#fbi self insert

[thestarrynightslover]

When You Know, You Know

Pairing: Stuart Scola x Reader

Word count: 1,525

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Summary: You and Stuart had been dating for quite a while when it was finally time to tie the knot. Marriage imagine.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the FBI shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first Stuart Scola fic and I can only hope that it isn’t too bad. Feel free to send feedback! 

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

As he took in your figure in that gorgeous wedding dress, your fiancé — soon-to-be-husband — couldn't help but drop his jaw.

Stuart Scola had faced a lot throughout his life. From getting to succeed in the Wall Street jungle, to facing his family's judgment for his career change — and losing all of his so-called friends —, to making it in the FBI, with all the mockery that followed him everywhere. Not to mention the job itself, deliberately putting himself in harm's way every day… But nothing had scared or got him as nervous as asking you out for the first time.

It wasn't that you were a scary person or anything because you weren't. He just looked at you like there was no one else from day one, and, because of that, you seemed too good, too much, to ever wanna go out with him of all people. And, somehow, he just knew that you were his only shot, because you'd ruined him for anyone else without even trying.

It was a hot, sunny day when the two of you met: Stuart was working on a case that had him chasing a perp through the streets of New York City, as usual. Everything was going by the same old way until he disastrously bumped into — more like fell on top of — someone, correcting his own thoughts, as he took a look at you beneath him, he began to think of you as the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and, of course, that had to had happened while he was on the job and shamefully on top of, who hadn’t banged your head in the cement solely because the agent’s reflexes had kicked in and he’d quickly put his hand under it. Right as he’d started to lift himself, Scola had a jumpscare out of his admiration trance when his radio sounded, awfully loud: it was OA telling the other agents that he’d caught the criminal, so everybody could stop the chase and head back to HQ. A minute too long after the radio message came through and Stuart didn’t make another move to leave the awkward position the two of you were into, you decided it was time you’d reacted:

“So, um, you’re really not planning on going anywhere, officer?” You asked, mistaking his bulletproof vest for one regular cops would wear.

“Y- yeah, of course, ma’am, I’m so- sorry for the inconvenience,” he started, already the most nervous he’d ever been. “I’m actually an FBI agent but that’s a common mistake.” He said already standing up and helping you up before people stopped going around your lying figure to start going over you. “Are you okay, though?” He asked, truly worried as you hadn’t stated anything else.

“Yeah, I- I think so. My butt took most of our fall though!” You attempted at a joke, only then starting to realize how handsome the guy standing in front of you was. And you’d already found his nervousness cute. The actual thought in your head was: handsome, cute, employed, and polite in NYC? What a catch — okay, maybe your expectations were a tad low. Still, you’d never really had the opportunity to meet one of those in the city you’d moved into not long ago. But what really settled your delight for the man was how flustered he’d looked as he said:

“Maybe I can help with that, back at HQ!” A moment later, he added: “Not in that way! Of c- course, I don’t mean any disrespect of any kind! I just thought that maybe, maybe-”

“It’s okay, agent, um,” you started stopping to read the nametag on his vest, “Scola. I’ll be fine!”

“Oh, please, call me Stuart. If you’d like, of course…”

“Stuart it is, then! I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).” You answered, as a small smile started forming on your lips, mirroring his own smile. That was when he heard in his ear comm the gruff voice of Jubal shouting to his agent:

“Ask her out and get back here already, Scola!” In agreement with the boss, Stuart heard basically his entire FBI team shout:

“Ask her! Ask her!”

So he gulped down and said: “Listen, (y/n), I, uh, was wondering if you may consider going out with me any of these days?” He phrased it so politely that you were barely sure what he was asking but you, obviously, already knew your answer.

“Yes, Stuart, I’d very much like that.”

“Well- Well, I, uh, I’m very glad to hear that! But now I have to go back to work…” He said, starting to turn around but your voice stopped his movements:

“Okay but aren’t you gonna ask for my number?” You asked amused as hell by the man in front of you.

“Ah, yes! Yes, of course!” He said taking out his phone so you could put your number in it.

So, now — as you walked down the church's decorated aisle —, all he kept thinking was that, somehow, you managed to become more perfect every day, and, that he was damn lucky to get to love you. With those thoughts on repeat and with his mouth still open was how you met him at the altar.

"Stuart!" You hissed, "close your mouth or the photos will look awful!" He did as you told him, very slowly. You being that closer to him… Your smell along with all of that princess-like production… How could he possibly think?

"Sorry, darling…" He started to say, still looking very much taken aback. "It's just that… I still can't believe that I'm actually marrying you…" Hearing that, you gave him a bright knowing smile. Same old Stu…

"Huh… Well, then, maybe you'd like to confirm with the priest?" You asked him playfully, just to try and get him back to Earth.

"Uh? Priest, yeah. That sounds good!" But when he turned to the man in the robe, you realized he was actually doing it. “Excuse me, um, sir, but can you confirm that I really am marrying this gorgeous woman?” For God’s sake, you wanted to slap him. To look outraged. To pretend you didn’t know him. But all you could do was grin even more widely than you were already doing. Your stupid, romantic man…

“Yes, my son, I can confirm that. If it’s what you both desire, of course.” The priest answered with a kind smile.

“I can only hope that is what she desires cause there’s nothing I’d want more!” He shot back, giving you a wink.

“Okay, I think we can get on with the ceremony now that you’re no longer looking like a codfish.” You said, trying to sound annoyed while hiding your smile. 

That seemed to convince the priest, who took the chance to salute the guests and the two of you, properly starting your wedding.

Now, you would be lying if you tried to say that most of his words made it to your ears. Just like your soon-to-be husband, you had completely zoned out. He was really going to be yours for the rest of your lives. Stuart Scola. That magnetic force of man was going to be your lover for the ages to come.

And, with that on your mind, you were somehow awakened from your trail of thoughts when the priest asked:

“Miss (y/n) (y/l/n), will you take mister Stuart Scola to be your husband?” To which you happily responded with a sonorous:

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” So it was time for your fiancé to answer his question.

“Mister Stuart Scola, will you take Miss (y/n) (y/l/n) to be your wife?”

“Of course I will, sir!”

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

And, so, your husband did as he was told. Giving you your first kiss as a married woman. And what a kiss! It was a good thing he was holding you, otherwise, your legs might have succumbed.

Following that was the applause from all of your guests and the reception party. All of which seemed to go by in a blur, as much as you kept trying to make lasting memories, and, next thing you knew, it was just you and Stuart at the hotel where you were spending your honeymoon. As you reached the room, before you could barely think about anything, your husband surprised you by taking your feet off the ground, and carrying you bridal-style through the door. About which he just said:

“Traditions are traditions, honey!”

“Oh, Stu!” You squealed out, not caring that the other guests might hear you.

Then, he walked you both to the bed, where he gently laid you, only to start tickling you, who, obviously, burst out in laughter.

“Stu! Stuart, please stop! I can’t breathe!” Hearing that, he immediately stopped.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. The moment he asked it though, you took the opportunity to start tickling him back, which only got you both into an established tickle fight intercaled with quick kisses here and there.

Yeah, it was gonna be a long night…

[angellic4l]

la vita è bella - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader and season2!spencer see a foreign film together after work.

content: fem!reader and season2!spencer, they’re so in loveee, fluffy fluff, mentions of drinking but no one actually does it, brief mention of spencer’s germaphobia, mention of the holocaust and ww2.

a/n: i wrote this all in one go bc my draft that i’m working on is so not ready, so i apologise if it’s bad. also, la vita é bella means life is beautiful, the Italian name of the film, which is why i called the fic that. WAIT I JUST READ IT AND I NEED TO SAY I DON’T THINK ELLE IS MEAN I LOVE ELLE! anyway, kisses!!

After a pretty rare, uneventful day at the BAU - just hours of paperwork, filing, reports, and a lot of team banter - the team of profilers begin to pack up. Coats are lifted from the backs of chairs, bags slung over shoulders, chairs put under desks, and a chorus of contented sighs coming from the agents.

The team, bar Hotch and Gideon, begin to make their way to the elevator together, walking in a huddle on their way out of work while making light conversation about their plans, considering everyone’s getting out early today.

“I say we all go the bar, a few drinks, maybe some darts, and lots of fine women,” Morgan suggests with a smirk, patting Spencer on the back when he says ‘fine women’.

Elle and JJ laugh, the thought of Spencer trying to talk to ‘fine women’, as Morgan called them, an amusing thought to the two of them.

Spencer, who’s walking in between you and Morgan, pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger, his face sporting one of his infamous looks you’ve come to know, his brows furrowed as he silently questions Elle and JJ’s laughter.

“Actually, I was going to go and see a foreign film downtown, if any of you want to come. It’s an Italian film, but I can whisper translate, called ‘Life is Beautiful’, which is kind of ironic because it’s about a Jewish man and his son becoming victims of the holocaust, but-“ Spencer’s cut off by a comment from Elle about him being ‘dorky’, his face loses the small smile he’d had while talking about the film, and his once gesturing hands fall to his sides.

You think your heart might’ve actually shattered at the sight, Spencer’s dejected look never becoming easier to see, no matter how many times you do see it. The other three agents agree to go to the bar together while you and Spencer remain silent, walking in step with each other.

“You coming, sunshine?” Morgan asks, looking past Spencer to gaze at your face, Elle and JJ turning their heads slightly to look at you stood behind them, all of you coming to a stop at the elevator doors.

“No, I think I just want to have a quiet night in. I hope you guys have fun, though,” you reject them, a small smile on your face because only you know what you’re actually going to do.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

All of you step out of the FBI building, JJ, Morgan, and Elle splitting off to head to the bar, Spencer walking through the parking lot and starting his journey to the metro station, while you wait for the other 3 to be gone.

It’s not because you’re embarrassed of Spencer, no, you wouldn’t have cared about offering in front of the others, but you knew he’d probably be teased for it, and that’s the last thing you want. He’s so sweet to everyone, unbelievably kind to you, but everyone teases him regardless. It hurts your heart every time he goes quiet after being told to ‘shut up’ or someone comments on his rambling.

Once you’re sure Morgan, JJ, nor Elle are in earshot, you hurry over to Spencer’s slender figure that’s slowly dissipating, emerging with the dark night sky, becoming nothing but a shadow as he gets further.

“Spence! Wait, come back!” You call out, quickly realising his long limbs are no match for you and he was getting further by the second.

Spencer stops almost immediately, spinning on his heels when he hears your voice. He could recognise it anywhere, your sweet, melodic voice engrained into his brain; it’s one of his favourite things about you, how each word you speak seems to be infused with honey, ringing out sweet and soft.

Although, even if your voice is sweet and soft, despite the fact that you’re shouting, adrenaline spikes in his body - Why are you shouting him? Are you hurt? Are you okay? - the questions plague his mind, increasing his heart rate faster than anything ever has before. That’s saying something, considering he sees dead bodies, crime scenes, and confronts serial killers almost weekly.

Spencer’s legs have carried himself over to you before he’d even processed it, his own mind had distracted him, thoughts had clouded his head, and he only realises he’s stood in front of you and that you’re okay when he hears your melodic voice again.

“Spence? Spencer? Are you okay?” You ask, brows furrowed ever so slightly and pink lips pouted to express your concern for the brunette boy.

You didn’t ask him to ‘snap out of it’, make a joke about him being stuck in his big brain, or say ‘are you even listening?’. No, you just asked if he was okay. Spencer smiles softly at that, another gentle reminder that you really are an angel personified, despite his agnostic beliefs, regardless of whether he prays to a God or not, you are angelic to him.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay,” Spencer reassures you, the soft smile on his face still there as he looks down at you. His brain catches up after he stops being dazed by your seemingly divine presence, in his opinion.

“You called me over, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Could I come and see that movie with you? I know some Italian and you said you’d whisper translate.”

Standing in the middle of Quantico’s parking lot, the pair of you clad in thick coats due to the recent spike in cold weather, your head tilted back so that you can look up at Spencer and his tilted down so that he can see you. You watch Spencer’s face go from a small smile to a full blown grin, his teeth peaking out from behind his pink lips making your heart warm in your chest, winter weather aside.

“Yeah? You’re serious?” Spencer asks, you nod.

“I’ll drive us there, no need for the metro. I’ll take you home, too,” you say, dangling your keys on your ring finger. The pair of you begin to walk to your car as Spencer explains what the movie is about, not being cut off this time.

In the car on the way there, he starts to talk about WW2, rattling off all of the details he knows about it, mainly ones he thinks will be relevant for context to the film. Smiles rest on both of your faces as he does so, his hands moving frenetically as he talks. When you know what he’s talking about, you’ll wait for him to finish before talking yourself, but mostly, you just listen to him.

Spencer stays true to his word and whisper translates the film to you, his voice in your ear something you like much more than you probably should, close proximity between the two of you because of it. His head is tilted towards you, lips by your ear but not so close that all you hear is his breath, Spencer’s very mindful of that.

At some point, you both reach for the popcorn between you without looking, his hand coming to rest on top of yours in the bucket. Suddenly, you’re very thankful for the dark room hiding the pink tint of your cheeks, completely unaware that he’s thinking the same thing.

Retracting his hand from the bucket quickly, he whispers a small “sorry,” secretly hating the loss of contact with your smooth, silky skin, warm fingers, no longer under his.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you for fear of him seeing the blush that’s painted your cheeks. You reach into your bag and hand him a hand sanitiser, knowing how he is with germs.

Spencer can’t help but wonder if you carry this just for him as he takes the clear bottle from his hands, reading the label as best as he can in the dim theatre and learning the hand sanitiser smells like vanilla. So do you, he notes, and he decides he doesn’t mind his hands smelling like you, in fact, he actually quite likes it.

An hour into the film, despite your best efforts not to, you succumb to sleep, the sound of Spencer’s voice in your ear every few seconds, the dim room, and how warm you are all lulling you into the unconscious state you currently find yourself in. Well, Spencer finds you in that state when your head drops to his shoulder, looking down at you through his glasses, and realising you’d fallen asleep.

He blushes at the sight of your head on his shoulder, the weight of it grounding him and sending him to some extreme height at the same time, your hair splayed over his shoulder making him smile to himself. In this moment, he decides that, despite all of the horrors he sees daily, the trauma he was subjected to growing up, and everything else in between, life is beautiful.

[magical-reid]

Back to Beacon Hills

Pairing: FBI!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Setting: AFTER the Teen Wolf timeline

Summary: After three years away, FBI agent Stilinski returns to Beacon Hills to investigate a string of strange occurrences at the high school, only to find himself drawn to a new teacher with a quiet strength and a mysterious past. As the investigation intensifies and danger lurks closer, Stiles finds that the town—and the unexpected connection with her—might just be the fresh start he never knew he needed.

It had been three years since Stiles left Beacon Hills. The last time he was home, he’d packed up a lifetime of memories, heartbreaks, and near-death experiences into the back of his jeep and told himself he wouldn’t look back. He needed out. Away from the constant looming threat of the supernatural, away from the haunting shadows of his own mistakes. The FBI was supposed to be his new chapter, a clean slate.

But now, standing in the middle of the high school parking lot with the echo of his dad’s voice ringing in his ears, it didn’t feel like a fresh start. It felt like old ghosts had dragged him right back.

“They’ve been hearing things at the school,” his dad had said over the phone two days ago. “Strange sounds. Flickering lights. Animals acting weird near the woods. People are scared, Stiles.”

Stiles wanted to dismiss it—chalk it up to Beacon Hills being Beacon Hills. But when his dad mentioned an incident with a teacher—a classroom full of students trapped in a room where the temperature had plummeted for no reason—he knew he couldn’t ignore it.

Which was how he ended up here, walking into the high school with his badge tucked in his pocket and an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

The teacher was nothing like he’d expected.

He’d thought someone who worked in this place—this town—would be frazzled or resigned, the way most people here seemed to be after years of unexplained phenomena. But when Stiles walked into your classroom, clipboard in hand, you stood at the whiteboard, mid-sentence, utterly unbothered by his presence.

You turned to face him with an arched brow, marker still in hand. “Can I help you?”

Stiles blinked, thrown by the directness. You were younger than he’d anticipated, maybe close to his age, and not at all the panicked figure he’d imagined when his dad mentioned the incident. If anything, you seemed skeptical.

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles stammered, recovering quickly. He held up his badge, stepping closer. “Agent Stilinski. FBI.”

Your eyes flicked to the badge, then back to his face, unimpressed. “FBI? Really? What does the FBI want with Beacon Hills High School?”

“It’s more of a precaution,” Stiles replied, trying to match your calm exterior. “You were here when… whatever happened, happened?”

The corner of your mouth twitched, like you were holding back a laugh. “You mean the part where I was stuck in a classroom with twenty tenth-graders and the thermostat decided to stage a coup?”

“Sounds about right,” he said, leaning against the nearest desk. “Mind walking me through it?”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back against the desk at the front of the room. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, Agent Stilinski, but it’s probably not here. Weird stuff happens in this town. People get used to it. I’ve only been here a year, and even I’ve figured that out.”

Stiles tilted his head, curiosity sparking. “You’re not from here?”

“Moved here last summer,” you said. “I was teaching in Seattle before this. Figured a smaller town might be… quieter.”

He barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. “Yeah, good luck with that. Beacon Hills has its own definition of ‘quiet.’”

You smirked, but there was a flicker of something else in your expression—something wary, maybe even a little haunted. “I’m starting to see that.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The investigation wasn’t straightforward.

Stiles spent the next few days digging into police reports, chasing dead ends, and finding his way back to your classroom more often than he expected. He told himself it was because you’d been the one present during the most dramatic event—your insight was crucial. But deep down, he knew there was more to it.

There was something about you. The way you carried yourself, calm and composed, but with a sharp edge of sarcasm that kept him on his toes. The way you didn’t seem scared of him—or the things he was starting to suspect were at play here.

You fascinated him, and that scared him more than he cared to admit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

One night, he found himself standing outside the school, flashlight in hand, staring at the woods where he was sure something was watching him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt the familiar prickle of danger.

“Agent Stilinski?”

Your voice cut through the tension, and he whipped around to find you standing on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around yourself against the chill.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, lowering the flashlight.

You shrugged, stepping closer. “I could ask you the same thing. Thought you might need backup.”

“Backup?” Stiles raised an eyebrow, but his lips twitched in amusement.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get any ideas. I was working late and saw you skulking around out here.”

“Well, for the record, I don’t skulk,” he replied, but the teasing fell away as his gaze drifted back to the tree line. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“And you think it’s safer for you to be out here alone?” you shot back, stepping closer. “If there’s something out there, shouldn’t someone else know about it?”

His chest tightened at your words. He’d spent so many years doing exactly this—throwing himself into danger, insisting he could handle it alone. And now here you were, a stranger, challenging that instinct with nothing but quiet determination.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice softer. “But stick close to me.”

The tension between you only grew from there.

Stiles found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the way you didn’t flinch when things got weird, or the way you handled yourself with quiet confidence, even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart. Maybe it was the way your wit matched his, sparring with him effortlessly, giving him something to hold onto in the chaos.

But it wasn’t just fascination. It was something deeper, something that made his heart race whenever you brushed past him in a narrow hallway or glanced his way during a tense conversation.

And it scared the hell out of him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The break in the case came on a Friday night. Stiles was combing through old records at the station when his phone buzzed. It was you.

Unknown Number

You: I don’t know if this is important, but I think I saw something outside my house.

He stared at the screen, pulse quickening, before he grabbed his jacket and bolted for the door.

When he arrived, the street was eerily quiet, bathed in the dim glow of streetlights. You were standing on the porch, arms crossed, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that looked like it had been thrown on in a rush.

“I wasn’t sure if I should call,” you said when he jogged up to you. “But I saw… something. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t human.”

Stiles’ hand twitched toward his flashlight. “Which way did it go?”

You pointed toward the woods behind your house, and Stiles nodded, stepping off the porch. But before he could go more than a few steps, you grabbed his arm.

“Wait.”

He turned, startled by the urgency in your voice.

“Be careful,” you said quietly. Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the case, the danger, the unspoken questions hanging between you. It was just you and him, standing in the glow of the porch light, and the weight of what neither of you could say.

“I will,” he promised, his voice softer than he intended.

And then he disappeared into the trees.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Hours later, after chasing shadows and coming face-to-face with something that definitely didn’t belong in Beacon Hills—or anywhere else, for that matter—Stiles found himself back on your porch.

The creature had fled, wounded but not defeated, and he was sure it would be back. But for now, all he could think about was you, waiting here alone while he was out risking his life.

You opened the door before he could knock, your eyes scanning him for injuries.

“You’re okay,” you said, exhaling a breath you probably didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“Yeah,” he said, stepping inside. “Are you?”

You nodded, but your hands were trembling as you closed the door behind him. He noticed, and without thinking, he reached out to steady you, his fingers brushing against yours.

The contact sent a jolt through both of you.

“Stiles…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he said, his hand lingering on yours. “I know this is crazy. I know I shouldn’t—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “Don’t talk yourself out of this.”

He froze, caught between the instinct to protect himself and the overwhelming pull he felt toward you. But when you looked up at him, your eyes full of a quiet strength that matched his chaos, he realized he didn’t want to run. Not this time.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “This is a really bad idea.”

You smiled, a soft, almost teasing curve of your lips. “Maybe. But it’s not the worst one you’ve had.”

He laughed, the sound quiet and full of relief, and when you tilted your face toward his, he didn’t hesitate.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if both of you were testing the waters, but it quickly deepened, years of frustration and fear and longing spilling out in a way neither of you could stop.

When you finally pulled apart, your breathing uneven, Stiles rested his hands on your waist, grounding himself in the reality of you.

“Guess I’m not so great at staying away from trouble,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a wry smile.

“Good thing I’m not afraid of it,” you replied, your voice steady despite the flush in your cheeks.

He didn’t know what would happen next—how the case would end, or if he could ever really leave Beacon Hills behind. But as he stood there with you, the weight of the world momentarily lifted, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to.

Because for the first time in a long time, Beacon Hills didn’t feel like a trap.

It felt like home.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

FBI!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

TW: Voyeurism, Dacreaphilia, Degradation,

The drive seemed longer and shorter at the same time. You underwear felt so tight against you. Suddenly he stopped along the road.

"Out." On his command you scrambled out of the car and stood outside. He got out and slowly walked over to you. Due to the sun you were sweating, so your clothes were sticking to you. His eyes raked over you and you felt your clothes grow tighter.

"Unbutton your shirt." You clenched your legs with need and almost tore of the material. He had parked under a tree yet you felt the sweat trickle down your breasts.

"And your shorts." You followed suit till you were left in your underwear. He slowly closed the gap between the two of you and kissed you slipping his hands into your panties.

"So so fucking wet." He moved down and took your panties in his hands bringing it down. He immeadiately latched onto you and drew you to an organism. He pushed you against the side of the car and continued to eat you out.

Over and Over he kept muttering, "...so fucking delicious," intentionally speaking into your clit causing you to shudder even more,"

Your legs giving out after your second one.

The drive to your apartment you were naked.

Yup.

Tears in your eyes at the humiliation, yet you were so turned on. How fucked up were you?

SPENCER REID [Only] Taglist: @controversialkattyluv @bunny-script @futuremrsreid @nan0p0d @andomgcholesterol

More?

[basil-the-bulbasaur]

My sibling told me if I was a super villain I would only ever be as evil as Dr. Doofenshmirtz and my mom reacted as if that was an insult

Like, I don't think you understand, that's the dream. Sure, theoretically my goals involve world domination, but that's mainly because I feel like I should have goals. I don't know what I would do if I successfully took over the world.

The real dream is for my evil plans to be comically thwarted by my nemesis, who is an non-human animal in a tiny hat, perhaps a fly.

"A bluebottle fly?" I say, before they put on a tiny fedora, "Barry the bluebottle fly‽‽‽ I shouldn't be surprised you'd show up so soon." and then I catch them in my net and put them in a jar (with air holes of course) (I may be evil but I wouldn't hurt a fly).

"I'm certain you've come here today because you noticed the drones I've positioned over the fields. You see, Barry the bluebottle fly, ever since I was a young lad I've hated eggplants. It did not matter much when I was young, and rarely encountered that foul nightshade, but then- I came out as gay. People love a phallic symbol, but of course, the one they use just has to be the dreaded eggplant. The people deserve better than that disgusting food. Which is why I am going to release a swarm of locusts to destroy all the eggplants! And society will be forced to choose a new symbol to represent the-"

That's when I'm interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, as Barry, who was knocking against the side of the jar, succeeds in getting it to roll off the counter I set it on.

They quickly distract me by flying directly towards my eyes, causing me to flinch and drop the drone controller. I attempt to catch it, but fumble, hitting the self destruct button and foiling my own plan.

"Curse you Barry the bluebottle fly!!!!" I scream as they fly out the vents, leaving me alone to grieve another failed plan.

[spinaholi]

i’m convinced brennan only wanted to do junior year as a way to systematically take revenge for all the outrageous bits he’s been through. oh hilda hilda? heres my fbi agent self insert npc, oh insight check on that piece of set dressing? straight to the vulture dimension for you! with a prop mini and projections all locked and loaded babyyy

[jazziejax]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐙

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Bad Boys AU! Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC & Bad Boys AU! Aaron Pierre x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - A normal day for the FBI agents who bicker like a married couple is the first day of many odd ones for a rich and beautiful business woman. But let’s look into how they first met.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - cursing…a lot, mentions of people’s races, descriptions of appearances, mentions of escorting, food wasting, I hope that’s all but let me know if I missed anything.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I have a lot planned for this Bad Boys AU, and I’m gonna love every second of it. That’s is if I get to wiring it all….we’ll see. I don’t want to poor anything but this could be a love triangle or… something polyamorous. UNEDITED AS OF RIGHT NOW!!!, I really wanted to get this out because I was so exited about what you guys thought, it’s 2:13 am. Also, this could be read as an ‘x reader’ I try to tray away from detailed descriptions. I just like to use names because it’s easier for me, I know you are all sick and tried of the self inserts and OC’s. It’s just easier for me to add a name :(

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 4,282+

𝐌𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟓

“Does this spaceship have any damn air in it?” The man from the passenger seat with his shades on asked, his voice muffled as he chewed on his burger. The sun was beating down on them through the small car and the heat was causing him to become irritable.

The taller and lighter man glanced over at him, his hand on the steering wheel as he leaned back in his expensive leather seats. “Quit worrying about my air and start worrying about that food in my car.” He said, glancing back at the road before looking back over at the hungry man over his own shades. “What is this having a picnic shit in my car?” He asked.

Kelvin sighed, pushing his shades up to rest on his head. “Please man, not right now, not today.” He said, annoyance clear on his tongue as he looked over at his partner. “I’m not getting any at home, don’t deny me this.” He spat before moving to take another bite of his burger. The light-skinned man couldn’t help the small amused grin that made its way into his face. “I mean, yeah, how could you when you still live with your mother.” He chortled. Kelvin snapped his head over to him, his eyes sharp. “I do not live with my mother!”

“Yes, you do. You live with your whole damn family!”

“I do not! I bought my family a big ass house and this economy is shit, okay?” Kelvin stated through slightly clenched teeth. “I can’t keep taking women back to my crappy ass apartment that I got on my crappy ass cop salary!” He continued as Aaron sped through the sunny city in the Florida heat. Unbeknownst to both of them, a car was in their trail.

Aaron was about to respond again before he got distracted by the huge bite Kelvin took from the burger and the fries he stuffed from his lap. He scrubbed his lip over at him. “Could you watch it with all that shit, alright?” Kelvin rolled his eyes and threw his head back with a grin as she chewed his food. After swallowing, he gave the man next to him a dead stare.

“Where are your cup holders?” He asked, disregarding what the man said as he looked around the small car. Aaron trained his eyes back on the road, clenching his hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t have one.”

“The hell do you mean you don’t have one?” He asked, his face scrunched in pure befuddlement at what his friend was saying. “$80,000 for this car and you ain’t got no damn cup holders?”

“It’s $105,000 and this just happens to be one of the fastest production of cars on the planet,” Aaron told him confidently, speeding the old model sports car up on the road out of pure cockiness. “0-16 in four seconds, sweetie. It’s a limited edition.” He smirked.

“Limited?” Kelvin said. “You got damn right it’s limited. No cup holder, no back seat. This is a shiny duck with two chairs in it. And I guess that makes us the balls just dragging the fuck along, huh?” He hissed before he reached into his lap for some fries, but the fast car and his clumsy nature caused the fries to fall, falling out of the small carton box they were in. “Oh, damn.” He mumbled, shooting a glance at his driving friend. Aaron’s head quickly snapped over to him, looking between the spilled fries and his hungry partner. “Sorry.” Kelvin winced.

Aaron then quickly wrapped the sports car into the nearest sidewalk, parking the vehicle. He took his shades off, still looking between the food on his floor and the crevices in between with a sharp eye, and then back up at the quickly agitated man. “Get it up.” He said firmly. Kelvin scoffed, looking the man up and down as he held his half-eaten burger.

“Now I know you see I can’t get down there. There’s no place for me to sit anything with this shitty car of yours.” He spat. The pair were so caught up in their bickering that they still didn’t catch the car that’s been trailing them, park right when they did. “And you got a damn engineering floor up in here, my shit ain’t going down up in there.” He said, holding up his hand to show that it wouldn’t fit.

“You know what, I’m not your damn mama.” Aaron spat. “I shouldn’t be cleaning up after your filthy ass.” Kelvin immediately held his finger up to his face. “Keep my mother out of your mouth, A-A-Ron, I told you that.”

“Quit calling me that!”

“And watch my hand, okay?” Kelvin ignored him as he continued, moving to try and stuff his hand in between the seats. “It can barely get down there. And when it does, it gets stuck. And what does that make, you get this shit!” He chided, hosing up the same hand to show his now crooked and coned fingers, a small grinning his face. Aaron gave him a black stare, both of the men unbeknownst to the women coming down the sidewalk and the woman from behind them sent as a distraction.

“You gone get them fries,” Aaron told him.

And while they were absorbed within their world of car chat and being tailed, two women were walking down the street having a conversation of their own.

“Thanks again, Fab.” One of the women said, glancing next to her to see her friend licking away at the frozen cream treat in the sugar cone. “For the ice cream, I mean.” She mumbled, glancing back down her the pink ice cream she held in her fist. The other woman glanced over as she swept her fresh blow out from her face. “I told you it was no problem, Addy.” She shrugged before giving her double chocolate ice cream another lick, the Miami sun shining down on her bronze skin.

It was silent then, the pair listening to the sound of their shoes hitting the pavement, Addy’s kitten heels making small taps while Fabiola’s stilettos punted against the pavement in her tried strut. They enjoyed their treats under the blazing sun, ears tuned into the chirping grids, the sound of playing children, and the city life moving past them. The air was thick with tension, both of their thoughts filled with burning assumptions, unanswered questions, and overflowing uncertainty.

This was still new for them. All of it. Although Addison and Fabiola had been friends for a while, their new living situation was still a task to get around, and there were certain lines neither of them ever crossed. Knowing each other since junior year of college, most would say they were best friends with opposite personalities. Addy was an adrenaline junkie to her core. She spent most of her college time drinking and throwing ragers. She was known for her sweet personality and down with all the frats and sororities. And no matter how hard she partied, she never failed an exam. Essays might not have been her strongest suit but she was damn good with numbers.

Fabiola on the other hand was sort of the opposite. She had her fair share of nice times on campus but she wasn’t really a ‘people person’. Fabiola grew up as the youngest girl of three boys with a beautiful mother and a strict and traditional father. She was a bossy perfectionist with a small temper and a no-bullshit attitude. All that to say, she was spoiled rotten, and making friends didn’t come easy. She hadn’t had a consistent friend in her life up until college. Now, she wasn’t a complete loner, she had friends at school growing up, but she never went out of her way to hang out with any of them. She was focused on one thing and that was her career. After seeing her mom be a housewife for so long, she knew it was a life that she never wanted to live. So he had her group and stuck to them.

That was until she was almost failing trigonometry and everyone she knew was recommending the campus's famous engineering major, Addison Montez. They would meet in the library every Friday afternoon to study, and eventually Fab began to help Addy with her papers for history. They were studying friends until the oh-so-comfortable and relaxed Addison recommended they go out to a party instead of being trapped within the thick smell of old paper and stale wood. And after that homecoming rager that took place at the HBCU two miles out, let’s just say they were almost inseparable after that.

It’s been years since then though. Life got real for them quickly and it was hard to keep in touch. Fabiola went on to inherit most of the money of her father when he passed since two of her brothers ended up being absolute useless shits with no career and the eldest son ran the medical equipment company. All while her mother ran off to Switzerland to marry a rich white man who was also widowed. They all still kept in touch but things were a little odd now.

Addison’s life, on the other hand, went a little downhill. She was never able to her master's degree because she didn’t have the money to pay for college. Things got so stressful for her point that she had to drop out, which her folks were not happy about. She could only live in her small hometown in the middle of bun-fuck nowhere working at GoodWill for two years before she packed her things into her shit box of a car and ran. That’s how she ended up in Miami, in her little apartment now making more than she was at Goodwill, although life still wasn’t that great considering what she now did for money. And that didn’t last long because the building she lived in was sold and she now needed a place to crash until she collected more cash.

And after bumping into Fabiola at the lingerie store, things went from there. They were friends again after so long. Casual and lighthearted conversations filled their hearts pure.

But their forced proximity begged for more clarity.

Fabiola moved her brown leather bag to her other hand, slipping it into the cuff of her elbow as she continued to eat her ice cream, biting into the cone and then licking some of the cream that fell away from her deep red manicured nails. She then looked down at her outfit, making sure the dripping treat didn’t hit her nice sweater or her crisp white shirt under it. “Just say what you’re thinking Addison.” She said, not even looking over at her friend before going back to her ice cream once she saw her outfit was clear.

Addison glanced over at her, licking her ice cream at a slower pace as her mind became more closed with doubts. She had her arms crossed, her free hand against the hairs in her exposed arms, due to the black halter turtle neck she had on that matched her small black heels, all paired with simple jeans. “I just…you don’t know how much I appreciate you.” She said. Her words were met with a groan from Fabiola, the woman throwing her head back.

“Enough.” She said firmly, turning her head to her. “You’ve said thank you to me more than you’ve lived longer with me. And it’s been two weeks.”

“I know, I know,” Addy added in a dejected tone, only giving the strawberry-flavored dessert in her hand kitten licks. “It just really means a lot to me right now. You don’t even know how much.” She said, letting out a small sigh. Fabiola’s eyes flickered back at her at her mellow tone, taking in the woman’s lost stare and guarded form. She awkwardly pressed her lips together, her eyes flicking away since she found the cars passing on the street much more interesting than the emotionally charged atmosphere. She then gulped. “Just say what you really want to say.” She said, the words coming out firmer than she anticipated. She ignored it, however, her eyes still looking at anything but the woman next to her as they walked back to her car.

Addison glanced her way when she spoke, but was met with the woman tucking her shoulder-length blowout behind her ear. She gulped herself, pursing her lips as she looked away. “I…” She trailed off. “I just don’t think it’s best for me to say it in this environment. In the open.”

“I would rather you say it before we’re trapped in my car for the next twenty minutes until we make it back to my place.” Fabiola didn’t miss a beat, cutting her eyes at her from the corner. “No pressure but it might be more awkward for you.” She said, and before she could finish, she then realized why she didn’t have many friends. Feelings were never really her thing, and this sensitive subject that Addison was clearly going through wasn’t her forte at all.

Addison nodded at her words as she licked her lips, totally forgetting about the melting treat in her hands. “Yeah, you’re right.” She sighed. “Okay. I, um…. Okay…I…work for a Madam.” She added quickly after her stuttering spout, then ate the rest of her ice cream as quickly as she could. Fabiola turned her lips up at her, watching as the woman sucked the ice cream that was most just cream now, from the cone. Addison turned to her, seeing her disgusted face. “Okay, damn, no need for the look.” She spat.

Fabiola blinked. “No, that was for the way you ate the rest of that ice cream.” She added, giving her a sideways glance as she bit into her cone. “I don’t really care about that other thing.” She shrugged as she brought her gold wire shades down to cover her eyes, her hair blowing more in its free form with the wind in her strut. Addison’s brows shot out at that. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged as she sped up some, seeing her car in the distance. “A check is a check, sweetie.” She said, flashing the girl a smirk and wink before licking at her ice cream again. They were coming upon her car, causing the woman to dig into her purse to find her keys with one hand. Addison blinked, shocked at her blasé attitude, and nodded her head as she followed after the woman. “Well, it’s not really a check.” She added with a small smirk. Fabiola glanced over at her, her arm still out as she dug into her purse to fetch her keys. “Well, money is still money.” She added, mocking annoyance with a smirk still on her lips as she found her keys. Addison grinned as well, watching as the woman stepped into the street to open her car door.

They paused however at the sound of commotion at the car behind them.

Back in the car, Kelvin and Aaron were still arguing.

“How imma get the damn fries, A-A-Ron?”

“Quit calling me that! Now look, this ain’t no got damn Denny’s, ain’t no eating in my car.” Aaron said before movement out of the windshield window caught his attention. His eyes were completely disregarding the woman in white, tilting his head to look around the planned distraction at the two women coming down the pavement.

“I wouldn’t be buying no shit from Denny’s anyway!” Kelvin continued, not paying attention to what the other man was staring at. “I don’t like the way we would’ve been treated.” He said before his eyes caught sight of the woman in white walking around the car. He looked the pale gorgeous woman in the short white dress up and down before glancing back at Aaron. “You weren’t worried about no damn fries anyway.” He snarked, looking the man up and down. “You all up in that.” He said. He then realized Aaron wasn’t all up in that white woman passing by, but the two beauties walking down the street. Kelvin glanced over, and it was like everything transformed into slow motion.

They watched as a woman in a grey suit practically strutted down the street. Her straight hair was touching her collarbones and belonged in the wind, her shades covering her eyes. She walked with a sense of authority and confidence, her equally attractive friend a few steps behind her, as she licked away at the chocolate ice cream in her hands.

“Damn.” Kelvin and Aaron said at the same time in the same breathy tone, tilting their heads as they looked the duo up and down, moving to the car in front of them.

They couldn’t admire her long before they were interrupted by the sight of guns entering their periphery.

“Get out of the car.” The scrawny white guy spat at Aaron. He glanced at the man before shaking his head with a sigh while Kelvin just dripped his.

“Damn.” He and Kelvin repeated. L

Kelvin looked the big burly man next to him up and down in disgust before his eyes went back to the gun lined at his face. “Now ain’t this some bullshit.” He spat. “The fuck is this?” Their attention was no longer on the women in front of them, but their attention was now on them.

“Me and my team, we’ve had a big week, so just get the fuck out of the car.” The white guy spat at them. Kelvin was too busy squinting his eyes against the sun as he looked out of the car at the large guy who held him at gunpoint. “Damn!” He said again, looking him up and down. “What you weigh in at, 350? I bet you a big Popeye chicken-eating son of bitch, ain’t you? Churches?” He asked causing Aaron to roll his eyes as he brought his hands up in surrender. “Hey, hey. Let’s chill.” He began when the man brought the gun closer.

Kelvin turned to his partner, his arms still down as he frowned. “Why do I always gotta get the big thick mothafuckas?” He tiffed. This only gained a reaction from the men who were robbing them. “Get the hell out of the car, now!” The white guy hissed as he moved to piped the door, causing the large guy to follow. Aaron and Kelvin were quick to exit, their hands raised. “Alright, alright, alright!” Kelvin yelled as he stepped out with his cup in his hand. He looked at the man in front of him while the other guy tried to lean Aaron against the car.

Fabiola and Addison looked back at the commotion, their mouths dropping at the sight of the robbery happening in front of them. Addison was quick to drop the soggy cone and move to the car, squatting down some in case things got wild but Fabiola was stuck, the rest of her cone in her mouth, scared to move in case the men’s guns turned their way. They stood there, just watching and listening.

“You know, now this is some funny shit,” Aaron said, his tone fed up as he held his hands up, glancing between the men that surround him.

“Shut up!” The small guy yelled. But Aaron just ignored him, looking at the angry man. “Let me tell you how bad a day you’re having. Right now you’re having a couple of FBI agents.” He stated. The shirt guy with sweat sliding down his face just looked at him. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m a stand-up comedian.” He added. “And I suck! That’s why I need your car.” He shouted through clenched teeth as he took a step closer.

“We’re dealing with a couple of cops and some lunatics out here,” Fabiola stared on with bated breath, not able to rip her eyes star from the scene.

“Hey, look!” Kelvin spoke up, still not having taken his eyes off the man in front of him. “I ain’t no Wesley Snipes, I just hang out with stupid ass friends that drive stupid ass cars that’s attract a lot mothafuckin’ attention!” He yelled, emphasizing his words every time he glanced back at said ‘stupid ass friend’, who now had a gun to his head. Aaron didn’t seem to care about any of that at the moment, his jaw downing at Kelvin’s statement.

“You know what? I need to jump over this car and smack you upside your peasy ass head, that’s what I need to do.”

This caused Kelvin to turn around, the men now facing each other as they disregarded the burglars who watched them. Fabiola furrowed her bed at them while Addison raised from her crouch position, less scared as she watched the so-called cops argue with guns to their backs. “A couple of lunatics as cops too.” She said, adding to what she heard Fabiola state. They watched as the men screamed at one another, the men with guns slightly backing off out of confusion and tension.

“Yeah, cause your ass was arguing over a stupid ass, mothafuckin, French fry!”

“It’s not about the French fry!”

“It’s a fry!”

“It’s about your lack of respect for other people's property!” Aaron screamed, pointing over at him.

“Hey, hey, hey!” The scrawny man behind Aaron yelled.

“That shit is stupid!” Kelvin shouted back at Aaron. “Shut the fuck up!” The large dark-skinned man spoke up, pointing his gun at him. Kelvin’s head snapped back to him, face grimaced in pure anger. “Hold on! You hold the FUCK ON!” He yelled at him before turning back to argue. “Now you want some bad enough, come get some!” He added before quickly turning around and throwing his chocolate milkshake onto the large man, not missing a beat to kick him in the nuts and then rip the gun off his hips. All while Aaron simultaneously elbowed the man behind him in the face before then turning to sucker punch him, causing the perps to both hit the ground.

“You like that shit?!” Kelvin continued to yell, pointing his gun down at him. He moved around, kicking the gun far from the burglars' hands as he held his own to the man’s head. “Wesley Snipes, Passenger 57! Now give me a mothafuckin’ handy wipe!” He spat with a smirk, his glare on the large man.

Aaron let out a sigh as he pulled out his gun, pointing it down at the man who seemed to be concussed on the ground.

“Now let’s hear one of those jokes, bitch.” He spat. He heard w let out a large laugh from the other side of the car, causing him to glance over. He had a smirk of his own on his lips, green eyes relaxing in the sun. Their ultra-cool moment was interrupted by the sound of a car unlocking, causing both cops to look over at the two women from earlier staring at them.

Addison was quick to open her door, her eyes darting between the scene in front of her one last time. “Sick shit.” She said with a grin before entering the car. Fabiola still stood there, shocked as she looked between the two cops. It seemed as though the halt in the screaming caused her to snap out of her thoughts, leading her to blink. Her eyes moved over to the shorter man, who was dressed in a simple white tee and black dress pants, all high in his built figure. The hold of his chain, belt buckle, and other jewelry stood out against his brown skin. His shirt waves were smooth on his head and his cute face was sort of clean-shaven, her eyes attaching themselves to his stunning and plump lips.

“What she said.” She spoke up, nodding her head to the woman in the car. “That was…cool.” She nodded. Her sultry voice caused both men to tense up but quickly relaxed, the smooth sound unexpected to both of them. Her shades were also on, covering her eyes from telling them what she truly thought, and why she was still there speaking to them. Kelvin nodded his head at her, not hiding the way he looked her up and down. “Thanks.” He said, a small smirk making his way into his lips.

She nodded at him before her eyes then made their way to the man on the other side of the car. His figure was taller and larger, and although his suit was baggier, she could tell the muscles under it were strong and sculpted. His outfit was similar to Kevin’s, although his was grey and he had his blazer on. What caught her attention the most was his eyes, the bright and striking color of them held her captivated from the rest of his face. The icy blue irises looked back at her as her eyes gave his face a quick once over, admiring his large ears and nice goatee, and a sexy smolder on his lips.

“Nice car.” She added, nodding at the fancy Porsche that they surrounded. Aaron blinked, his eyes not leaving her face. He was caught in the way the hair blew the wind, framing her face perfectly. Though he only knew her for mere seconds, he hoped desperately that some unknown force would come in a swoop the glasses from her face to see her clearly. “Thank you. Porsche.” He said, snapping out of his quick start of thinking. His eyes then moved to the one she stood by, nodding his ear down to it. “What that?” He asked.

The pair could both see one of her brow arch at his question, a smirk making its way into her lips. “A Ferrari.” She said, placing her hand on her hip as she looked between the two of them. Aaron’s eyes widened as he stood straighter, looking between the car and the woman. “F512M. Nice right? I know.” He said, not even waiting for a response to her question that she answered herself before opening the door. She didn’t even give them one last glance before hopping into the nice grey car and pulling off, making sure to rev her nice engine.

Kelvin and Aaron stood there, guns still pinged at her knocked-out perps, watching the car as it quickly drove away from them. Kelvin seemed to relax without the woman in his vicinity, his shoulders dropping but his arms still raised to aim his gun. “We should get these guys…somewhere. I want ‘em the hell up outta my face.” He grumbled before moving to grab his phone and pager from the car to call down the local police. Aaron raised as well, his gaze moving from the sunset the woman drove off into, to the hot pavement the burglar laid on. “Forget them, this one’s probably dead. I wanna know who the hell that was.”

“Someone out of both of our leagues,” Kelvin added, his focus on the phone in his hands. Aaron jerked his head back, sending the man a dirty look. Before he could even begin an argument, Kelvin had already raised his finger, halting him. “Even for you Mr.Playboy. You don’t have a Ferrari.” He said before sending him a sarcastic smile and then turning away with the phone held up his ear.

Meanwhile, in the car, Fabiola had a grin on her face as she pushed her glasses back up into her hair. “Girl, them cops were fione!” She said, causing Addison to laugh. “You know, besides all the armed robbery stuff, that wasn’t a bad sight. I love to see some brothers in action.” She cheesed, letting out a laugh as she rethought the whole ordeal they witnessed.

“Yeah, they were pretty fine.” Addison nodded, dragging out the word pity as she grabbed the matinee she left in the woman’s dashboard. “And probably married. Brothas that cute can’t be single. Agents at that. And in that car? I know their women love them.”

“Mmhmm.” Fabiola hummed in agreement, a small smirk on her lips as she nodded her head. She then let out a scoff at a sudden thought. “Probably white women too.” She stated, causing Addison to let one out as well. “Let’s get off that.” Fabiola waved off with a quick roll of her eyes. She couldn’t dwell on the thought of those fine men being tired down so some non-sisters that couldn’t love them and understand like she could.

What the hell am I talking about? I don’t know them and I’m damn sure never gonna to see them again, get over it, girl. This is the adrenaline and sugar talking. She thought to herself.

“Why the hell don’t I know Miami was this crazy? I knew it was fun in the sun but damn, am I gonna get a gun pulled on me?”

“I’m this car in certain areas? Sista they might try to kidnap you for ransom.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

My tumblr is tripping, I don’t have a tag list for some reasons so if you want to be part of it, let me know, and pretend that Aaron has an American accent or I will make jokes on why a British man is apart of the United States FBI.

[cyberbabyangell]

₊˚⊹☆after becoming a shifter...

hello! its been a while because school started, also because i had no idea what to post while i wrote about the innerspace..i was bombarded with 99+ likes and reposts so THANK YOU SO MUCH?? 😭 so did that happen on tiktok- i had 110 followers when i last checked, its been a month im at 300 😨 anyway i love u guys mwah 🫶

I legit forgot the concept of OCs 😭 like whenever i """create other people""" it's always people i know/ill script in one of my many drs, when i see people create someone i'm like "..OHR IGHT THIS IS YOUR CHARACTER AND NOT SOMEONE YOU KNOW IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE......."

I get so confused at the "life is short, YOLO" philosophies and it genuinely doesn't sit right with me anymore 😭

my brain somehow decided to put "shifter" as the default setting for every human my age i meet. "yeah i do that in my drs!" "in your WHAT." ".. sorry 😊"

i lost interest in media i know im NOT going to shift to 😭 like its a bit annoying but to me new media=new drs, and i dont willingly watch stuff i know im not shifting to which is so dumb.

self insert EVERYWHERE. im rarely the main character like in most my drs im less powerful than them, but i always see myself as this perfect being everyone loves and does everything right. kinda like the lucky girl in deadpool 2

whenever i see pretty people in the streets or meet nice people, im like "you're becoming my friend in my dr." so i may have 453455 friends that come from here that ive seen ONCE and probably even forgot about.

i kinda stopped asking questions to myself because in my waiting room rn i have a library with the answers to everything so.

i like dilemmas from my drs but i know they don't really matter because i'll go to a reality that has the perfect middle ground or a perfect 3rd option, even if its something that's currently beyond my comprehension

i like reminding myself im literally everything. like also objects cause its funny

whenever i see someone i admire or i like what they do i snatch it from them. "omg i like these songs!" and boom i sung those in my dr. "omg i love this content!" and boom i pioneered it.

i'm trying to get used to not be in 2024. theres not a single dr i shift to in 2024, and if i get caught lacking i might go on an fbi watchlist. like NOBODY can catch me saying rizz or singing songs that haven't been released yet. (also side note. IT SOUNDS SO TORTUROUS TO NOT BE ABLE TO LISTEN TO 80% OF MY CURRENT PLAYLIST CAUSE IT HASNT RELEASED YET. i be humming doing it first in 2020 😾)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

[candyheartedchy]

Found an old sketch of my IZ self insert and just updated her design a bit.

She works for the FBI and starts off as a happy go-lucky agent who soon starts questioning everything she knows after crossing paths with Zim. Right away Zim finds out who she works for and gets paranoid, thinking she’s after him when in reality she just wants her own curiosity answered about aliens. She doesn’t get to do missions very often and is mostly the one who’s stuck having to deal with Dib when he calls the FBI.

[postmodernbeliever]

how to relax - fox mulder x female reader (smut)

a seemingly endless case in the middle of nowhere has you stressed out of your mind, to the point where the only thing that doesn't push you too far is fox mulder. with all that stress and no way to reel yourself in, your partner decides he wants to help show you how to relax.

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wrote this bc sometimes we (i) just need a (toe curling) self-insert to satisfy our (my) daydreams. i dedicate this to all those who are chubby and in love with fox mulder. if you prefer to read on ao3, you can find me at the same username.

my ao3 | word count; 5,419 (i got excited, okay?)

content tags (i copied from ao3 bc im lazy): dom fox mulder, praise kink, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand & finger kink, subspace, size difference, belly bulge, co-workers, mutual pining, idiots in love, pet names, stress relief, cross-posted on ao3, smut, subtle plus size reader, soft fox mulder, mentions of freudian shit bc come on this is the x files, talking you through it, fox is literally so awoooooga the whole time, fox gets cocky as always, fox mulder the munch, bathroom sex, fox just can’t help himself literally so i hope you enjoy

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you’d been beyond stressed all day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. what was frustrating was that you had managed to grow so agitated that it seemed nothing could help you calm down. 

your work with the fbi was your life, in all its stress-inducing, time-consuming, hair-splitting glory. you were as tight-assed as they came (ask literally anybody!) all of that pressure on top of a naturally anxious and irritable demeanor made you difficult to enjoy being around, and you knew it. but today, of all days, it was truly catching up to you physically. the muscles of your jaw were sore from the tension they held, fighting between your teeth for release. your head swelled between your eyes and nose, pulsing softly like a glowing light that wouldn’t dim. your throat was dry, your footsteps heavy, your hands restless; you were wound so tight that everyone you encountered feared you might snap like a rubber band, lashing against them in recoil. 

fox mulder was the only one who had stayed on your good side all day, which is surprising, given your partner was typically the casual aggressor of your everyday life- what with his constant nagging and ridiculous speculations about every crime you investigated. he never once changed his attitude, let alone change the color shirt he wore to work every day. yet it seemed this time he was off the hook, because the case you’d both been assigned was dragging like no other. 

it was your fifth day in the desolate yellow countryside of a rural town you so lovingly renamed as bumblefuck, virginia; all you possessed was an immaterial, mulder-esque lead that couldn’t be pinned down (as your fellow agent was torn between shapeshifter and werewolf). on top of that were ten dead bodies, no evidence, and a motel room with broken air conditioning, complete with a leaky sink. you were sick to death of the heat, and the town, and the local policemen who seemed to have but two executive functions: hit on you or ignore your assertions. for a stagnant fifth day, you’d experienced more frustration than ever- the cops have begun to give up on catching a suspect, fox was investigating muddy footprints all afternoon like the freak he is, and you were stuck to sit in the closet-sized archives room at the local library where teenagers and nagging townspeople came in to ogle the “fbi lady”… jesus, no wonder your head hurts. 

fox came by every so often to check on you that afternoon. once with a cup of coffee, once with half of a sandwich he’d thoughtfully taken a bite out of to piss you off, and again with dirt all over his face and a wild story about how he caught a glimpse of his x file mid-attack. if you weren’t used to his personality by now it might’ve made things worse, but in a way his teasing and subtle acts of service were the only soothing memories you had to reflect on. he was a moment of consistency between the endless chaotic installments of the afternoon. 

at the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted, hungry for the other half of that sandwich fox ate, and in need of the shitty motel bed; at the very least some peace and quiet, just for one night. but it seemed your partner wouldn’t let you have it. 

you’d had about an hour to yourself before fox materialized in your motel room. after a shower that quickly ran cold, you slipped into a sweatshirt, a threadbare set of sleep shorts that were a bit tight for your pudgy legs, and two flimsy socks that didn’t match because you hadn’t packed for a trip this long. you’d tried watching the television, but the antennae were spotty no matter how you arranged them. the air conditioning machine clanked and whistled nonstop, and hiding under your pillows didn’t dull the racket. the best part was when you tried to light the little bedside yankee candle and the lighter ran out of fluid- but not before it sparked and burned your thumb. you’d finally begun to decompress when a familiar knock sounded from outside. summoning a forcibly loud groan- so your tall visitor heard exactly how you felt- you clambered off the creaking bed and towards the door, which revealed his trademark smug smile. 

“good evening, watson!”

“what do you want?” you sighed, closing your eyes. 

you felt his hand push your shoulder to the side, and the man squeezed past you into the room. you scoffed and said, “oh, please, make yourself at home!” 

“i will, thank you,” fox teased. “i came to check on you.”

“because?”

“well, you’ve been a wreck all day! didn’t laugh at one of my jokes. you nearly bit the sheriff's head off tonight when we checked in at the station before leaving… i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“oh? well, you know what? no, mulder, i’m not okay. we’ve been stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a week with no leads and no progress and the food here sucks and i haven’t had a single good night’s sleep and all my socks are dirty!” you ranted, pacing in front of the half-open door like a lunatic. 

fox grinned as if he knew something you didn’t and turned from you, heading towards the tiny bathroom tucked in the corner of the room. you slammed the front door shut and followed him, snapping, “what, you come in asking how i feel and just walk away? explain to me how that makes any sense, mulder!”

the agent leaned against the bathroom sink, hands laid curiously on the lip of the counter. he dutifully watched the little crystal droplets that fell rhythmically down the ceramic bowl. the air surrounding him felt charged, like if you stepped too close, you’d get shocked; almost as if his thoughts were electrifying the oxygen. 

he frustrated you beyond belief sometimes. the man stood in your bathroom like his day was going perfectly fine. a gray t-shirt clung to his lean arms, hugging the curves of his biceps like it was tailored for him alone; his sweatpants were black and littered with lint from the hairy couch in his apartment, and they hung low on his hips, peeping the waistband of his black boxers like a well-known secret. his hair was pointing every which way in its tawny misdirection, and he had the nerve to inspect your sink, and lick his lips like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the southern sticks and lupine mysteries, all while you had to scour newspapers and sleep in ten minute increments to survive. 

“mulder, what the hell are you doing?” 

“your sink is leaking.” 

“yeah, i know, sherlock.”

“did you ask them to fix it?”

“mulder, i will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“jeez, somebody’s worked up.”

the man pivoted on his feet, facing you with a newfound sense of purpose. you were prepared to object his statement, but were silenced by his hands finding your hips. he was so quick to slide you up onto the counter that you forgot your rebuttal- in fact, in his rush to relocate you, you’d forgotten to think entirely. he had your thighs pinned to the cold, white countertop, and parted so he could press his tummy to the spot where your legs met. his shirt rode up in the moment, and you could feel the warmth of his bare skin against the fabric of your shorts. 

fox’s hands felt rough. you stared at them, at the sheer size, and recollected all the little stolen glances of those fingers sifting through his filing cabinets, or analyzing your field notes, or polishing his gun. countless vivid reminders of the strength of them as they pulled you back from bullets and unexpected staircases flashed before your eyes. how often you longed for them, you couldn’t say, but it was clear to you now as those same hands held you down that you had taken a serious liking to them. 

it took you a while, but you managed to mutter, “what are you doing?”

fox could only smile wider and say, “you need to relax, don’t you?” 

“what does that-”

“why don’t you let me help you?” 

you swallowed thickly, feeling a bubbling heat rise in your belly. his calloused palms rode up your legs, finding room for his thumbs to begin drawing soft, sweeping circles against your hip bones. your brain clouded so fast you forgot to answer. 

“i’ve never seen you so aggravated before… like, by every little thing. i mean, i know you get annoyed, but these past couple days have been so rough for you, haven’t they? just can’t calm down, can you? you look so tired, so tense. i can feel all the tension you’re keeping right… here,” he consoled, letting up on your hips to press a hand to your lower abdomen. when you sucked in a nervous breath, the man pressed a little harder, and you twitched beneath him. “i can fix that for you, if you want. show you how to relax a little.” 

“y-you’re not even supposed to be in here,” you wheezed, “agents… agents aren’t supposed to consort in the same room, mulder, remember?”

“awh, come on, don’t start following the rules on me now! don’t you wanna feel better, honey?” 

fox spoke like every word was a secret, leaning in close to your ear. the scruff of his five o’clock shadow brushed against your fresh face, eliciting a spidery chill down your spine. 

“what’s gotten into you, mulder?”

“i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

you panicked, swallowing air like it was water. these kinds of questions felt new coming from him. anxiously, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, hoping that was enough. you couldn’t handle much else.

“is that a yes?”

“...mhm.”

“can you say yes for me?”

fuck. “yes.”

“good girl. it’ll help, i promise.” 

it seemed he couldn’t be going any slower than he was just then, gingerly removing his hands from your waist and biting his lower lip like the reincarnate of a dream you’d entertained too many times before. you watched with a spinning head as his long, spindly fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts. his pale eyes twinkled at you, sage steeped in milk, as he asked, “can i?” in that lilting voice he uses only when the room is begging for quiet. when you eagerly nodded, he chuckled, “lift up for me a little, okay?” 

you followed orders and pressed your shaky hands to the tile, raising your hips so he had room to slide your shorts down. his face melted at the sight of you underneath. 

night after night, he’d fantasized about those doe eyes of yours watching him free you up like this, but he never imagined he’d get the chance. until this afternoon, when he resolved to create the chance. through all these years working beside you, he’s only grown to admire you more. you were cunning, you were gentle with kids, you were smarter than he ever could be (even if you disagreed.) but you were also tired. you lived alone, you slept alone, you never asked for help and you declined every offer. fox hated to see you facilitate your own frustration. and this past week has only exacerbated his need to fix it- watching you so angry, so pent up, so in need of attention- he couldn't bear to let you suffer any longer. it seems he’s been lucky, too, because you sat quietly, patiently, all so that he could take care of you. grateful for the opportunity, fox didn’t want to waste any more time. 

with those dreamy fingertips grazing your underwear, fox was the spitting image of boyish charm. he admired the worn black and grey striped fabric covering what was left of you, thinking aloud, “had these for a while, huh?” 

“since i was in college,” you muttered, “everything i wore was dark back then.”

“nothing’s changed. you’re very punk rock,” he winked.

you didn’t know you were capable of laughing in your current state, but it came bubbling up in a nervous overflow. he watched your lips curl, and the way you threw your head back like you couldn’t stop yourself. you felt embarrassed to be so swayed by his stupid humor, but you had no choice. not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

“you’re a dork.”

“you like it, though,” he reassured. 

you watched the man hesitate, eyes darting down to your lips; you closed your eyes, hoping it would nudge him in the right direction, and you were right. fox had to crane his neck down a bit- because even with you on the counter, he was still taller- but he made himself level, and he pressed his lips to yours so gently you almost didn’t feel him there. what announced him was the taste of him, actually; stale coffee on his tongue, and what you deduced to be the black-label chapstick, the kind that tasted like medicine. you toppled into him like you were falling off a cliff, clinging to the hem of his shirt in longing. 

fox seemed to like how you hung on him. it made him feel risky. his hands meandered across your tummy, pushing up under your sweatshirt and roaming the soft skin of your back. he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, and when you opened your eyes in surprise, he nudged your nose like a kitten and let it go. he was good at taking control like this, at making your nerves ebb and flow to his pace. you were so entranced in the way his lips meshed with yours that when his dominant hand found its way to your hips again, you mewled in anticipation. 

“you sound a lot prettier when you’re not arguing with me,” fox joked. you met him with a soft sound from the back of your throat, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. “can barely speak, can you?”

“mm-mm,” you answered, trying to trap his lips again, but he pulled away. 

his eyes shifted shade, and you were now seeing yourself reflected in much darker irises. your back shivered against the mirror on the wall. he broke eye contact and let it linger on your legs, his palms swiping over the skin with intention. swiftly, he bent over and began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you let out a strangled whine, which made him shudder.

“you want me to get to it, hm?”

“please, f… mulder,” you whispered, blushing like a fool. 

the man rose again to lock you in a soft kiss, one so much more loving than the others that it let butterflies loose in your chest. interrupting their fluttering, he prodded, “what was that?”

it was out of you before you had a chance to weigh the outcomes. “please, fox.” 

having teased long enough, fox dropped to his knees and pushed your panties aside. his mouth was so slick from all the time it spent on yours that it was dangerously warm as it pressed against your heat. you let out a lewd string of moans as his tongue trailed a long, torturous stripe between your folds, taking his sweet time getting to the top. he felt you throbbing, all the blood in your body pulsing like a heartbeat for him. his lips, just a bit swollen, peppered a few gentle kisses to the skin before surrounding your bud and starting to suck. 

you squeezed your eyes shut so hard it nearly brought your headache back. fox grunted between your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into your bones. you softened for his tongue as it swirled inside your pussy, tracing shapes to drive you insane. your hands burrowed into his cropped cut and tugged in desperation, which he liked so much it practically made him growl; the sound bounced between your walls, sending a sensation into your stomach that made your legs tremble. he felt so good inside you like this, lapping like a puppy at your water; you bucked against his big nose, craving the friction, and he responded with relentless thirst for you.  

“fuck!” you whined, “fox- agh,”

coming up for a gulp of air, you caught a glimpse of his slick chin as it glinted in the yellow light. “feels good?” 

“shit,” you panted, “yes, obviously… more,” 

“more, huh?” fox licked his lips with hungry eyes. “i’m gonna need you to say please, baby.”

“jesus, fox, please! pretty please, baby, please just keep going,” 

“fuck, don’t call me names…” the man swooned at the broken cry in your voice, resolving to give you whatever you needed until the day you die. now wasn’t the time for confession, though, so he filed that away for later. “pretty please. god, you’re good.”

you nearly choked as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them in a rough come-hither motion. he bombarded you with himself, sucking hard on your clit and fucking his fingers into the swelling spot inside you, making you lurch against his touch like an animal. with your head thrown back against the motel mirror and pretty mouth gasping for him, he realized that his dreams could never do this moment justice. the sugary, tangy taste you left on his tongue, your soft skin that smelled like shower suffocating him, the way his name rolled off your tongue- you were the real fucking deal, not some half-assed daydream that got him off at night. you were beautiful, and for not being a praying man, being on his knees before you felt right. who was he to stand eye to eye with you, when down here where you were perched above him like an angel, he had so much more room to worship you? 

“fuck, i- oh, i’m…” you whimpered, grinding against his face with fervor. 

“let it go, honey, come on,” he cooed, “i’ll take care of you.” 

“b-but i- i’ve never- oh my god!”

the agent watched you battle with yourself, all the while writhing on the countertop, so he carefully brought his thumb to your clit and picked up the pace. he rose to you again, using his free arm to slither around the base of your back and pull your body flush against his. you bunched his shirt in your fists helplessly and hid your face in his shoulder. it took all his strength not to collapse right then and there, but he kept moving for you, and you rocked against his palm like you were made for it. when he realized you were going to need a little more help, he gave it to you. 

you were stressed, after all, and sometimes somebody’s just got to talk you through it, right?

“never had it this good before, hm? nobody’s ever made you cum, sweetheart? you poor thing,” fox twitted, clicking his tongue. “you work so hard. my smart girl, so good at her job, so independent… you deserve to be taken care of, to feel good, baby. to let go of all that stress,” 

you struggled to think straight as his gruff voice battled the ringing in your ears. his palm pressed against your back with so much care, like if he moved it you’d shatter into a million pieces. it was all so much, to have your partner with you like this; to hear him breathing beside you, to feel his fingers in a place you’d never thought they’d be. he saw the gears turning in your head still, and he wanted to shut your brain off for good. and god, did he. fox coaxed it right out of you like it was his job. 

“come on, good girl, you can do it,” he whispered. “cum for me, honey, i know you can. show me you can.”

for every moment of danger you found yourself stuck in, fox was there to protect you. when you got reprimanded by a director, he was there to hold your hand behind the safety of the desk. when you were late and needed a cover, he was prepared with a detailed story. you’d forgotten a raincoat a comical number of times, so many in fact that he began keeping a spare in his office for you to borrow. fox was always there, waiting to help you, to guide you, and if it was fucked up (so far as to call it freudian) then so be it- you needed it from him. you needed his safety, his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. his reassurance. 

and to hear him care for you like this, too, to pull on your strings and unravel you like a tired tapestry… god, nothing ever felt so good. 

fox’s eyes rolled back as you twitched on his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer into the stuffy bathroom air. your hands struggled to find a place to stay as they combed through his hair frantically, tugging and trembling; it was like you’d never been touched before in your life. you had, but very few times, and it was just like he said- nobody had done it right. but he had. it felt like his hands were crafted to please you. they knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how gentle, how deep. the man figured you out instantly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying. you’ve never felt so out of it in your entire life. 

you panted wildly, and fox gave soft kisses to your hair while you tried to regain your composure. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t get a grasp on anything. the world was floating in limbo around you, all inconstant; the countertop felt as foreign to you as flying did. but even in your daze, you craved more- the second he stopped, you needed him to start again. you could barely speak, but he heard your mumblings: “m…more, more, f… foxie,”

that nickname gave him goosebumps. slowly, he said, “baby, i don’t have anything with me for that,”

“don’t care. please.” you begged. there was no way he could say no to you, not when your pretty, cloudy eyes looked up at him how they did. 

“okay, baby, okay.” 

fox gave no warning, but nothing would have prepared you anyway- you instinctively opened your hips wider just to make enough room for him. he pushed all the way in, letting himself bottom out; the man let out a moan so guttural that you clenched around him in reflex. you were lucky enough to see him make that pretty ‘o’ face, and that might’ve been enough for you, honestly, but it wasn’t for him. he needed you, and he needed you fast. 

his thrusts were no match for all the grinding you could do. he snapped back and forth like a whip, hips rolling so hard that it felt like he was digging inside you deeper each time. you dragged your nails down his back, trying to find something to hold onto, but his moans in your ear as he hid his face in your neck were so distracting you kept having to start over. 

“jesus, baby, you’re so tight for me,” he grumbled, “feels so good, you’re doing so good… fuck, my good girl.”

his praise made every nerve in your body short-circuit. it didn’t matter how he moved, you couldn’t stop babbling. he tugged your hips forward a little more, making you slump against the mirror, and you clutched the countertop for dear life. 

“can’t use your words, huh, baby? look at you, smartest analyst in the fbi and you can barely speak, all because of me,” he tormented. the man pressed his right hand against your tummy again, just like he had before, and he growled with lust. he seized your hand and pressed it flat beneath his in the same spot, and he fucked you harder, forcing it down until you felt his thrusting beneath your palm. you never thought you’d feel anything like this, not with your soft stomach, but he was making it possible.

“you feel that, pretty? feel me inside you, filling you up? you’re mine now. all mine.”

you had no control. you whined, “foxie,” jerking your hips against his cock in a craze. 

“god, that’s right, that’s my girl.” he smiled.

“s-so… a-agh, please!”

“mm, i know, baby, keep going,” 

you had no more words left, you’d used them all. fox had figured out how to take away all your stress, yet in the process, he took your whole mind with it. now you were just his, a thing to be kissed, a fleshy body for him to praise. for a control freak, you loved being the one under another’s control for once. 

you scratched at fox’s shoulders, a mindless drop of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth. you felt his cock as it swelled against your slick walls, and how it poked against your insides, and if that weren’t enough, he moved his hand to your clit again and resumed rubbing those blissful circles into it. you could only sit there and grind against his touch, muttering strings of curses and unintelligible sounds.

“agh, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” his moans were growing harsh, turning into whines. “all fucked out, mm, so pretty for me,”

his hips started snapping erratically, and your back arched against the increasing speed. his teeth met your shoulder and he bit softly, grumbling, “i’m so close,”

in what felt like a cry but came out as a strangled whimper, you warned, “m’gonna… agh…” 

fox watched your face screw up in pleasure, and it pushed him right over the edge. your body collapsed as you let go, and he rushed to hold you to him and keep you upright. all the way in your gut, where your hand once rested, you felt him pooling all over, thick and warm. his thumb swirled you slowly, working you through it so you didn’t get too shocked. he was stationary for a while, unable to move from the overstimulation; but when he did, he watched the stuff bubble out of you, though only just a bit. his throat closing up at the sight. he gathered some of it on his fingers and raised them to your lips, and you licked them sweetly. his stomach churned as you gazed down at his hand with foggy eyes, somehow still lustful after all he’d done to tire you out. 

“good job, baby, you were so good for me,” he crooned, leaving sloppy, tired kisses all over your neck. “someone’s gotta take care of you, don’t they?” 

you just murmured little hums, and he loved every second of it. 

“you hear me, pretty girl? nobody takes better care of you than me, you got it? who takes good care of you?” 

“foxie,” you admitted in your mindless bliss. 

“that’s right, baby, foxie does. you’re all mine, honey,” he gushed. “not so stressed anymore, are you?”

“mm-mm.”

“are you okay? take a deep breath for me.”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t forming. you couldn’t string anything together. all you could do was make quiet noises and mutter his name. “mmph… foxie,”

“here, come here, honey.” 

fox tucked his hands beneath your thighs, and after instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck nice and tight, he carried you from the croaking bathroom sink to the motel bed, where he took extra care in laying you down comfortably. he climbed on top of you and adjusted your shirt, smoothing the fabric over your plush tummy and drawing a dopey smile from you. 

“stuck in your head, hm?” fox asked. 

he’d read up on this type of thing before- subspaces. typically common in BDSM practices, but not exclusively. there was a study conducted that detailed the experience theoretically as a headspace induced by rushes of endorphins, causing the receiver to fall into a trance-like state. he remembered reading how when someone is in a subspace their ability to communicate can be impaired and so can their judgment. it was also suggested that asking grounding questions may help coax people out of them (don’t ask how he found such a study.) so being the guy he is, he took everything very slowly from there, and followed the science. 

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“mm.”

“good. what’s my name?” 

your stomach fluttered at the question, and warmth pooled between your hips at the softness with which he asked, but your brain was two steps behind. it took you a minute to answer, and you could only do it with your eyes closed. “foxie,” you muttered. 

“good girl, good job. that’s right,” he rewarded you with a kiss to the collarbone. beneath his breath he muttered, “fuck, if that isn’t cute.”

he could see you were somewhere else. all of your behavior was so needy. you might’ve thought you were a headcase before, but he’s no stranger to id impulses either; he saw how you pushed into his palms, how you refused to let go of his shirt, and he just wanted to help you through it. he wanted to make sure you felt safe. 

“baby, can you open your eyes for me? can you let me see your pretty eyes?” 

you peeked through one and saw his handsome face staring back at you, that toothy grin blooming flowers in your chest. slowly you opened the other, and even though the world was swirling, you managed to keep them open.

“you’re doing so good, thank you, baby,” he chuckled. “now, i’m gonna put your shorts back on, okay?”

“m’kay.” 

you took a deep breath. he watched your chest rise and fall, and your cheeks burn even redder than he thought possible. your hand held his wrist tightly, tight enough that he prayed your nails would leave little moon-shaped marks behind. you shook your head and tried to wipe away the fuzzy feeling. 

“what’s my name again?” he asked, noticing how hard you were trying to focus. he tapped on your hip so you’d know to lift them, and he wriggled your shorts back on, admiring how they hugged the skin.  

“f-fox.”

“good. what’s my job?” 

“you’re… a profiler,” you volleyed, feeling a little more grounded with each passing second. 

“good girl. and where are we, honey?”

you squinted at him and smiled, “bumblefuck, virginia.” 

when fox laughed, it felt like all the angels rung their bells. something about seeing his face light up and whatever was plaguing him, whatever he was in danger of, just wash away in the moment was nothing short of enlightenment. you wished he’d laugh more, so you could see divine intervention on the regular. 

“coming back to me, hm?” 

“yeah,” you giggled. 

fox leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i’m trying not to let my ego explode right now, you know,” he smirked, “i never thought you wanted me so bad.” 

you blushed, hiding behind your hands. “i… oh, god.”

“no, no, it was cute! really. you… you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to do that.” he promised. 

“i’ve never felt-” you paused, wondering if it was worth saying. yet, if he could bring you back to earth after fucking you stupid, what secrets could you hide from him? “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“who, me?” fox laughed.

“mhm. it’s just…  agh. you. it’s only you, fox. embarrassingly so.”

it was his turn to blush then. fox leaned down to catch you in one more kiss, and you felt his hand search the bedsheets for yours so he could tangle your fingers with his own. he didn’t want to break away, so he said it right into your mouth, pausing for air: “god- i have- loved- you for- so long.”

fox couldn’t help but feel proud of himself as he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your warm belly like it was a pillow. you instinctively took to his hair, playing with the chocolatey tufts and wishing he’d never move. he fit so perfectly right there, and now you couldn’t ever let him go. you didn’t want to.

with one last kiss to your hip, fox grinned. “told you i could help.”

[bellaxgiornata]

Want to Know You Better 1:|Bad Impressions

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; investigative journalist!Reader, bodyguard!Jax, enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, eventual smut, slow burn, angst

summary: For over a year you had been tracking Aleksander Petrova through California–a Russian crime lord known to abduct sex workers for his trafficking ring. Seven months ago, he disappeared from the L.A. area, but a series of missing women in Northern California catches your attention, drawing you to Charming in the hopes of linking enough evidence together to once again get the FBI involved. But when the Sons’ President makes a terrible first impression before inserting himself into your work, your investigation turns into more than you anticipated.

a/n: I couldn't resist an enemies to lovers fic with Jax also determined to stubbornly be Readers' self-appointed bodyguard. I'm very much in the Jax mindset lately... Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

tag list: @kmc1989

“Well, it has been a bit, man,” Happy agreed with Opie.

Jax took a pull off of his beer as the table of Sons around him broke into a fit of laughter at his expense. The thunderous noise of their amusement drowned out the classic rock playing in the bar they’d settled at tonight. For once they found themselves drinking somewhere other than at the clubhouse. Tonight, they were at The Alley, a dive bar in downtown Charming. Having just finished a meeting here with Marks, they had all collectively decided to stay and enjoy a few more rounds before heading back.

Jax rolled his eyes at the Sons’ teasing, not exactly taking their bullshit personally. They’d had a rough past few weeks and were just trying to unwind for the night. He knew that.

“Got nothin’ to say in your defense, Jackie boy?” Chibs asked, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Ya suddenly gone celibate?”

Swallowing down his beer, Jax shrugged as he lowered the bottle back to the table. A smug grin drew itself over his lips before he answered. “What can I say? I’ve just been busy,” he told the guys. “Pussy hasn’t exactly been top priority on my mind lately.”

A round of disbelief flew from around the table next, the noise only causing Jax’s grin to grow wider. It was true, though. He really hadn’t been concerning himself with getting laid over the past few weeks, too focused and stressed over club business to have even thought about it. He honestly had been so caught up in everything that he hadn’t even realized how long it had been since he’d last taken a girl to his bed.

“Maybe you’re losing your touch,” Bobby joked.

“Or you’re just going soft on us, Pres,” Tig quipped. 

One of Jax’s brows arched up onto his forehead at that comment. Going soft? Now that was absolute bullshit. 

“Don’t be a jackass,” Jax replied. “I’m not losing nothing, and I sure as shit have not gone soft, Tig.”

A glint of mischief surfaced in Tig’s eyes at Jax’s response. He leaned forward, resting his elbows along the table as a teasing grin slipped onto his face. “Oh no?” he questioned. “You haven’t? You…willing to make a bet on that, Jax?”

Jax settled back in his chair, his hands folding in front of himself as he studied the man. The entire table of Sons had fallen silent at Tig’s question, intrigue hanging thick between them all. Jax never backed down from a challenge, they all knew that. 

“Yeah,” Jax answered easily. “I am. What do you have in mind, Tig?”

“Oh, shit,” Opie muttered with a chuckle, running a hand through his beard.

“Now this is getting good,” Chibs added, gesturing his beer at Tig. “Let’s hear it, brother.”

Tig straightened in his chair, his focus remaining fixed on Jax across the table from him. That mischievous glint in his eye hadn’t yet faded.

“Alright then, Jax. You wanna prove you haven’t gone soft on us? I bet you to get a girl from this bar onto the back of your bike and show her a good time in your bed before we’re finished here tonight,” Tig challenged. “And I’m clarifying that it’s gotta be a broad of our choosing, not yours. No easy pickings.”

A chorus of ‘ooh’ and ‘oh shit’ was muttered around the table as all of the Sons’ eyes darted between Jax and Tig as the bet was laid out. Jax didn’t look remotely fazed by it, though. Instead, he easily drew his beer up to his lips, finishing the last of it before he set the bottle back down on the table.

“You’re on,” Jax replied, a confident grin tugging at his lips. “I guarantee I can get any girl in here on my bike in fifteen minutes or less easily.” He jutted his chin at Tig before he continued, that cocky tone of his growing. “What do I get when I win?”

Tig took a moment, as if he was thinking about the answer, mulling it over for a minute. “Give you three hundred bucks,” he finally answered. “Plus, you get laid. But–” he held up a finger, that glint in his eyes still lingering, “–if you lose, we collectively get to think of some form of embarrassing punishment for you.”

That gave Jax pause for a moment, one hand running through the scruff along his chin. Not that he remotely doubted his ability to get a girl in his bed by any means, but the possibility that they might pick some chick that he somehow would not be able to charm didn’t sit well with him. Because he could only imagine what embarrassing ‘punishment’ the guys would love to force on him.

“You’re hesitating, Jax,” Bobby pointed out.

With a roll of his eyes, Jax sat forward in his chair. “Of course I’m in,” he accepted without another thought, the confidence returning. “This is going to be stupid easy anyway.”

“Aye, well,” Chibs said, shaking his head at his President. “Don’t forget, Jackie, the girls here are normal broads. Not the kind at the clubhouse. Or Diosa or the porn studio.”

Opie shook with silent laughter on the other side of Jax, one of his hands reaching out to lightly nudge his best friend. “That’s right,” he agreed. “These girls aren’t pre-warmed and ready for your advances, brother.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” Jax replied, waving the comment off. “Who the hell would say no to some time with this face?”

Another round of raucous laughter erupted from the table and Jax grinned wider at the sound. He had no doubt that he’d find a way to charm any woman the guys ultimately picked. Didn’t matter if she wasn’t a croweater, he’d find a way. He knew he was attractive and he had the confidence to go with it. He’d make it happen. There was no way in hell he’d lose the bet.

“Great,” Tig said, clapping his hands together before he turned away from the table. “Now to find a suspect.”

For a few minutes, Jax sat at the table as the Sons all began surveying the bar in search of a target for this bet. He listened as the men pointed out a few different options, hearing comments like ‘no, looks too willing’ or ‘doesn’t look remotely challenging enough’. He chuckled to himself, watching as all of his men kept talking amongst themselves until Tig eventually caught everyone’s attention.

“That one!” he exclaimed, gesturing a finger across the bar. “The one at the end of the bar there. Hunched over her phone. Didn’t even notice her at first.”

Jax shifted in his seat, trying to get a look at where all of the men were now focused. In the far corner of the room, almost too easy to miss, was indeed a woman hunched over her phone. She looked like she was concentrating on something, and judging by the way she was dressed, she wasn’t trying to capture the attention of anyone in the bar tonight. Jax was immediately thankful that he didn’t find her unattractive, either. If anything, he found himself pleased this was the woman they’d picked for the bet. He wouldn't mind her in his bed for a couple of hours tonight.

“She looks more like she’d slap Jax for approaching rather than sleep with him,” Bobby said with a laugh. 

Tig shot a look over his shoulder at Bobby, a wicked grin on his face as he nodded his head in agreement. “I know, right? She’s perfect.”

“If anything,” Jax cut in, glancing back over at the woman, “she looks like she’d be thanking me for giving her a little stress relief. She looks a little too tightly wound.”

The table of Sons all returned their attention to Jax now, curious expressions adorning their faces. They were waiting to see if he would keep his word now that a woman had been chosen for the bet.

“Still think you got it in you to charm a girl like that?” Opie asked.

“Yeah, Jax,” Tig goaded. “You gonna call off the bet or what?”

“Fuck off,” Jax said as he rose from his chair, lightly slapping a hand onto the table. “No goddamn way I'm turning the bet down–or losing it. Let me show you boys how it’s done. I’ll have her on my bike and screaming my name in no time.”

Another round of laughter came from around the table, a few of the men wishing Jax good luck. Opie gave him a pat on the back as Jax walked away from the group, his gaze fixed on the unsuspecting woman at the far end of the bar.

This was going to be fun.

The dive bar you’d found yourself in for the evening smelled like mold and sweat–not unlike the shitty motel room you’d checked yourself into earlier today. And yet somehow it had still been rated the best of all the shitty motels in Charming. 

Today had been long. You'd had a bit of a drive out to the small town of Charming from Red Ridge this morning–the city in which you lived just a little outside of San Francisco where your prestigious paper, the San Francisco Sun Times, was located. After briefly unpacking a few of your things in the motel you’d unfortunately have to call home for a bit, you'd hit the road again and began your investigation around the surrounding area.

Aleksander Petrova was your great white whale. You’d been chasing him for well over a year now, and you’d almost led the FBI straight to him seven months ago, but some sort of information leak had given the bastard a chance to disappear into thin air before they’d had an opportunity for an arrest. He’d been right there operating just outside of Los Angeles for months and you’d been linking missing woman after missing woman together, discovering a pattern in which he’d targeted female sex workers specifically. Whether his men abducted them from the street, underground brothels, or strip clubs, you’d grown familiar with how he targeted them. But then his ass had disappeared into the wind. 

Until recently.

Which was why you’d landed yourself in Northern California now. You had caught the familiar pattern in the unreported missing women cases in the area that had been occurring for the past few months. You were positive it was Petrova. But due to his reach and wealth, and the fact that most of society didn’t bat an eye at a missing prostitute, no one had looked into the cases. It didn’t help that Petrova had plenty of law enforcement in his back pocket, making it easy for officers to turn a blind eye to what was actually going on throughout the state.

But not you.  

Huddled over the counter of the bar in the dim lighting, you were focused on typing up an email to your editor on your phone. Gary had technically wanted you to check in with him once you’d gotten settled in Charming earlier this morning, but having been unable to resist getting started on your investigation after finally catching a lead, you admittedly had forgotten all about shooting him an email. You hoped the added bit of information about what you’d started working on today would ease the angry scolding you were sure to receive later.

As you typed, absently sipping on the piss beer you'd ordered a while ago–the one that was only half-finished and growing warm–you eventually felt a presence sidle up near you at the bar. Still focused on your work email, you paid the person no mind as your fingers swiftly flew over the keyboard of your phone. But when you noticed them lean against the counter near you from your peripheral, you had a feeling your quiet evening trying to unwind and focus your thoughts was about to be interrupted.

“Hey there, darlin’,” a deep, smooth voice came from beside you. “You're not from around here, are you?”

Without even glancing up, fingers still flying across the keys of your phone, you tensed at the man's clearly obvious intent. You had important work to focus on, you weren't interested in getting hit on by some random guy in a small town.

“No thank you,” you simply replied, not bothering to look at him. 

An amused chuckle met your response, the sound only further irritating you. So this guy wasn't going to give up easily. Fantastic.

“Maybe you should put the phone down, sweetheart,” the voice tried again. “You're missing out on what's going on around you. Like me flirting with you.”

Fingers pausing their typing, you resisted the urge to throw your phone at him. “I wouldn't say I'm ‘missing’ it, exactly,” you said, annoyance levels rising. “It's actually interrupting my work.”

“You're working right now?” the voice asked incredulously. “Darlin’, no. Put the phone away, you're sitting at a bar. Why the hell are you working?”

“Look, if you’re looking for an easy lay tonight, it’s not me,” you stated bluntly, skimming through the finished email on your phone. “I’ll save you the time right now: I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

Another amused chuckle rumbled from the man beside you before you caught him sliding a little bit closer down the length of the counter towards you. Pressing the send button on your phone a bit more roughly than necessary, you couldn’t believe the audacity of this asshole. Was he really going to be that persistent?

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to talk to you,” he replied, entirely unfazed by your rejection. ���No need to go getting ahead of ourselves quite yet.”

With a frustrated huff, you turned off the screen on your phone and finally looked over at the man beside you, an irritated glare already on your face. But the irritation immediately fell from it when you realized you recognized this man. An annoying smirk quickly overtook his features as he caught the shift in your own expression, but you didn’t even give that arrogant look on his face another thought before your eyes dropped down to the leather kutte he was wearing, your eyes landing on the President patch. After a brief pause, your gaze slid back up to meet his. The smirk on his face only grew a bit wider as he continued to lean against the bar counter in front of you.

“Change your mind now, darlin’?” he asked.

Ignoring the smirk that seemed to be permanently present and the cocky confidence he exuded, your eyes narrowed slightly back at him. You’d done your research before coming out to Charming. You knew exactly who he was, and he was someone you’d been hoping to get an audience with while you were here. Especially because you were partly here because of him. What were the odds he’d just walk right up to you in a piece of shit dive bar?

“Jax Teller, right?” you questioned back.

That caught him off guard. He visibly recoiled, his eyes widening a bit as you called him by his name. A name he hadn’t given you yet. It took him a moment to recover, his demeanor shifting to something cautious and suspicious almost instantly. 

“Yeah, and who the hell are you, sweetheart?” he asked, tone a bit sharper now.

Turning in your chair, you stuck your hand into your purse which hung over the back of it before pulling out a business card. He gave you a strange look as you slid it towards him on the counter, clearly not anticipating the flirtatious conversation to go the way it currently was. 

“I’m an investigative journalist,” you informed him. “For the San Francisco Sun Times. I’m out here working a story on missing sex workers.”

Jax’s eyes rose back to you over the top of the business card he was holding in his hand. He looked confused as he studied you in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry, you’re doing what?” he finally asked.

With a roll of your eyes you briefly explained yourself. “I’m investigating the disappearances of missing women–specifically sex workers–in Northern Cali. I believe they’re linked to Aleksander Petrova. You know, the big Russian crime lord?”

Jax pulled a face, his expression morphing briefly into one of horrified disbelief as he set your card back on the bar counter. “Yeah, darlin’. I damn well know who he is,” he told you. “What the hell are you doing looking into a man like that?”

An annoyed huff fell out of you in response. “I just told you,” you replied.

“No, I heard what you said,” he continued, shaking his head at you. “But, sweetheart, you’re a journalist. The hell are you gonna do going up against a man like Petrova?”

Turning further towards him in your chair, you let out a frustrated sigh. You’d been doing this for a long time now, you weren’t remotely incompetent. And you certainly didn’t appreciate being treated as such.

“I’m not going up against him, Mr. Teller,” you began, noticing the way his lips twitched when you’d referred to him so formally. “I’m investigating the missing women. Petrova has a pattern and I’ve been following him for over a year now. I’m trying to find evidence to link the missing women to him so I can give the FBI the information and they can take him down.”

His eyes narrowed back at you, an unreadable expression crossing his features as he listened to what you were saying. He looked completely different now than the arrogant flirt he had been just a few minutes ago.

“Helping those women and stopping that piece of shit is my main priority,” you finished. “The pay from publishing the story just keeps me doing what I do to help others.”

“You realize how unsafe and stupid that is, right?” he shot back. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Or taken for his trafficking ring yourself. You’re just one goddamn woman going up against a Russian mobster with far more wealth and power than you have. You don’t stand a chance.”

“I didn’t ask for your vote of confidence,” you bitterly pointed out.

He paused for a moment, irritation briefly washing across his features. You figured he wasn’t used to being spoken to like this very often. Particularly by women, if your research into his club had taught you anything.

“Why’re you telling me all of this?” he asked curiously. “Why are you here in Charming?”

“Because, Mr. Teller,” you began, enjoying the flash of annoyance on his face at your continued formality, “I have a reasonable suspicion that your club’s businesses might be affected by all of this.”

His eyes immediately hardened at that, a dangerous glint in them. But before he got a word out, a loud commotion broke out over the noise of the bar. Both of you glanced over at the increasing ruckus across the room. You spotted a table filled with Sons all currently banging their hands against the surface and shouting at Jax. 

“We believe in ya, Jackie!”

“Come on, brother! Seal the deal!”

“What's taking you so goddamn long, man!”

You frowned as the group of men fell into loud laughter, your attention slowly returning to the man in front of you. It was obvious they were shouting at him in relation to him having come over to flirt with you, but they seemed far too invested for their behavior to be normal. Jax's expression didn't give you much to go by as he only appeared to grow further irritated at their interruption before he turned back around and focused on you.

“What businesses are you talking about, darlin’?” he asked.

Resting an arm along the sticky bar counter, you kept your attention solely on him despite the continued noise from across the room. This conversation was far more important than whatever bullshit these men were shouting about. You might never have the opportunity of discussing anything about this investigation with Jax again after tonight, you couldn't waste the opportunity that had fallen into your lap.

“Redwoody and Diosa,” you answered him. “And the Diosa expansion I know you’re working on.”

Jax tensed at your response, his eyes narrowing further as he grew even more uncomfortable now. “How do you know about those?” he asked. “And why do they have anything to do with this?”

“I'm good at my job, Mr. Teller,” you answered. “And I told you, Petrova targets sex workers. And you and your club happen to have rounded quite a few up for your porn business and the poorly disguised brothels.” At the look that flashed across his face, you abruptly held up a hand and continued. “Relax, I'm not here to out you on those. I've known about them for a while now. If I wanted them shut down, they'd have been raided already. That's not what I'm after.”

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for that?” he snapped, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Sweetheart, you’ve got a lot of knowledge that you shouldn’t have. I’m not likin’ that.”

Tapping your nails against the bar, you could see the tension increasing in him. He’d obviously expected to come over here and flirt, probably thinking he’d take you somewhere for a fuck. Now he looked stiff and pissed off. 

“Do you really think I’d be dumb enough to tell you this to your face if I planned to shut your shit down?” you asked him. “Because that’d be pretty fucking stupid.” Sighing, your nails stopped tapping along the counter as you tried to be straight with him. “Look, I’m investigating these missing women either way. While I do, I’m hoping to keep your girls safe. All I’d like is a little cooperation to do so.”

“Cooperation?” he asked skeptically.

You shrugged easily. “Yeah. Like a head’s up if something weird is going on,” you explained. “If someone’s eyeing your businesses. Following any of your girls home. Anyone actually ends up missing.”

“Darlin’, I think I’m better equipped to take care of our girls more than you are,” he argued, that arrogant smirk gradually returning. “And I don’t need some fed wannabe dragging the real feds to my town.”

“Well,” you said, pushing your chair out and rising to your feet, “I’ll still be around. In case you care to change your mind and help those missing women.”

Pocketing your phone into your jean’s pocket, you figured it was about time you made it back to your motel for the night. You had a long day ahead of you tomorrow and you wanted to finalize a few more notes on your laptop before bed. Grabbing your purse and slipping the strap over your head, you paused when Jax’s voice suddenly broke through your thoughts.

“Whoa, wait, you’re just leaving then?” he asked. “You drop a bomb like that and then you’re just gonna disappear? You didn’t even finish your beer.”

Glancing over at the half-finished, disappointing drink, you made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. “It was shitty beer, anyway.” 

You managed to take one step before Jax was speaking again. In the distance, you heard a bit of commotion steadily growing from the table of Sons once more.

“Come on,” Jax tried again. “Just let me buy you a drink. Something a little less shitty. We can talk about something…less depressing.”

Eyes running over the length of him just once, you already knew what he was after. And the answer was still no. You were here to finish this story and get Petrova thrown in prison. Fucking some random outlaw–no matter how attractive–wasn’t a priority. Especially one who, in your research, apparently had a history of fucking just about anything. You avoided guys like that.

“No, I’m good,” you answered. “Have a nice night, Mr. Teller.”

Taking just a few steps towards the bar’s exit, you heard the commotion from the table of Sons suddenly explode throughout the bar. The noise caused you to halt in your tracks, your head darting over towards the table as your brows knitted together in curiosity. 

“Aw, Jackie!” one of the men shouted. “Ya lost the bet!”

“You’re losing your touch, brother!”

“Shot down! No action for you!”

It took a moment, but the second your ears registered the words ‘bet,’ you steadily began piecing things together. He hadn’t come over to initially speak with you because he’d actually been interested, it’s because they’d all made you into a damn bet. A fucking joke for their entertainment. Probably something along the lines of him getting you into his bed. A look of disgust passed over your features as your gaze shifted to Jax still standing beside the bar. He at least had the audacity to look moderately apologetic before he turned his attention towards the guys, shouting loudly across the room to be heard.

“Knock it the fuck off, assholes!”

Shaking your head at him, you could feel the disgust and embarrassment steadily filling you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t worked with countless individuals in the seedy underworld, because you most certainly had. Your ability to humanize them to the outside world in your pieces was something you’d been praised for repeatedly. But never in your years of journalism had you been subjected to something so humiliating. 

“You just saved me three hundred bucks, sweetheart!” one man shouted over to you.

A chorus of laughter erupted once more from the table as you made your way to the exit without a backwards glance at Jax. Instead, you shot the men at the table a dark glare, raising a hand high in the air and flipping the whole table off before pushing the door open and making your way outside. 

Working with the Sons on this story, if you managed it, was going to be a pain in your ass.

[sequinsmile-x]

Bound

She wanted to be part of it, to sit here squished between the two of them as Jack learnt more about the woman he’d had stolen from him when he was so young, but she didn’t want to intrude, to insert herself into memories that she was not meant to be a part of.

AKA the one where Emily, Aaron and Jack look through old photo albums, and Emily learns something new about her boyfriend.

-x-

Hi besties,

This is a, slightly belated, birthday fic for the lovely @sometimesitswho <3 I hope you had a day as lovely as you, and that you enjoy this fic!!

This is soft, silly, and exactly what I needed to write to get through the middle of the week!!

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: none!

Words: 2.9k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily sighs contentedly as she steps out of her bedroom, rolling her neck against the ache that always seemed to come after sleeping on thin hotel mattresses and pillows that weren’t hers. The team had just landed back in DC a couple of hours ago after three days away on a case, and the first thing she’d done was jump in the shower the second she got home - standing under water that bordered on too hot as she washed away the horrors they’d seen the last few days.

She smiles as she walks past her couch, pausing to pet Sergio as he stands on the back of it, delighted to see her after putting up with the neighbour who called in to check on him whilst she was away. 

“What should I get for dinner, buddy? Chinese food or pizza?” She says, grimacing as she thinks of eating takeout again, but aware of the fact she had no energy to go grocery shopping. Her phone chimes with a text, and she pulls it out of the pocket of her FBI hooded sweatshirt, Aaron’s sweatshirt, and she smiles when she sees a text from the man in question. 

Fancy coming over? Jack keeps asking why you aren’t here. We both miss you.

It had been a month since their first date, since she’d finally kissed him and then tugged him into her apartment by his tie, and she knew she’d never been happier. No one on the team knew about them yet, and they were figuring out a way they could tell them about the shift in their relationship, so when the jet landed there wasn’t a chance to discuss anything beyond ‘see you at work on Monday’ like they were simply colleagues, not a couple who were still very much in the phase of their relationship where they couldn’t get enough of each other. He was the first person she’d been with since the damage Ian had left behind, and she knew she was the first person Aaron had been with since Foyet. It made it oddly comforting, made her feel less self-conscious, knowing he was in a similar situation too. Like they were starting all over again, just the two of them, as if anything or anyone that had come before them happened to somebody else. 

Even this early on, she knew that wasn’t something that would really go away. It would change, it would grow and mature along with them, would shift from taking the time to memorise every bit of each other and creating mental roadmaps of each other's hills and valleys, to something more settled. Something built on the strong foundation of knowing another person as well as possible. No less comforted or in need of the other’s presence, but more used to, more reliant on it. 

She calls him instead of replying via text, and she sits on the couch. Sergio immediately climbs into her lap, headbutting her hand for the attention he’d missed from her. She scratches his head and smiles as he curls up against her, purring so loudly he practically vibrates with it. 

Aaron answers the phone on the second ring, and she doesn’t have to be looking at him to know he’s smiling, “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hi,” she replies, letting her eyes drift closed at the comforting sound of his voice, “I miss you too,” she says before she can stop herself, her cheeks warm with embarrassment she doesn’t fully understand, “I don’t want to intrude, though.” 

“You’re never intruding,” he replies, “And I wouldn’t have invited you over if you were. Jack wants you to come over too.” 

“Yeah, Emily, come over.” 

She sinks her teeth in her lower lip in an attempt to contain her smile at the sound of Jack in the background, as if her happiness was something she wanted to hide even from herself. She’d made it clear to Aaron from the start that she didn’t want to overstep, that she never wanted to get in the way of his time with Jack, but for every part of her that wanted to spend all of her time with Aaron, there was an equal part that wanted to do the same with Jack. She’d fallen in love with the little boy long before she’d fallen in love with his father, drawn in by his dimpled smile and his bright eyes from the moment she’d first met him when he was a tiny thing balanced on his mother’s hip. 

“It’s a tempting offer,” she says, but her heart pangs when she looks at Sergio, guilt for leaving him alone again after only just getting home burning her from the inside out. 

“You can bring Sergio over too,” he says, anticipating her needs as always, “Even if he does hate me.” 

Emily rolls her eyes, “He doesn’t hate you,” she says, unable to stop her smile from getting any wider as he chuckles down the line, “Are you sure?” 

“I didn’t buy all those things for him just for fun, Em. It’s because we love having you both here.” 

She laughs, “Well, I guess we’re coming over then.” It warms her from the inside out when she hears Aaron tell Jack that she’d agreed to come over and she hears the little boy celebrate, “I’ll grab dinner on the way over. Pizza? Do you guys want the usual?” 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” she replies, “If you’re providing bed and breakfast for Sergio and me, the least we can do is provide dinner.” 

“Okay,” he says, knowing better than to argue any further, “We’ll see you soon?” 

“I just need to pack a bag for me and get Sergio sorted, and then I’ll be on my way over,” she says, and she can hear his smile again, and she finds herself almost desperate to see it.

“See you soon, sweetheart.” 

She has to press her lips together to stop three little words from escaping, purposely keeping them in her chest where they belonged for now, “See you soon, honey.” 

___

The moment she arrives, she’s almost knocked over by Jack. He runs at her, his arms tight around her waist as he hugs her and talks at a million miles an hour about everything he’d done at school since he last saw her. She’s got her bag over her shoulder, Sergio’s carrier in one hand and two pizza boxes in the other. 

“Buddy,” Aaron says, his smile wide as he watches from a few feet away, looking relaxed and happy and hers as he stands there in a t-shirt and sweatpants that match the sweater she’s wearing, “At least let Emily into the apartment.” He says, taking the pizza boxes from her whilst he winks at her, “We need to help her with all her things.” 

Jack nods, his expression serious as he steps back from her, “Right, sorry, Emily.” 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she says, running her fingers through his hair. “Want to take Sergio?” She offers, handing over the carrier, smiling when she hears a discontent meow from inside, “You remember how to open it up, right?” 

Jack smiles and nods enthusiastically, taking the carrier to the couch to set it down so he can let the cat out. “Hi, Sergio.” As soon as he unzips the carrier, Sergio bolts across the apartment, and Jack frowns, his expression nothing short of adorable. 

“Don’t worry, Jack,” Emily assures him, her bag and shoes now on the floor so she can tug him into a hug “As soon as he remembers it’s safe here, he’ll come out and say hi.” 

“Jack, will you go get some plates, please?” Aaron says, placing the pizza boxes down on the coffee table, and the little boy runs off, giving Emily and Aaron their first moment alone all day. Aaron wraps his arm around her waist the moment the pizza is no longer in his hands, and he tugs her closer, smiling as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Hi.” 

She hums contentedly and leans in to kiss him. “Hi,” she replies, kissing him again, “I miss you.” 

His hand slips under the hem of the sweatshirt she’d stolen from him and the t-shirt underneath, his palm warm and wide against her bare skin, “We spent most of the day together.” 

She scrunches her nose up and kisses him again, “It’s not the same, though. I can’t just kiss you in front of everyone.” 

He pulls her in for a hug, and because she’s barefoot apart from a pair of socks, also stolen from him, she can tuck herself right against him, his chin on top of her head as he continues to run circles on her back. 

“We’ll tell them at Dave’s next week,” he assures her. “Then we don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”

She pouts in a way she wouldn’t if she wasn’t exhausted and ruined by him in a way no one else had ever been able to come close to, “I still won’t be able to kiss you at work, though.” 

“True,” he laughs, the sound punctuated by a kiss against her lips as Jack runs back into the room, “One step at a time, sweetheart.” 

Jack hands her a plate, and they sit on the couch. Emily is boxed in by both Hotchners, and she tilts her head curiously as she notices open photo albums stacked on the corner of the coffee table, “What’s all this?” 

“We were looking at pictures of Mommy and Daddy when they first met,” Jack says, smiling appreciatively at Aaron as he places a slice of pizza on his plate, “Did you know they met in high school?” 

She nods as she holds out her plate to Aaron, smiling when he puts some pizza on there for her, “I did know that.”

Jack takes a bite of his pizza, but doesn’t let a mouthful of bread and cheese stop him from talking, “Mommy was so pretty. And Daddy was…well, Daddy.” 

“Thanks, Jack,” Aaron quips, and Emily hums sympathetically, placing her hand on his knee as she squeezes the joint. 

“I’m sure your dad was very handsome, just like he is now,” she says, winking when Aaron’s eyes meet hers. 

“When we’ve eaten, you should look at the pictures too, Emily. Daddy says we can’t look whilst we are eating because we’ll get the pictures dirty.” 

She doesn’t mean to freeze, but she does, her body briefly tense before she can stop it because this was something she didn’t know how to handle. She wanted to be part of it, to sit here squished between the two of them as Jack learnt more about the woman he’d had stolen from him when he was so young, but she didn’t want to intrude, to insert herself into memories that she was not meant to be a part of. Aaron notices, because of course he does, and he places his hand over hers on his knee, linking their fingers together briefly, his eyes soft when she looks up at him again. 

“That will be nice, Jack,” he says, assuring her with nothing more than a flicker of a smile that he was okay with it, “But we should eat first and then-”

“Wash our hands,” Jack says, rolling his eyes, “I know.” 

Aaron leans in to whisper to her, “That’s all you, you know. He never used to do that.” 

She smiles, any anxiety she’d briefly felt forgotten, and she shrugs playfully. “What can I say? I’m an excellent influence.”

___

They spend some time flipping through the albums after they’ve eaten, Emily leaning against Aaron and Jack against her with Sergio on his lap as she lets the little boy point out who is who to her. Aaron needs to correct him a couple of times, his voice soft and loving as he reminds him of what he’d told him the last time they’d flicked through these photos - pictures of the little boy’s mom and dad as kids themselves, moments frozen in time and kept safe behind plastic, both of them young and unaware of everything that was to come. 

Eventually, it’s time for Jack to go to bed, and he hugs and kisses her cheek and tells her he loves her before Aaron shepherds him down the hallway, followed by Sergio, who would inevitably end up sleeping on the end of Jack’s bed. She finds herself alone on the couch, still flicking through the photo album, finding herself unable to stop looking at pictures of the man she loved when he was a lanky teenager - all limbs and height he hadn’t quite grown into yet. She flicks onto the next page of pictures, and something catches her eye immediately. 

Aaron and Haley are standing in the middle of a group of friends, people she’s sure they hugged at graduation and promised they’d stay in touch with before their friendship faded - worn away with time and distance - and they are both smiling widely, but that’s not what she’s looking at. She holds the album closer, a gasp escaping her as it finally clicks what she’s looking at, and she chuckles to herself. 

“No fucking way.” 

Aaron, her stern, very serious, all sharp edges and pressed suits, boyfriend used to have an earring. 

“He’s curled up with Sergio and a book,” Aaron says as he walks back into the living room, “Do you want a glass of…” he trails off when he sees the look on her face, the mix of delight and shock as she looks up at him and lets out a surprised laugh, “What’s wrong?” 

She turns the album to face him, and his eyes go wide because he’d forgotten those photos were in the album he’d left her with, “You had your ear pierced?” 

He sighs, “Em-”

“Come here,” she says, reaching for his hand and tugging him down to the couch, placing the photo album carefully on the coffee table before she climbs onto his lap and grabs his right ear, “I can’t believe I never noticed…” she gasps in delight when she spots it, a tiny scar in the lobe of his ear that she immediately presses her thumb against, “You really did have your ear pierced,” she smiles as she pulls back, pressing her lips together when she sees the pink tinge to his cheeks, feels the way he squeezes her hips, “Sorry, honey,” she says, clearing her throat, “I just never…expected you to have your ear pierced.” 

He smiles, completely unable to stop himself in the face of her excitement at learning something new, something so unexpected, about him, “You’re not going to let it go until I tell you about it, are you?”

She shakes her head, her smile so wide it makes him ache before she leans in to kiss him, fully settling into his lap, her arms around his neck and her thumb and finger still pressed to both sides of the tiny scar on his ear. 

“Tell me everything.” 

“Haley dared me to do it,” he says, wrapping his arms around Emily to secure her to him, her side pressed against his chest as his hand once again sneaks under the sweater she’s wearing, “And I was a teenage boy in love for the first time and entirely unable say no to her,” he says, smiling as he thinks about it, “So we went and got it pierced in a studio that makes me shudder when I think about it now, and I let her pick out the earring. I had it for a few weeks. I took it out for high school graduation and forgot to put it back in, so it healed over. I tried to force it back through, but it wasn’t happening.” His eyes meet hers, and any embarrassment he’d felt is long gone, replaced with warm nostalgia and the joy of sharing this part of himself with the woman he loves. “Haley was disappointed, I was not,” he chuckles, and Emily does too, her hand finally slipping from his ear to his neck as she makes him look at her again, “She said it made me look cool. As you saw, it did not.” 

“I don’t know,” she says playfully, running her thumb back and forth over his jaw. “I think it looked pretty cool, too,” she says, leaning in to kiss him quickly, “Between your single diamond earring, and my Siouxsie and the Banshees phase, we would have made quite the pair in high school.” 

He chuckles at that and turns to kiss her palm, “I dread to think what you could have talked me into,” he says wryly, “I probably would have got my lip pierced or something to impress you.” 

Emily laughs and shakes her head at him before she kisses him again and then snuggles into his chest, her forehead tucked into his neck, “I like learning new things about you.” 

He drops a kiss to her hairline, words he didn’t know how to say quite yet pressed against her skin, “I like learning new things about you, too.”

[naberrieshifting]

My first Resident evil (main DR) Shift

DISCLAIMER!

Everybody reacts to things differently so please self insert and think before shifting to a risky DR like this, im already used to conflict because of my Star Wars DR and I don’t really get affected by things at all so just yeah think before you shift ❤️

So pretty much my lore is basically the same as my CR except I moved to the US as a kid (im Australian) and then after high school I started studying to become a detective almost immediately so that way I could be a fully trained one by the time I turned 21, but when I was 20 I was being placed in raccoon city to finish my training there so fast forward to September 30th 1998, the station had told me not to come down but didn’t mention why but because I had already sorted out a place to rent and stuff I had to go to raccoon city anyway so me and my friend lea went there and she was helping me move and we have another friend called Mary who already lives in raccoon city, fast forward a few hours we stop a petrol station and suprise suprise we run into leon and claire but the petrol station had already been over run so we all hoped into a cop car and headed to the city and once we got there the road had been blocked off so we hopped out of the car to run to the police station but we ended up being over run with zombies so me and leon end up getting seperated from claire and lea and we found our way to the police station and turns out my friend mary was already there and marvin who wasn’t too happy to see us😓

then fast forward through finding all the coins to get into the car park were in that undergroumd area and fight the literal devil (will birkin) which we dealt with then we went to the underground car park and met ada and my friend mary was immediately all goo goo heart eyes for her i fear (i scripted that the key card was easy to get) so then ada left to go talk to him and we followed her and grabbed the key card and let Ben out of his cell and went to leave the car park but then mr x came out of no where and we had to pretty much sprint the fuck away then Ada hopped in the fbi van and ran him over and blew him up❤️, then we went to the gunshop across the road from the police Station as the road had caved in and this was honestly the saddest thing I have ever seen because the owners daughter was infected and then Ada went to shoot her but the owner stopped her and Leon convinced her not too and then leon got mad at ada for not telling any of us anything that was going on and then she told us her idea of everything then me and leon were like if its gonna help the city then sure and mary was just too heart eyes to refuse atp i fear, then we end up in the sewers leon runs from this creepy ass fish lizard thing thing which was highkey scary asf Anyways fast forward a bit me and Leon got separated from Mary and Ada because of some unfortunate events of Leon deadass taking a bullet for me because I tried to take one for Ada after Annette birkin shot at her😍 and I told Mary and Ada to keep going while I waited for Leon to wake up and shit because he passed out while I was taking the bullet out but the afterwards we kept going (literally had no clue where they were I fear they were no where to be found) but then we found the railway to the nest and while we were on the railway to the umbrellas nest Leon was all “Thankyou for you know saving me back there😓” and I was all “you saved me first😇” and then he kissed me and was like “I’m sorry, if we’re going to die I just..” and then I kissed him again and was like “we’re not going to die” and then fast forward we get the sample find Maryij the depth of the hive looking wel distraught and Ada is literally no where to be found and we get tf out of there before the whole thing self destructs, we finally properly defeat final form Mr x on our way out and then we jump on the train and I’m like “omg where tf is lea and Claire😰” cause I know that they were down there somewhere too because I had managed to get ahold of lea and then we actually inside of said train and lea and Claire Are there with sherry and this other little girl Rina then fast forward again we destroy the last form of will birkin and get out of the hive before it self destructs and escape the city and we walk for like an hour before a military truck stops and picks us up but Claire leaves to go find her brother with Rina and then fast forward again we’re in hospital, sherry is like heavily guarded and I’m like still freaking tf out so I go find Leon’s room and I’m like “hi🥲” and he’s like “are you ok?” And I’m like “not really😍” and then I’m like “can I stay in here?” And he like nods his head and moves over and shared his tiny ass hospital bed because now we’re #traumabonded and I fell asleep and then that’s when I shifted back here

This was 7 months ago now (DR time) and a lot more has happened but yeah this is basically just my raccoon city experience

If you have any questions let me know because this is lowkey the fastest way least in depth way I could explain what happened that night

[zvdvdlvr]

— Olive Garden Gift Card

🌌 — synopsis. You meet your dad.

🌌 — warnings. This is basically a self-fucking-insert. You have a sister and good grandparents but youre stepdad left! Fix-It!Rossi. Don’t read this if you don’t have daddy issues.

     The sun had just dipped over the tall building when you entered the FBI building. You knew going in here was a gamble. Why would a big shot FBI boss believe an almost 22 year old woman claiming that he’s her daughter?

     No matter, you told yourself as you wittily convinced the security officer to let you in the building. Your mother was dead now and you wanted to at least let him know you existed. Even if he did already know, you wanted to tell him of your mother’s death. The dark blue folder with paint stained in the back (courtesy of your little sister) stopped shaking after taking a calming breath in the elevator.

     You had memorized the layout of the room memorized after weeks of planning what you would say and how you would say it, so actually entering the room made your heart beat a little faster. To think you were actually going to see your biological father- your dad- made you mad and a little nervous.

     Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner looked up at the figure at the door. Her face was solemn, but the way her eyebrows were set made Hotch think she was nervous. She had a familiar frown. The girl wore a pair of dark jeans with brown square-toed boots. The Carhartt shirt she wore was black. “Hello. SSA Hotchner. What can I do for you?” He asked, sticking his hand out.

     “I was asked to give this to you,” you said after shaking your dad’s hand. You tried to keep your voice calm. You couldn’t believe you were actually standing in front of your father. From a young age you knew you were different. All the other boys and girls weren’t in their mom’s wedding as the flower girl or ring bearer. All the other boys and girls didn’t call their male parent by their first name. All the other boys and girls had the same last name as everyone in the house. Except you.

     Aaron looked at the tightly-written cursive on the back of the envelope and felt a pang of familiarity in his heart. “I- I’m sorry, who are you?”

     After saying your last name- your mother’s last name- you saw it.

     “I’ll read fast.” You watched your father’s eyes dart over the front page. Your mother’s handwriting took up most of the back as well, but you were ready for Aaron to usher you out of his office and apologize for your loss so you stayed rigid in your seat. The cold leather of the chair did nothing to soothe you. Aaron’s cologne made you want to heave. What would he say?

     Another minute passed before Aaron placed the letter in his desk and took out photos from the envelope. You didn’t know what your mother wrote, but you read the captions and years on the back and your eyes filled with unshed tears as you relived those memories.

     After examining the photos with an unreadable expression, Aaron looked up at you. “I didn’t realize your mother was pregnant when she left,” he murmured, glancing down at the photo of you at age six with a pink hat and camo jacket on your mother’s shoulders. In your hands you held a small trout. In your mother’s hands was a larger trout. You were so proud because that was the first fish you had ever caught.

     You nodded. “She told me everything.” You tried to keep yourself neutral until Hotch told you to get out.

     “Y/n,” he said slowly, examining you closely. You had your mother’s flat nose, hooded eyes, and plump lips. You had Aaron’s high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and serious eyebrows. Aaron knew you were a spitfire- a dangerous combination of him and your mother. “What do you want to do? What do you want me to do?” His tone was quiet and you knew you had done it. He didn’t care. Not about you or your dead mother or the little sister that you cared so deeply for. Well, fine.

     That caught you off guard. “I don’t care. I just wanted to come tell you that you have two other kids and that my mother was dead.” You felt your throat tighten at the mention of your little sister. Your grandparents were currently watching her since your stepfather had divorced your mother and wanted nothing to do with either of you. “So I did that. I, uh…” your jaw clenched and you looked at the framed picture of the happy family of three: consisting of Aaron Hotchner, his wife, and son. You didn’t want to cry in front of a man you didn’t even know, so you swallowed and set your eyes to him. “I’ll leave you to your life.”

     You tried to ignore the way your bottom lip trembled and how a single tear slipped down your cheek as you closed the door to his office rather loudly. You tilted your head up and your shoulders kept solid as you walked past your dad’s office, your dad’s team, and your dad. This time you were the one doing the walking away.

— 🌌

     You had promised your sister to pick up a present for her. Despite the pretty big age gap between the two of you, you and Ava go along well. You had planned to stay for a couple days in Virginia, so you had time to thrift for gifts for your loving grandparents (read: mother’s mom and dad) and sister.

     Right now, though, you were strolling through a small book store on a darker lit area of the town. Sure, you knew you probably stuck out like a sore thumb with your appearance, but you had always harbored a love to read. You were just pulling out a Sylvia Plath to add to the growing pile of Vonnegut and Wiesel book on your arm. You counted those books and decided another one wouldn’t hurt.

     “Already read you,” you murmured, walking slowly past an aisle of titles.

     “Do you want me to carry those for you?”

     You turned around, remembering the stainless steel knife your stepdad had gifted you long ago in your front jeans pocket. In front of you was an older gentleman in an expensive suit. The lines across his face told you he was older, wiser. “Uh… no. Thank you though.”

     He nodded and stuck his hand out for you to shake. “My name is David. David Rossi.”

     This David Rossi fellow worked with Aaron, you recalled. You had done your research. “I see. Did Hotchner send you?”

     Rossi shook his head and followed you. “No. I came here on my own accord. You left in a hurry,” he said. You made your way to the fictional section- you were a sucker for some fictional romance.

     “I don’t think he wanted me there. He has a life and so do I. I just… my mother wanted me to give him that letter and I… just wanted to meet dear old dad,” you replied dryly. You didn’t regret seeing him- you had planned for the scenario that he didn’t want you. Hell, you had already lived with not knowing your dad and thinking about him for your whole life. This just gave you a reason to never think about him again. “Why are you even here?”

     “I wanted to talk to you,” he answered immediately. “Try to convince you to stay for a couple more days. I think you’re isolating yourself from your dad because you’ve been let down by other men before. I think you’re trying to protect yourself from what you want. I know that you wouldn’t have stuck around if you didn’t at least have a little hope for talking to your dad again.”

     “Please don’t call him that,” you requested tensely. You didn’t like that word. Dad. It made you shudder as you reached out to examine a book by Margaret Atwood. “But you’re right. I am scared. I have- I have other priorities. People need me and I need her. We’re all we have and I’m not about to waste my life away trying to prove to some man that I- his blood- an worth his while. I’m tired of that, sir. But thanks for trying.”

     You picked up the book and moved to the register. Rossi followed you, watching as you paid the price with cash. “Receipt in the bag please,” you said with a bright smile. “Thank you, Joe.” 

     “You’re more than welcome,” the man replied smoothly, returning your smile. You didn’t acknowledge the man known as David Rossi as you unlocked your rent truck.

     “Please just come talk to him again. He wants to talk to you, I can tell. He just needs to talk to his wife and son,” Rossi tried again.

     Shaking your head, you scoffed. “‘Wife and son’? No. No, I’m good.”

    “Before you leave. If not for him, sit down and eat lunch with me and the rest of the team. You’re an intriguing individual.”

     You buckled your seat belt and leaned back in your seat. “No. I’m not.”

     Before you had shut the door and left, you heard Rossi yell “You know the building!”

— 🌌

     Much to your own dismay, you did end up showing up to the building two days later. In your hand was an Olive Garden gift card you’d been saving for a special occasion. Hopefully David liked Italian.

     But you also tried to hide the little flicker of hope that burned in your chest. ‘He wants to talk to you, I can tell’ is what David had told you.

     Your phone rang, though, as soon as you had entered the building. The security man recognized you immediately and handed you a guest badge as you accepted the call from your Grandmother. “Hi Gramma,” you greeted brightly, genuinely happy to hear from the woman.

     “Hi puddin’ pie! Ava wants to talk to you since we missed your call last night,” the woman explained.

     “Put her on,” you said, pulling your jeans up by the belt loop and tucking in your pocket as the phone crackled. You were wearing a light washed pair of jeans, the ones your mother was so proud of when she bought and guessed your size. Jean shopping was always difficult, but your mother always seemed to get you the perfect pair.

     “Hi y/n! How’s Virginia? Did you get me anything?” Ava asked.

     Pushing the button to the BAU’s floor, you laughed. “No? I didn’t know you wanted anything you crazy girl. Too late now, I’m on my way home now.”

     You heard Ava groan loudly and your grandma’s laugh from the other line. You smiled, happy to call them your family. “Y/n! I told you what-“

     “I’m just teasing, kiddo. It’s a surprise though. I’ve got a couple more days here until you can see it,” you explained, waiting for the door to open.

     “Well… is it cool? Like a tank or a grenade or- or a really big skull?” Ava asked.

     You stepped out of the elevator and stood to the side, not wanting to end the call. “I told you, Ave, it’s a surprise. I can’t tell you otherwise I’ll die.”

     Ava’s laughter filled the line and your heart ached for the little girl. She had gone through so much. So had you, but she was more important.

     You scratched your head and your smile faded after seeing the corner of his lips lift. He was standing in the middle of the bullpen, listening to his agent’s conversation. He tilted his head towards his office. You raised an eyebrow and he just nodded before excusing himself to wait for you.

     Pocketing the gift card, you kept your head solid and your back straight as you walked in. “Well, I gotta go, Ava-Girl. Give Papa some hell and keep the cows clean, yeah?”

     “Okay. You’ll call tonight, right? Papa said he wanted to call, but is busy fixing Mr. O’Donnel’s wiring.”

     “Yeah, yeah I’ll call, Ave. Be good for Gramma okay? Give her a hug for me. Love you, kiddo,” you said quietly as you quickly walked past Aaron’s open door.

     “I love you too, y/n. Have fun and be safe,” Ava replied before hanging up.

     Rossi smiled at you. “Good evening,” he greeted. You resisted the urge to laugh at the smugness of his smile. “We’re almost off. Are you going to talk to your da- Hotch?”

     “If he wants to,” you replied. “I have a gift card for Olive Garden. Is that offer for-“

     “Yes. Do you want the whole team to come with? They might ask a lot of questions but they all mean well,” Rossi asked.

     “I mean, I’m a complete stranger to you all so it’s up to them. I’ll pay,” you answered, feeling your billfold in your back pocket.

     “Nonsense. Do you… do you want to talk to Hotch first? We can go and reserve a table,” Rossi offered. You wondered how you were going from avoiding the whole lot of people all together to going to dinner with them.

     You nodded slowly. “Yeah. That would probably be best. Thank you, Rossi.”

     “Just David, kid, and don’t worry about it,” he said, laying a hand on your shoulder before heading out to get the team.

     This time, you entered Aaron’s office without knocking. “David and the team are meeting us at Olive Garden. Are you- do you want to come?”

     Hotch stood up, arms hanging awkwardly at his side. “Do you want me there?”

    “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t… I also thought we should, uh, talk. Or you talk and I listen. You know what I have to say.”

     Aaron nodded, still rigid. “I don’t- I liked your mother, y/n. I did. We just had different plans for our future. I wasn’t in love with her, but she was a good soul, a good mother. I didn’t know she was… with child when we parted ways,” he explained cautiously, examining you for your reaction.

     “Do you love your wife? And son?” You asked, voice oddly calm.

     Aaron nodded. “I do. I do but I want to be in your life. You said you had a little sister?”

     “Yes but I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because you hooked up with my ma. I want you to want to know us.”

     Aaron nodded. “I do. I really do, y/n. Just give me a chance and some time. I talked to Haley and Jack and they… well, they’d like to meet you.”

     Swallowing, you nodded. “Okay. Okay, well. We can start with dinner.”

     “Dinner,” Hotch repeated, arm twitching as he nodded.

     An solemn silence filled the air as you gnawed at your lips. The rigid, wide-eyed man in front of you did want to know you. You felt your eyes sting knowing that this would either heal you or break you. But you wanted to try. For you, your mother, and your sister.

     “Come here, y/n,” Aaron murmured, bottom lip shaking ever so slightly as he opened his arms.

     It was embarrassing how hard you collided into your dad’s arms. You probably would have even laughed if you weren’t so overwhelmed with actually hugging him.

     Aaron closed his eyes as tears fell down his own face. He really really really hoped he didn’t screw this up.

     You finally pulled away and sniffed, knowing you probably looked like a mess. “So you are going to Olive Garden with us?”

     A watery laugh bubbled out of Aaron throat as he hugged you even tighter. “I’d love to get Olive Garden with you.”

[jadeinretrogrde]

Brennan will definitely be having his self-insert FBI character opening up a thorough investigation on British Kristen any day now. there will probably be a task force

[bloocanary]

Another quick moodboard to introduce the backstory for my R6S self-insert Nico "Canary" Blackburn!

Backstory below the cut!

Taglist: @voidselfshipp, @tex-treasures

Nicole "Nico" Blackburn was born September 18th, 1999 in a very small town in the mountains of north Georgia. The whole town was fairly poor, her family included, a situation which was made worse when her father left not long after she was born. Her mother didn't pay the young girl much attention either, but fortunately for Nico, she wasn't alone. Her half brother Abraham Lee, or "Abe," was ten years old when she was born, and the two were virtually inseparable from the moment he held her for the first time. Even though he was young himself, Abe did his best to look after Nico. The two would spend a lot of time outside of their house, roaming around the dense mountain forests that bordered their town, exploring long abandoned buildings and overgrown trails. Abe was a troublemaker by nature, and he passed a lot of that onto young Nico. She also found a particular fondness for climbing and perching in trees, something she still finds herself doing when she needs to clear her head. Abe devoted a lot of himself to taking care of her, and the two had a very close bond. To him, she was "Firefly," a nickname he still calls her to this day.

When Abe joined the Air Force the moment he turned eighteen with aspirations to become a pilot, he still wrote and called her any time he had the opportunity. Back home, Nico was pretty much on her own from there on out. While she still found a lot of joy roaming the forests near her home, she found another refuge entirely: books. When she wasn't crawling through kudzu or picking wild blackberries from the vine, Nico could be found curled up with a book somewhere quiet. She developed a passion for storytelling and often recalls the old folktales that Abe used to try and scare her with. More than once, she got in trouble in class for attempting to frighten her classmates with ghost stories. In high school, the beginnings of her Mockingbird devices emerged out of her penchant for mischief. The Mockingbird devices, which tap into and scramble enemy communications, began when she found some old radio equipment in a relative's basement and, as any teenager would, decided to learn how to modify it to tap into local radio stations and make them play music that she liked. She lived in rural Appalachia, where all they ever played was the worst country music she'd ever heard. She was somewhat successful too, until the local sheriff came and confiscated her equipment. They let her off with a warning, as long as she promised not to do it again. She agreed. Years later, she's using a much more advanced version of that concept on team Rainbow, because there was no way in hell she was actually going to stop.

When it came time to escape her dying town, it made sense for her to pursue a degree in literature. As much as she loved the forest and messing with old radio equipment, books had given her adventures she never could've had in her small mountain town. Before long, though, she found herself losing passion for her studies. She felt stagnant, idle, and couldn't shake the impression that she could be doing something more. What that something was, though, she couldn't know. That is, until her second year in college, when Nico witnessed a hostage situation unfold on live television. She watched at the FBI arrived on the scene and navigated the situation with a level of coordination and decisiveness that she'd never seen before, and she was utterly fascinated. The FBI successfully managed to rescue the hostages, and when the dust settled, Nico found that she couldn't stop thinking about the incident. Something shifted in her, and the feeling of stagnation became suffocating. Deep down, she knew what she wanted to do. Shortly afterwards, she switched gears in her degree and joined the FBI right after she graduated.

Nico hit the ground running at the FBI and quickly began training for their SWAT team. What she lacked in strength, she made up for with agility, adaptability, and quick thinking. She was always an exceptionally quick learner, and that paid off in the field. Combined with her distinct ability to keep a cool head in the midst chaos, this made her stand out among the other recruits she came in with. She was always quick to pick up on developments and subtle changes in tumultuous situations and warn her team about it before those changes could get them into trouble, a skill which earned her the nickname "Canary," based on the phrase "canary in a coalmine." Her work at the FBI quickly caught the attention of the Rainbow operators Miles "Castle" Campbell and Jack "Pulse" Estrada, who both saw the young woman's potential. She was mischievous and inexperienced, but her intelligence, adaptability, and perceptiveness made her a potential recruit for Rainbow. When her recruitment was proposed, some opposed it, seeing her as naive and reckless. With some additional endorsement from Eliza "Ash" Cohen and Jordan "Thermite" Trace, her recruitment was made official, and Nico stepped in as a wildcard recruit among the more seasoned operators around her.