won’t he?” Simon still focused on John

“I wanted to the moment I said it.” John yelled back 

“I signed the papers this morning.” Y/N yelled now standing between the two men. 

Her words instantly caused them to stop fighting and focus on her

“What do you mean you signed the papers? What papers?” John bit at her his adrenalin still pumping. "Sorry, what papers?" He said more calmly.

“I had Laswell send me discharge papers. Keegan brought them and I signed them before he left this morning. I’m going out for bid.” 

“The fuck you are.” Simon snapped 

“Si, it’s over.” 

“It’s not. You can’t just leave.” 

“Look at us!” Y/N motioned around her. “All of this fucking fighting and drama has been going on since we decided to go home. And it’s all because of me and my choices. My choice to keep a secret, my choice for falling in love with my fucking Captain! What the fuck was I thinking?! This has all been a huge fucking distraction. Have you noticed we haven’t even spoken about Bako? Not once! The man we have been chasing for over a year. The man who literally sent us into hiding and we are talking about my feelings! I’ve lost sight of what I’m trained to do, we all have.” 

She looked at her team shaking her head.

“It’s better if I leave. You’ll all be better off. At this point I don’t even think I want to be on a team. I have an offer from Kortac but I think I’m just going to go solo. There is an American company that has been pursuing me for a while that promised me I could do solos and I think I’m just going to take it.”

“You’d just leave me?” Simon asked 

“It’s not about you.” she snapped. “It’s about me, I need to be alone, get my head on straight. Will I miss having you watch my six, of course. But I need this more. I’m just done. With all of it.” 

Y/N signed and then reached up to rub her face, frustrated with everything and everyone. 

“I need air.” She grabbed her jacket before heading out the front door. 

Simon shook Soap off him and then picked up one of the kitchen chairs, throwing at the wall. 

“Fuck you Price. Fuck you for not listenin to her when she said to wait until she could explain things. Fuck you for the things you said to her and fuck you for breaking her. Because that…” Simon pointed at the door Y/N just walked out of “ That’s a broken fucking Y/N.” 

He then stormed off and John put his hands on the table, dropping his head. They heard Simon stomp down the hallway and slam his door.

“Johnny,” John's voice was quiet

Soap stepped forward

“Go after Y/N. If she doesn’t want you there, follow at a distance. Don’t leave her alone.” 

Soap glanced over at Gaz and then left to go after Y/N. 

“I’m sorry sir. I didn’t mean to say it, it just slipped out.” Gaz apologised but John shook his head and then looked up at him.

“It’s ok Gaz, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine.” 

“You ok sir?” 

John rubbed his jaw and nodded. 

“I didn’t mean your jaw sir.” 

“I’m fine Gaz, go get packed up for the flight.” 

Once Gaz was out of the room John picked up one of the knocked over kitchen chairs and sat down. 

He'd thought that letting Simon hit him would make him feel something else besides this overwhelming pain he had been feeling. However hearing Y/N say that she loved him hit him worse than Simon ever could.

He sat and thought about everything Simon and Y/N had said to each other the day of Lasswell's call. He tried to think of what other possible situation it could be besides her and Simon being together. So many what if’s flooded his mind. What stuck with him though was that when Y/N said she loved him, it didn’t bother Simon. He wasn’t hurt or angry with her, hell he didn’t even seem surprised to hear her say it. 

“What have I done?” He whispered to himself 

He should’ve waited to hear her out. He did trust her and knew she wasn’t the person to be cruel and play games. She was the opposite. She was kind, a trait that was a part of the reason why he loved her. So why did he doubt her, especially when she pleaded with him to hear her out?

An hour later he was still sitting at the table when Y/N and Soap returned. Walking in the door they saw John but Y/N turned and went back to her room, not saying anything to him. Soap looked over at John, and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“Better get ready Cap, it’s almost time to go.” 

John nodded his head and went to get ready, feeling defeated. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The flight was long, and they all sat solo except Simon and Y/N.  John had a view of them and could see they were having a long intense conversation, but eventually they hugged and she ended up sleeping with her head on his shoulder for the remainder of the flight. 

The three hour drive seemed like torture to John, Y/N was sat in the front seat of the large pick up truck that Laswell had arranged for them and Simon drove. John sat behind Y/N and watched as she stared out the window not saying a word. At times he saw tears rolling down her cheeks and it felt like a stab to the gut. He tried to focus on the landscape outside his window, not being able to handle the guilt he was feeling, but it was mostly just endless snowy farmland and didn’t provide him with any form of distraction. 

Eventually they turned onto a gravel road and Simon reached over and squeezed Y/N’s hand. They were close.  As they peaked a large hill in the distance they could see a farm surrounded by a large wall of hedges. They approached the large gate at the entrance and Simon reached over to a keypad, putting in the numbers that prompted the gate to open. 

John watched Y/N’s shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, something he also did before entering his own home. Letting go of the soldier to become a civilian. 

They parked in front of the house. There was a large window facing the parking pad and John thought he saw someone peer out but then they disappeared. Three big dogs came running towards the truck barking but Simon undid his window and whistled a melody with four notes and the dogs stopped and sat down. 

They all got out, stretching their backs with the occasional groan. Y/N went over to the dogs and was petting them all cooing and telling them what good pups they were. The boys grabbed their bags and started heading for the house. At the door though Simon stopped. 

“We’re going to go in, you’re going to remove your footwear and then follow me. Stay on my six and don’t deviate.” 

“Copy Lt.” Y/N whispered with a shake of her head and a small smile. 

They all did as Simon instructed and after removing their boots, followed as he went down a flight of stairs directly to the right of the door.

As they reached the basement there was a laundry room directly in front of them and then three closed doors on their left. Simon turned towards the doors and then stopped in front of one. Before he opened it though he glanced longingly at one of the other doors. It wasn't until Y/N put her hand on his shoulder did he snap out of whatever thought he was lost in. 

He led them through the door and on the other side was a small cramped hallway that looked like cold storage. At the end of the hall though Simon lifted a panel on the wall to reveal another key pad. He put the number in and a hidden door opened to reveal a staircase. 

They descended again and were once again faced with a series of doors. Simon told them to drop their bags in the hall and they entered the door on the right. 

It was a large room with hardwood floors and sleek white walls with some artwork hung spaciously. It looked incredibly modern compared to what they had seen of the rest of the house. There was a large table in the middle room with eight chairs around it. 

Simon motioned for them to take a seat and walked to the head of the table. Instead of sitting in the chair he pulled it out and Y/N took a seat. They all looked at her expecting her to speak but instead Simon spoke. 

“Ok it’s time we tell you all the truth.”

[chithereader]

first impressions / aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

word count: 2.6k

genre: fluff

cw: shy!reader / naive!reader, hotch has a crush!! a bit of mutual pining

a/n: i feel like this is a little all over the place but i love a pining hotch too much so i just had to post it!!!

Anderson has been doing his case reports in the pantry for the past four hours. Perhaps it does have its perks– one, he’s closer to the coffee machine and two, he’s farther away from all the chatter that is coming from the place he should actually be working in– at his desk. 

That’s because for the past four hours, the whole BAU team or what’s left of it– being Derek, Rossi, Garcia, and Reid– have been crowding the rows of desks directly across Hotch’s office. Occupying desks and chairs that are definitely not theirs. 

The rowdy bunch has been debating, gossiping, and most importantly, profiling their unit chief for the past four hours. Figuring out which applicants impress him, disappoint him, or straight-up irritate him– all through his office window. 

They’ve seen a total of seven applicants walk out of his office without a handshake, which is Hotch’s tell on whether he would consider that candidate or not. Out of those seven, two were way prettier than they were smart, three way too confident than they were competent, and two solely able to step foot in Quantico because of their last names. 

As for those that did walk out with a handshake were… well.. non-existent. If anyone were to ask someone from the team, they’d insist that they don’t need a new member. They don’t need anyone new to replace the beloved ones that have left. 

However, remembering the previous cases from the past two weeks– the truth is, they all felt a little like they were drowning. It felt like the more days that went by, the more cases there were to filter, solve, and close. The more killers there were to profile, hunt, and stop. The more reports there were to fill out, file, and submit; 

Each member of the team was doing double the workload of what they usually handle which had started to take its toll on their health, both physical and mental. And Hotch being the responsible leader that he is, recognized what had to be done. Especially after Reid fainted while running and Morgan’s strength notably faltering while in a tussle with an unsub. 

Now, the team didn’t know if it was perhaps because Hotch was measuring all these potential agents against Emily and JJ but none of them appeared up to his standard. Although accepting applications was his idea, judging by the way his brows had furrowed permanently they could tell Hotch was starting to regret it. Rossi, who knows Hotch a little better than everyone, could tell that he was about to give up. 

He could tell by the way he had his lips pressed in a thin line for the past forty minutes unwaveringly. 

He could tell by the way his shoulders were more obviously rising and falling, his breaths deeper- like he was calming himself. 

He could tell by the way Hotch would stand with clenched fists, unclenching them slowly on his sides. 

He could tell by the way Hotch was staring at the files, not reading. 

But just as Rossi was about to go up to Hotch’s office so they could all call it a night. To give his friend a pep talk about being there for each other and how tomorrow’s another day. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone entering the BAU walking briskly. 

The profiler in him skims over the figure quickly: 5 foot 3. Tiny. Mid-20s to early 30s. Young. Cardigan, jeans, sneakers, and a messenger bag. Is this kid Reid’s twin or what. Soulful round eyes, cute nose, pink lips. Pretty. 

“Uhm, hi.. I’m here for an interview? with uhm.. Mr– Agent Hotchner, sorry. Could someone point me to his office? Please?” Interesting. 

For some reason, none of the members of the team spoke, mainly surprised by the sudden addition of this stranger’s presence. One by one, like falling dominos, they slowly pointed to Hotch’s door. Simultaneously taking their precious time assessing whatever they can from what they’re seeing. 

Their observations didn’t stray far from what Rossi had seen. You’re pretty. That’s the first thing one can deduce. The incredibly-adorable kind of pretty, Garcia thinks. You seem smart, the same way anyone knows boy genius is smart– darting eyes like you’re thinking at a thousand miles per minute. Like you’re studying your surroundings, assessing threats, friendlies, and potential threats. 

You’re shy. You speak softly as if scared to intrude. Your movements are precise as if scared to impose. You stand still as if scared to take up more space than necessary. But your posture says otherwise. You may be introverted but your intelligence reeks in your diction and the way your head is held high, a part of you you’re sure of. Literally a lot like Reid, it’s creepy. 

You’re young. Young enough to steal pretty boy’s title as the baby of the team if you were to be accepted. To be honest, you look like a college student. Like a straight A, extra credit, shy and quiet type of student– and they weren’t wrong. 

You didn’t find anything weird about their behavior, the silence with which they responded to you. Probably because you were too nervous about your interview. Everyone knows the BAU is the team that’s the most difficult to get into, and that their unit chief’s the most intimidating man in the FBI that the Director himself avoids running into him altogether. 

So it was definitely a surprise when you were called in by Erin Strauss. A fresh graduate from the academy, you had no field experience at all. You’d only been working as a forensic scientist for the Organized Crime Division for a little less than a year, and more often than not you were in laboratories and morgues. Mainly there as a junior consultant than anything, having the more seasoned agents out in the field, on active crime scenes. 

Your gaze followed where they were pointing to, nerves permeating through your body. As you make your way up the stairs to get to his door, you’re trying to even your breathing- desperately. You don’t want to seem incompetent and inexperienced, pathetic even. 

Raising your hand to knock, you take in one last deep breath. Suddenly aware of all the people watching you from behind, possibly profiling you– you knock. Loudly. Like you were trying to prove something, show false strength and confidence. 

Maybe a little too loud, you realized. Shit. 

You’re in your own head when the door whips open and you see him. You knew he was good looking. You’ve seen him on TV and in pictures but god they did not do him justice. Just as you were processing how good-looking he was and how it would be a crime to embarrass yourself in front of him, your body decides it’s time to let out that big breath you inhaled before knocking. 

Now it appears you’re just blowing cool air into his chest, frozen while he stands there towering over you, most likely curious about why you knocked on his door so hard, why you are blowing cool air into his chest and more importantly, who the heck were you? 

“Hi, I’m, uh, here for the interview. For, uhm, the vacant position at the BAU team, Sir– Agent!” clearing your throat you scramble to make a good impression, or at least salvage what’s been established. 

Swallowing your pride, you bow your head in embarrassment, softening your voice as you say “Sorry, Agent Hotchner. What I meant to say is that I’m applying to be on your team. I’m here for the interview.” Looking up at him eye-to-eye, to hopefully convey your sincerity, you held his stare and his breathing stuttered. 

Let’s be honest. Hotch just went through four hours of his personal hell, getting to know people he doesn’t want to get to know. Asking questions, engaging in small talk, studying mannerisms and language– all to assess whether that person could be the much needed addition to his team. And the last thing he wants right now, as it nears the end of the work day, is another applicant to entertain. 

So Hotch, along with the rest of the team, becomes quite surprised when he moves his body out of the way to let you in his office when seconds ago he looked like he was about to give a very tempered advice at whoever just banged on his door. 

While he gestures for you to sit walking around his desk to sit on his own chair, he convinces himself that it’s because he is a good person and because he would do anything to help his team even if it meant enduring another painful interview. 

Definitely not because of your eyes. Or pouting lips. Or the adorable way blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. Or your soft, soft voice that said his name in such a way that he’s dying to hear it again. 

Nope. It is simply his duty to lead and care for his team, and that means interviewing you. Somehow. 

-

It was quiet. You were nervous. It was obvious. He was waiting for you to talk but you’ve been staring at his tie instead of his face. You’re fiddling with your rings, wiping your palms on your jeans. And you were still very obviously trying to even your breaths. 

Observing these were enough to make him soften his voice slightly as he spoke, “Could you tell me about yourself?” He said slowly and softly– soft enough that if the air conditioning was a little louder you probably wouldn’t have heard him at all. 

Hotch became extremely conscious about coming across as demanding. He simply didn’t want to intimidate you further. He knew that if he wanted you to talk, open up, and present yourself justifiably, he would have to tread lightly. 

Now, he didn’t know when exactly he had started to care about whether he came off as intimidating or not, nor does he know why he’s the one adjusting for someone applying to be on his team– but apparently the times have changed. 

He’s brought out of his thoughts by your faint reply, “Well I, uh, have a bachelor in Psychology and in World Literature. Uhm, and.. I also have a Masters in Criminal Psychology but pursued Forensic Psychology for my doctorate.” You sounded almost hesitant to list all your achievements, which made him think you’ve probably been told once or twice that it is impolite to talk about such achievements to one’s face. 

The thought of someone invalidating your achievements, your brilliance infuriates him. You’ve achieved so much so early in your life, you deserve to be celebrated. There’s a subdued smile on his face, hopefully one you interpret as encouragement to continue. 

With a small smile gracing your face at his kind reaction, you added, “I only recently finished actually– I did it simultaneously with the academy’s progr–”

He cut you off, “Congratulations– sorry.” Too eager. Since when am I the one doing the impressing? “You like studying,” he observed. The smile on your face, although small, seemed genuine. Your face and your posture increasingly relaxed the more you talked.

You breathe out a laugh, “A little.. A little too much maybe.” Looking at your hands, rearranging the rings that adorn your nimble fingers. 

Hotch’s face has softened. He didn’t notice by how much, but it has relaxed a lot more the longer he observes you, everything about you. He commits your every movement to his memory, every mannerism, chalking it up to some part of his assessment. Words that describe you flashing in his head: introverted, intelligent, beautiful, accomplished– He hasn’t read your file. He gave up on reading files three candidates ago and has been relying on his profiling skills to get him through. 

But there’s something about you. Something that he can’t figure out, can’t name or explain. He felt it the very first time your eyes met, which isn’t even an hour ago but feels damn near to ages ago. He’s feeling it deep in his bones– a tingling feeling, an electric current, a rush of excitement. His heart has been beating slower yet louder. He feels it strongly in his chest. 

It had made him silent for a minute, so you look up from your hands subtly to check if he’s alright. For a second you were worried that he had said something that you just didn’t pick up on, and he’s been waiting for you to respond. 

But as your eyes meet again, he feels he’s suddenly in unfamiliar territory, treading powerful waters, and he can do nothing but go along with it. 

You’re surprised by the look in his eyes, but the sudden silence is at the forefront of your mind and you try to diffuse it, “Uhm–”

He cuts you off again, “Tell me something about yourself that I won’t read on your file.” He had the same idea- to talk. But for you, it was to diffuse the silence you thought was a dead giveaway of how disastrous your interview’s turning out to be. To him, it was to get somewhere, anywhere.

He’s got this weird feeling– a desire to get you talking more, even though soon enough there will be an awakened part of him that is certain there will be more talking in store for you two in the future. 

“What?” You don’t know why you said that. You understood what he said. Now you probably helped him affirm in his head that you’re ditzy and possibly the least reliable candidate to make agent. 

But..you just caught him looking at you like he was in love with you. Now you’re officially crazy. Dark, compelling eyes calling to you– it threw you off. It wasn’t even the usual sickening look of love, it was more of this serious, earnest yearning- almost pained.

- 

Now while the two of you were battling awkwardness and inexplicable feelings, the team was watching the whole thing unfold through his office window like a silent film. In fact, Garcia and Derek were already sharing a bowl of popcorn he ran to microwave the second they all saw Hotch’s entire existence falter at your presence. 

“What– what is happening? They’re barely talking!” Garcia worries. You’re tiny and adorable, and you look so kind and so incredibly soft and fragile. She just wants to protect you regardless of having met you less than briefly, minutes ago. 

“Baby girl, look closely. Both are just nervous, blushing idiots. They’ve just gotta push through this. Aren’t I right?” Derek’s smart mouth smugly adds. Looking to Rossi for any confirmation that he had guessed right: Hotch has a crush. 

Ever the skilled lip-reader, Reid comments “It’s been six whole minutes and Hotch has only asked her to tell him about herself.” He ponders for a moment, tilting his head “And judging by his relaxed jaw movements, gestures, and the decreased amount of strain his neck shows, I’d say he’s speaking softer than his usual volume.” 

Essentially Hotch’s best friend, every member looks to Rossi for his reaction. If they need any sort of confirmation that they’re reading their boss man right, they only ever have to read his right hand man Rossi who wears how he feels and what he thinks like Garcia wears her individuality. 

But Rossi’s only looking back at Reid with twinkling eyes and a smug smile growing bigger by the second. He lets out a quiet laugh, turning back to see Hotch smiling at the girl who is unaware of the fool grinning at her, “Addition to the team my ass– he'll be adding her to his life."

[em1989ts]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

five hargreeves x reader

work count: 3.2k

book summary: five hargreeves gets lost in time and your father forces you to go after him, leaving you to get lost in a completely different kind of solitude. after decades, you meet at the hands of the handler, except you're not exactly happy to work with him after what he did. the two of you agree to put your differences aside until you save the world. how hard could that be?

author's note: i'm finally getting into a rhythm with this story, three chapters in less than a week?? couldn't be me omg, though i did write this all in one day on the floor of my hotel lmao. not proofread or edited, please interact and i hope you enjoy!

There are two different kinds of people who attend family reunions: 

One that doesn’t start any conversation and holds an approachable aura, and one that starts making a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. 

Five and Eight ignored their family as they stepped between them, making their way into the academy, leaving the adults puzzled and questioning what they just witnessed. The cuffs of their once neatly ironed and perfectly fitting pants were caught beneath their shoes, dragging mud onto the kitchen floors which Grace would eventually have to mop up. 

Eight pulled a wooden chair out from under the table, folding her hands together on the tabletop, waiting for her family to file into the kitchen and start bombarding them with questions. 

Of course she was happy to see them, she had missed them so much, but she found it hard to comprehend that they had all grown up without her. Feelings of anger arose in her for the thousandth time.

She hated Five for what he did. 

She hated Reginald for everything he’s ever done. 

Her fingernails had been digging into her skin. The screeching of her siblings wet shoes on the floor only irritated her further, her inner voice screaming for this dreadful conversation to commence.

The adults finally congregated in the kitchen, with Klaus sitting criss-crossed on top of the table. They all wore their funeral attire, yet Diego looked like a low budget vigilante. 

Five opened up the cupboards lining the walls of the kitchen looking for the necessary items for his sandwich. 

“What’s the date?” He asked as he set down a wooden cutting board and knife onto the table, “The exact date.” 

“The 24th,” Vanya responded. 

“Of what?”

“March.” 

Five quickly calculated how many days they had in his head. They had just enough time. 

“Good.”

Luther was fed up with Five’s lack of urgency to explain himself and sandwich making as he instigated, “So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?” All of the adults stared at Five waiting for an answer, expecting him to be the one to explain everything in his usual dismissive tone. 

Yet, he didn’t comment. 

He never looked up from the bread on the cutting board, prompting Luther to stand up with anger and say, “It’s been seventeen years.” 

“It’s been a lot longer than that.” 

The siblings all turned their heads to Eight, not expecting the statement to have come from her. The scoff however, they did expect. 

Suddenly, they jumped. The whoosh of Five’s blink that they hadn’t heard in years snapped their attention back to him. 

“I haven’t missed that,” Luther commented under his breath. 

“Where’d you go?” Diego asked as Five reached for the marshmallows above the cabinets, knowing that was exactly where Grace would hide them. 

“The future,” he answered as he blinked back to the end of the table, “It’s shit by the way.” 

“Called it!” Klaus remarked, playing with Eight’s braid as she sat there bothered. 

“I should’ve listened to the old man,” Five sighed, reaching into the fridge, “He knew. Jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” 

Five twisted open the jar of peanut butter and placed it in front of Eight. She glared at him. The smell of peanuts burned her eyes. She glared at him. Did he seriously credit Reginald for trying to warn him that day? Did he forget she went out of her way to try and stop him, she didn’t have to but she did. It’s not her fault he never listened to her but she was still right. 

Eight zoned out as Five complimented Klaus’s dress and continued to belittle the intelligence of their siblings. 

She didn’t want to listen any longer. She couldn’t bear the smell burning her nose, triggering her allergies. She couldn’t bear the wet clothes and drying mud on her skin. She couldn’t bear Klaus gently slapping her in the face with her braids. 

Only Klaus noticed as she disappeared into thin air, holding his hands out into the space where she once was. She had slipped through the dark shadow under the table and reappeared just outside the kitchen. The walls of the academy looked just as they did all those years ago. Climbing up the stairs slowly, Eight braced herself for the possibility she would bump into Pogo or Grace. Not that she was avoiding them, she just wanted to freshen up before their proper reunion. 

As she was making her way to her room, she traced along the cartoonish depictions of defensive plastered along the walls. She hesitated slightly before turning the doorknob into her old bedroom. 

There was no overhead light and her curtains were still drawn blocking the sun, so she left the door open a bit to let enough light in to look around. Her walls were black, absorbing as much light as possible. Books littered the floor in stacks, her bookshelves were filled to the max, unable to hold more literature. 

There were several candles around the room, as well as glass dishes filled with crystals, and ashtrays for incense. Grace was always worried the girl would burn the academy down one day, whether that was just her maternal instincts or her robotic programming, Eight never knew. 

She assumed there would be dust on everything, or maybe a few things would be sold or donated, but no. Everything was exactly how she kept it 16 years ago. Grace must have done some regular cleaning because everything was spotless. She wondered about how lonely she must have been. With her kids grown up and living their own lives. 

Eight had always wondered what her family had grown to be like without her. What happened to the academy after it had lost two members. Five had mentioned finding a book that Vanya had written in the apocalypse. He didn’t go into much detail, only saying she had revealed many family secrets, as well as the fact that Ben was dead.

Ben. 

She turned away from him as soon as he said it. Tears actually filled her eyes, and she couldn’t let him see that. Ben was her favorite sibling. The only person who she was comfortable sitting in silence with. They didn’t need casual conversation to fill their time together, they could simply sit with each other and read for hours. She never found out how it happened, and she never wanted to know. 

She went to close her door so she could change, and on the mirror that hung from it, she noticed a tear had snuck past her emotional walls and run down her cheek. It was gone in a second and she frowned and swiped it away. She locked the door and began to change into a clean uniform. 

Once she was fully changed and the dirty suit sat in a pile in the corner of her room, she walked over to the mirror to fix her tie before a blue light flashed in front of her. She jumped back slightly, even though she knew exactly who was intruding. 

Already changed into a clean uniform himself, Five stood before her, blocking the mirror. She shoved him aside so she could see herself and he moved to sit on her bed. 

“How much did you tell them?” Eight asked as she quickly did her tie. She could see Five looking around in the reflection of the mirror. 

“Enough for now,” he replied. 

He pulled out a prosthetic eyeball from his pocket. He had always brought up his concerns surrounding it, stating he believed whosoever eye it was would be the cause of the end of the world.  

“How are we gonna go about this?” Eight questioned, turning to face Five who stared at the eyeball as he turned it in his hand. 

“We start by attending our father’s funeral.” He sighed, placing the eye back in his pocket. 

She looked around for her dress shoes that went with her uniform, then she remembered she kept them underneath her bed to make space for more books. She knelt down on the floor and reached her arm under the comforter but couldn’t feel them. Lifting the blanket, she peaked her head under till she could see the leather shoes. 

Half her body was under the bed as she reached for them, until she felt a shoe on her hip, shoving her over. She heard a snicker and footsteps walking out the door. 

“Dick,” she grumbled as she retrieved her shoes and shuffled backward until she was free from the dark. She tugged her leather shoes on and made her way downstairs into the living room where she found Five and Vanya. 

She didn’t pay attention to their conversation. What she did notice was the very visible portrait of Five that hung in the center of the room that definitely wasn’t there before. 

How come he got a painting made specially in his honor when he was the idiot who ran off. If anything, Eight deserved a painting for unfortunately being lost in a noble sacrifice to help find him. Her look of disgust must’ve given her away, as Five came up to her and whispered, “Jealous much?” 

She glared and looked up at him, “Not when I burn it.” 

She hadn’t noticed that Vanya was no longer standing there, having already left to head outside for the funeral. The two teens made their way outside as well, forgoing the umbrellas, even though they had just changed into clean dry clothes. 

The funeral went exactly as one would’ve guessed it. Diego spoke out about how monstrous Reginald was, Luther obviously disagreed, and the two fought like toddlers over a crayon. Eight watched the scene, swatting Klaus’s hand away as he tried to move her further from the violence. It was a mess of disrespect all around, especially since the boys knocked over the statue in Ben’s remembrance during the brawl.

Eight scowled at this, she turned around and walked right back inside with Five following suit. 

Reginald deserved nothing. No kind words, no remembrance, nothing. What he deserved was someone to stick a cigarette in his muddy ashes. And that’s exactly what he got. 

~~~ 

After the funeral, everyone had pretty much decided there was no point in staying at the academy. Vanya had already called a taxi and booked it, feeling just as unwelcome as she did when she was thirteen, although Pogo’s kind words did make her feel a bit at home. 

Klaus had propped his bare feet up on the kitchen table while strumming an unplugged electric guitar. Eight and Five had been scouring the kitchen for any trace of caffeine. They flung open cabinet drawers and checked above the cabinets but could not find even the tiniest of espresso beans. 

Heels clicked against the floor announcing Allison’s entrance, “Where’s Vanya?” 

“Oh, she’s gone,” Klaus responded. Eight eyed him, wondering what exactly he was on at the present moment.

“That’s unfortunate,” Five signed, closing the cabinet and holding an empty jar, “An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, nineteen bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee.” 

“Dad hated caffeine,” Allison reminded him.

“Well, he hated children too and he had plenty of us,” Klaus giggled as he cradled the guitar. 

Five and Eight gave each other a look that told the other they were done with the current conversation. They were both in withdrawal, they had their last cup of coffee the morning of their Dallas assignment. That was technically the same day, but these two teens needed caffeine to function. 

“We’re taking the car,” Eight announced as they both headed for the pair of keys hanging from the wall.

Klaus sat up concerned, “Where are you two going?” 

“To get a decent cup of coffee,” Eight said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, grabbing the keys off the wall.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Allison asked skeptically. 

“I know how to do everything,” Five said as he snatched the keys from Eight and walked right out the door. 

Technically, she didn’t know how to drive, so she had no reason to be mad. But with Five, everything he did bothered her. 

She followed him outside into the dark, wet alleyway as they got in one of Reginald’s expensive vehicles. 

Five started the car and drove through the city streets with ease. Eight reached for the radio but he quickly swatted her hand away. They did this about four times before she gave up.

“Griddy’s?” She asked. 

“Where else?” 

As they pulled up to the old donut shop, the memories of when they were younger flooded back. They used to come here all the time when they would sneak out. There was always that sense of thrill they got when they left their beds and ran here together and ate donuts until they couldn’t handle anymore sugar. Of course this wasn’t unnoticed, as Pogo always had an eye on them, but he knew the children loved this time together, so he never told a soul. 

The two walked in as the bell rang above their heads, and sat on the stools next to an older man who was the only other customer. 

Five impatiently rang the bell a few times, prompting an annoyed Eight to grab his wrist and pull it away.

She scanned the area. It looked exactly the same as it did over sixteen years ago. She wondered if that same lady was still working here. 

Her question was answered as the donut lady walked out from the back room and stood behind the counter, ready to take their orders. 

“Sorry, sink was clogged,” she apologized while getting out her pen and notepad, “So, what’ll it be?”

The old guy next to them ordered a chocolate eclair, and as she wrote that down she jokingly asked, “Can I get the kids a glass of milk or something?” 

Did she seriously think they were related to the trucker? Yes, yes she did.

“The kids want coffee. Black,” Five ordered. 

“Please,” Eight corrected him as she kicked him. She saw no reason to be rude to someone simply doing her job. 

As she nodded and turned around to get started on their orders, Five kicked back, causing Eight to kick back. They went back and forth a few times until Five grabbed her thigh to get her to stop.

“Quit it.” 

Eight stopped, but only because she was taken aback a bit by his action. 

Also because he totally started it. 

Eight stared at the countertop as she zoned out, not listening to the conversation where Five had gotten information out of the man next to him. 

Eventually, their orders were placed in front of them and the donut lady went into the back to get more change. The old guy was kind enough to pay for their coffees which they thanked him for, and he left, the bell signaling his exit. 

However, the bell rang once more, yet Five and Eight could see exactly who it was in the reflection in the bell on the counter. 

A swarm of commission gunmen entered, guns pointed directly at their skulls, yet the two teens sipped their coffee unbothered. 

“That was fast,” Five remarked, “I thought we’d have more time before they found us.” 

“Okay, so let’s all be professional about this, yeah?” One of the gunmen came up close, pointing his gun at Five’s head, “On your feet and come with us. They want to talk.” 

“We’ve got nothing to say,” Eight said, lowering her coffee cup from her lips. 

“It doesn’t have to go this way,” the gunman said, “You think I want to shoot a couple kids, go home with that on my conscience?” 

“Well I wouldn’t worry about that,” Five chucked quietly, wrapping his fingers slowly around a butter knife. 

“You won’t be going home,” Eight smirked as she disappeared into her shadow, before reappearing behind one of the men, snapping their neck, before disappearing again. Five blinked and stabbed a few here and there. 

Gunshots rang through the donut shop, glass flying everywhere, bullets ricocheting. 

Soon enough, every single gunman was taken out. It was inevitable, no commission agent was better than Five and Eight. 

Five had used his tie to snap the neck of one of them, which he retrieved and tied back on as he went over to the countertop. They both took turns cutting out their tracking devices, each cutting deep incisions into the other’s arm and fishing out the pill-shaped light. They may or may not have dug around a few seconds longer than needed, just to watch the other squirm in pain. 

The two of them walked out proudly, leaving their bloody mess behind for the donut lady and cops to find. 

Eight was about to walk up to the car when she noticed Five walked right past it. Confused, she sped up a little to catch up to him.

“Hello? Why are we ditching the car? Where are we going?” she questioned. 

“Vanya’s,” was all he said as we walked onto the sidewalk. 

“But we’re leaving a trace?” She reminded, as if Five was stupid.

“So,” he scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and he stared straight ahead, “Our DNA is on those mugs and our blood is all over the counter top. It’s even on the fucking murder weapon. Either way, they won’t be able to find us.” 

“Fine,” she admitted, “Well then why are we heading to Vanya’s?” 

Five had had enough of her questions, which she could tell, yet she still wanted answers. 

“Hello?” she walked backwards in front of him, waving her hands in his face. He shoved her to the side and she retaliated by shoving him into oncoming traffic. 

He blinked before he fell in front of a car and reappeared in front of her, causing her to bump into his chest. 

He didn’t look too happy once she looked up at him so they continued walking. Eight asked no further questions for the rest of the walk.

Once they got into Vanya’s apartment, they sat down on the couches she had in her living room. Surprisingly, she wasn’t home yet, so Eight decided to take a nap on the couch while they waited for her to return home.

The cut along her forearm stung like hell yet she didn’t have the energy to go looking for a first aid kit. She kicked her shoes off and grabbed one of the throw pillows at the end of the couch, nestling her head on it.

Before she closed her eyes for good, she took a peak at Five, who sat in a chair and once again took out the eyeball, turning it, analyzing it.

She wondered what the hell would’ve changed about it in the last five decades as she slowly fell asleep. 

☂︎

~~~

tags: @groovydazephantom

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 4

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent (Reader doesn't know Sylus is also watching her and gets a little handsy with hersef)

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

The sterile lighting of Captain Jenna’s office cast an unforgiving glow over every surface, from the polished metal of her desk to the file she had in front of her. Your file. The office that had once brought you comfort, now felt cold and oppressive, leaving your nerves on fire. You had been back in the office for only a few hours, just enough time to settle in, before being summoned by your boss. Now, sitting across from her, you could feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on you, like an invisible shackle tightening around your chest.

Jenna’s gaze was sharp and assessing, but there was an unusual glint in her eyes - something unreadable. She would never allow herself to show it, but you knew she held a soft spot for you. Which made you feel even more nervous about the upcoming discussion. Her voice was cool and controlled, as she opened the file and glanced over the last official report before your unexpected week off. 

"So," she began, folding her hands on top of the document, "how have things been progressing? Your notes have been detailed and useful but I wanted to get your view on the situation"

You took a steadying breath, careful to keep your expression neutral, but a faint pulse of anxiety beat under your calm exterior. "I've managed to observe some of his business dealings, mostly just meetings in the N109 zone," you replied, keeping your tone casual. "But... so far, everything I've seen has seemed pretty routine. Business transactions, nothing overtly illegal. I have got a good sense of his routine though, and he does seem to be a creature of habit."

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of scepticism flickering across her face. "Routine transactions in the N109 zone? That’s all" she repeated, almost as if testing you. "Sylus’ illegal activities are well known by the association, I doubt he’s been acting completely above board.” She levelled her gaze at you and you felt your stomach drop. “We need more than just routine observations from you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and a pang of guilt twisted through you, but you forced yourself to stay steady, meeting her gaze. "I know. And I’m keeping a close eye, but he’s... careful. Nothing about his movements or meetings have given me any solid evidence, yet. But I’m dedicated to ensuring this mission’s success Captain," The words rolled off your tongue with a practised ease that surprised even you, each one a hint of a betrayal that somehow felt both foreign and familiar. 

In truth, the images of Sylus and the blood-stained floors of that dimly lit warehouse were burned into your memory. No amount of justification could scrub them clean, but telling Jenna about that night felt like exposing something raw and vulnerable within yourself. As if reporting it would make your twisted sense of loyalty, of protectiveness, suddenly real and undeniable. You physically couldn’t tell her. 

Jenna nodded slowly, but her eyes hadn’t lost that calculating gleam. "How about this recent meeting with Albert Clements?" she asked, as she flicked through the reports, indicating that specific entry. "There’s been reports that he’s interested in joining forces with Sylus. That could be dangerous, of course, an alliance between his father’s company and Onychinus." Her tone was probing, likely due to that entry being short and noticeably lacking detail. 

You forced a nonchalant shrug, doing your best to appear unaffected, even as the memory of that night flashed vividly behind your eyes. "I was there to observe, but it seemed more like preliminary talks. Clements wants to make a name for himself, but he hasn’t done much yet to earn Sylus’s trust. I don’t think an alliance is likely Captain. Sylus seemed uninterested in the discussion, almost as if he was distracted by something.” 

Captain Jenna tapped her fingers on the file, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Anything else you think I should know? Unusual patterns? Allies he seems particularly close to?"

For a brief moment, you could still feel the ghostly weight of the gun in your hand, hear the muffled shot as you’d acted without hesitation, saving Sylus from betrayal. Allies? Did you count? But instead of confessing, you kept your face impassive, letting none of it show. "Not particularly," you answered, your voice even. "Nothing that stands out."

The silence stretched, her gaze unrelenting as she seemed to study the depths of your expression. A faint tremor rippled through you, but you buried it deep, knowing that any crack, any flicker of doubt, could unravel everything.

Jenna leaned back in her chair and sighed. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face as her gaze bored into you. "Look," she said, her voice softening slightly, almost as if reaching for an understanding. "I know this assignment is intense, and the N109 zone isn’t an easy place to navigate, but you have to give me something. You’ve been a dependable asset to the Association, Y/N. Your record is commendable. That being said, I need to present something to the higher-ups to prove it." There was a moment’s pause as she regarded you with something close to concern. 

You nodded, trying to maintain an air of confidence. “I understand Captain, I think it might just be that this mission will take a little longer than expected.” Taking a deep breath, you steeled your expression further, fully committing to the web of lies you were spinning. “Captain, I want to do this right, to make sure I have the best information possible so I’m not willing to rush this. You can tell your superiors that I’m fully committed to doing this to the best of my abilities and to that, I need time. There’s a reason that all the other missions failed before me, maybe the common thread is expecting results too soon. Nothing good will come from rushing in and making mistakes.” The words flowed out of you, the slight edge to them spoke of your resolve. Resolve for what? Well, that remained to be seen.

Captain Jenna nodded, the ghost of a smile crossing her lips. "Okay, now that, I can work with. Just remember, the Association has your back. If anything feels off, or if you need help, I need you to report it. I don’t want you getting too deep in this, it isn’t worth losing yourself over. I know you can do this and do it well."

The words struck something deep inside you, a pang of conflict twisting through you. It was almost laughable how far you'd drifted from the Association’s purpose, how tangled you'd become in your own emotions. But you nodded, forcing a small smile to settle on your lips, playing into the comfortable rapport that you two shared. "Understood, Captain," you replied, voice steady. "I’ll make sure to keep that in mind"

Jenna seemed to scrutinise you for a long moment, her gaze heavy with the weight of her expectations. Despite her doubts, you knew she believed in you, in your integrity, that you could stand firm in the face of whatever Sylus represented. And that faith, unspoken but palpable, twisted your gut with a wave of guilt you barely managed to keep hidden.

Finally, she closed the file, tapping it thoughtfully before looking up at you. "I've been thinking that it might be time we begin to push this mission forward," she said, her tone resolute. "Keeping tabs on his routines and associates is all well and good for establishing a preliminary, but if you’re not able to observe anything more useful soon, I think it’s time to move into the second phase of this operation."

Your throat tightened. "The second phase?" you echoed, already knowing the answer.

Jenna nodded. "Start to gain his trust. Get close to him and make contact with him. Become someone useful, someone he can rely on. It’s time to start creating opportunities to make him believe you’re on his side. We should start refining the identity we set up for you. I’ll have someone start working on it"

The weight of her directive settled heavily on you, every syllable pressing against the tangled mess of emotions you’d been hiding. You forced yourself to nod, even as your mind spun, grappling with the impossibility of what she was asking. The idea of getting closer to Sylus, of creating trust, felt like playing with fire - but it also ignited a treacherous thrill inside you. The idea of meeting him finally, having his crimson eyes focused on you, and his sweet honeyed voice saying your name, made your excitement swell.

Jenna's voice softened, her eyes steady. "Just remember... This mission is about bringing him to justice, not getting caught up in his world. You have to maintain your integrity while getting close to him, okay? Don’t lose who you are.” She warned you. “The Hunter’s association will not pardon any illegal activity during this mission unless it’s absolutely necessary, and there will be an investigation should that happen. From now on your reports need to be more detailed.” 

"Understood, Captain," you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. 

You swallowed hard, the conflict simmering beneath the surface as you held her gaze. She had no idea how blurred those lines had already become, how far you’d drifted from the Association’s purpose. And as you turned to leave, Jenna’s words echoed in your mind, a relentless reminder of the path you were supposed to be walking.

As you stepped out of her office, a sense of foreboding settled over you. You knew you were spiralling into a darkness that neither the Association nor Jenna could pull you from. 

The meeting with Captain Jenna had allowed you to return to surveillance within only a few days of your return to work. It was nice to do away with the usual week of desk work you'd expected to be on after a period of sickness like that. You’d settled back into the routine easily. Daily reports; endless streams of surveillance footage; and the sterile language of mission updates all felt hollow like a pale imitation of the vibrant, chaotic world Sylus inhabited. You’d taken Captain Jenna’s advice, making your reports much more detailed. The fear of being removed from the mission was enough to spark you into overdrive, prompting you to add little embellishments here and there to the official documentation. Well maybe that wasn’t quite true. You’d begun to flat out lie in order to ensure that your reports were satisfactory by the Association’s standards. 

There was only one bright spot that pierced through the dull haze: him. Seeing Sylus, even from a distance, was like inhaling fresh air after being trapped in a suffocating room. His presence was magnetic and ensured that the monotony of your days was well worth the effort you took to remain on this mission. 

The seasons had begun to shift back in Linkon. The crisp mornings and early sunsets reminded you of how fragile the boundary between day and night had become as summer’s oppressive heat gave way to autumn’s cooler days and crisp air. The change was almost imperceptible in the N109 zone however, where the sun rarely shone and the air always seemed thick with tension. The city was dangerous enough in the light, but under the cover of darkness, it transformed into something feral and untamed.

It was one such night that finally tipped you over the edge. 

You had been trailing Sylus all day, tracking his movements with the kind of precision that had become second nature to you now. He’d had a quiet day - no business meetings in his usual haunts, no deals or auctions attended, just the occasional basic errand that seemed beneath a man of his stature. When you finally overheard a mention of him heading to one of his clubs for an “appointment,” your pulse quickened. At last, a change in scenery.

The club he mentioned, Opal Veil, was one of only a few in his business portfolio that you hadn’t visited yet but you knew enough about its general dealings to know that a field trip there would be no walk in the park. Its reputation preceded it - Opal Veil was an exclusive haven for the N109 zone’s elite, where power and wealth mingled under the dim glow of neon lights. The kind of place where alliances were forged over expensive drinks and betrayals were whispered between beats of the music. This wasn’t just a club. It was a domain, his domain.

As you approached the club that evening, it loomed before you like a jewel in the dark. The neon signage bathed the street in a soft, otherworldly glow, the bold letters of standing out against the grimy backdrop of the city. It seemed entirely out of place in the barren alleyway. The low thumping bassline of the music seemed to rattle the building, the boarded up windows rattling slightly as the beat thrummed. Two towering figures flanked the entrance. Their sharp suits and unconcealed firearms marked them as far more than simple bouncers they were clearly not to be messed with. You took a deep breath and continued towards them with what you hoped was an air of arrogance. They watched you approach, their gazes hard and assessing. Both men turned to look at one another, a silent conversation taking place despite no words ever being said out loud. This was it, you were about to lose your chance to get inside. You prepared yourself to be turned away but to your surprise, they stepped aside without a word, allowing you to pass.

Inside, the club was a world of its own. Golden light spilled from ornate fixtures, illuminating the velvet booths and polished wood floors. The bar gleamed under the glow of recessed lighting, patrons flashing black cards and stacks of cash to catch the attention of the overwhelmed bartenders. The dance floor was a sea of movement, bodies swaying and shifting like a tide under the hypnotic pulse of the music. The scent of cigars, top-shelf liquor, and the faint metallic tang of power filled the air, mingling with the subtle but ever-present smell of danger.

Your outfit - a slinky black dress that clung to your curves in ways you weren’t entirely comfortable with - felt almost like a costume. The hemline barely brushed your thighs, and the plunging neckline revealed far more than you’d ever consider appropriate for work, but in a place like this, blending in was paramount. The gun tucked into your clutch was a poor substitute for your usual holster, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You adjusted the dress once more as you stepped deeper into the club, willing yourself to stay focused.

You were momentarily tipped off balance by an incoming wave of men all dressed in black and clearly not newcomers like you. As they brushed past you, you felt a hand caress your ass and jumped at the contact, feeling completely out of your depth. No one else in the club seemed out of pace, their confidence came from understanding that they were right where they belonged.  People moved with purpose, predators wrapped in silk and sharp suits, their laughter sharp and hollow. Your gaze darted around the room, taking in the opulence and seedy undertones that clung to every corner.

You needed to compose yourself or your presence here would stick out like a sore thumb. You slipped into the bathroom, a sanctuary of warmth and soft golden light. The granite countertop gleamed under suspended lamps, and the faint scent of cedar and expensive soap lingered in the air. You leaned against the cool surface of the sink, your reflection staring back at you.

Your makeup was still flawless, your eyes sharp, but the tension in your shoulders betrayed the nerves simmering beneath your skin. You took a shaky breath, then another, trying to steady yourself. This was just another mission, you reminded yourself. Nothing more. You re-applied your lipstick with slow precision, forcing your trembling hands to still. The glossy sheen felt like a mask - a layer of confidence you desperately needed.

You straightened your posture, smoothing your dress as you turned toward the door. You’d gotten through tougher situations before, you told yourself. This was no different.

But the moment you stepped back into the main room, the world shifted.

Your eyes found him instantly, as though your gaze was magnetically drawn to him, his presence unmistakeable even in the crowded room. Sylus lounged in a private booth, the golden light casting a warm glow over his sharp features. His silver hair caught the light in a way that made it appear almost ethereal, though nothing about him could be called soft. He radiated control and confidence. 

His tailored grey shirt hugged his broad chest and shoulders perfectly, the fabric stretching slightly with every subtle movement. A leather harness wrapped around his torso accentuating the powerful lines and defined musculature beneath. His long legs were stretched out beneath the table, the dark fabric of his trousers perfectly fitted to his form. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Your breath caught as you took him in, the sight of him sending an unbidden heat coursing through your veins. Even seated, he commanded the space, his every movement deliberate, calculated. The smirk playing on his lips suggested he knew exactly how captivating he was—and exactly who was watching him.

Sylus leaned forward slightly, the glow of the light above catching on the sharp planes of his jaw as his gaze flicked across the room, taking everything in with that predatory sharpness. Even here, surrounded by indulgence and luxury, and the elite, he stood out as a person of power. 

And then you saw her.

Lucienne Carrion. The name alone was enough to make your stomach twist. The ruthless leader of Vokoti, an organisation that worked similarly to Onychinus but held nowhere near the same amount of power. . She was dressed in a striking red gown, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin and revealing legs that seemed to stretch for miles. Her dark hair was swept back, her sharp features softened only by the sultry smile she wore as she leaned in close to Sylus. Too close. Her hand rested on his thigh, her long nails tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his trousers. 

Your stomach churned, anger and jealousy twisting together into a suffocating knot. The sight of her touching him ignited something primal in you, a possessiveness that you had no right to feel but couldn’t suppress. He didn’t even know you existed, and yet you felt betrayed, as though his presence with her was a personal affront.

Your mind spiralled, torn between the irrational anger bubbling within you and the cold logic that tried to tell you this wasn’t real. He was supposed to be untouchable, yet here he was, letting her get closer than anyone else ever had. The rational part of your brain left the room, leaving you with only one conclusion to make. The fucker was on a date. He doesn’t know you, the rational part of your mind whispered, but that voice was drowned out by the rush of jealousy that left your hands trembling. 

You moved to the bar, ordering a drink to steady yourself. From your vantage point, you watched them closely, every touch between them like a dagger to your chest. You imagined Lucienne’s head hitting the polished wood of the table, over and over again until the smug smile on her face was replaced by nothing but blood and broken teeth. The thought was so vivid it startled you, and you shook your head, trying to clear the violent imagery.

Sylus’s carmine eyes flicked briefly in your direction, a smirk ghosting across his lips before he turned his attention back to Lucienne. The movement was subtle, so subtle that you missed it entirely.

Sylus grew even more smug at what that little look had revealed to him. He knew you were there. Of course he did. Sylus was always aware of his surroundings, and you had become a part of his landscape - one he found endlessly amusing. He had clocked you the second you had stepped into his club. After all, the security had given him a heads up that his special guest had arrived, just as he knew you would. 

You looked far too tempting for Sylus’ preference. He’d found his thoughts wandering back to the night he’d seen you pleasuring yourself, how delicious your body had looked as you’d writhed in pleasure. Seeing you in that risky little number had his entire body on edge with need.

Pretty little hunter, he thought, the smirk deepening as he watched you from the corner of his eye. The tension in your posture, the way your gaze darted between him and Lucienne - it was written all over you. And oh, how he loved it. You were jealous, and he found it utterly delightful. A spark of satisfaction and pride ran through him, and he leaned into her touch, placing his hand lightly over Lucienne’s as if to seal the intimacy between them.

The sight made your stomach drop, but Sylus felt nothing but delight. He could see the tension in your posture, the way your drink sat untouched on the bar as your attention remained locked on him. Pretty little hunter, he thought with a smirk. How adorable you were, sitting there stewing in jealousy, your emotions practically written across your face.

He leaned closer to Lucienne, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh, the sound low and sultry. He didn’t care about Lucienne, this was a business meeting after all, but the way your jaw tightened at the sight of them together was worth every second of the charade.

Your nails bit into the flesh of your palm, the pain grounding you just enough to keep your composure. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t matter, but the bitter taste of betrayal lingered on your tongue. You had killed a man to protect him, had risked everything for him, and now here he was, laughing and leaning into this bitch - allowing someone like her to touch him as though it meant nothing. 

Lucienne’s laughter rang out, a low, sultry sound that only added fuel to the fire burning in your chest. And Sylus - how could he be so casual, so unaffected, when he had consumed your every waking thought? 

Sylus stood, adjusting his shirt collar as he prepared to leave. Lucienne rose with him, her hand trailing down his arm in a gesture that made your teeth clench. He nodded to one of his men, his attention briefly drawn to the movement near the bar. You slipped deeper into the shadows, your mind racing.

How dare he move so freely, so unaffected, while he had consumed every part of you? It wasn’t fair. He had taken up so much space in your mind, haunted your every thought, and yet he lived his life without even a flicker of acknowledgment for what he had done to you. 

As Sylus rose from the booth, Lucienne following closely behind him, you made a decision. You were done playing by the rules of the Hunter’s Association, done trying to reconcile your obsession with the mission. If Sylus was going to consume your every thought, then you would make sure he had no choice but to notice you.

The mission didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was Sylus - and making him yours, no matter the cost. 

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

Chapter 4 is finally done! This one took me so long and I'm still not entirely happy with it to be honest but if I have to look at it for another day, I might cry!

Please let me know what you think  

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Haunted: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader (feat: Mike Franks)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @riley-kore @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Companion piece to:

The Ice Queen - Gibbs meets The Ice Queen for the first time.

Break The Ice - A act of decency helps Gibbs to break the ice.

Grave - You and Gibbs bump into each other in an unexpected place.

Safe - You and Gibbs work through your grief in different ways.

Check In - Gibbs checks in with you after the night before.

Wait It Out - You and Gibbs wait out a threat to your saftey.

All Dressed Up - You and Gibbs have a frank conversation about an office event.

Right Here - You come home to find Gibbs waiting for you on your doorstep.

Revelations - Gibbs is surprised to discover a connection between you and Mike Franks.

There are three cases that haunt Mike Franks.

The Gibbs case, the Larsen case and your sister’s case, the one that was never his to begin with. After all they don’t let special agents investigate the death of someone close to them, especially not the woman that was about to become your spouse.

It hadn’t stopped Mike from hounding the agents that were working the case, sifting through their files or surveying their interviews from the opposite side of the interrogation room window.

It had earned him a suspension, forced bereavement leave they called it.

He’d checked out for a while after that, booze, fights, the whole nine yards. You’d bailed him out more than a handful of times because you couldn’t let the man who had loved your sister throw away his life or his career.

He gets his shit together just in time for the funeral, then spirals again right after.

“She wouldn’t want this for you.” You tell him one night as the two of you sit in your living room trying to regroup. He’s clasping an ice pack to his knuckles from another fight and you’re stitching up the cut above his eye from some asshole’s class ring. “It’s time to put on your big boy pants and start doing the shit she fell in love with you for instead of this nonsense.”

“You don’t understand.” He finds himself saying, his voice raw as the thread tugs tightly, pulling the edges of the wound together. “It’s like I have all this rage, all this emotion but there’s no where for it to go, no one to blame…”

Because they haven’t found the man that brutalised Violet and that case, it just gets colder every day.

“And you Maeve, you just don’t seem to feel a damn thing.”

“That’s because I don’t.” You tell him frankly, sniping the tail off the stitches before sitting down on the coffee table so you can meet his gaze. “I’ve been empty ever since the day they’d found her dead.”

And that’s when he realises you’re depressed.

You’ve spent all this time looking out for him…

And he’s done jack shit for you.

He makes you a promise that night, while he’s sprawled out on your couch. He’ll do whatever he can to pull you out of this fog because he knows where that numbness leads.

You don’t have a gun so he guesses it’ll be slit wrists in a bathtub or a handful of pills down your throat. They’re usually ladies choice.

So he gets his shit together, goes back to work, starts making an effort. He makes sure to check in on you, get you out of the house, dinner, drinks, walks with Gary. You start to come back to the world again and so does he.

It’s when he starts to date again that things hit a speed bump. The moment you see him with another woman, it’s like a flip switches inside you because you realise Mike can just move on, find someone else to take up the position that Violet filled in his life but you can’t, you can’t replace your sister.

The fight you have that night, it’s the first time you’ve exhibited any emotion about Violet’s death. You scream, you shout, you throw crockery and Mike, he just takes it because this is what he’s been waiting for, the moment you admit to yourself that Violet’s gone, that she’s never coming back.

You get distant after that, colder. When he approaches you a few weeks later you make it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him. As far as you’re concerned any personal connection between the two of you died with your sister.

It wounds him in a way he doesn’t care to admit but he respects your wishes because he understands that this, this is how you move on.

Now he’s sitting in your office, on the opposite side of your desk because the probie, he’s been digging through your sister’s case and he thinks he’s found something, and Mike kinda thinks he has too. He just needs you to make sure.  

“They never found her engagement ring.” Mike tells you, his elbows coming to rest upon your desk as he leans forward, his hands clasped together on top of the blue folder he’s placed there. “I was too fucked up to notice at the time. Is there any chance you have it?”

It’s a distinctive piece. An aquamarine stone set amongst a couple of diamonds in a silver band. It had cost him a couple of months salary but it had been worth it at the time because that gem, it had been the exact colour of Violet’s eyes.

“No.” You say softly, your eyebrows furrowing into a frown. “I thought you’d kept it afterwards as a keepsake.”

He sees the realisation hit you, about what must have happened to that ring. He knows it’s like a gut punch because that’s exactly the way that he felt when Gibbs asked him the question. The other man had spent hours trawling through those evidence logs trying to locate it. Mike has to give him his due diligence, he’s spotted something nobody else did, even though he wasn’t supposed to be working the case.

“You think that son of a bitch took it?” You ask him. There’s a dangerous lilt in your voice, one he recognises from the last time the two of you were in the same proximity.

“I do.” He says and he watches you literally bite your tongue in order to stop yourself from cursing out the assholes who clearly dropped the fucking ball with Violet’s case. They’ve moved on now, retired, he’d had Gibbs and Lala check in because he didn’t trust himself not to tear them a new one.

“What does that mean?” You ask him, agitated. “That she was a victim of a serial? Those guys like to take trophies right?”

“Actually, we’re thinking a little more close to home.” He says as he pushes the blue folder towards you with his fingertips. “I got Strickland to put together a profile. I wanted to see if it fit anyone from back then, someone that was in her life, maybe someone I didn’t know…”

There’s a reluctance in you, he sees it. The thing is this folder, it’s a grenade. It has the power to tear your whole life apart and you’re just getting back on your feet, you’re just starting to climb out of that hole you’ve been trapped in for so fucking long.

“I still dream about her Maeve,” He tells you with a tremor in his voice. “I’m with someone else, in love with her but Violet’s ghost, it still haunts me.”

Your hands are shaking when you open the folder, you swallow hard against the ache in your chest as you study the words written in Strickland’s neat scrawl. Age, behaviours, job description. It’s like you’re seeing him clear as day, leaping up at you from between the pages.

“Maeve…” Mike says as he studies the expression on your face. “Do you know him?”

There’s an agony in you, it’s excruciating because this son of a bitch, he still visits your sister’s grave. He puts white lilies against the headstone, every birthday and Christmas because they were friends, such good fucking friends.

“Yea.” You say, your voice devoid of emotion as your gaze sweeps up to meet Mike’s. “I fucking do.”

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